Abandonment

I have been experimenting recently with staying away from the nest.

It was the built-up feelings of frustration that propelled me out. I remember a day of boldness and surety, really striving to carve out a place for me in the world.

The next day the momentum started to wear off. I was somewhere without my own personal, safe space. Back to the nest, and then away again.

But this time away meant feeling a strong sense of abandonment and desolation. I had a feeling that the spirit inside would not let me sleep, so I left, cleaving through the night to return to the dark nest.

On that night journey back I felt little of the usual fear. It was like the subconscious was projecting out onto everything, it did not really seem real; things did not seem as they were but only a figment of myself. Symbols representing something beyond my knowledge.

I listened to the spirit and it felt a lot more comfortable on its return. Waking up in the small hours of night I felt a strong sense of abandonment and desolation, and at the fringes of that a fear of self-harm or destruction. An underlining depression and dread.

I cannot quite explain it, only to say it is right at the front of the chest. I am glad I was in a familiar place when dealing with such emotions, because I was able to get through them without much alarm. In an unfamiliar place, it could have been much harder.

Life is not going to be as easy as moving away from abusives to somewhere safe. On my own is not exactly safe, and unfamiliar is not exactly safe. There has to be a careful back and forth until somewhere good is found. If indeed somewhere good is possible.

Maybe, at the risk of the depression talking, this is life now. Maybe we are thrust into tragedy and the best we can do is survive it until we die. Looking at the appalling lot of the people I was forced to grow up with, I can only compare it to something like a developing nation which must suffer enormous tragedy in order to industrialize. The legacy of abusiveness and repressed pain means there is immense suffering by default. The spiritual and emotional retardation means that members of this stunted family start far behind others, who are nonabusive and encouraged a lot more. Instead of a deranged unit which destroys its own interest, most people have a more functional organ which can achieve synergy and unity. As such, none of us can achieve the impossible standards of society, and a demi-success is all we can sustain. I can achieve only an orc-like existence, at the fringes, barely alive, unblessed by the light that shines, and comfortable only with warped creatures of shadow. Without my wretched god of snarling darkness and self-loathing, I am naked and anxious, left to trembling and the cruel punishments of the soul.

All the sentimentalism of souls and eternities and objective meaning are just there so that we never have to see and understand the ultimate futility of Nature. Its beauty and good feeling only fleeting, its ultimate end the stillness and demise of everything. If this is the case, striving for the ultimate state of society will only aid us materially; existentially nothing would have changed. People will suffer anxiety disorders and depressions under socialism. Not because of oppression and injustice, but because this is the legacy of evolution. Humanity will always find something to make itself miserable, as much as it strives to change and struggle for better. All human effort, a vigourous struggle to swim to the surface, but never does a foot step upon the shores of elysium.

Well, that was a depressing tangent! It feels true to express it, painful though it is. For some reason I also find it utterly hilarious. Do I believe such nihilism? Some part of me must do.

The other reveres Elder trees and sings of optimism through bleakness, always seeing light on the other end of the cavern.

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Beneath a bright moon

Beneath a bright moon last night

I stared up on my knees.

A religious experience, of awe and connection.

Trembling, tormented contrition

For becoming an addict of petty stimulation

Going nowhere, shutting off nature

Needing the pain of another sleepless night

Beneath the bright moon to remind me

How I once shared its glory

And walked much more freely

Through winter cold

The scrape of bramble-thorns

On my clothes.

 

I feel sometimes a traitor to the cause

Of life on earth, natural gods

Yet I do not spite myself

Or feel much more than disappointment

None of us can afford to take the whole world

On our shoulders

No one is fully responsible

For the themes within us

For the madness of civilization.

All we can do is recognise this

Gradually realigning ourselves

To the order and chaos of gods such as bright moon

For we are half a chaos race

Chaos a necessity for our hearts to beat

And our souls to taste vital forces.

This the ego, seeking security

Seeking eternity, cannot accept

And so the gentle war inside me

And all of us who are not wholly wolf!

 

Beneath a bright moon last night I found a god

That was as much me as I was it

One of many, an ancient force.

I will not forget you again, my celestial

I will remember that I am a shard of your power

And eventually be magnanimous again.

Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice
The bleak hope
Old Night still holds sway
Dominating the heavens
Clouds keep light at bay
And the coldest months await.
Yet the tide turns here
Not one more day
Does the darkness triumph
Its slow retreat assured.
Step by step
Day by day
Archangels of light
Push against dark forces
Who slowly yield
In Nature’s eternal,
Celestial,
Dance of balance.
The war for the heavens
Has ended not
Battle after battle
Awaits the forces of nature
And many of mankind
Will still tremble and cling
In the mists of Old Night.
But for those left standing
Spring’s sweet dawn awaits
Thrice in mirth
For the embattled and the worn,
And I will be at the van
Bright standard in one hand
And sword of sunfury in the other
Saying; ‘Darkness,
Though your place
Be not ever truly vanquished
In the balance of all-things
And my deep respect you have,
Your time has come this year
And you must take your place
In the depths of eternity!’
At last, the dark days
Are ending!
Come transcendent light
And do for our souls
What we may not ourselves do!

Task of the brave

To mend what was broken
To heal what was wounded
To find what was lost
To restore what was ruined
To raise what was fallen
To love what was neglected
To fill what was empty
To seed what was barren
This is your task, hortzosh.

But to find why these tragedies
Came to pass in the first place;
To stop evil from triumphing again
*This* is the task of the wizards.

The wizards…

ZERO IMPACT

You have to be sustainable about being sustainable.
 
The limits of what can be achieved in society at the present have to be acknowledged, to prevent great disappointment and relapse back into total drone-ism.
 
The emotional challenge of building new societies when we carry so many wounds from the old must be recognized, to prevent us repeating those oppressions.
 
Realistic lyfe goals.
 
Amazing how many ‘zero impact’ people are precisely that – making zero impact on the wider struggle to stop climate change by getting their hands dirty and ending this capitalist insanity.
 
Go and live under a tree if you want, it will last until some government cuts it down to build a railway!
 
(And of course the capitalists and the mainstream exalt the lone hermit who runs off to the woods to live “in nature”. That is one less green activist and one less dissident in society, one more disarmed citizen waiting to be bulldozed by the leviathan when his turn comes, and one more symbol-fetish person for the masses to admire without recognizing the futility of their reality).

Enchantment

Without enchantment, we are lost in the world. Without myth, guideless. Without spirit, we are dead inside. Without art, we are silent.

The world-as-it-is: not suitable for our primed imaginations. Stillness is just a reprieve, sleep a chance to dream. The vigour of endless Western minds; ceaseless, like the snout of an anteater. The world is layered with our mark.

Then let us do the best that we can do with our candor and sheer energy. Let us enchant nature and live there, among the wood sprites and the sacred trees. Let us catch that mana, let us fly these concrete prisons.

Profit is a road leading nowhere. But the deep wood and the bramble grove is an infinite, winding adventure…

The Future

Have you ever felt like the future was hopeless?

I must ask in return – how can that which does not exist have any form of quality?

The future is merely an expected series of moments, no different to these moments at present. Dread of the future requires you to leave the present, but the present is all you really have. And the present, believe it or not, is often bearable.

Things might be difficult now, and tomorrow may or may not bring more difficulty. But when we project into the future, that difficulty becomes magnified many times. Why torture ourselves with such projections? If the present is already quite hard to cope with emotionally, there is no boon in adding a further expectation of misery upon our shoulders!

And besides, as we explored earlier, predictions rest on futility. How things will turn out is unbeknownst to us. The traps are all in our minds; the work of an ego which doesn’t know when to switch off or simply shut the f*** up.

This moment is all we have. You reading this, now, here. Your eyes gazing at the screen, your back against the chair, the air going through your nose and mouth. This is all you have.

A nightmare future is impossible. It is an imagined destiny which can only be fulfilled if you take your thoughts too seriously. Expectation is a never-satisfied beast, which feeds and feeds on hope until it leaves nothing. It is impossible to appease, so why even try to appease it?

Step back from the mind a moment. Turn off the voice inside a moment. Start to trust in your whole being. Let all worries dissipate; they are grounded on nothing but the deranged empiricism of an over-active ego and pained limbic system. We must let our minds and bodies heal.

Fearing the future will not better prepare you for it. Some things, death and suffering, are inevitable. Fortunately, we have the capacity to deal with them – when we do not aggrandise them in our minds. It is only when we long for perpetual comfort, peace, warmth, and freedom that we are least able to appreciate these future promises. By being present we can accept the yin and yang that is life. When we let the unnameable nature within and without guide us, we find our way. For this enigmatic something is far more ancient than the mind, and far wiser.

Stop digging yourself into a hole. Accept what is now. The future is not hopeless or hopeful. The future is nothing.

Bestial

Bestial, something lurks inside. It wants to crawl along the ground, strength in its arms and legs. It wants its flesh to touch the earth, to source whatever power lurks there.

Bestial, it is the thing that is insulted when your toes are trodden on, your status diminished, your territory invaded. It pulses inside, waiting just beneath the surface of consciousness.

Bestial, it once charged at prey or fled predators. Now men are its predators, and the hate-filled abusive words are their javelins, and the pitiful look is the death-blow.

Bestial, it is an infinite well of courage. It is fearless; for fear exists only within one who wants an unnatural, painless time-span, but the bestial is at one with its suffering.

Bestial, it turns male heads to follow her walking. It longs to escape itself in the clutches of another, it is the fiery fuel for the raw deeds of carnal animals.

Bestial, it is far beyond notions of civility, good and evil. It is the vengeful pulse that wants to tear its enemies apart with fang and claw, a dark-furred savage of unmatched might.

Bestial, it is our primal dignity, and our undeniable nature. Human beings are animals, fooled into thinking themselves something more than the world around them; fooled into thinking they are worthy regents of the earth.

The bestial knows that is must work with the earth, not against it. The bestial knows that fellow animals and plants have as much a soul as any man. The bestial already knows the connectedness of all things and the true sanctity of life – to take it only in the direst circumstances.

I am bestial, a proud beast who walks, crawls, thrums, stares up at the moon, howls and sighs.

Ego Melters

The ego is undeniably linked to the ‘thought stream’ we are conditioned to accept as an inevitable part of us. To exist in our minds, and identify wholly with the ‘thinking thing’ is a necessity of our materialistic individualism. Without endless thinking, there is no way to atomize individuals.

It makes sense. All identities are composed of thought-language. In reality, there is no British, no Turkish, no nothing. These are things that exist only as language and tales told in the mind. Conflict and argument is likewise of the same aspect.

The ego – i) needs to feel identity. It will do this by ‘othering’ people to strengthen itself. On the most deranged level, this results in the ‘othering’ of entire nations, races, creeds.

The ego – ii) needs to feel right. Chronic arguers and pontificators spread their mission for the sake of their ego and bored minds! What else are they gonna do with their time? The more that are like them, the more they can confirm themselves as ‘right’. It is a duplicating virus.

The ego – iii) needs to be in conflict. The ego thrives on conflict and challenge. It entertains itself with fighting, and asserts itself through dominance hierarchies. For some, fighting is a philosophical necessity, not a breakdown of communication!

Why then was this destructive force unleashed upon the world? Well, the ego is not always a bigoted, hate-spewing war machine. It can conceivably have some limited use. Thinking is important, it is just that in our postmodern age thought has taken over, and feeling is diminished. We are conditioned to believe our thoughts; hence they are the final arbiter of what is real. Likewise we are conditioned to always be active, and to see stillness and rest as an unproductive waste of time. Humanity is an out of control juggernaut, and as we grow in our power to spread destruction through new technology, so does it become a matter of survival to melt the ego down and take control of our true, creative power.

I do not want to paint a sorry picture. We have to have hope, and this can come by looking at the good already in the world, and the enlightenment to come.

What will the new, spiritually evolved humanity look like? Open, honest, sensitive. En masse meditation, populous yoga, effortless labour, non-competitive markets. It won’t be utopia – that is the province of the desperate ego. Utopia is in the future, dystopia also. The new coming will be in the present, of the present and for the present. Utopia is the work of an endless, projecting, over-analysing, neurotic, fearful mind. The new coming will be somewhere between yin and yang, both and neither, balance, imbalance, harmony and discord.

It is coming. Whether we bring it about through our evolution, or annihilate the Gaian life support system in our endless futility, change is coming. The ego is melting.