The golem is sighted!
It is finally an entity
independent from its creator
and now rebellious against further restriction.
(As a record or history, this last section is radically abridged. Much of it would be unreadable to the general public—not that it is invalid material that, or that it’s untrue. It’s just that you had to be there. You had to have the experience or it is simply unrecognizable. None the less, there is enough remaining that a dedicated soul may follow the story to its end. There is enough left so that you may still know the secret of life and the meaning of the universe!)
Bindu and Michael the Archangel
Cody Greets the Dawn
Here is told the skeletal hang of our activity, and our intentions. The thing itself remains veiled since we do not have the perceptive faculties or the strength to withstand more than a glimpse of the Holy, veiled as it is in love and awe, and terror… We speak of the Holy, or the Sacred, or God. But what we really mean cannot be spoken. The primary thing itself is ineffable. The first elements to appear before the faculties of perception are described by their dualistic relationship. Opposites, then multiplicity, interaction and so on… In order that the Big Bang might occur, for instance, there had to be empty space in which to explode. Action and Emptiness. Masculine and Feminine. That duality and subsequent manifestations are all we can know. God, therefore, is pre-existent, ineffable, void of recognizable characteristics. Any language about God is at best metaphoric, usually blasphemous. For the void cannot be named. Jesus, realizing this, needed a handle in his preaching about this original emptiness that could carry power, authority, and intimacy sufficient for his heritage and his own experience of God. So, he called God “Father.” He thus alienated himself from an essential Old Testament current. But, he aligned himself with many other religious traditions in which real heroes claim divine parentage. From the virginal void of Mary, Godhead is made manifest. But thanks be to God, our experience is not limited by the tyranny of language—Old Testament or otherwise! –With all due respect. It is possible to escape our own creations. It is not impossible to be saved from even the horror of history.
Imagine if you will, an atmosphere of sunrise—turquoise illumination and cobalt blue; inky black spread swirling across a sky of sparkling stars. Conjure in your mind these natural elements arranged in vaulting splendor across your inner world. It is from here—where there is no private property and nothing is monitized, and one’s freedom consists of knowing one’s true self and therefore the universe—firsthand, and therefore God. It is from here that we shall evoke our final spell of coincidence and identity that will doom the world or save it. We do this not in our own, personal name, for who knows what that really is, but in the name of our species, of all sentience, for that is who we truly are, not commercial agents, brokers and technicians, middle men and sales women slaving beneath a false valence of “freedom and independence.” We are real beings of spirit and flesh—ineffable spirit and impenetrable matter. Or, perhaps I should say, infinitely penetrable matter as we have split the atom, and after the split there is always more and more sub atomic space. (For that matter, no one has yet plumbed the boundaries of the universe, either. As in the image of God, there is always more… )
Reality here consists of the negotiation between tangible fact, imagination, analysis, emotion and the “other” ineffable, sustaining presence: the Holy Spirit, or Nirvanic states of consciousness, or the Holy Ones at dawn. This is the ambiance of our adventure. In the golden white light of our vocation, we gather our powers and cast the Word—of salvation… Or the curse. Or maybe something else entirely.
From perineum to pineal, we breathe in the world, through our eyes, and see God with the detachment of scientists and saints, for matter and spirit are truly meant to be one. Neither bound nor blinded by oh- so-necessary cultural and moral limitations or ambition for fame or money… or influence and access, or any short sighted pragmatism.
—To fight this battle one must be filled with the dawn:
1. A Rock from which Eagles Hunt
There is a place that is so pure that I go there to be refreshed by the energies of the place. Words like ‘God’ or ‘holy’ or even the associated thoughts, all quite important to me in the past, seem crude in that place, its energies are so refined. Being there makes one feel cleaner— how body and mind are supposed to be.
Once, I was standing on that craggy rise, lifting as it does above the surrounding slant of that Nevada desert plain. It was as if I could see all the way to Iraq and the horror of the coming invasion! That was just before Bush Senior’s militant excursion there, I think. Terrible things, there were and worse to come… Very curious experience.
We discovered this place more than fifteen years ago. A friend and I were researching the phenomenon of ‘holy places’ that occur and reoccur in the annals of sacred literature. These are places on the earth reputed to have some special “energy” or “spiritual presence.” Lourdes or Fatima or Kailash, would be famous examples of such places, but there are many others mentioned in the sacred texts, or that simply exist without mention. My friend and I located such a place in the Great Basin region of Nevada, through an erring process. We wandered aimlessly for several days in the wastelands of Nevada and California until we spotted it. Rather, it seemed to present itself. Over the years, and in many subsequent visits, this place displayed various natural and supernatural characteristics. However, it was two visits in particular that make the point about art and perception that I intend to clarify here.
My mother and I visited this place of energies, shortly after the summer solstice, 1996. We arrived at night. This place, we call it Eagle Rock, can be approached by car along a dirt road to within about 500 yards. I drove slowly, looking for a place off the dirt road to stop. In the summer, this place is all dust and scrubby sage. But, the twilight moments of dawn and dusk are precious and the place radiates a peculiarly pure, psychic energy at that time. As I rolled to a stop, a bright light flashed from the outcrop of rocks that is the center of these energies. The brief flash of light in the night was as tall as a house. I stopped the car pointed towards the rocks. We were anxious about who might be at this forsaken place this time of night to make such a light. Local Indian shamans? There is a reservation nearby. And I’m told that such bright flashes of light can be Shamanistic phenomenon. Hostile Skin Walkers? The Holy Ones? Serial killer deadbeats? As I considered this, my companion said, “The car is moving.” “No, it’s not,” I replied, thinking that she meant that the brake wasn’t on or something. Moments passed. “The car is moving.” “No, it’s not,” somewhat impatiently.
Then, I noticed that the car was moving. Sliding back and forth. Front to back. Without the benefit of gravity! The overwhelming sensation was that of the other world. This was as clear as any other sensation might be: Fear, love, joy, who can calculate its measure or prove the experience except by the consensus of witnesses. This time, someone was with me and shared a significant paranormal event. This had not been the case in the past. Though, the sensation of the moment was powerful indeed, great power and otherness. We decided that perhaps we did not need to be there. In fact, should not be there. We were intruding somehow. So, we backed out and drove slowly away.
We became very anxious to be away from there. Away from that power that seemed so strong and unfamiliar.
About ten miles back on that dirt road, there is a farmstead. We both felt that if we could get past that point, back in human surroundings, we would be OK. But, then, as we drove along, I heard a strong hissing noise. It became louder and louder. I stopped the car to investigate. I had a flat. I had to change the tire. As I did so, it began to rain. We were in the Nevada desert in July. Rain is not impossible there at that time, but not likely. Now it poured down. At that anxious moment! The tire fixed, we continued our escape. We focused on looking for the farm, after which there is another ten miles to the paved road.
Then, all of a sudden, we were at the intersection with the paved highway. We did not pass the farm. We arrived at the pavement much too soon. And as soon as we got there, the rain stopped. Both of us had been looking for the farm. You can’t miss it, since the road goes right through the barnyard. It has the only light in that vast desert area.
Trans-temporal-spatial-relocation? Both of us would not have missed such an obvious landmark as the farmyard. Install one gate there and the way becomes impassable.
It seemed as if some spirit or deity laughed in the night.
On another, earlier occasion, I perceived in my mind’s eye, that the “spirit” of Eagle Rock looked like a series of vertical serpentine rods of golden white light. Like the Seraphim, perhaps. But on that earlier occasion, they simply hovered above the rocky crag, approving the one I brought there for initiation into these “mysteries.” At the conclusion of that initiation, I clapped my hands above his chthonic chakras as he lay across those rocks. Simultaneously, lightening ignited the mountainous horizon in the distance, followed immediately by thunder.
Now, it was as if the seraphs hovered majestically for hundreds of square miles above the valley, easily filling that vast emptiness, they “sing the glory of God in creation.” …
POST SCRIPT: An issue of note: One other time did the energies of Eagle Rock display themselves with the power that moved my car around, as on that night when I was accompanied by my mother. That was on one subsequent trip, again when my mother was present. The spirit of that place seems especially fond of her. The real sentiment here is that something extraordinary happened and there is something about the close relationship between mother and son that is the matrix of extraordinary light, creativity, insight and perhaps spiritual power. Possibly, it is the celibate relationship between masculine and feminine elements, the taboos of which re-channel this powerful dualism in the Spirit. On another subsequent visit to Eagle Rock, my mother once again had the extraordinary sensation of being moved without the benefit of gravity. I, however, felt nothing of that… She was obviously experiencing something extraordinary. Somehow, without any other catalyst except being in that place, she experienced a significant alteration of perception. I experienced a sense of soaring beauty, galactic in its largess, intimate in its warmth. This lasted long after… Perhaps, this class of experience is a source of human evolution. Something about the Earth itself, that has inherent in it, heaven itself—
The question is resolved to some degree in the study of the nude(!), recorded elsewhere, that has become for me a metaphor of essential knowledge. In reference to our topic here, consider this aspect of that study: An Aborigine in Australia might claim the ability to communicate over long distances by physical sensations, a kind of pricking sensation that one can feel in the skin. This is especially active when one is on pilgrimage, a walkabout along the song lines, or to mythic holy places on the skin of earth. That requires a different, not more primitive, world view—a different attitude about body and world.
2. [Jimson Weed… link to explanation of psychotropic plants and the psyche. No need to ingest, if you have the time… no time here.]
3. You will remember, of course, how in the 1990’s a broad conspiracy of junkyard dog republicans and media vultures—very well groomed— but, opportunists none the less, who dogged the President and the First Lady and their lot of confused, idealogue, liberal democrats. Hypocrites! Keep that scenario in mind as well, as this following episode unfolds.
4. I was appointed a chaplain at a university. My mother had even come to live with me to help run the house and keep the accounts. She had lived alone since my father died and had reached a point where she couldn’t quite manage on her own. She remains bright mentally to this day and has kept the books ruthlessly. She’s made a great contribution to our project. And you will remember how the genius loci responded to her presence at Eagle Rock in the Great Basin.
5. As well, I continued my research into esoteric religious practices in their relationship with the rest of the body of creation. In particular, in their relationship with popular religion and science. Inevitably, this involves biology. Also inevitably, since we are biological creatures, this research touched upon sexual topics. Of course, this is especially so since the religions I investigated outside of Catholicism were Tantric and Shamanistic traditions.
Unavoidably, if one is exploring these topics, actual sexual practices must be treated. These yogic and shamanistic traditions are ancient, highly nuanced and largely symbolic. That is, they understand and use beautifully the ‘power of symbols’ to bridge so many vast differences in communication, relationships, and finally between this world and God. I often talked freely about these researches with my colleagues, students, and others. This was just part of the process of coming to understand these worldviews.
6. However, it was during this period that, apparently, the bishop of the local Roman Catholic diocese who was my patron in that chaplaincy, became involved in a sexual relationship and misplaced millions dollars of Church funds. It was also during this period that I, long before any of that information about the Bishop was revealed and after three very successful years in that place, had a dark communication from the other world to
It was deep, powerful, from the unseen psyche of the world; I believe, the Spirit itself. It had no more explanation than that.
Hold on to these elements of our story as I introduce yet another:
7. The Sipahpoo in Puebloan (Southwestern Native American) sacred histories is a place of emergence from the underground, or underworld(s) of the ‘People.’ It is a device of mythological origin and an intuition that suggests evolutionary process. In the subterranean and partially subterranean Kivas of these same people there is a hole in the earthen floor that is a reference to this emergence myth. But as well it refers to the evolution or growth or process of realization in individuals that is part of the result of the practices pursued in these religious structures. From deference and for certain practices—and my own ancestry—I maintained such a pit in a field not far away.
It is at the ‘Pit’ in that field, that Simon Han, Chris and I did a ritual this night. We drew on rituals and intentions of the past and pushed them into action, into the future. We started by declaring our benevolent intentions, then by drinking so much Tequila that the world danced a bit to look at it. The fire ignited in the pit as we fed it with sacred bundles and objects. Once Chris slipped into the hole because it had been raining and the clay was slick. He was nicely dressed with expensive shoes when we started. Maybe he will be naked when we finish. We will all be naked. A new innocence!
It was cold away from the fire and the sacred circles, in our changing hearts. Not cold enough to keep the snake away, though. For later, days, months… who can remember, Shri Oroborus took up residence in our pit. You can hear him there now if you’ve learned to listen with the ear of your heart. Scales scraping against themselves. Shhhhh…. Shhh…. Shh…
Resurrection, metanoia, salvation… for us? For the world? We’ll see.
Then the President was impeached. Then our poor, good bishop was forced to resign… Publically humiliated. Not just because of the sex and who he had it with—that was just sad and embarrassing. But because he misplaced those millions of dollars! The unforgivable sin. He spend it all on good causes though. In time the money was recovered—not having been lost at all, but out on charitable loans! And the sex? If truth be known, minor personal violations with someone middle-aged. Nearly innocent compared with those usually considered innocent, certainly innocent compared to the accusers. Don’t trust a market driven media! Clinton as well. Sexual sins? His accusers were worse; Gingrich, Livingston, Hyde! Sex, money, power… Sex and money, sex and money—I said it too often… Then me. Well, not the Church’s money, but mine. Had to declare bankruptcy. Because of the loss of those millions, they closed down our chaplaincy. I lost my source of income. I had been warned to “withdraw.” Too late. Well, almost. I had already started to get sick. Soaring blood pressure. Four or five fierce migraines a week. Exhaustion…
Then there was a Spiritualist, of European and American descent, who came around the Center a lot. He had spent years in India and a lifetime practicing yoga . He claimed to be a healer and found me attractive for some reason—friendship, sympathy, envy of what seemed on the out- side to be an enviable position… But he got aggressive sometimes. Had to have him removed from my class at college once. Asked him to take a break from the Newman Center.
He did some conventional western style therapy and then started to come back to the Hall after a couple of years. Said he was feeling much better. Seemed harmless enough. After a while he asked to help me with my health problems. See what he could do. He advised herbal remedies, meditations, and yogic massage. Which he did. After several months, no significant improvement, so I went to a MD and got cured more or less through some pretty heavy medical therapy, i.e. drugs. My yogi friend still hung around until one day an employee found him going through my clothes in my closet—our private rooms are generally considered off-limits. I asked him again to take a break from us. A long break. He found that hard to accept. Tried to sit in my classes again. I had him removed. Then he went to the University administration (and, ironically, the Bishop) and told them that I had used my position of authority to entice him into a sexual relationship which he described in detail. He related some private physical details about me—I have a tattoo on my hip—to back up his story. I was investigated by both the University and the Diocese. I was found innocent. Anyone who ever went swimming with me, including most the students, knew about that tattoo. He was dismissed. But not without stalking us in our house and calling all the students and former students and telling them that I had seduced him. Fortunately, I had served them well and none of them believed him. The investigation and the stalking were exhausting for us. So, when the diocese had its financial crisis, I withdrew from public ministry and teaching, and we moved.
…Chris slipped in the mud, and fell in the fire…. But we pulled him free. Simon, godlike in his perfect Asian physique, danced in the cold, bare as newborn… and leaps above the fire, perfect martial arts splits, leaps. But, Shri Oroborus, the great serpent of the world, strikes from below, mouth gape-full of glass-sharp, poisonous fangs to devour. Its massive head strikes up, directly toward Simon’s truly gifted netherworld endowment.
at such moments one learns to fly! Oroborus dissolves to pure, clear energy to enter in, through the perineum, up, up, through his psychic central nervous system. The Goddess riding that great clear phallus up to Union with—the universe, the whole universe, the great empty vase of it traversed, earth and heaven, God and the world, Being itself.
Fr. Steve was, of course, asleep in the house for all of this. The sleeping lama! His mother as well. (I knew one once, hereditary head of the Nyingmapa. Did everything in his sleep. Not only do these tapas require actual physical expression, they can be done in your sleep—That is, if you can control your dreams! And have accomplished the rest of the 6 Yogas of Naropa! Check out the Abhidharma literature as well if you have a scholarly interest in the psychology of it.)
The goddess and the virgin: From the empty womb comes salvation. One must be guided by such spiritual agents in order not to be trapped in addiction to arousal or appetite, or if so, to be so for some purpose. (Are athletes addicted to exercise and the alkoloidic releases that come from within their bodies through the extremity of exertion?) The real spirit calls us through our bodies to that pearl beyond price, the pale point of convergence, beginning and source of all things…
Isis and Horus, Heracles and Hera, Jesus and Mary…
Once, in the cold rain forests of the Olympic peninsula, Simon, near his family’s island, at a moment of great high energy, and according to the ancient myth, …makes the earth/mating/sky ritual to create the universe. …taking the sperm in his mouth spews it forth to create—to identify—the gods. At that moment, Ra-like, to maintain the arousal, he remembers all his loves, Agnes, Stephanie, Cat, Chris (Chris Michael in real life, named for the Archangel, defender of heaven). Yes, Chris is the one who loved him. And with that memory of real love from an old soul, the Goddess displayed her pearls. Five of them along a black dragon’s spine. Luminescent. Bindu.
(Sexual processes and nudity, in themselves innocent, are used here to describe an innocence of personal intentions. Personally, I prefer most people in most circumstances to be clothed. I fall back on the naked human form and its accomplishments to express the relationship between natural and supernatural power and innocence because the natural world and Godhead itself are so assaulted by grotesque materialism, selfishness and greed, indeed are in extremis….It is dangerous enough that we have had to look within so deeply to discover a resolution to our danger.)
In the beginning, there is a confusion about generative arousal, appetites of the digestive process, and the dragon’s treasure—the Bindu pearl—since they are so close, in the same neighborhood so to speak. But one learns to distinguish as well as to recognize the bond between creative and other earthy functions. One might say that the Bindu intention is the opposite from digestion and elimination. The Goddess arises and seeks completion in union with God, creating the universe in the process. Then, transcending it.
…With the health problems, and the financial crisis in the diocese, Fr. Steve and his mother moved away. Sadly, at the time…They traded in their remaining possessions for a small, used, motor home. Now they realize their freedom. As they wander homeless from place to place, they find natural sacred sites of great spiritual power and beauty. They are being filled with the dawn; the crepuscular powers of twilight, and expectation… There is also in this a sense of the darkest presence, of power and confidence beyond telling. Some fool evangelist might go on and on about demons and the beast in our regard! But that is not the sense I have of it at all. It is God. There is nothing but God for us, and the Storm Come for the reckoning and the salvation of the world. Such an identity can only be had as one abandons convenient, conventional perceptions of the world. ‘One must be so drunk’, as Orthodox Rabbis advise their male congregants at Purim, ‘that one cannot even remember one’s name.’ Or, I would say as well, so sober, to relinquish the power of names and naming, embrace poverty and chastity and learn to listen with the ear of one’s heart—to know Freedom; to relinquish the postures of strength and knowing… to know Power.
—Then, something happened. I can’t tell you what it was or where. But it was coincident with the preparation for, and the successful destruction of the World Trade Center and the attack on the Pentagon! That power was met somewhere in the Great Basin and the Sonoran deserts. I was protected by a water spirit, mineral hot springs, who transported me to a place of safety under the earth as the avenging angels soar…
I have evoked the Spirit of the Dawn with all its dark relatives and its access to the light. I have evoked thus because of the hypocrisy, the false good will of the new age, Church and Sinner. Businesses that pillage the environment, then pay millions for TV commercials about their contributions to bio-diversity; Religion—whose justification is to save the world—depending upon, hungering for, slavering after land ravaging developers to finance, and managers and accountants to run its priestly offices. Politicians and entertainers are the same. I have evoked these dark powers because every weak ego and opportunist justifies their wealth by good works—afterwards. I suppose its not just the cruel insincerity of the materially successful and the pandering of clergy for power that have turned my heart. But finally its just that rational, compassionate efforts to save the world have failed. Humanism is the excuse everybody uses, but its just greed and pride and cowardice that decimate this animate globe of Gods’ creation.
The President, the Bishop, our Spiritualist friend? (Arousal? Hunger? Doesn’t matter, since the earth gods reside with the chaste goddess in her gem-encrusted cave just above the perineum, in such close proximity to the generative organs and digestive ones as well.)
Simon, Adam, Chris and the Pit: Here is where one learns to work with the gods of creation… learns the tale of love.
With the coincidence of elements, coincidence that grows in its vast powers of elemental confluence.
…One can realize these elements in marriage, or in one’s imagination. But the point is realization of the light, gift or energia of origin. Then you will know Christ, and all the Gods (Elohim and Seraphim, Kachina and Dakini—philosophically, ultimate godhead must be one and absolutely simple, but the delight of manifestation is endless multiplication, variety…) and yourself.
So our tale draws together, or I should say posits this interesting proposition: The archetypes of Mother and son; the great serpent, Oroborus and resurrection; the Pit and evolution/realization; The Great Old Man; Spirit plant animal familiars; Weather gods and climate; chthonic deity; Opalescent pearl of Bindu generation—all activated, known, engaged…
That prayer works, spells work, and intentions have effect, goes without saying… but how? To what end? Those were the questions. This method first tested in that pilgrimage to the Achekale in eastern Turkey for the healing of an individual, then expanded to address the needs of a planet, might actually have some merit. But everything was backwards and opposite in the “sex and money” spell. That composi- tion expressed itself according to the personalities and circumstances of its agents. The power seen darkly through a looking glass, cannot be named. The coincidence of intentions that did exist were in the liturgies, the Mass, the sacramental vision and salvific intention towards the world. But many other, otherwise innocent, ‘necessary,’ activities distracted, exhausted and finally exploded across the nation. Woe to those who enjoyed the spectacles. Blessings for the victims. Hope for all… but that’s not enough, not nearly enough. There must be satisfaction. Listen well sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve, “incline the ears of your hearts…”
“Cody, Wyoming: 5:00 a.m., September 2001
Cat wakes me as a distant horse neighs repeatedly from a far pasture. I step outside into temperatures warmer than early morning should be there. From Cody, I face west to Yellowstone. The full moon slides along the top of Buffalo Gap gorge playing from behind black and silver clouds—swirling, marbled layers—fluid and clean. The ‘Holy ones” are out, around everything in ‘beauty’ just before sunrise… Soon the moon slips slyly down the gap and behind the world.
One’s inner life must progress like a healthy eco-system. Not with a few spectacular creatures promoted and advertised, like the Bald Eagle or Mountain Lion. One determines the quality of an eco-system by the health of the overall relationships between all its members—physical and spiritual. Nature and the Holy Ones(s) must be considered in any valid operation in the world. Without question, the two are one.
…Regarding the Gem Encrusted Cave of Chastity: Our very physicality is an aspect of the “one life” St. Paul discerned and that I describe here as the unity of matter and spirit. Sexuality is involved in the generative and creative process of physical manifestation from its non-temporal or spiritual origin. As such, the intense draw of sexuality is a special portal of opportunity—abstaining or engaging—in an eco-system of becoming, returning, being! Finally, it is only an aspect of the whole that must be realized, but a powerful agent indeed, a conduit for divine powers.
Origin, manifestation and being determine one’s action. It goes without saying that the modern agenda has little time for inner cultivation, determined as it is to develop the physical life. Maybe there is a little attention for the mental life, but no more than necessary to service the physical and how we feel about being physical. If one believes in the sacredness of being, of self, of body, of matter and spirit, then one is less inclined to participate in the exploitation of these elements for good business profits or politics—or whatever reason. So the same question arises as before, “WHO ARE WE?” Salesmen, administrators, technicians, maintenance workers? Or are we beings as ineffable as our non-temporal origin; religious beings capable of knowledge about the sacredness of being, and all its parts and processes. (i.e. science and religion together.)
From a different angle: what is it about us that is able to relate to, or sense the presence or processes of other beings. How is my ability to see this computer screen, or the person across the room any more verifiable than the history of human experience of spirit, of the other world if you like, or ‘genius locus’ for that matter. The encounter with this ‘other’ has drawn the character of human evolution and colors our imagination about existence.
“Thus, chastity is the beauty of clarified vision and the sparkling, gem-clear power of ‘Bindu’ generation. It is the identity of relationships in love with the whole eco/spirit system of origin and manifestation. It is the dawn just before sunrise sufficient to make or destroy the world. Or, at least one’s own life. Or, perhaps…”
This statement was created within the remembered ambiance of the Simon’s ‘Bindu’ attainments on the Olympic peninsula and published with a painting that was part of a series depicting the battle for heaven and earth. (See www.nepsis.com painting #18) The title of the painting described the primary weapon in this battle, referring as it did to the ineffability of the identity of any personality and the limitless power(s) derived from such emptiness. Hours following the promulgation of this tract, the World Trade Center towers in New York City were destroyed and the American Pentagon itself, successfully attacked… (The bin Ladins are from Yemen, you know.)
Fr. Steve’s anguished response to that horror went something like this: “Dr. Carl Jung said that morality was a “sign of true barbarism, in tout res… and that wisdom is preferable.” I had hoped that wisdom would prevail and the sanctions against Iraq would be modified so that those million children would not have starved to death after the Gulf war— not to speak of the old and infirm. I had hoped that simple justice would prevail so that Palestinians would at least be compensated for what was stolen from them by richer, better armed forces and given a state of their own—why should they pay for European crimes and problems, and suspect scriptural interpretations? I had hoped that our foreign policy would stop promoting monsters like Saddam and the Shah, Sharon and the Taliban—only to be treated to their own medicine—though as usual it is innocent bystanders who suffer most. I had hoped that American public opinion would not be so easily manipulated by the owners of media and the political game bought and sold, so easily. I had hoped that our economy might broaden its base from military connected enterprise (70%) and oil and cars and oil… (Remember, a million starved children have paid this month’s bill for that damned oil.) I had hoped for wisdom. Now I would be satisfied with simple morality.”
Vintage priest. We are about something else. Christianity is not real Christianity if it expresses itself only in the semantics of the Hebrew and Greek. But Christianity begins to come into itself when it is recognized in the worldview that speaks Sanskrit and Pali, Tibetan, and Navajo…
AT A HOT SPRINGS SOMEWHERE NEAR DEATH VALLEY THE GOD SPOKE TO ME AGAIN AND TOLD ME TO BE SILENT AND DO NOTHING. THE GOD DID NOT ACTUALLY SAY THAT BUT ALLOWED ME TO GO INSTANTLY FROM THAT PLACE TO STAND ON EAGLE ROCK IN THE GREAT BASIN AND SHOWED ME HOW TO STAND. THIS INVOLVED A PROFOUND INNER SILENCE AND NON ACTION AS THE BEST WAY TO ACCOMPLISH OUR GOALS. EVERYTHING PRIMARY HAPPENS INSIDE….
We’ll see how well we survive and if there isn’t some alternative for Simon and Cat, Chris and Ag; the Bishop, Fr. Steve and his mother, Adam, the young man and the pilgrim, and all the rest… The spell has been cast from my center, from the Tan Tien. One way or another, the ‘Fury of Being’ will know its rectification…
will know its rectification…
But I am something else now. And now I will spread my colors. I have tested my powers. Now, I will act!
G. K. Odiak—Golem (not now just a clay doll or slave, but animate and free—though, not yet god, a most dangerous passage.)
P.S. (From Stephanie in BOOK TWO) “There were two babies. Chris didn’t know. He wasn’t there at the birth and I hadn’t told him. I had twins. The women said they would kill him if I told him. The Shivalilas. But they took the other one. It broke my heart. But for Chris’ sake, I’ve kept silent ‘til now…”
There was another figure let loose as this Golem Kodiak gained his liberation. It was the figure of a beautiful young man. Black, black not as a racial mark, but somehow he was made of the blackest, obsidian, pitch black substance. He looked bewildered and lost by his expulsion. The great seraphim from the Great Basin Eagle Rock gathered its vast wings around Fr. Steve. In protection from these creatures newly extant in the world? Or, to block the path back for a now homeless, though still beautiful spirit? Demon?
“Now the Golem is sighted!!! He is fully formed, separate from his creator”
The true author of this work claims to be a “golem.” A frightening creature!…He is swarthy, but ruggedly handsome, quick and intelligent. A strong being of danger and purpose! What purpose? A golem is a created being. But one not created by God. The golem is created from the imagination of a powerful mystic. Both Kabala and Tantric metaphysics have such creatures. Often they become so real that they strain for liberation from their creator. As any creature growing up, a golem can be mischievous, even dangerous…Why has this being separated from its source?
There is an expulsion of two characters at the end of “Resolution” above that mark this as an important turning point. One is a male lamia that I have known for years, an archetype. He is a beautiful young man, a puer eternis, but violent and ravenous. He is expelled from the garden of my heart and later his return is prevented by the glory of a mighty Seraph who is our protector and sponsor. This creature is a being of splendor who “sings the glory of God in creation.” The other expelled character is the Black Golem, G. K. Odiak. AKA the Golem Kodiak. A golem or a tolpa is a being created from the imagination of a powerful mystic. Some of these creatures become so real as to comment upon the nature of identity itself and sometimes display troublesome and mischievous traits. On a higher, more poetic plain, the golem can be a symbol of the alchemist’s higher aspirations. Upon such a creature the mystic may fly to the stars or visit the inner reaches of a molecule! The golem Kodiak replaces the author’s active influence in the world as the author withdraws more and more to the inner realms. Though this creature is described as black, it is neither skin tone nor moral attribute. Here, this crystalline black color describes the vast emptiness of the universe in which all our star encrusted worlds make their rounds and where we invent—no, charge, our lives, on the account of—what? Perhaps, the one who gives us breath.’