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Dec. 12th, 2003 11:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaxjediI have a lot to say all at once. These aren't reasoned arguments or anythign like that - these are rants, plain and simple.
I've realized that I don't listen to enough music.
The true evocation of human essence is the perview of the artist, really. Not the philosopher or the scientist or the theologian. All of those simply don't encompass the totality of the human experience. Humanity is a science. But it is also a humanity. Only through the artists' lens can you create the gesalt of emotion and expression to distill the various essences of humanity.
I'm not musically inclined, but somethings I can only hear in songs. Sometimes I'll be listening music and I'll hear a song I've heard a dozen times before and suddenly one lyric will stand out, as if the song was floating around the world just to be heard at that particular moment. The Goddess talks to me in small sound bytes heard on the radio.
I haven't been listening much lately. The music fills my mind lately, but instead of inspiring, it just fills. There isn't much in my mind to inspire - my mind is an empty chasm, a hoile in consciousness where the same old echoes bounce back and forth, losing just enough clarity to make them sound flat and without substance.
But I decided to listen a bit more this evening. Some songs I haven't listened to in a while - soulful songs. Blue Oyster Cult's Veterans of the Physic Wars, the Theme from Twin Peaks, the Battle song from Dune... lots of instrumental and slow, deep music.
Maybe I can feel a bit more than what I've been feeling.
It was the beginning of the Third Day. I'd found the keys to the Gray Gate in some songs that I used to listen to at 2am in my parent's backyard and a little green and yellow pill named Prozac. I was 17 and the world had woken up to what I thought it was supposed to be.
I danced in the darkness, along the edge of the pool in our backyard, after evenings around white marble tables and bad poetry that was good because it was real, if clumsy. Listening to the Incan pipes, I knew wisdom.
I remember the noontime of the Third Day. It was then that I became a poet. I began to forge words. Jenziry. The first word I ever made. It meant love beyond boundries, connection beyond expression and without end. She was the first Grail.
I remember Blood and Fire on the peak of a small desert hill. I remember the music even after emerging from the Chapel Perilious and into the Land of Mud.
I always do my thinking now when I am driving. It's the closest thing I have to quiet time, in a space that is mostly my own.
And I was thinking about faith. And the fact is that I'd lost mine. I wondered what I believed in and I wasn't sure.
After thinking about it, I began to remember what I used to believe. I used to believe that love was my purpose. I had faith that I was a prophet, albeit a pretty minor one. That I could not stand against the juggernauts of history, but I had my part to play, my gift to give to the world. I was a vessel for the Divine, a messenger of the Divine Spark. And I ministered with caresses, kisses, words and laughter. I didn't need a church or a circle - I lived in sacred space.
God is Love. I knew it. And I still know it. But my love is muted because my energy is depleted, and I am less like God because of it.
I still love, but I love differently now. I love through endurance. I love by continuing so that my daughter and my wife may have hope. Instead of inspiring, I bulwark. My love is no longer legion. My love is cornerstones and crossbeams.
I know this is important. And I will not fail my daughter as long as I still draw breath. But I miss the dance of Shakti.
People talk about sex-positive. It's not enough. It's not enough to say "Well, sex is okay" but then put boundries on it, that sort of sex is just weird, that sort of sex is meaningless, etc. To be sex-positive and then to backpeddle when it gets uncomfortable is to give in, to lose the war against the emotional epidemic that we as a species suffer from.
The approach of 'sex is dirty, except in certain situations' simply corrupts the purity of the gift of our bodies and souls from the start. The implication that sex for sex's sake is inherently destructive is the flaw. It's based off of the tacit acceptance that pleasure is wrong and ultimately leads to the surrender to the idea that hapiness is only capable through the realization that life is naught but pain and disappointment.
Sex is our physical evidence that life is built for joy as well as pain. Denying our nature cuts us off from our birthright and sends us back into the victory of suffering.
Our libido must not be just tolerated, it has to be encouraged. It has to be nourished. It has to be honed and exercised and glorified. All of it that can increase love and joy. It must be reclaimed from those who use it as a weapon, as an atrocity. We must fuck proudly and fuck righteously. And we must clear the way for others to do so as well. We must purify each and every part of it so that it comes a tool for the sanctity of love and rapture and awe of the beautiful goodness of human life.
Even if it's not your kink. Porn. Prostitution. Fetishes. Swinging. Incest. Exhibitionism. Homosexuality. Underage sex. Bloodplay. BDSM. Voluntary Slavery. Nudism. All of it. Every part of it must be saved. Every part of it is a key to our salvation.
I believe in magick. But I don't do ceremonial magick. That's the worst problem that i ahve had with paganism - the insistance that magick must be ceremonial, taht it must be done through symbolism and ritual. Even Chaos Magick is ceremonial. As pagans, we are obsessed with the concept of the sacred circle and that magick and religion are done within it. We separate the world of spirituality from the world of the mundane.
My magick is direct. It is directly in the friendships I have, it's inherent to the relationships I have and the moans I cause. Magick is immanent - it is between, across and infused in our moments and actions.
There are places for magi and priests in paganism. But there are also places for monks and mystics.
I've realized that I don't listen to enough music.
The true evocation of human essence is the perview of the artist, really. Not the philosopher or the scientist or the theologian. All of those simply don't encompass the totality of the human experience. Humanity is a science. But it is also a humanity. Only through the artists' lens can you create the gesalt of emotion and expression to distill the various essences of humanity.
I'm not musically inclined, but somethings I can only hear in songs. Sometimes I'll be listening music and I'll hear a song I've heard a dozen times before and suddenly one lyric will stand out, as if the song was floating around the world just to be heard at that particular moment. The Goddess talks to me in small sound bytes heard on the radio.
I haven't been listening much lately. The music fills my mind lately, but instead of inspiring, it just fills. There isn't much in my mind to inspire - my mind is an empty chasm, a hoile in consciousness where the same old echoes bounce back and forth, losing just enough clarity to make them sound flat and without substance.
But I decided to listen a bit more this evening. Some songs I haven't listened to in a while - soulful songs. Blue Oyster Cult's Veterans of the Physic Wars, the Theme from Twin Peaks, the Battle song from Dune... lots of instrumental and slow, deep music.
Maybe I can feel a bit more than what I've been feeling.
It was the beginning of the Third Day. I'd found the keys to the Gray Gate in some songs that I used to listen to at 2am in my parent's backyard and a little green and yellow pill named Prozac. I was 17 and the world had woken up to what I thought it was supposed to be.
I danced in the darkness, along the edge of the pool in our backyard, after evenings around white marble tables and bad poetry that was good because it was real, if clumsy. Listening to the Incan pipes, I knew wisdom.
I remember the noontime of the Third Day. It was then that I became a poet. I began to forge words. Jenziry. The first word I ever made. It meant love beyond boundries, connection beyond expression and without end. She was the first Grail.
I remember Blood and Fire on the peak of a small desert hill. I remember the music even after emerging from the Chapel Perilious and into the Land of Mud.
I always do my thinking now when I am driving. It's the closest thing I have to quiet time, in a space that is mostly my own.
And I was thinking about faith. And the fact is that I'd lost mine. I wondered what I believed in and I wasn't sure.
After thinking about it, I began to remember what I used to believe. I used to believe that love was my purpose. I had faith that I was a prophet, albeit a pretty minor one. That I could not stand against the juggernauts of history, but I had my part to play, my gift to give to the world. I was a vessel for the Divine, a messenger of the Divine Spark. And I ministered with caresses, kisses, words and laughter. I didn't need a church or a circle - I lived in sacred space.
God is Love. I knew it. And I still know it. But my love is muted because my energy is depleted, and I am less like God because of it.
I still love, but I love differently now. I love through endurance. I love by continuing so that my daughter and my wife may have hope. Instead of inspiring, I bulwark. My love is no longer legion. My love is cornerstones and crossbeams.
I know this is important. And I will not fail my daughter as long as I still draw breath. But I miss the dance of Shakti.
People talk about sex-positive. It's not enough. It's not enough to say "Well, sex is okay" but then put boundries on it, that sort of sex is just weird, that sort of sex is meaningless, etc. To be sex-positive and then to backpeddle when it gets uncomfortable is to give in, to lose the war against the emotional epidemic that we as a species suffer from.
The approach of 'sex is dirty, except in certain situations' simply corrupts the purity of the gift of our bodies and souls from the start. The implication that sex for sex's sake is inherently destructive is the flaw. It's based off of the tacit acceptance that pleasure is wrong and ultimately leads to the surrender to the idea that hapiness is only capable through the realization that life is naught but pain and disappointment.
Sex is our physical evidence that life is built for joy as well as pain. Denying our nature cuts us off from our birthright and sends us back into the victory of suffering.
Our libido must not be just tolerated, it has to be encouraged. It has to be nourished. It has to be honed and exercised and glorified. All of it that can increase love and joy. It must be reclaimed from those who use it as a weapon, as an atrocity. We must fuck proudly and fuck righteously. And we must clear the way for others to do so as well. We must purify each and every part of it so that it comes a tool for the sanctity of love and rapture and awe of the beautiful goodness of human life.
Even if it's not your kink. Porn. Prostitution. Fetishes. Swinging. Incest. Exhibitionism. Homosexuality. Underage sex. Bloodplay. BDSM. Voluntary Slavery. Nudism. All of it. Every part of it must be saved. Every part of it is a key to our salvation.
I believe in magick. But I don't do ceremonial magick. That's the worst problem that i ahve had with paganism - the insistance that magick must be ceremonial, taht it must be done through symbolism and ritual. Even Chaos Magick is ceremonial. As pagans, we are obsessed with the concept of the sacred circle and that magick and religion are done within it. We separate the world of spirituality from the world of the mundane.
My magick is direct. It is directly in the friendships I have, it's inherent to the relationships I have and the moans I cause. Magick is immanent - it is between, across and infused in our moments and actions.
There are places for magi and priests in paganism. But there are also places for monks and mystics.
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 02:15 am (UTC)I know your family is very important to you, but having known you from "before" it pains me more than you know to hear you say that.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-13 11:58 am (UTC)There are definitely things that are just not my kink. But I'm a sufficiently kinky lass that there is PLENTY that I'm into that other people often freak out at.
A lot of what you've said here about magic, and loss of faith resonates with me. I still enjoy ritual for some things. But more and more I'm integrating magic into me, into my everyday life. My bedroom is my temple. I did craft it deliberately to be that.... but it's also a fun place to hang out, have sex, rest, etc.
Blah. Many more thoughts go here... but here's a "right on."
no subject
Date: 2003-12-18 06:39 am (UTC)Anyways, if you have more thoughts to respond with, please do :)
no subject
Date: 2003-12-15 07:55 am (UTC)Welcome to the New Agonyclites, my friend. ;-D
no subject
Date: 2003-12-18 06:38 am (UTC)Where does the name come from?
no subject
Date: 2003-12-18 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 02:04 am (UTC)(: