I am my own well, tap, into Chaos. I perceive it as under me, but that’s because it comes via me. It’s a bit kundalini, as well. But it’s there. So close, so always there.
The Summerlands and the Nightlands—they are both there, one becomes the other—distinct but bleeding together. I have glimpsed both, in the past. They are Otherworlds, and I have walked near both and need to understand both better—and how I touch them, can find myself there, how I connect to them.
I need to project again. Explore and learn more of these places.
But Chaos also lurks—needs exploration. None of these are the Aether, I don’t think…
But I also need to continue integrating myself. FitE goes apace, but also HS, BM, WM, ShF, SS—
But so many things feel close—more than I think ever before. But I also need to avoid distracting myself. I need the truth of ShF to keep me honest. I want the Otherworlds of the Summerlands and Nightlands, but…
Tarathon! I must find connection and wholeness.
Chaos is the field, the storm, the energy that binds us—the quantum flux and foam. The roots and webs are merely one metaphor.
* * *
One thing I have not considered—well, a couple of things—is my paradigmal approach to wealth and love. As I read Liber Kaos by Carroll, I see that our attitudes towards wealth say a lot, mean a lot, to our capacity to possess wealth. Gambling, he says, in its usual forms is the provenance of the poor.
Lust after money is not as useful as desire for wealth, which can include money. As a spiritual force, money/wealth is abstract and often immaterial—mercurial and preferring to be in motion.
Negative attitudes about wealth and the wealthy often convince us to eschew wealth or to avoid its pursuit. We think the wealthy are not happy. We think success takes hard work—but that’s often a trap of anti-wealth.
We develop a disdain for wealth and fail to see how that disdain is not attractive to wealth and convinces us we’re happier with poverty instead. Xianity works to associate wealth with shame and sin, as well and to pursue non-wealth as commodities instead.
Examine your ideas of wealth, excise and banish that which is not useful—or even harmful—and fashion new gods of wealth. Much the same is likely true re: love, I suspect. I have been inculcated to have harmful ideas of love, sex, relations, desire—and myself—so I chase love away, pine instead, or choose not to pursue, tricking myself into thinking I am happier otherwise, or powerless.
His idea of color of magic and of nurturing different god-forms associated with them—is interesting and evocative. Developing and negotiating various magical selves.
* * *
Anger too easily leads me, and like a poorly wielded blade, I cut myself. But my anger is not “wrong.” My anger rises, but I must wield it—or sheathe it.
FitE is dangerous because she represents libidinality and freedom from restraint, the freedom of passion, pride, but also love, mourning.
Carroll notes the “Chaos-tongue” begins with the vernacular rendered without “to be” verbs. Only action and doing will do for Chaos.
So, how does one respond to Amergin without “to be” verbs. No, no—Carroll is only an exercise. Lazy to-be’s are to be avoided. Those that inspire, create, or discover meaning can be.
* * *
My anger—and other things—blind me because Halthaya exists within me as well as without. My mind slides over itself, fails to see its Wholeness, and I therefore lose myself for a time.
It’s a contaminant, but it’s part of you. Not quite Ego—but almost.
But a god denied becomes a demon. Who is my God to my Goddess? My Anger, my _______—after a fashion—has been festering into a berserker fucktard Hulk. The reason I want to call up “Blood and souls for Arioch” is because my “God” has corrupted into some chaos demon in my head and soul.
The waters of WM and my Self are dark because I have not looked and have refused to look. Leviathans move in the Deep, and I let them usurp me.
Tirathon—I shall see—teer-ah-thahn
Cerithon—I will do/makekeh-ree-thahn
Enyaluvan—I will remember—ehn-yah’-loo-vahn
Horyuvan—I will do vigorously—hor’-yoo-vahn
Caruvan—I will do—cah’-roo-vahn
Halthaya—hahl’-thah-yah—the psychic censor