THE CLOSET MYSTIC

There have been many times

Where life itself

Felt like a fight for survival

Many times where I felt

Like that concentrated point

That exoplanet

In the farthest reaches of our solar system

Hanging on to the Sun’s orbit for dear life

Parsecs and parsecs away

One year

Being half a millennium

And now is no different

But I retreat inward

And call upon that High Priestess

That graceful ancestress

Her five-pearled orbit

That holiest dance of hers

For her pardon

For the antidote

To expel the contagion

to exorcise the ghosts of the past

The poltergeists of this temple

For I seek to be made

Once more

And forevermore

Like a maiden

Belonging to no one

But that pure Spirit

But that purest Spirit

Yes,

Let me be like the Moon

Let me be your prism

To pay homage

To the sevenfold glories you hold

Break me open

And let what is contained in that white light

Spill

Is it at last done?

Is it at last over with,

Is it finished?

Let it be so —

Reclaim me,

My shepherd.

Let me hold your hand

For I care not

what they think of me

I am a child

and I want to be held

That is all

Reclaim me

I can do all things

through that Dove

who descends from the heavens

I can do all things

Through that love,

Its redemptive forgiveness

for it is that

celestial light

that grants me strength

to stand up and fight

These chains of shame

fall without effort

the past’s bondage

gracefully severed

I deserve love

Like all beings do

And my foresight

Relays this core truth:

That every death

Foretells a new life

That in the end,

It’ll be alright —

And if it’s not,

The end’s yet to come,

Optimism,

Is in truth, realism.

I was Parsifal

questing for the Grail

an ancient treasure map

assembled by the fabled

Hermes Trismegistus

Nestled in my hands

I chewed on its riddles

Nightly

Different flavors

making themselves known

and the more I chewed

the more flavorful it became

and sublingually

did its alchemical wisdom

make haste

for my pineal gland

and a message

a message of sorts

began to form

in that holy playground

of the mystic eye

and it said to me

it spoke to me

oh so wise…

the dildo of consequences rarely arrives lubed

Once again 

have I come to bear witness

To the fickle hearts of mankind 

Once again 

have I come to realize

That the waxing and waning

Of our chosen loyalties

Are like houses of straw

To be toppled 

by word of mouth

By a mere breath, 

a mere sigh

Once again do I come to recognize

The parable of building one’s house on sand
Or on the eternal stone

For that love that transcends time

Also transcends 

its tendencies towards erosion

So,
once again,

Does serpent 
Bound by earth

Turn into eagle,

To transcend 

this vessel. 

For the macrocosm beckons me
And always has beckoned me.

I will venture to the mount
And shed the flesh

To be infused by starlight
And share it with mankind.
I recognize the chains I wear
And I recognize charred flesh has
healed over them

But no matter how stuck they are
We are not one

And I will peel them off

And I will bear the associated agonies

For my heart leaps for the celestials

It will leap through my chest

Ripping off the chains

And my skin with it

I truly had no idea anyone from my past was following this blog.

I hope you know I wrote that as a form of catharsis. I did not mean to hurt you at all.

You are a good person and I truly, genuinely wish you and your new partner utmost happiness. It would make me overjoyed to know that you are truly happy.

I wish you and your family all the best.

I cannot help but feel as if, in regarding and portraying itself as leading the charge away from the chains of the cult-like thinking it perceives in religion and its associated superstitions, science has become the very villain it thought itself to be slaying as the hero. My personal idealism considers the true spirit of the scientist as harboring the truly liberated and unfettered mind, as free of cognitive distortion as one can come, completely conquering all unconscious biases and cultural conditionings. These unconscious biases and walls of societal entrainment to me are like clouds obscuring what might otherwise be a perfectly clear and blue sky, that the Sun of the mind’s illumination might shine freely on all things. I instead often feel as if the mind of the so-called “scientist” relishes those overcast days.

But, then, if science is the truly liberated and truly free mind’s quest for pure knowing, then should not every scientist, philosopher, academic, or scholar — anyone who would credit themself as dedicating their very life to the pursuit of knowledge — be willing to make the great and treacherous foray into their own psyche and unconscious mind, if such a place is home to potential barriers to reason (such as fear, prejudice, conditioned biases, et cetera)? The scientist’s very first and most important instrument is their own mind. Psychoanalysis, to me, is the refinement and sharpening of that tool, that the measurements it gathers might be ever-more-accurate and precise. 

However, the great danger I am perceiving is in “scientists” who don masks of seemingly-unemotional objectivity, who perform their works in the name of pure “reason,” who instead seem to be veiling a deep-seated, white-knuckling clinging to the safe and familiar deep within the subjective recesses of their own psyche. Belief systems that are contrary to what they form an identity with — namely, religious or spiritual beliefs that contrast heavily with their chosen scientific or academic discipline built on foundational atheism — are met by these supposed objective “scientists” with ridicule, judgment, or even at times rage, perhaps masked by layers and layers of not-at-all prosaic academic jargon that further veils the true subjective roots of their opposition. 

Why is it that I so often find that in the most staunch of atheists who revere scientific rigor — and may seek to proselytize those who disagree, just like the religious zealots they have a distaste for — a background of having been wounded by religion, often rooted deeply in their childhoods, and so frequently by a parental figure who failed them, religious dogma wrapped around them like barbed wire, such that even their embrace might draw blood? 

Why is it so often these very scientists, with deep-seated wounds seemingly at the hands of religion (but in truth, at the hands of a flawed human), who admonish all religion and the pondering of anything remotely extra-physical the most heavily? If science is to be a truly-objective lens of approaching and investigating the world around us, free from all unconscious biases and emotional projections that might fetter the clarity of the mind — exactly what they accuse the religious and spiritual of doing — does a scientist whose opinion on religion and all spiritual matters that is inevitably emotionally-charged by personal wounding and deep-seated infantile rage from unmet needs fit that bill?

This is why I believe that the scientist must necessarily be willing to undergo something resembling a psychoanalytic process. Again, a scientist’s very first and very most important tool is their own mind — and what is psychoanalysis but the act of clearing out the Augean Stables of the mind with a river? I am not saying that every scientist should believe in the metaphysical, or necessarily even pay attention to religion. I am saying, however, that every scientist must be honest with themself about what is truly guiding the forming of their judgments, and that personal experience suggests that it is often unconscious emotional contents, and often wounding, guiding something treacherously masquerading as objectivity. 

Reality can perhaps be considered as this:

Yes — we all do come from one common Source. This Source is the singularity that contains all possibilities, all opposites, every spoke on the Wheel.

God is a playwright, from which every character, conflict, hero, villain, love interest ad infinitum extends. The act of creation necessarily involves the act of division. After every gestation period, the birth of an idea requires it to be separated from its mental womb.

Spiritualists speak to us of the shared unity of all of mankind. One common source shared by all, despite any seeming separateness. But this does not negate that, still yet, here we are in this great tragedy/comedy/dramatic performance, each taking the stage as different characters. Despite us all having originated from the same hand holding the very same pen, here we are still yet — written in, with a definite beginning and definite end.

So, then, what is the purpose of our spiritualists who tell us that this supposed division and blink of an eye that is our entire life with its definite expiration date is illusory? Why do they tell us that we are all one, from one source, back to one source?

Perhaps it is the equivalent of the reassuring hand of a friend in the midst of a horror film telling us “it’s just a movie.” Then, we can relax a bit and sit back — not walk out of the movie theater, but remain, and find enjoyment in it through every high and low —

I really appreciate contemplating the idea that even the most abstract of concepts — such as good and evil — have bases in even the most fundamental layers of reality itself.

The idea that “positive” and “negative” and “male” and “female” show up not just in the most microcosmic of ways — for example, the proton and electron — and not just in the most macrocosmic of ways — Sun and Moon — but also in the realm of seemingly-subjective emotional/life experiences, such as in “good” and “evil” astounds me. It inspires awe at the beautiful patterning of all that is. So often, I find beauty in chaos and disorder — like a turbulent sea — but to bear witness to the ordering power of the creative intelligence humbles me. It is like a formula or blueprint of life itself. So often I consider all things formulaic as being confining and restrictive — but this, rather, feels freeing.

I digress. This, to me, is one of the infinite ways in which the principles of Hermeticism display themselves. “As above, so below — as within, so without.” The pattern of the bedrock of our reality upon which all is built repeats itself and expresses itself in every which possible way. One seed that sprouts ever higher into intelligent infinity.

This is to me why astrology works. Consider the example of the proton and electron, and how the makeup of physical matter itself reflects the dynamics of our subjective reality. Objective existence and subjective existence reflect each other, shedding questions on just how clear the border they seem to share is. Are they really separate?

This, too, pertains to astrology. Crude physical matter, even when in contemplation of the grandeur of the heavenly bodies and planets in our solar system, lacks any intrinsic potency in relation to the subjective realm through the lens of modern science.

Let me make it clear, though: I am not saying that this does not serve us. Sometimes we must omit other halves of any given polarity in order to give whatever our area of focus may be the attention it deserves. Perhaps modern science discarding the realm of the subjective is extremely important for us to truly map out the functionings of the objective realm.

If ancient humanity was full of adepts at traversing the inner realms of the soul, it certainly lacked those who truly understood the outer realms of the natural world. Perhaps inner knowledge of the subtle, intangible, and spiritual dimension could have been significantly stronger in a pre-scientific society; however, consider what they lacked in terms of holding any sort of reign over the outer forces of the world as modern man does (even if we are using that power horribly).

So, even if the looking glass of our modern sciences is blind to the spiritual dimension, the acuity with which it perceives the external dimension of natural law is important for us regardless. Of course, the ideal is always to reconcile both wholly, fully, and totally, a theme that will continue to be mentioned time and time and time again in this blog of mine that is always latent with the ideas of alchemical marriage and unity of the opposites.

However, it is an extraordinarily rare thing to fully reconcile the opposites in such a way. How can we do so? The cycle of samsara demands that we continue to shed light only on one spoke of the wheel of the Whole continuously until we can reunite with the center that holds all possibilities at once. Humanity will be swinging around on the pendulum of duality until we can reconcile it all — you can be sure that this age of supposed reason and scientific Enlightenment precedes an era of intuition, feeling, and using the inner eye of spiritual perception, likely at the expense of the critical eye of the scientist. Whether this appears as regression or progression is relative, entirely up to you. To me, it is both and neither.

And, to me, utilizing both the eye of spirit and science at once, reconciling them into a unified third eye, is the highest and greatest ideal to strive for.

I’ve had a love affair with Death —

give me a man or woman

shrouded in dark robes

give me pale skin

and midnight locks

give me haunted eyes

that glimmer in the darkness

like the night sky

I can see the fear

of opening up

in their eyes

I can see that it is a rarity

I can see the forbidden intimacy

longed for and feared all the same

let me take your heart

from

black to cobalt

royal blues to pastels

then albedo unfolds

spilling forth

rainbows

Why does my heart leap

for those who lurk in shadows

Death personified

let me give you the warmth

That those subterranean caves

Lack

Let us be made one

Take my hand

For I too know what it’s like

To want to hide from the world

I too know the comfort and safety

Of the abyss

I know that jewels hide locked

In treasure chests and deep mines

I know that those who hide away

are most often those with something

worth hiding

worth protecting

Oh dark one

I can see that soft center you hide

Come to me

Come to me

oh,

what was the heartbreak?

I’ve come to realize

It wasn’t ever the pain of losing you

But rather the pain

Of having lost myself

One solar return

Is what it took

for my soul to return

Truly,

You left,

And then I came back

I came home to myself

I never lost you.

I lost myself for a whole year.

But I’m home again.

I’m home now.

❤️