THE TRIAD OF THE WARRIOR, SORCERER, FARMER:
An Insight into Inexorable Simplicity.
22 DEC 2012
I suppose it was the next logical step. From the paradigms of the Warrior, through Sorcerer, to a sudden profound connexion and desire to connect with the innate forces of THEM through farming and plants.
I have grown up around those who were always in their gardens; watched my mother transform our backyard into a vegetable extravaganza and recall the clink of her spade or the piles of weeds sitting on the driveway as a boy. But it never occurred to me to involve myself, I took no interest in gardening whatsoever until this latest stage of my life and the most recent.
It is a fact that I have always been awed and worshipful of nature – drawn to it as if it were some Other – its forces are humbling, its majesty unmatched. But I used to drive past people in my car and see them sweeping the pavement, and I would think to myself – what on earth is the point. Don’t they have anything better to do? And yet – now I am like them, lovingly tending and landscaping my property to produce a bountiful harvest of fresh fruit and vegetables. Like the electric guitar, mathematics or composing music, the green world of gardening has always seemed beyond my ken;- previously I suppose I had no need for it. And yet, it is as though something has drawn me back to this great love and peter pannishness of mine for Earth and nature – as if something else in my spirituality had exhausted the need for forms and structures words and ideas and found a place of comfort in amongst the chaotic insurgence of plant life which will not be stopped – never be stopped – and which will dominate the dustiest sand bowl, the air on the thinnest mountain, survive even on the cusp of volcanic rock, or thrive beneath the tremendous depths of the sea.
Few things are as sexual as plants (as possessed of numinous drive to Be), as powerfully insistent, as beautiful, sublime or joyous to tend. As I have been brought to them through an exhaustion of my previous interests I have found them to have a language of their own – a sublime perfection and a life that seems so alien and magical I ask myself how I did not see it all so much sooner. They don’t have voices in the traditional sense, they don’t hold long conversations on satanic tactics and strategy, they are not friends or associates, they do not require catalogues of information – they are simple and yet so very complex it delights me that I do not understand them. They are devoid of humanity and its problems, its plagues, its issues – they are some Other species which I have lost contact with subsumed in a modern world that denudes me of the need to Remember them, their purpose, gifts, importance, life.
I am trying though. Economically there is pressure to turn to these arts of growing things to offset the rising prices of everything with its army of sprays and pesticides. If things are going to change, it does not require the brute force of warriors, or the subtle manipulations of the sorcerer, or the empathy with the land wrought from living of it of the Farmer but all three. How to teach this third skill if I am not at all attuned to this way of life? Despite having absolutely no interest in caring for the gardens, tending the rockeries, weeding the dirt – and faced with a desperately overgrown property tangled with five years of neglect as I forged my writing career and let my role as Ra online consume me – I have already learned so much.
I have come to understand how much change I can make to the landscape about me – perhaps more than I ever did as a Warrior that could use violence and war to brings something to its knees, or as a Sorcerer who drew down the forces of THEM and created a magical order of Undividuals who could transcend forms causing change in the way many people thought about all manner of things – a ripple effect that has since travelled well across the world touching thousands allowing me to appreciate so much about the power of one and the connectivity of all. But this carpet of wild and weird, diverse and unique entities living all round me, under me, above me, growing at its own speed, its own rules, with its own unknown directives – atomic, chemical, organic, textural, floral, brilliance suddenly entices me toward it like never before, and I have spent months now speaking to others, reading books – but more than ever before, and so unusual for me as I love to calculate, control, intellectually grasp all the things I learn or study – down on my knees in the dirt, observing, experimenting, watchful – hopeful – watering plants, digging out weeds, planting seeds, hoeing, shovelling, pruning, tending.
So many of my fellow THEM had been involved with plants (Qv. Them’s private group “The Otherland” was one such place where discussions were heavily focused on entheogenic use of plants.) concerning themselves with seeking out, growing or identifying substances that grew wild – from mushrooms to ergot, datura to cannibis.- speaking often of different plants and trees, shrubs and flowers with medicinal or chemical properties and I stood on the outside, stranger to a world I did not understand, watching the foreign exchanges and marvelling even then at the camaraderie and the passion and warmth between the speakers as they traded information. But I stood always on the threshold – I could remark on drugs, on my experiences with them but when it came to any sort of experience with plants I was a foreigner. I realize now that I was an inert participant in some secret world that has dominated the speech of humanity from before time – an ageless exchange of information about these awesome things that I have so often taken for granted or ignored. It was not just an information trade on a handful of objects, catalogued to provide some effect or another – but an entire paradigm, a perceptual moving with the world that these speakers possessed or sought to possess. A closeness to the Earth that I had admittedly (unwittingly) watered down with rhetoric in my deluge of monologues about the necessity of this without knowing that there was a vast absence of this peace I feel now, from my life. It was driving home the same point I have made again and again in vain about apprehending forces as they are – and separating them from the forms that carry them. It is not possible to speak from experience if one is anchored to a computer writing about the same experiences. Though building an illuminati (or creating the seeds for one) required it these many years past – I can now write about new experiences, because I have freed myself from my online role.
With my extraction from the online nexus as Ra**, I took on a job as a landscaper to get back out into the sunshine and begin building back up my muscles which had grown soft and somewhat pale from years furiously tapping away at a keyboard building the mythos, membership and legacy of the Temple of THEM.
As I laboured alone in a field, the sun warming my skin at my new job and I exerted myself to clear a space to plant trees – thoughts pervaded my mind of political slogans proffering the importance of work, of capitalism, of capital, of paganism, of the blood and sweat of farmers immemorial growing and producing almost everything I eat – and the ancient importance of the harvests and the common sentiment that if the crop failed it was often the difference between life or death. What I was doing in this field was one of the oldest human endeavours – one of the reasons why Gods came to be and held such sway and why it was so crucial the people believe their gods satisfied and appeased through sacrifices and offerings. I thought about the pagan rebirth symbolism of the tree, of the egg. The rich connexions of these simple acts to the wider world. And slowly, as I dug out the tufts of thick-strapped grass – my world was widening.
From humble understanding (experience) that I would not break or die if I lifted some rocks, pulled out some grass, or dug some holes I began to set my own house in order – working day after day clearing weeds and scrub, trimming overgrown trees and shrubs, clearing tangled paths and choked gardens – not consciously I think – but drawn somehow closer, inexorably to the empathy I am now developing with the land – Remembering in a whole new way a new facet of things that had been lost to me.
In many ways it was realizing that I could in fact do gardening;- could barrow, pull weeds, plant trees, dig trenches, fix things and was not as completely useless at green-thumbing as I had previously felt that made something in me click. Out in the field ripping out tundra grass in the hot sun to clear space as a volunteer seemed to burn something away in my then present mindset – it was the simpler physical exertion, the fact that no thinking was required, no long tracts, persuasions or arguments to get a point across, explore one, or explain something that made the experience profoundly different. It was all so simple, so straight-forward, and it was euphorically rewarding. It was as if all the tendrilled monsters with snapping jaws biting into my clarity of mind and stirred up my brain keeping it restless, cluttered, tangled, overwrought, divided – that devoured my thoughts, taking a ceaseless barrage of turns clamping their raging fangs, then another, and another deep into my attention and focus and tearing me away from the world to occupy my role as the online Ryan Anschauung suddenly lost their long-established potency.
It was like a weight had been lifted and I suddenly went deeper, understood more, achieved a new empathy with this process, this transformation – a blind scribe suddenly visceral witness to a pulsing cthonic alchemy.
I was starting to get it – I was since a few years previous beginning to notice the seasons, watching and noting the changes in the plants and trees – noting the change in weather, the colour changes in the leaves or the trees dropping them in heaps. I had written many years ago about a Walk I had where these things were prominent, these perceptions starting to intensify – but they have never felt as strong as they do now, nor did I act as practically on the feelings as I do now. My comments were genuinely felt but often stopped at being musings.
(Time has never been something I have been well connected to – even meticulous as I am in my writings I often get dates especially earlier years mixed up or wrong through lack of memory and no ability to accurately recall the chronology of many events. See Diary of a DevilworshippeR II for my explanation – laying the blame squarely at the feet of my alcoholism and a dozen or more fights where I took damage to my skull. Time is as a construct entirely ‘take it or leave it for me’ – I feel Time is something others run on/by.)
This time, in my early thirties, I was becoming aware of the other lives around me that were not mine – a life-centred expansion of all of those living beings dotted around me with a force unrivalled that kept them appearing, struggling to sprout, surviving incredible odds and growing anywhere, any time, slowly reclaiming cleared spaces with inexorable persistence whenever I did not sustain my human influences over their processes. The seasons have taken on a new (or should that be old?) pivotal role, re-engaging me with the land as part of it and firing some ancient or forgotten memory of knowing how to do all this. I struggled at first and still now with more advanced concepts and ambitions to change my landscape around me, to work with it, to grow things on it – but in a short time I have transformed not only my backyard but myself. I feel somehow more free, dis-connected from the intellectual wiring of the role of Ra online dealing with administration and offering guidance in dry written words – I feel like I am now turning with the earth, rotating with the seasons, setting my course by the stars. Though I am only a young man and it seems silly to speak as if I have some knowledge of age being only merely 33 years old – my experiences with the External Adept/Internal Adept Rites and within the Temple of THEM had shown me the multiplicitousness of Time and how it could pass as many streams simultaneously – and through many powerful insights experiencing this, occupy and flow seamlessly in such a way that to explain it automatically suggests a paradox. Or to say it another way -I feel that I feel Change much more strongly and more connected to it as it does, than ever before.
The weather, the winds, rains, heat, cold, have all taken on a more immediate level of notice to me. I am new to this yet – and my first crop is yet to die and allow me take seeds and prepare the ground for the next season, but the excitement I feel is tangible over such a thing as remembering (learning) how to grow vegetables and actually doing it. I feel like a piece of me, of my ability, of my memetic heritage is being recalled… and, I did not know it was missing.
From empty sandy dry (what I thought was very poor sandy rocky soil in which nothing could ever grow) I watched in amazement as one of the thirty silverbeet plants I sowed with my son suddenly sprouted from the ground weeks after I’d thought all hope was lost. Spurred on by this unexpected superbeet thriving beyond all expectations in what I thought was a dusty useless patch of dirt in which only weeds and grass could thrive, I saw that I had made a judgement that simply did not stand up to the facts. I realized that all I had done was put the seeds in the ground – nature had done the rest. Whatever I had thought would happen, whatever assumptions had been floating around in my head that I told myself the soil was no good, that the seeds had died, that nothing will ever grow in here – were irrelevant noise. And whilst some might hate that idea, I welcomed it like an old friend. The seeds had not grown as expected. And I had only one plant out of an expected (arrogantly! Lol) thirty – I felt a childish delight when I noticed it had survived and watched over it, watering and weeding. I remained bemused by the salient fact that all I had done was put the seeds in the ground – nature had done the rest. By All the Gods I love Nature… (Sometimes forget I Am nature.)
As the weeks passed the plant grew stronger and shot higher and higher until it was a running joke among us that the plant should be trying to reach the height of the small tree beside it, mistakenly thinking that it was its mother and that was the height it should be. I did not pay overly much attention as I was concentrating on ripping out grass with a foggy indistinct sense (intuition…) that this clearing of the overgrown yard would lead somewhere if I just kept at it. But every now and then would check on it and was again and again surprised at the way it grew, the things it did, the way it was all unfolding.
And it grew larger until we began to then joke it would top the fence. Or that it was mounting an effort to become Me – and that we’d come out and it would be wearing my clothes and sporting a shaved head and we’d have to beat it to death to stop it from replacing me. I spoke with my mother who said she’d never seen such a tall silverbeet (Which was until recently over 2m) and that I should keep the seeds as they would be the foundation for a superb crop next year. Extraordinary things happen with fairly steady frequency in my life. Not all of them favourable or good – but very strong forces of synchronicities govern my life.
*Often it drives me mad – but I have infinite PATIENCE and yet none at all. Plants have taught me more than humans have about the inexorable passage of time and the patience of involving myself with something that cares nothing for my perception of time but does its own things, as and when.
As it grew I kept at the yard, bit by bit making a dent in the terrible mess it had become. The silverbeet continued to grow until it was even taller than the fence, and just over my height. It has now started to die and I will be taking the seeds off it when it browns for next year and for friends. Impressed by the fact that “I grew” this giant plant in what was obviously excellent soil for it I began slowly clearing other patches and putting in more seeds. As my cleared and prepared gardens beds began to replace and outnumber the weed-strewn areas of the yard I began advancing more and more using weed killer to control grass verges, kill off weedlings growing through the pavement and regain some control over the state of it all. I read the backs of the seed packets for tips on where best to plant the seeds and followed advice where given from Owy on how to make it all work. I largely have my wife, mother, brother and his wife to thank for enabling me to get to grips with how to plant a garden – how often to water, how to keep pests off them, how easy it was to just take them out the ground from somewhere and move them, how certain plants could only be planted at certain times of year – how sun, shadow and wet were integral aspects to assisting them to prosper and answers to other questions I’d have never thought to ask.
And as I did more – old inklings, memories, feelings about what to do – snatches of things I’d seen, overheard, read, learned, been told began to occasionally filter through and I sometimes moved as if an old hand at it– just knowing what was right as if the skills of my ancestors who lived off the land were emerging through my being, somehow remembered through millions of years of repetition and coding and some ineffable hidden connection to them and the tens of thousands of years people had been doing all of this. And when I began to take an interest in my families gardens looking at how they had done things, admiring their layouts, skills and choices it was as if a whole new world opened up – a magical passionate wonderland on which each spoke of with joy and beamed with pride as they shared tips or offered cuttings.
Where has this simple but powerful joy been for me? Honestly – I think I forgot it. Its that simple. Because I never had the life or death pressure to remember it. I’d gotten so used to all these others doing everything for me – so much so that it didn’t enter my head that there could be such importance for such skills until this late in my life. But I need to Remember – and I am Remembering, every day, more and more. Enough to plant a dozen Spring-based vegetables which are now bursting over the sides of the garden and about to explode forth loads of fresh vegetables; enough to keep them pest- and snail free with the organic aid of just chilli and garlic spray and not pesticides, to stake tomato plants and set up sticks with coloured strings to keep birds off, enough to transplant some zuchini plants which weren’t getting enough sun to somewhere better by just digging them out of the ground and watering them into their new homes with seaweed water to help the roots survive the shock of being moved; enough to add little touches of personality to the garden to humanize the fences and borders that demarcate our human presence in respectful symbiosis.
That it feels so right, so synchronous to be doing this over-rides my thoughts or intellectual noise that dominates any other activities I engage in – the din of the internal chatter has begun quietening to whispers just like it did when I was drawing down my chi in meditation or exerting massive physical effort that made my muscles burn and scream in Ninjitsu training and all those voices that cluttered my brain, arranging themselves as priorities, as things I must do, no longer keep me awake, driving me mad like the mad arab al azhared. Its not always nice to have trained myself to see things from so many dozens of different ways each in intricate detail. Sometimes I drink a few beers just to dull the roar of all that information chattering around in my head and take the edge of my incisive epiphanies which are as frequent as they are randomly worth writing down or absurd nonsense spilling over the sides.
But – I am driving differently now – powered on some new energy, or moving on some new ley line – relaxed by knowledge of some simpler energy, the inevitable collapse of all through inexorable flux, a man wheeling through space without friction – without doubt, without playing over every conversation had or that I might have in my head, robbing me of sleep as my brain ticks over fevered and unable to rest – planning and plotting every possible outcome to control the outcome, calculating emotional responses or strategic initiatives – no. No. For the first time in my life it is quiet in my head. I owe nothing to no-one, I have no waiting emails ready to drag me back into a web of words pulling me away from the Complex Simple under a deluge of yet more endless articulation… No.
For the first time it is quiet in my head. Like a time so long ago I achieved No-stance through the Dark Lily – cutting any emerging thought to pieces with the continual visualization of a black spinning vortex of shredding blades and shut my brain down for the day so that no thoughts consciously entered my presence of mind. (Giving me the mother of wicked migraines in the evening that followed.) But this time there is no effort to not think. And the thoughts are not urging, they are not insistent, they are not demanding, or jumbled, or trying to pour through all at once. They are the thoughts of a calmed man, who believes he understands what actually matters amidst all the things that cry out for our time and attention – all the distractions stripped, who is at peace with who he is, what he has done, might yet do in this world and has all the time he needs to do it. He no longer wrestles with his ego pulling him one way, his ideal me pulling him in another – pulling them apart so that he can never meet his own self-image. No. Tranquility from Storms.
If I could (but perhaps I should not) express what it is I feel that makes this new interest so fulfilling I suppose I would have to say I enjoy the extreme non-humanity of it all – of truly deeply working with, being a participant of the forces of THEM, propagating plants, digging my hands in the earth, sweating and exerting energy in the labour of working to understand, expand, advance my knowledge of this world that I have newly re-discovered a profound passion for;- though I find myself many months after my departure feeling that insistent urge that has always been inside me to write down my experiences and these changes of my journey – I find it difficult to imagine that I will ever be the same man that I was even some months ago, things have snapped, fundamentally changed, priorities re-ordered and even in some cases erased.
There is for me something utterly magical in observing and working with these things. They are the products of the forces I have sworn my life’s interest to. Yes, no doubt it could all be explained in technical terms what is happening and why each process is taking place, what prevents it, slow its, or speeds it up – but for once and again – new – to me, I find myself enjoying my ignorance and the slow process of just learning through patient and continued involvement with them. And yet, why, where does it all come from, why? No matter what may be called magic or that I have called magic before – it is the purest delight to be witness (or not fast enough to witness) the incredible changes of these organisms living their lives through the cycles they travel and the surest definition of magic I know. For a guy who has spent a decade furiously ripping the fabric of all things into threads and then even smaller pieces (As a friend once said “questioning even the question of the question’s question”) in a frenzy of it says something I think that I am more than content to just let plants and flowers Be without asking too many questions about how or why.
Changing someone’s biophysicality through altering their perception is a tremendous feeling (especially the boost to the ego that you might have been responsible for changing someones life, actions or bearing) but losing myself, relinquishing control to work among natural plants is the greatest release I have had for a very long time. I am very used to balancing everything on a very serious tightrope, desperate to keep all the balls in the air, juggling like a madman terrified my creations would not grow or not grow the way I wanted them to. I can do very little to interfere with plants worlds – I cannot control the force(s) that propel them into Being, I have no say over whether they live or die, how fast they grow or the changes they go through. I am a passive observer, sometimes participant, and it feels so good just to be amongst them without a rigourous intellectual catalogue or detailed schematas of the science of plants. I do not feel the usual demonic need to manipulate and turn things my way through excessive study of the subject, conversations or the use of forms. I can speak with the plants in an empathic language. But it is simple and pure unlike human discussions which tangle themselves endlessly getting only more deeply mired in their own sense of importance or writing a volume in an answer only to have it come out I was desperately misunderstood. It is so emancipating not to be holding strings trying to yolk the sun. I was doing That for so long.
It is the fact that plants have their own rules that keeps me on bended knee and resisting the impulse to strip the brave new world of its secrets by plastering my brain with textbooks, facts and figures as I would any other subject to strip them off their mystery and look into the soul of the matter with a violent eye.
For instance. I watched the peas grow from a few straggly seedlings into a bushy mass of curls. I patiently got up at dawns light in the darkness to give them water before the sun came up (risking the water heating up and the droplets burning their leaves). I carefully weeded them and watched as they grew bigger and more tangled – patiently waiting to see the peas form themselves being incredibly curious to see the manner in which they would. I was enthralled to see after what seemed like a long time flowers finally begin to appear and thought to myself – this is so awesome, pods cant be far away now, I will look at the plants every day and watch them come through.
But two days of unanticipated heavy rain temporarily kept me inside. When I finally emerged after the rain had subsided, I was astonished to see fully grown pods several inches long. I wondered in amazement how so much could grow so fast, almost overnight, and chuckled that despite watching them like an eagle for just this very event to take place – I had missed it happen by a matter of a day or so. Reading this back as I edit, I can see how it sounds like I am in Love with plants. It’s not the love of giving anal sex or hardcore high quality drugs, the anticipation of some longed for event to arrive, a fast drive with extremely loud music blaring or the silky enamourment of a partner whom you cannot live without – and its not entirely the right way to word it – but it is true, I am in love with THEM, with all their forces, powerfully expressed through one of the more sublime forms through which they presence themselves in plants. I have seen so much evidence for THEM in all my explorations but with the collapse of old affections a purer (or perhaps just different) object has arisen from the cluttered desert littered with the husks of forms I have been consumed by and then consumed.
I love that plants are so full of surprises. I never know what I am going to see when I crouch down to tend my small crops now.
At the time of writing, I have dug approximately 4 garden beds and am growing zuchinni, potatoes, tomatoes, peas, beans, strawberries, watermelon and radishes. I have planted seeds of flowers given to me by friends that I liked the look of to fill gaps around the yard and as experiments;- putting them in different places to see if they will grow or what. I will be delighted to see what has decided to grow and where;- its fun. I have bought and am using a compost bin to create rich nutrient mulch for my plants in the coming year – and have plans to dig even more gardens.
I still feel a little out of my depth as Summer comes in and I consider how the current plants will die off and how I will gather the seeds and keep them for next year just like a farmer, might, meanwhile preparing the soil for those vegetables and plants I can grow only in Autumn, Winter.
My vision (drifting direction) is to gain the competence growing crops necessary to feed my family all four seasons of the year and reduce our dependancy on supermarkets for them. As is natural to me I wonder how far I can go to produce what I need. To the point where I may some day soon be able to grow and harvest my own wheat, corn, even sugar – maybe even learn how to make rope from flax, create medicines, grow psychoactive substances or gain a more comprehensive understanding of how to use plants in the huge number of ways they are used – but which I have no experience duplicating by myself. Maybe such workings will enable me the understanding with the land to harness its resources in a way I have only ever dreamed of idly – perhaps I will chance upon or develop the know-how to create electricity, use water, wind, sun powered batteries or some means of generating free sustainable heat, light – as so long ago was done countless times through necessity (no doubt remembered and forgotten many many times) but are skills that have long been neglected in a world saturated by pharmaceuticals, automotive industries and multi-national ‘food’ growers who are doing seriously terrible shit to the genetic make-up of foods. Its all merchandise that robs us of that same Necessity to Remember how to do so many things. From small beginnings I have transformed my overgrown, messy, tangled sprawl of yard into a (not too) neatly manicured food-producing vista.
And as I return to I suppose what is working with the land, appreciating it all, learning how it grows, changes – I sense that like a house of tumbling cards, the connexions of the greater environ will come into focus as part of the greater empathy such as the night skies, the wheeling of the stars, And I will be moving with them, moving to their clocks in symbiosis as best as I can.
As so often happens with a lifestyle change it reorients everything, the way you do things, the way you see things – things you only notice as the changes you implement take hold… the importance of solstice/equinox for farming, ingenious solutions for sustaining the environ, maybe even turning my attentions as I grow more confident with livestock, butchering animals for meat, or keeping chickens for eggs.
Whilst not perhaps as glamorous as martial arts, or black magic, without such skills as being able to grow food, farm the land, raise or keep livestock, it is difficult to imagine how any real sustainable practical change can happen for any group of people with any set of beliefs who cannot repeat thousands of years of performing them and which form the very heart of any tribe or society that wishes to be independent or at the very least tries to be independent which presents many challenges in our modern world. When I was getting my black belt I though Martial Arts was the quintessential practice people needed to adopt widely to participate in a violent insurrection of the State. When I was a Sorcerer I believe that people needed to adopt a practice of questioning all forms and recognizing the forms as only a part of forces that powered them – that all forms were at their centre mirages that controlled us through our attachment and weakness to them. Now that I am gardening with an eye to becoming a Farmer it is only natural to assume that I believe these skills are in danger of being learned too late, never learned, and their role in independence underestimated. Food, Water, Oil, Air. These forces can be spelled with just 15 letters but the omnipresent and unquestioned power with which they are used as leverage to manipulate and control individuals to Nations, property, wealth, money, LIFE – is unquestionable. I once believed we had to attack the concept of Time, Space, Morality, and break within us the programming of these concepts because they are used to standardize and control – but all the intellectual well-wishing, political right or might, rhetoric or argument on paper or screen comes to naught without the ability to grow your own food and work with the land. Without such skills, no matter how forceful or persuasive the call to arms – nothing changes while we are forced or too complacent to rely on the system managing all our food, water, resource needs. Magical Socialists included.
I’d like to think my arrangement of the appearance of the garden and yard is where my influence mostly ends – just because there are so few things humans do not seek to control, and to hold onto that feeling of my irrelevance. Its not only good for people to feel there are things they cannot control (another facet important to the concept of THEM) it is absolutely essential. And even though I am ostensibly a bystander – I feel it impossible not to interfere as I grow these plants to produce food, tending and pruning, weeding and watering.
Perhaps that is just mild and intellectual (over)-reactionism by my ego pretending it doesn’t want to have a say in shaping this wonderful world or using it– the most beautiful harmonious unchained world of plants… but I will never restrain, harness or understand that force that brings plants up from the ground at all – for my own humanistic devices, warping and wooing something, some gain or benefit from this world for me. But I will never stop being in awe of the unrivalled power and persistence by which they ceaselessly do.
Of course, when I write, I still have that child-like fascination characteristic of Ryan Anschauung – something tells me I will be compelled to Understand them in my classical sense, eventually.
Some day soon I will be able to teach or at least encourage others how to grow their own food – but more than that – to begin to re-learn how to live off the land, with that land – and to learn from others how they do it, how it can be done best or better – to restore that dearth of empathy with our green friends I had no idea I was missing but which is now so apparent. There are plenty of Warriors, plenty of Sorcerers, plenty of Farmers – but few are all three and few have a life based on the Sinister and can use those titles as a platform to focus on learning and becoming competent in the skillset of each as an accomplished, skilled, motivated and sinister Undividual.
I wonder how I ever did without this feeling – this simple joy in the forces of THEM. I felt it before the presence of plants and trees, blood and soil, the cycles of time and life and seasons – but they were now that I think back sensations of proximity or intermingled existence with the worlds phenomena on a superficial level however close those feelings felt. This feeling I have now through my experiences in growing plants in my yard to harvest food hammers home the disparity between learning about something by reading about it or doing it for a little while half-assed and living a form – letting it take over you and your direction so you become a Ninja, or a Sorcerer, or a Writer, or an Artist, or a Farmer.
No. What I thought I were feelings of sublime connection to THEM before didn’t move me like this, those confused notions of feeling close to THEM through exposure to nature pale in memory to these. Those connections were something ethereal, abstracts – I glanced at with an appropriate amount of awe before moving on distracted by the next thing. Dark Gods, Aliens, Twisted, Grotesque, Evil, Sinister – quintessentially human interpretations of forces that are far more powerfully encapsulated in the living world of plants – nevermind gods and demons. We worship Monsanto, Xanax, Woolworths, 1411 with equal fervour than our ancestors did their harvest gods. And we shall see who is Really Unholy when they are faced with the removal of food and water and who (will) venerate those who supply them in the same manner as latter day Gods.
If we are to restore the three castes of the Warriors, Sorcerers and Farmers I suggest we must each Know each of THEM. I speak of a single person who can do all three – who can command all of these roles in the one person – powerful in physicality and commanding strength through being comfortable with the phenomena of gravity and physics / A Mage who can co-erce forms into being that perform alchemical reactions causing change in events and persons that would not otherwise be – from a stranger to the course of decades and perhaps as a holograph of momentums conjured in the lifetime of the Adept – even aeons in after-effects. And a revival of learning to live with the land, grow our own food, sustain our enclaves with or without the help or permission of the system.
**The reasons for my departure were hinted at in the essays in the Oto Anorha #33 but were largely to save my relationship with my most beloved Owy – a relationship which had taken a prolonged severe test and almost entirely destructive trials in my fevered desire to change the world – neglecting all else around me which suffered whilst the Temple grew. So much energy did I pour into the Temple and building, researching, teaching, speaking, that there was only the barest reserves left for my beautiful wife and my life outside of Ryan. With thanks to whatever Gods may be responsible for the experience, through a devastating break down of relations the inevitable course my myopic fanaticism had left in its wake tore us apart. Near to disintegration we were together able to force the necessary changes need for our family to survive (returning it to the centre of my attention) before it was too late.
A massive paradigm shift / life choice had to take place if Owy and I were to endure as a couple.
It was not a decision I took long to make. Nothing means more to me on this earth than my wife – 4 letters that do not adequately express the thousand army role she is in and as my life – not THEM, not my phantom Ryan Anschauung, not even Me. And so, here we are. Where we should be.
Things will though – never be the same as they were. I have no inward drive to be the man I was or occupy a role as a teacher. I record these notes with no knowledge of when they will ever be shared and no desire to re-engage with the world I knew of electronic texts and the struggle to impart insight through conversation with others. I want only what I have now – my true “Temple to THEM”.