The Rest of the Crossing (Abyss, Ascent, and Mammon Shit)

Usually, I'd strike an entry as shit as the last one was from the record...I think I won't this time. I had to get through it. And yes, you had to read it! Ha ha.

Lots of growl in the last one, lots of growl inside me, as was apparent. Never mind that old rot. I’ve stumbled upon something everyone else surely knew before I did—where I had thought I’d crossed the abyss as it were, I’d only done half of it. I seem to remember reading something about this in Jack Parsons’ Key to the Abyss, a book I ought to read again for my own special purposes. The sexy stuff isn’t really in that one; it’s mostly occult psychology. I can’t recall all that was said, but there was in there, and now that I’m writing about it, I believe it’s also seen in other books—only crossing the shadow realm of the abyss and proceeding before you ought to will get you knocked back into the sphere you’d rather not be in. He calls it the fourth. It might also be looked at as the seventh, and I’m beginning to think that’s the status quo. Why one would equate the status quo to Mercy…that’s a good question. I might even try to answer it one day. I suppose it’s because people find comfort in being led. Nothing wrong with that. I’m not very good at being led. That doesn’t necessarily mean I like to lead, though. Or want to. Want is something that has to be rooted out. Or taken out of the root.

That is, if you want to cross all the way. If you do your so-called shadow work and integrate to a point where you can make it work for you in social situations, yay, now you can get a job and find your way to complacency. You might even find you have a hobby. Good. Squeeze out a few puppies to join the workforce. Again, nothing wrong with that. It sounds patronizing. I don’t mean for it to be. It’s just my view of it. There are those who have this point of view, and if they don’t take it to the fullest, they usually wind up considering what’s in this song that you ought to listen to after you read this, or during, whichever.

I propose that without doing what I have in mind, I cannot even become a decently operable cog in the square machine. That’s the bottom-line survival reason I’m making these considerations. This matrix everyone is always talking about isn’t the goofy hologram it seems to be when everyone talks about it—a car will still kill you if it runs over your whole ass—it is the letting go and escape from the nonsensical, contradictory, bullshit “value system” that is foisted up[on people at birth. The internet has shown me all I need to know about the “value system” and “ethics”. There are none. They’re all bullshit. What Hassan I Sabbah said is true—nothing is true, all is permitted, and even that is not true when you add a moral compass to the mix. In my world, not all is permitted. Most of what isn’t considered bad paperwork in jail is cool with me. Most. For whatever reason, in jail, bully paperwork is not considered cool, as in—you beat a woman, a child, or worse, woe is you. I won’t expand on that today, honestly, I ought not to because I want to let that sort of thing flow from me, but if you want to know more, check out Christopher “Life” Willars’ YouTube Channel.

To cross the Jungian abyss. To integrate the shadow. To understand your moral compass and follow it while still at the same time understanding that if you were to saw someone’s hand off, no angel would float down from Above to cuff you with etheric zip-ties. If there’s not a cop around, you will go home to indulge in whatever sort of sick shit people who saw off hands do when they’re alone. Zo is het. To follow the Jungian path of integration—and if you want more than a status quo life, guess what—to do this means to root. You now have your boat. It’s probably something religious, perhaps not dogmatic, but at the same time, a mode you place above yourself in what the dipshits are calling the clown chakra and what anyone with even a goddamn quarter of a brain calls the crown—these go there. That way, they will radiate down your aura. Too esoteric? This is why mantra. I am not the body. I am not the mind. You can plug ethics in this way as well, and you’d better. The second journey is far more perilous than the first. The seas are tumultuous. Opinions will pull you this way and that and test what you’ve learned. Temptations come. Maybe you give up and join the status quo somehow. Get a job to afford your drugs. Fuck it, football in fall, baby! It’s nice to have a hobby, eh?

I’m dogging that aspect more than I mean to. There’s a shitload of use in it. I’ll leave at that.

Or…you can cross all that stuff, that abyss.  

Rewind—no one’s saying don’t go to work. If you don’t have anything put away or an agreement or a trust or really loving folks, don’t do that. And if it’s just the latter, you shouldn’t do that unless you’re fucked in some fashion—the truly fucked know what I mean. Since most of you aren’t that, well, you’re smart, figure it out. I just don’t want to come off like that. For the second part of this crossing is out of the lunatic and into the light. That means sobering up and rejoining the cyclopean world of the dollar bill. Well, more like the fucking peanuts. Those I’m speaking of (such as myself) work the hard shit, the hot shit, the long hour shit, the I own you shit, and don’t try sell me on everyone does that at every job, that is garbage, I know those who do not. And there’s an upside to this. I’m always fond of saying things like my plans have plans, and don’t worry, you’ll see. Most people who do that are full of shit.

But I said I’d write, and I became, albeit junior, albeit volunteer, still an editor.

I said I would make music, and you’ve heard it, a bit done, a bit released, and more to come.

I said I was going to make art, and while not The Cocaine Bros. (which maybe didn’t go over well anyway) I have something nice for you to see soon. Bruni’s 1000^th blog! I’m proud of that. It doesn’t sound like much, but shit. YOU try to get into his blog. It’s a real motherfucker. However, the Bros are not dead, I’m just thinking Graphic Novel is the right way to go—though that seems a bigger project, I feel like I could make that work better.

Yes, Paul, even with you. Get over things first, and we’ll figure that out after the shit stops whizzing from the fan.

Anyway. We’re crossing this abyss now into an ascension of sorts. Alan Watts—I wonder what you mean…when you say I. Me too. You believe in that, and nothing besides. It keeps you alive. But why must we only believe in the I that is suitable to the rest of everyone else? Must we—if only we can refrain from hurting anyone who doesn’t attack first, then must we really be that damn concerned with what the majority expects from us? I already know most of you will say fuck no. The second part of the crossing begins with no drugs and no Mammon Shit and a rewriting of the subconscious code via meditation. There’s too much dreck in there. Too much fog on the attractor. And no time to be worried about any of it. No time to be angry about what I did or what I have to do. No time to cry about the goddamn underlying attitude, this thing in me that really doesn’t want to lose its little comforts. Again, understandable. What’s funny is all this is leading up to the most psychedelic thing I’ve ever done, and I can’t tell you what it is. If it goes over, life can only improve.

What’s Mammon Shit? Another time…another time. But I mentioned Bruni’s 1000^th blog? It’s going to steaming with heaps and heaps of horribly fragrant Mammon Shit. If you can’t wait for me to put it into the kind of words which will help you understand that I don’t mean to turn myself into an ostrich per se, that will be along soon. Suffice it to say emotions are a commodity, and I’m taking mine back.