eros, in a minor key

chanced upon a discussion of vasectomies, and other energy knots, which led me to write the below, …

something from another direction … in Hermetic Science (Magic), the astral (or psychic) body is seen as an environment of smallish principalities, as we are the microcosm, and in some senses a “we” within our “selves”. “I am multitudes” saith Walt Whitman. Dry and unpoetic words like habits, muscle memory and so forth deny the amazing reality of our multiplicity-nature. The “I” can go on a trip in reverie, and leave the driving of the car to a very close friend.

Some of these self-created creatures follow us from one incarnation to the next. We drop them off on the Way to the Midnight Hour, and pick them up, when we descend again, as karmic load. Franz Bardon lent them some fun names: phantom, and larvae. Steiner spoke of cancers or tumors of the soul. AA: the Monkey on My Back and Demon Rum.

Knowledge of the three-fold double complex is an additional conceptual map. We have a luciferic double (the tempter), an ahrimanic double (the prosecutor), and a human double, or what I have come to describe as self-created wounds of soul.

One person then could have a more active sense-hungry nature, and the other a more quiet, dreamy nature. The more we indulge in any aspect of our nature, whether it is some form of spiritual development or not, there then is formed in the astral a kind of desire-node. 

Please avoid any mechanical or computer metaphors, those are too much of death, and not enough of life. A desire-node is a subset of communities of communication (not all intelligence is in the brain), for example:

breathing is automatic, so also the flight or fight decisions node alert …

when we are not asleep, or dead, consciousness is everywhere in the whole, even tho’ the attention can can focus on single loci in the total “field”. consider erections, and the release of related pleasuring sensations.

does a hand move on its own, while a whisper nestles in the taste of the tongue.

reality is more simultaneous than it is linear (sequential) …

outside my shaman’s window a forest, teaching, as I imagine my selves as kin to the what-is-not-seen, in the dark roots, and caves and nests and worms, and life beneath a surface of mystery, open only via the arts and crafts of my imagination, one of the Eight Gates to Faerie.…/letters…/

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