1. There has indeed been an awakening in the Force: i recently discovered how to consistently taste pipe tobacco; it sounds highly peculiar after 5 years of pipe-smoking, but for long i only tasted the baccy sporadically, the rest of the time merely savouring the warmth, texture, and nicotine. i have now discovered that by filling the old gob with smoke, holding, then exhaling through my nose, i can taste – well, most of the time, the smoke goblin having its own mercurial whims.
2. A few weeks ago i talked to a new colleague, a purple-haired young German teacher who i had often passed without a word, but the sense that we were mutually aware; this time she was wearing a sweatshirt with a so-called Satanic cross (actually a Leviathan Cross), and so i said, with my usual tact: “Are you a Satanist?” – and behold, much occult talk ensued.
She showed me her 80s denim jacket, emblazoned with what she called runes, but which were to me unknown and unrunic symbols; later, i realised they were alchemical symbols and started researching, feeling slightly abashed at my ignorance. i then decided to read more about the modern occult…
3. As ever, the frustrating sense that almost all occult works are nonsense, written by idiots and charlatans. i started reading a Franz Bardon book but gave up after 5 minutes; it seemed, more from the prose than the content, to be spurious; there was an offputting smell, reminiscent of modern academic prose; then i Googled his image:
There are men & women of real occult knowledge & capability, but all those i know in person tend to be reclusive. They naturally attract would-be disciples and stalkers, and repel them with a thorny eremitude. Invisibility is the condition and consequence of true power; the thorn and the rose.
i didn’t feel interested in wading through Bardon, because even in translation i felt he was a charlatan and poseur; of course, “theatricality & deception” have their place, for public effect, but stage magic and politics are not my cup of tea.
4. However, fruitless reading aside, my recent occult focus has naturally enough wrought changes in myself & my life – some odd synchronicities, for example earlier this week i saw three blind men on my travels, one in the morning (about 0845), another on the way home (about 1810) and yet another on the train at about 1830. The last time i saw a blind man was, i deem, months ago. There have also been repeated & odd crow/magpie sightings, birds of notorious repute. And yesterday, i told an old student that most of all i miss having a dog, and then an hour later was in McLingua and the first thing i saw, in the teacher room, was a rather dashing hound called Poldy – belonging to a gorgeous German teacher, who has been amusedly pleasant with me since i drunkedly told her (at a Xmas party): “Every time i see you, i admire your great beauty.” Poldy sniffed my knee and she said, “He likes you,” and i to her: “i smell like a dog, to dogs.”
5. It recently occurred to me, contemplating cause & effect, and the workings of fate, that the universe itself might be sentient. i had often wondered exactly how causality operates, how synchronicities across lives can mesh so exactly. Most in the West would now see the universe as essentially mechanistic (as is often the way, people see the world as akin to the last stage of technology). But when i consider how e.g. i came into contact with my eldest sister from my last life, i think there must be a kind of organic agency in the universe, arranging these rendezvous through a billion minute adjustments.
6. i’ve also been memorising poetry, after years. In my youth i memorised over a thousand lines of poetry (Eliot, Yeats, Stevens, Dante, Tennyson), and rather than rememorise these, i decided to let them decay and so memorised a new poem: Wallace Steven’s ‘The Snow Man’. At the same time, i’ve been copying, by hand, passages from Gordon Sander’s excellent The Hundred Day Winter War in a notebook for future use.
In both cases – memorising & copying – i found myself sensitized to meaning & language, thinking “why this and not this?”, e.g. why “the spruces” and not “the spruce” – because one tends to remember incorrectly, and must then attend; infelicities of prose are also more evident as one copies (especially by hand).
Thinking back 20 years (the spring is over), my mind really came alive when i started a practice of copying out passages i liked in notebooks now destroyed, and when i began to memorise poetry. The old schooling, as is often the case, served us well though we knew it not.
7. i feel rather excited by politics & this world, for the first time in, well, my life. Politics is always a sideshow, but it is a good indicator for deeper, more important changes. Since i became vaguely interested in society & whatnot, about 12 years ago, i felt alienated from this entire world, with academia corrupted & made a grotesque Leftist bureaucracy, and me seemingly unemployable in any except the dreariest of tasks.
And now, very quickly, this monstrous order is being undone – in part by our hubristic rulers, in part by rogues like Trump. Thus i felt with Dune’s Gurney Halleck, when – months after escaping the destruction of his armies, of his Duke, and, as he thinks, the Duke’s son & concubine, months of running smuggler operations in the desert in a life without loyalty or meaning – he is ambushed by the Fremen under the rule of the Duke’s son, Paul Atreides, alive after all:
‘Stilgar,’ Paul said, ‘this is Gurney Halleck of whom you’ve heard me speak. My father’s master-of-arms, one of the swordmasters who instructed me, an old friend. He can be trusted in any venture.’
‘I hear,’ Stilgar said. ‘You are his Duke.’
Paul stared at the dark visage above him, wondering at the reasons which had impelled Stilgar to say just that. His Duke. There had been a strange subtle intonation in Stilgar’s voice, as though he would rather have said something else. And that wasn’t like Stilgar, who was a leader of Fremen, a man who spoke his mind.
My Duke! Gurney thought. He looked anew at Paul. Yes, with Leto dead, the title fell on Paul’s shoulders.
The pattern of the Fremen war on Arrakis began to take on new shape in Gurney’s mind. My Duke! A place that had been dead within him began coming alive.
i had long supposed our world on an inexorable downward trajectory, but by inviting the entire 3rd World into Europe, the Merkel & her backers have merely initiated a cultural change – not into Bradfordisation as they hope, but into chaos, perhaps a race war, but in any case i feel our reality is suddenly altered, and new possibilities are upon us. Most of those with comfy secure jobs, emotionally invested in the collectivist order, are baffled and angry and will probably go mad and end up crawling about on the floor eating bugs and smearing themselves with dog poo, as they deserve. Those with a nose think Oho:
If you had told someone half a decade ago here in the United States ‘the next president is going to run on a populist platform from within the Republican Party, after constantly insulting his opponents, completely lambasting the very political process he’s taking part in’, do you think anyone would have believed you?
‘Oh and by the way, it’s going to be Donald Trump.’
Nobody would have believed you. They would have called you nuts, they would have dragged you off to the funny farm. The mere fact that they have to discuss these things bothers them.
8. It is not merely a political change; the collective imagination is changing, and not just because of the Merkelization of Europe – this change began in the metaphysical stratum; what we are seeing cannot be suppressed by the usual lying mainstream media, by accusing Trump and Nigel Farage and Le Pen of being Russian spies – because it begins in the cellarage of our culture & our imagination & thought. Already, i’ve noted more & more Germands & others, who 6 months ago said “Donald Trump is stupid and crazy” now saying he can’t be as evil as the media make him out to be. The next step is to think, If the media are deliberately smearing him, if the media are so determined to manipulate & deceive, then the media have a wicked agenda, and therefore whoever they hate is presumably one of the good guys. A comment i found on some joke page on Facebook:
me: i feel the need. the need for speed:
Lord: you can be my wingman anytime
Me: take me to bed or lose me forever
Lord: ok but i’ma kill goose real quick
That’s it exactly. The egg is cracking from within, the baby bird emerging, and the globalist goose is cooked.