As the years wear on I find myself, more and more frequently, looking back over my long life with conflicting and alternating mixtures of quiet comfort and satisfaction, unsettling regret and remorse, and nostalgic memories of all that has gone before. Though I seldom dwell on the past for long, I often pull incidents, places, people, and things through the cobwebs of my mind for use in my writing. For a writer, drawing from personal experiences is the most valuable reference library there is. From time to time I consider the influences of the roles that others have played in the shaping of my life – the significance of my father, mother, and siblings, for instance. It took me decades to realize that my mother had more influence on the character of my mind and my personality than my father did. My father was a here and now kind of person, and he was a friend and companion more than a father, for we spent years fishing, hunting, and exploring together when I was a kid – all the while i...

Though I've eulogized her, made references about her, and written poems to her in this blog, I've never told anyone – not even her – exactly what makes her so overwhelmingly attractive to me that my obsession over her borders on madness or maybe holiness, or so the story goes. . . . In numerous essays I've written about my Zahir (I capitalize zahir because she is my own personal zahir), but I've never discussed the feminine wiles and attributes that attract me to her so obsessively. This, then, is all about her, and why she consumes every thought I have, every breath I take. In my time-jaded, yet discerning, eyes she is the most exquisitely attractive image on the face of the planet. Whoever agrees or doesn't doesn't matter at all to me, for I love her unconditionally. Every man's obsession is his alone, and my Zahir is mine. She is a bit taller than average, and thin: five-eight, maybe, and 120 pounds with her boots on. She has small breasts, long legs, a ...

Much of basic psychology today instructs us to beat down our negative emotions by " getting out of our minds and into our lives ." It is called acceptance and commitment therapy. Certainly such advice can be valuable to those of us who are living lives full of what psychologists call the "negative self-scripts", or influence emotions, that we generate from feelings of low self-esteem, guilt, self-consciousness, and feelings of inferiority. To overcome these negative self-scripts we are instructed to develop "self core skills" with mindful self-scripts based on affirmation, assertion, focusing, humanizing, and tension-sensing to rationalize and diminish the debilitating negative emotions we all live with. We are to use the polarity of our two basic kinds of emotions -- innate emotions and influence emotions -- to wage a war between our soul and our mind to keep us on the straight and narrow. There is something of "wild gnosis " in this kind of psy...

Hierosgamos may be generally defined as an overt spiritual or sacred act of physical sexual intercourse between a deity and a man or woman for the purpose of gaining divinity for the human partner. Symbolically, the celebration of the Eucharist is the same thing. In ancient Sumeria, for instance, a hierodule participating in the act with a god became a deity of the goddess Inanna in the same manner as the taking of bread and wine represents the body and blood of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist communion today. The roots of this ancient act run deep even today in some religious and neopagan cults, but the fact that it is also ritualized in many Christian faiths, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, seems to indicate that the myth of copulation between gods or goddesses and human beings is based in physical reality. Read no further into the Holy Bible than the 6th chapter of Genesis and you will find that sons of god marry daughters of men: "And it came to pass, when men began to...

There was a time when the term sacred prostitute was not at all an oxymoron. As is so common in the altered meanings and definitions of language and the duplicity of our great patriarchal society, the spiritual has been separated from the sexual by men, for men cannot deal with the concept that the woman is equal, if not superior, to the man in every way that was ever meant to be – except perhaps for the hunter/gatherer/defender role. Back then, immanent sexuality and transcendent divinity were inseparable, for mankind understood intuitively the roles between the sexes; the business of life was pure and simple, mostly unfettered by the devious archons that dominate our lifestyles today. Just as night follows day, as peace follows war, life follows death, north opposes south, and love follows hate, our existence is linked together by a polar, yet magnetically attractive, consciousness that has been all but beaten out of us by the patriarchal way. It is called the union of opposites . I...

In my September 30 essay, Muses About Muses , I touched on my new Muse – a woman who stole my heart and rekindled in me some of the confidence and zest for life that I'd lost while I was incarcerated. Prison existence destroys the ego, takes one's pride and confidence away, and leaves one with nothing but fear and self-loathing. The correctional system is designed to break one down to little more than a plasmatic puddle of subservient humility and self-pity. Perhaps this is what some public offenders need in order to re-enter society successfully, but in my own case the descent into useless oblivion was devastating to my sense of well-being and self-assurance. I trusted no one – not even myself – and I was angry and bitter toward any kind of authority or guidance. Shortly after my release from prison an employment counselor assigned to my case interviewed me briefly, looked over my impressive resume, and laughed derisively. "All I see here is all about you, you, you,"...

"Every organized [patriarchy] works overtime to contribute its own brand of misogyny." - Robin Morgan Considering the huge flap over the Halloween-influenced hanging of Sarah Palin in effigy, I wonder what today's social circles would think of the real thing -- the actual hanging of an innocent female -- except that in this case the murderers were the politically and socially elite ones, and the female victim the scapegoat for those men and women who had come before her and an inhibiting omen for those who would come after her. It happened on a July afternoon in 1889. The following is excerpted from the Preface to my historical novel manuscript, presently in an edit iteration, The Sweetwater Conspiracy: the Legend of Cattle Kate. In the summer of 1889, during the settling–up of the American west, a sensational news story drifted off Wyoming's high plains, making international headlines, and shaking the resolve of the westward pioneering spirit. The story told of th...

During nearly three years in the Nevada state prison, I completed six handwritten manuscript drafts of novels, and had begun a seventh prior to my release on parole in June, 2007. While in prison I was not allowed to draft the books on electronic media, which I am now in the process of doing. They are large manuscripts (more than 250 thousand words each) and still require several iterations of editing to condense and organize to publishable construct, and some research remains that could not be done in prison. Six of the novels comprise an anthology that I call “ Sophy’s Way: Parallel Worlds of the Moon ” in reference and reverence to the lost goddess Sophia, the Goddess of Wisdom, whose essence and presence saved my life and, yes, my very soul from certain death during my prison time. The underlying theme of the novels concerns man’s inherent cruel and duplicitous nature, but primarily the books deal with the lost intimate relationship between immanent sexuality and transcendent divin...

The following discourse, from my novel manuscript Moon Shadows: the Revelation , in edit, is a precocious girl's heartfelt address to an eclectic group of goddesses, humans, and aliens ensconced on a Wyoming ranch, who are engaged in an effort to overthrow and reconstruct the United States government and its constitution and laws. The little rebel is trying to express her discomfort with the prejudices, the oppression, the malicious overreaching and power mongering of patriarchal authority prevalent in the existing governance. Her statement is a simple essay on human values of good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice, and whether we humans know who we are and where we're going. The group is at a party – an outdoor dinner and dance with a western theme featuring live music from the Alabama band, which has just taken a break, and the raucous, somewhat inebriated, crowd has fervently implored her to speak to them, having been highly amused by her previous nationally t...

We are born into this world with no expectations, no hopes, no desires, except a certain hunger and the innate desire to survive – with perhaps a related fear. We are not conscious even of our own existence. As our brain becomes active, receiving, perceiving, we gradually become aware of ourselves and the plethora of the world around us, and our mindless innocence (the remnants of bliss?) begins to fade away, replaced with the first archons who will rule our lives from then on. Because of the archons, we will search in vain during the span of our earthly lives for happiness, repeatedly deluding ourselves into believing we've found it, only to realize, sooner or later, that we were wrong. It is, I believe, impossible for the human being, as we exist in this world, to find true felicity. And anyone who makes the claim that he is truly happy, is a liar living in one of those delusional states of denial. We can find love, but we can never find felicity, a term partly derived from, or a...

When I was in high school – my junior year, I believe -- I had a spirited young French English teacher. I can't recall her name these days, but she was thin and graceful – pretty and provocative. In class I would daydream about dating her, or of making love to her, and I remember wishing I was older or she was younger. She liked me; I knew that. And she knew I liked her, too. While I daydreamed I would often compose little poems in my notebook or on the back of a theme book. I never thought about what I wrote, barely aware that I was writing at all – kind of like doodling, I suppose. In my mind, she probably thought I was taking notes, though I should have known better. There was a girl who sat behind me every day, who was an excellent student of English and literature, and though I don't remember her name either, I liked her quite a bit, too. Whenever the French English teacher would say something poignant, the girl would lightly touch the back of my neck in a sensual way, the...

In prison, one of the novels I wrote ( Mansions of the Moon: the Recluse ) ends like this (in part) -- after 1,088 hand-written pages and 272 thousand words leading up to a seemingly anticlimactic conclusion: . . . Were we playing the animal farm game? Was it necessary to kill and sacrifice in order to nurture and love? . . . Perhaps only Jeannie had understood it all, for she had said long ago that our struggle is not about good and evil but rather the preservation and renewal of life, including saving Gaia . . . . She was talking about creation and sustaining life and the earth in our own universe, I suppose. The struggle would go on forever; I knew that implicitly now, for infinity is as infinity does, and the will to procreate -- or to create -- can never stop, since all universes must expand forever. Once the tiny spark of creation began there could be no turning back, for creation breeds creation without consideration or reflection, but rather solely in the name of existence. The...

Blogger's Note: This essay is adapted from the introduction to Mansions of the Moon: the Recluse , a novel in the throes of editing, by Albert Lloyd Williams. In the cosmos there is nothing more important than universal expansion born of never-ending procreation coupled with the eternal survival of that already created, for progressive creation is the ultimate power possessed by all living organisms. Every life form, on earth at least, is driven instinctively to create and nurture life of its own kind, and when all is said and done sexual union and procreation is the path that provides the way to eternal life and the divine honor of having created vital new life. Each life form intuitively strives toward perfection and the final reward of divine empowerment: the consummate sexual union between transcendent gods and goddesses, eternally united as one, creating the androgynous power of pure Consciousness. All life has within it the innate sexual drive to preserve and renew its own s...

Hello . . . Before I die sometime in the next decade or two I want to get a few things off my chest, and I thought some obscure blogsite might provide a platform (read or unread doesn't matter much) to put my thoughts, beliefs, opinions, attitudes, prejudices, jealousies, anxieties, gripes, and so forth, in order -- at least for my own edification and comfort. Hopefully a few of you out there will respond with insights and thoughts of your own that I might benefit from and take to heart to strengthen my own soul, too. That would make this blog a forum, maybe, and that would be good. The thing is, I'm not very comfortable with the world -- especially with us human beings and how we interact with the rest of it -- and I'd like to blather on a bit about that in this blog. Again, it doesn't really make much difference whether anyone bothers to listen; at least it's therapy for me. And the good thing is that I don't have to stand up before any of you to expound (or ...