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Seems That Time Has Passed Me By

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It's Christmas – a time when some of us do a lot of soul-searching and reflecting in a nostalgic sort of way. And it's not that I feel old; I really don't. I'm in excellent health, comfortable with my life except for obsessing over my Zahir, and I like to think I'm pretty much up to date as a techno-user in this new world of technology and gadgets. Yeah, I've got my computers, my BlackBerry, and I do quite a lot of semi-technical work. But the thing is I don't really enjoy all this hi-tech crap any more, and so much of it seems to me to be entirely unnecessary, or even counter-productive. I think it causes stress in humans, but maybe not in rats. Yesterday my BlackBerry mysteriously lost its Internet service, and between the time it went down and the time my service was restored, I was tense, irritated, sweaty under the arms, and upset with RIM – an outfit that prides itself in its technological expertise. When I finally got to talk to a real person about th...

Hierosgamos: Love from the Soul

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...

The Union of Opposites

For more than a year now I have been in love with and obsessed by a woman nearly twenty years my junior. She is my Zahir (as I have described in a previous post). Our relationship is one full of deep currents of eclectic waters converging from many tributaries, pushing both of us this way, that way, and pulling us down in whirlpools – sometimes together, sometimes separately. My love for her is boundless; her love for me is heartfelt platonic compassion. She is married to a fine man. In a sensual sense my love is unrequited. In nearly every possible way we are polar opposites, as far apart as two people can get in terms of human and spiritual interests, education, social standing, expectations, obligations, and family. She has an active robust life; I am a recluse. Yet, in our souls, we both know we are somehow one – kindred spirits – who belong together. For that reason we are mystically drawn together. We may never have a life together here on earth, but even if we don't we will ...

The Sacred Prostitute

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...

Wild Gnosis

When I began to look deeply into Gnosticism – particularly Sophian Gnosticism – I found that underlying all the intellectual, spiritual and religious works and studies, the ecclesiastical rituals and ceremonies, the Eucharist, or all the aspects of the Bridal Chamber, there is a profound simplicity to the entire concept of its existence. Tau Rosamonde Miller of the Church of Gnosis explains it this way: "Gnosticism is better understood through art, music, and poetry and not through intellectual pursuit . . . . It is better understood in terms of Buddhism than of Christianity. I find that one of the simplest, truest ways of describing the experience of Gnosis is found in the lines of the Tao Te Ching, 'The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.' Just substitute "Gnosis" instead of "Tao". In this instance the terms can be interchangeable." But the simplicity of Gnosticism might best be understood by the term Wild Gnosis . The concept of Wild G...

The Lonesome Land

My uncle, Albert Pendergraft, committed suicide in 1944, apparently from a longtime overdose of alcohol and depression. He blew his head off with an S&W .38 Special revolver. Born just three years before his death, I have no recall of the event, but Albert, no doubt unintentionally, left a life-long gift for me – or for anyone else who cared to partake of it for what it was. So far as I know I am the only one who did, though my older brother may have. The gift was what I believe was his suicide note – a poem of love for the land he roamed that depicted a key part of the philosophy of his lonesome life. For several years late in his life he was a ditch rider. For sure, he was a recluse: he had great love for Gaia, but little love for his fellow man or their gods. Albert was born on a remote ranch in Johnson County, Wyoming, in 1894, just four years after Wyoming became a part of the United States. The son of a Texas Trail cowboy, he spoke so seldom that he became known as Silent Al ...

After Prison: Reclaiming the Lost Soul into Holiness or Madness

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,"...