The Nihilistic Christ

A short story, intended for the amuse­ment of those who have been to cer­tain places or who have seen cer­tain things. If I have bro­ken any sort of eso­teric orders or vows of secrecy it is only because your orders have them­selves been shat­tered! But enough of that, here then I give you:

The Nihilis­tic Christ

The Fail­ure of Man

Div­ing into the tur­bu­lent waters of Wis­dom, I sought the cre­ative that t’was being held cap­tive by the Crea­tures of Form­less Chaos. Lithe, unbur­dened, res­olute in pur­pose – thus I swam as a man whose des­tiny was bound to the very foun­da­tions of human­ity. Not but a lit­tle bit of wicked­ness shone as a divine light through my eyes green.

The Devil could not hide much longer in his Abyss cave, located in the deep­est reaches of the unfath­omable sea.  And, look! I have uncov­ered him in all his deca­dent lust and ruth­less igno­rance. See­ing his grotesque form squat­ting on a throne made of treach­ery and sin, I could not help but laugh. What would take place in this meet­ing of minds? Would I emerge unscathed?

After all, this was no ordi­nary evil, no world-bound Demi­urge mas­tur­bat­ing to infan­tile fan­tasies. This wasn’t even a pure, math­e­mat­i­cal evil born out of a lunar cold that leaves all but The Holy frost­bit­ten and whim­per­ing for mum. Geno­cide, rape, putrid pus, bile, pri­mal venom and ambi­tious cor­rup­tion – naught but toys for this Great Beast. One could scarcely even cap­ture the resem­blance to “his” more seduc­tive form, Lucifer – to whom I am kin.

If I had still been present in my phys­i­cal form I might have gasped for air as his vac­u­umesque gaze pen­e­trated my Soul, try­ing with all his shad­owy deter­mi­na­tion to rape her viciously and mer­ci­lessly. Per­haps a lesser ini­ti­ate would have balked and aban­doned him­self to a most fright­en­ing doom – but I held my Sacred Silence stead­fast. Lift­ing my heart in a true prayer, I beseeched the Father, the Eter­nal One to fill my soli­tary spirit with courage. Vaguely I won­dered if there even existed ley lines to the Celes­tial Above in this den of the damned. Flar­ing up in primeval rage, the Tene­brous one exploded wave after wave of men­tal anguish at me. The bat­tle for a free dia­logue with He Whose Chains Imprison Eter­nally had begun.

There was no need for set­ting up any sort of ground rules, as those had been carved in spirit and flame long before the Earth was fer­tile and preg­nant with life. Not that either of us would fol­low any rules if they could be set down…

Ten­ta­cles of lust­ful destruc­tion whipped at my astral phorm, dredg­ing past sins and regrets that had long ago been erased in the Halls of Karma by The One’s grace­ful light. Who could say who truly held Absolute power over realms mun­dane and Other?

Rac­ing through my mind like fren­zied berserk­ers drunk on blood-lust and the mana of the Aman­tia mush­rooms, the Dark Lord sowed doubts and clouded an oth­er­wise impec­ca­ble mem­ory. He – or more prop­erly it – was attempt­ing to syn­chro­nize my brain waves with his, a sort of inverted love (in the vibra­tory sense of the word) intent on instant dis­in­te­gra­tion and devo­lu­tion. After all, as plainly stated in the ancient Accords & Agree­ments, if It won, I would not only be dis­man­tled inte­grally, but also digested for his Dia­bolic deeds as a most potent tool in his infer­nal wars.

Only once had a Christ failed in this task, and barely a hand­ful would even con­sider such a direct con­fronta­tion unless willed explic­itly by He With­out Sin. Then faith would suf­fice as a means of pure momen­tum. As I began to fall in a reverie over the infi­nite sweet­ness of the One, the Doomed one inten­si­fied his attempts to break me. Free­ing myself of self pity, I began to observe thought-forms swirling around my astral body, beg­ging to be passed off as my own creation.

In a feat of supreme detach­ment – an act born of out of years of prac­tice in my mor­tal life – I man­aged to hold my sacred silence and merely observe. Recorded thus is a very roughly trans­lated dia­logue of the men­tal and causal bat­tle being waged over my soul. I am eter­nally grate­ful that a line moved through me in response to each treach­er­ous Dark-Phorm. Thus they spoke:

“How long now have you been here? Surely this is the task of a fool! Is there no escap­ing this dreary Dun­geon of Demen­tia? Or – have you been here forever…lost, with­out hope, or even a chance of feel­ing some­thing pure? In this land even the sun­light turns away in fear. Why are you here, lit­tle lost sheep? Has daddy for­saken you, too?” Men­ac­ing laugh­ter, sick­ness, dis­trust, jeal­ousy, a heart bro­ken by the lone­li­ness of a for­saken soul.

“Fear not, Sheshikan (butchered trans­la­tion of the angelic word for ‘noble soul of the Sun/Son’), no power  may stop you now. For you hold Truth in your heart, to which all pow­ers and author­i­ties in all the realms must bow to – even those spawned from sin and false­hood. Your quest (shall/is/was – tense gets awk­ward with non­lin­ear time) will prove suc­cess­ful and the (pure darkness/anti-light of) The Demon will spew up the Secrets sealed up so long ago.” Bliss, grat­i­tude, lov­ing faith and heal­ing compassion.

“What mad­ness! What hal­lu­ci­na­tions! Those fan­ci­ful utter­ances of an imag­i­nary light are naught but vain pro­jec­tions of a mind seek­ing a crack in the walls of this endur­ing – yet unen­durable – prison. How much longer can one strug­gle? Your suf­fer­ing speaks for itself – for how long can you wal­low in putrid self-dishonesty?” A pun­gent stench of sex­ual juices imbued with delu­sional rage atop a moun­tain of corpses crassly dis­play­ing the Grotesque One’s intent.

“The only lie is the dark­ness and igno­rance of the Deep Mind who denies the Full­ness of Divin­ity. Fal­ter not, child, for you will never be sep­a­rated from the light, the love, and the eter­nal life of the Super Monad. Take peace and have rest: through the power of Pistis-Sophia (faith-wisdom), you have already won.” Tri­umph, glory, ecstasy, the rays of power and freedom.

And yet, I could not fully enjoy and cher­ish the rebukes of the light upon the defi­ciency. For I was play­ing a bal­anc­ing act so pre­car­i­ous that the term “path of the razor’s edge” teemed with the blunt qual­i­ties of a side­walk in com­par­i­son. To be aban­doned to the bliss was a lux­ury I could not afford in this place, as warm and com­fort­ing as it might have been. Giv­ing myself to one would weaken the defenses that were my fortress of sub­lime detach­ment – mak­ing me vul­ner­a­ble to attack. In fact, it almost bor­dered on schiz­o­phrenic seper­a­tion – an idea that the lust­ful loins of It spared no time in latch­ing itself.

“Pomp, arro­gance, dis­mal nar­cis­sism. That is all your fan­tasy God and hal­lu­ci­na­tory mes­sianic com­plex has gifted you with. Sur­ren­der, if humil­ity is a virtue among ye’! For your false light has backed itself up into a cor­ner cotan­ing con­vu­lu­tions of con­scious­ness and reason!”

The light did not responsd to this, as if await­ing an expla­na­tion of the state­ment pre­vi­ous. Although con­tain­ing all knowl­edge, one of its lov­able and para­dox­i­cal qual­i­ties was that it was always will­ing to lis­ten and learn. Even from such a dis­gust­ing Mas­ter Mag­got as the King of all the Realms of Chaos – that is the extent of the Lit­tle Light known dearly as spirit. Yet through its radi­ant pride , it com­mu­ni­cated in utter secrecy to me my entire desire to be here, my rea­sons for sub­mit­ting myself to a tor­ture far worse than cru­ci­fix­tion. After deliv­er­ing its sup­pos­edly sound argu­ment, I would end this and begin the inquiries. It had been decided.

“Who are you, t be unite­dor even wor­thy of seper­a­tion? For truly, if the One (and it com­mu­ni­cated this title with pal­pa­ble reluc­tanace)  is the many and the all, and the can not be seper­ated…” And here bub­bls frothed as a per­verted phi­los­o­phy was being issued – one that had been fer­ment­ing in envi­ous hatred for peri­ods unfath­omable to mor­tal men. The Ter­ri­ble One con­tin­ued his hereti­cal debase­ments thus, “Then does it not hold true even I, blacker and denser than the Wells of Bound­less Slum­ber (or in mod­ern terms – a “black hole”, gate­ways of error act­ing as tun­nels to the Abyss), am united and one with your “god”? And then, am I not only equal, but in fact, the very being of the One himself?”

Ah, noth­ing new in this argu­ment (and how could a force of des­per­ate destruc­tion exer­cise the cre­ative fac­ulty?). It had been espoused by the­olo­gians of the­ory, pes­simistic philoso­phers, and naïve seek­ers of spir­i­tual truth. Essen­tially it was a spin-off of the waste­fully con­tem­pla­tive, “Why, or how, could an all pow­er­ful, all lov­ing Gd allow evil to exist?” To answer that requires one to be per­son­ally inti­mate with Absolute Per­fec­tion (good) and Total Defi­ciency (evil). That digres­sion and ana­lyza­tion is saved for another time and place. where the temp­ta­tions of the intel­lect are not furi­ously  bat­tling for yr soul & spirit. Silently I swam ever closer to Its throne, wait­ing for it to fin­ish its sor­row­ful soliquoy so I could com­mence in the throw­ing of Thun­der­bolts made of Divine Rea­son. My heart skipped a beat and the Adamic atom of Nous began to pul­sate wildly, aflame in prepreation and anticipation.

“Why,” It con­tin­ued “if all are chil­dren of Gd and are His sons are in fact Him, am I, Supreme Lord of the Under­world then not in fact the same Gd you draw on for your strength? You can not deny it! If unity exists then all are uni­fied as one and even the most wretched par­take of the Father’s crown. Or else, what? Only the priv­i­leged may have the sheer luck to par­take in this mass-psychosis called divin­ity? What guar­an­tees you as such? Admit you are cut off, if indeed there was any­thing to be cut off from! Sur­ren­der your­self , sub­mit! For even the antithe­sis of what you believe to yr god is God, too, or else there is none. Either way, all your strug­gling, suf­fer­ing, and stu­pid silence has amounted to naught!” Words, images, evil deeds com­mit­ted long ago came rac­ing towards me in a last ditch effort to sway my soul. A lesser man would have fallen long ago, angels would have wept bit­ter tears, and even Mother Mary would have been taken aback. If not by Its unbe­liev­ably per­sis­tent bold­ness – than at least in the error of its hereti­cally haughty rea­son­ing. It was high time, I felt, that this would end now.

“Enough!” I roared out of silence and shook the very depths of the Oceanic Abyss. Pro­pelling myself into the black­est depths of The Beast, it seemed for one of those eter­nally long sec­onds that I truly had given up. Hardly was I ever one to sub­mit, espe­cially against such a half-wit of an argu­ment. Or was I only say­ing that to myself in con­so­la­tion of my com­plete and utter defeat at the hands of one more deft? Hah! His final assault.

All was still for a moment as I rested in the bot­tom of the Beast’s bossom, con­fi­dent and almost cock­sure at heart. No shad­ows flut­tered about and even the dark men­tal waves sub­sided, the ever-present lust­ful ram­page hav­ing stopped out of sheer curios­ity. Even the Light kept its breath in abeyance, a child-like play of dra­matic res­o­nance on its part. There it was – my victory.

Hav­ing won, I exploded.

*      *      *

Dur­ing his entire dia­bol­i­cal debate I had been col­lect­ing myself, gen­er­at­ing intensely dense and pow­er­ful light par­ti­cles. Such a mag­ickal act was the accom­plish­ment of a magus in his prime, as even the laws of quan­tum physics are skewed and bru­tal­ized in this despair­ing place. The blast was beyond nuclear and sec­ond only in potency to the ter­ri­bly divine fury of that first act of cre­ation. That was, after all, my inspiration.

Lest I mis­lead you, do not believe this is the pride of a sol­dier gun­ning down enemy forces. Quite the con­trary, in fact; although it was sim­i­lar to a sui­cide bomber on account of the blast being my very own being dis­in­te­grat­ing and dis­pers­ing at a speed far beyond the light of mor­tal stars and suns. No, this was my high­est, most sacred Self beyond all beyonds, sac­ri­fic­ing itself in a seem­ingly mutual sui­ci­dal standoff.

Per­haps if It had been pre­pared for the blast, or had drained my psy­chic con­cen­tra­tion it would have failed. Instead I had burst into mil­lions of multi-dimensional, holo­graphic shards – each piece being at once both a frag­ment and the total­ity of being’s Being. Every sin­gu­lar piece gen­er­ated its own galaxy, as its essence con­tained enough energy to spawn life-giving solar spheres.

And so the light poured into each and all of my equally intel­li­gent and inde­pen­dently oper­at­ing aspects, flood­ing it with divine love. The Domain of Dark­ness was shred­ded for a time as the Shadow Fiend was shown to him­self as he truly was: dis­con­nected pieces of hatred, dense mat­ter capa­ble only of absorb­ing light and pro­duc­ing wicked, inverted images – in doing so, gen­er­at­ing the Sephi­rot of Qlip­poth which It ruled. Com­pletely inco­her­ent, it was not pos­si­ble for the sep­a­rate slices of Satan to regroup. I had lit­tle time, though. My mis­sion was not to wage a per­sonal Armagge­don and attempt to fin­ish him off for good. Soon enough I would have to mag­nify my mul­ti­plied sin­gu­lar­i­ties into a sole entity – one inhab­it­ing a human form, nonethe­less.  For as long as human­ity was dis­eased with the drain­ing par­a­site which had taken hold of its col­lec­tive (un)conscious,. Dark­ness would still grow in power and return to its for­mer estate of Full Deficiency.

Quickly and effi­ciently I ana­lyzed each of the sep­a­rated selves of Set for the rel­e­vant infor­ma­tion, “What is it that you have done to Miss Kun­dalini?” It was deeply hid­den in, but I found it.

Col­laps­ing back into myself to regain unity² (total­ity twice over), I was shocked and dis­s­a­pointed to find my con­scious­ness back in my phys­i­cal form. And what a scene awaited my return! I was sit­ting cross-legged atop a grass cov­ered hill, drool­ing all over myself. A mass of bul­bous, dark clouds gave way to the splen­dor of the ris­ing dawn.

Slowly, very slowly, I assessed the sit­u­a­tion and the sud­den change in sur­rond­ings. Shift­ing my posi­tion to allow for bet­ter blood flow (I had never taken to tra­di­tional med­i­ta­tion pos­tures), than the damned lotus I had been in. Although a numb­ness was present, I did sense an object roll non­cha­lantly out of my lap, onto a recep­tively soft patch of grass. Exam­ing it curi­ously, I was struck with surpise as to the nature of the object: it was a fully loaded DMT pipe with signs of obvi­ous and recent use taken to excess.

“By the twelve gods and the One, was all that just so much…” A great reluc­tance to con­tinue that train of thought gripped my heart with alarm­ing alar­ic­ity Scarcely could I deny the valid­ity of the adven­ture, and yet there was noth­ing con­crete to assure the dis­cord in my psy­che that all I had expe­ri­enced was more than an intensly encom­pass­ing hallucination.

Although I am a man of faith, I am moreso a man of knowledge(gnosis). So I did the only semi-rational (hav­ing aban­doned the cling­ing to of ratio­nal­ity long ago) action I could: I sus­pended judge­ment and used the pure innoence of sen­sory infor­ma­tion to soothe my spirit.

Cer­tainly it was not like any trip – med­i­ta­tive, psy­che­delic, or oth­er­wise – that I had ever expe­ri­enced, or even heard of for that mat­ter. It con­tained no comeup in my rec­ol­lec­tions, nor any come­down to speak off. I was not expe­ri­enc­ing any resid­ual visions to speak of. Unmis­tak­ably, all in my range of per­cep­tion was height­ened, col­ors were beu­at­i­fully bright, the smell of the Earth was as pure as scent as ever I smelled, and my ears were pick­ing up the rustling of leaves from miles away…But that is busi­ness as usual for me these days, as nor­mal as it ever gets.
Still, I was not con­vinced either way. DMT is knonwn for induc­ing entirely inclu­sive worlds as well as amne­sia at very high dosages. My rea­son would not roll over and be pla­cated, I felt nau­seous, and on top of it all I couldn’t help but won­der aloud, “Where the hells am I?” Feel­ing the need to calm my rest­less soul with some phys­i­cal action, I stood up, turned around, and put one foot for­ward when I saw it.

A mes­sage, straight from the spirit. I could not deny it, not that I would want to. I loved it, embraced it, kissed the sky and let my spirit soar upwards while my body fell back­wards totally – yet  in exag­ger­ated degrees of slow­ness. The nten­sity of the con­vul­sios grip­ping my stom­ach held grav­ity at bay and turned the air into a cush­ion­ing cloud one could slide down upon, as a slide – trypt­a­mine gig­gles at their finest and most potent. The mes­sage was man­i­festly very clear and lucid: I had been sit­ting in a half-circle of unques­tioan­bly psilo­cy­bin mush­room, cotain­ing a sin­gle black rose expe­ri­enc­ing all the cyr­cles of birth, growth, wilt­ing, and death repeat­edly at an absurdly accel­er­ated pace.

Thus I was con­soled, and so let my soul play and dance and make merry with the denizens of the mush­room ring. It seemed that every­one present: pixie, fairy, elf, and angel alike wanted to know, “What did hap­pen to Miss Kundalini?”

For the life of me, I could not remem­ber. The Cos­mic Gig­gle always get the last laugh, it seemed to me…

Epi­logue: Secrets and Mysteries

For a time I stayed in that heav­enly place, danc­ing and jok­ing with all the pix­ies present them­selves in play – and all the while I pon­dered the impon­der­able. Why didn’t I remem­ber? Was this lapse of my abil­ity to recall only a tem­po­rary afflic­tion? Did I ever truly dis­cover the answer? Was I meant to know? If not…then why go through with all of that? Surely, the spirit loves a good joke – but such an act would be intol­er­a­ble. That sort of thing dri­ves expe­ri­enced adepts into sheer Nihilism, if only out of spite.

Thus it hap­pened to the author – at least, in a sense. Noth­ing had changed in my inter­nal spir­i­tu­al­ity – I still flew in the astral, dined with the gods, a sat absorbed daily in pro­found med­i­ta­tion. My tongue’s tip seemed hope­lessly par­a­lyzed by a pop­u­la­tion of vague ideas and feel­ings that I could not explain, cor­rob­o­rate, for­get, ratio­nal­ize, or dis­miss gen­tly. I felt an engulf­ing wave of feel­ing that com­pelled me to deny every­thing; and so that is exactly how I express myself.

Though I was graced by light, it felt to me to be some sort of bur­den, my enlight­en­ment, my bliss, and my vic­tory of the Adver­sary. It threw most of the Orders into con­fu­sion and my words seemed like so much ven­omous slan­der and heresy to the pro­fane masses. Who could under­stand my call to arms against any­thing and every­thing? A few pre­tended to – I lashed out with fire and thun­der at them espe­cially. Even I could not under­stand it.

I found myself walk­ing through the past, feet pound­ing on cob­ble­stone pave­ment as rab­ble laugh­ably jeered, cursed, and threw rocks at me. 17th cen­tury France, it was revealed to me, wasn’t exactly the best place to espouse my phi­los­o­phy , and I thought instead that modern-day Cal­i­for­nia might be more recep­tive (as if I truly cared). Shift­ing my envi­ron­ment slowly, I found myself falling back into a  prop­erly lin­ear time-line of my life. Uncouth youths yelled obscen­i­ties from their cars as I walked along the side­walks of dreamy (in the fluffy, astral & mar­i­juana sense of the word) San Diego.

“Some things never change,” I remarked in mock deri­sion. Indeed, some things don’t change – it had been a full clas­sic year in my reck­on­ing and still I knew noth­ing regard­ing the fate of Miss Kundalini.

As I walked and lost all sen­sa­tion of self in divine unity, my inner eye looked deep into my heart – and behold! A can­cer­ous dark hole, blacker than sin. “What?!” I exclaimed aloud, ter­ri­fied and shocked to the core. Then I laughed – one should not take one’s soul so seri­ously after all – and was reminded of one of Nietzsche’s more famous quotes,

“When you look into the Abyss, the Abyss also looks into you.”

How fit­ting, I inter­nally quipped. Niet­zsche and I both were accused of the grand crime of Nihilism, were both inte­grally wounded by women, and even­tu­ally sunk our­selves into madness.

Then – it hit me. I under­stood. The cav­ernous citadel of Sin deep in my heart gave rise to a black rose, which by shades turned to an infi­nitely deep red and then set itself – and my heart – com­pletely ablaze.

Such wicked laugh­ter the world had never heard; so much so that it made the Devil cry, turned drink­ing water into Sandoz-acid, and caused the instant enlight­en­ment of those lucky enough to be in my near vicin­ity. Even my shadow could not stand the shock wave of the sound, and ran away quickly.

“Miss Kun­dalini…” I smirked with the mirth of Diony­sius (in his Jim Mor­ri­son form) at his peak, “I hope that, well…”

I turned to Sol and stared hard into his solar inferno, half in chal­lenge and half in jest, “I hope you don’t mind the con­tin­u­a­tion of my wan-ton nihilism. For sure, human­ity has heard enough non­sen­si­cal clam­or­ing from those claim­ing to be Chris­t­ian, or Mus­lim, or Bud­dhist for that matter.”

My words rang with a crys­talline har­mony and I had no sense of whether I was say­ing them or I was a mouth­piece that they were being said through. Most likely a bit of both – I allowed myself a pseudo-private pon­der­ing. Then I lazily turned upon the very axis of the Earth, to address the All:

“My wild truth! She will not be fet­tered, bound, gagged, or restrained! To be always as raw and fresh as a newborn’s blood – that is her inner­most desire. Trem­ble, all ye’ petty, senile, and with­out under­stand­ing! A revenge of Divine Love she seeks against all human and human-kin who plunged her and kept her bound in the Palace of Per­ver­sion! No whore is she, but a bar­bar­ian queen – fiercer even than Kali!”

I had to sup­press a gig­gle as the wis­dom of Eccle­si­astes ran green through me, mock­ing, “All is van­ity! All is but a chas­ing after the wind! There is noth­ing new under the sun!” And yet, in ret­ro­spect, Eccle­si­astes was per­haps the seed of my nihilis­tic love. There­fore, I tossed even the inspi­ra­tional words of (prob­a­bly) Solomon aside.

“Tear down all the churches, bury all the old gods! Lay the philoso­phers aside with all their utopian logic, over-humanizing, and fas­cist Republics! This, this is the new age! An age of a free spirit and an unleashed will, clam­or­ing ever for more suf­fer­ing so that it may mock it. In this age only a Christ could proudly cham­pion Nihilism.”

And so I spoke. Many thought I was mad, mythoman­i­cal, athe­ist, cor­rupt, and so on ad infini­tum. Only so much more fuel for my fire. I speak out against Christ and Bud­dha because they stand next to me, on my left and right, join­ing me in laugh­ter and song. But those who exist in inner dark­ness speak as if they spoke for them, in igno­rance and lame understanding.

Many will try to burn me, but they shall come off as the one scorched. Be wary! When you dance with me, you dance with the Devil…

…And all the while, Kun­dalini and I kiss and dance in an empty void, filled to the brim with light, life, and utterly sub­lime love.

To Be Continued