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 naive 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