I, Satan

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How best to write this blog, I don’t know. This started last night as I was falling asleep, as a great deal of my psycho-spiritual work takes place in the dream world and especially on the borders between the conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

Let us first go back to a few nights ago, during the weekend, when I had dreams. I dreamed of seeing my friends Pam, Michelle, and Brandi, and we were all going to Montgomery for some LGBT event. In the dream, it seemed we were awake early, and I remember being excessively tired and wanting to back to sleep. I remember stopping at a restaurant and needing to pee but being unable to find the bathroom or shut the door in the bathroom or something.

At another point, I recall being at my house, outside, in the sunlight, and reciting prayers. Then the Light came, the warmth, the Inner Light that I’ve seen more and more frequently.

Allow me to go back even further; the first experience with the Light happened when I was in high school or had just started college; I can’t remember exactly when it was. When I first began participating in Wicca and doing rituals, I ended up triggering some kind of kundalini energy, which was often apparent in a hypnogogic state of mind.

The experience was one of intense vibrations, of an inability to move, of an expanded psychic awareness; the vibrations felt like I would be shaken to pieces, and a few times, I felt like I would come out of my body (though I never had an experience of astral projection.)

One time, this process continued, and then I suddenly saw a light. The light was so bright and so apparent that I thought someone had turned on a light in the room. I came out of the state and threw the covers off my head- nothing. No light. I was still in the dark.

I asked the only “mystic” I knew at the time what the light was. His response, in his pseudo-guruship idiocy was merely, “Shut up.”

Anyway, last year, I had a similar experience and posted about it on Facebook. When I would come into the light, everything would be still. No vibrations, no noise, just light- dead silence.

The terrifying part about this Light is that I’m the only person there. There is no God, no angel, no entity, nothing- just me.

Now, more recently, this has happened in a more gradual way. Back to last weekend’s dream. I was outside my house in the dream, I began praying, and the light gradually appeared. Now, I noted that it was warm, that it was real, that the more I prayed, the greater it became. There was no absolute silence; the vibrations came but were not strong. I think I prayed to not die, because the pressure on my chest grew so great I thought my heart might stop.

Now, to bring us up to speed: last night. I read an article yesterday that discussed how violence is addictive in the same way as food, drugs, and sex can be. That makes sense, and I would note that a good part of my own Shadow (in Jungian terms) is a repression of my sense of violence and aggression. I often lament the modern-day culture that seems to think that if we just all decide to be happy and not hate people that those things will go away. But the problem is, our inner evil is born with us. Men do not become evil. They only discover they are evil, then go from there.

Years ago, perhaps in the first hypnogogic experience ever, I was quite young. I had almost forgotten about the experience, but I recall that it involved a process where the “seed of Satan” was planted in me, and I remember being terrified and hearing people scream that it was too late, the “seed of Satan” had already been planted.

Last night, this all collapsed in on me, combined with my sense of shame and guilt that pervade so many aspects of my life, and I realized that Satan was inside of me.

This is not an easy realization. In fact, to accept that anything remotely related to the concept of “the Devil” exists, much less that it exists inside of me, is anathema to everything I’ve gone through since I left evangelical Christianity at age 15.

 

Then last night, I had strange dreams, but the dreams ultimately culminated in seeing the light again at one point while praying, and then in having a dream that involved a grey alien. Instead of running from the alien, instead of screaming, I reached out and touched its face as it began screaming at me.

Then I awoke with the dreaded epiphany, a realization that I did not want to face, a horrifying twist in the story of reality.

I realized that I am Satan.

Maybe it would be better to say that I am “a Satan.” But the core of me stood up, and I realized I was evil, out for myself and only myself, and that all good will was an attempt to steer myself away from what I truly and really wanted.

I could put this in Jungian terms and say that I’m facing my “Shadow,” but I want to express this as gravely as possible to make clear the reality of it.

The violence, the sex, the desire to destroy, the desire to cause mayhem, pain, destruction, and hurt other people simply because I want to revel in their hurt- indeed, the idea of destruction and more destruction makes me so giddy, so enthralled, that I can’t imagine that I would have ever presented to anyone in the world that I was a good person, that I had any sense of ethics or holiness.

It truly bewildering and somehow a great cosmic joke to have sought God and the Truth so fervently only to discover that the Truth is that I myself am Satan. All the the things I’ve read about our Higher Self, our Soul, some Divine aspect of ourselves; all of it rendered rubbish by one real experience.

I sought gnosis. Well, I got it. I got what I wanted- at least part of it- and even though I don’t like what I see, I accept it because that’s all I can do.

Naturally, during this process, there are moments when I see myself as Satan and then see myself as containing mostly Satan. This sense of absolute sinfulness, of not only being pure sinfulness, but being the actual cause of sin in the first place, and the notion that I will burn forever because of the mayhem, is ridiculously strong.

Yet to see that I don’t care about the eternal judgment, so long as I can bring down everything with me, is what ultimately is bewildering. I can’t care about tomorrow when today I can steal, kill, and destroy.

Is there forgiveness for me? I don’t know. I have never felt this evil before. I have never felt this level of “bad.”

The only good news is that, knowing that I am the worst thing that exists, I understand that I have reached the ontological threshold of “bad.” Nothing can be worse or more awful than this inner Satan phenomenon. This is it. This is THE worst thing, from which all bad things flow.

The kind of power that exists in Satan is amazing. It is truly amazing. I understand his words to Christ that if he bows down and worships him, he can give Him anything He desires. It’s true. Having this sense of evil inside makes me have confidence I didn’t know I could have. When you just don’t give a fuck about anyone else, well, you don’t have anything to lose.

So this is where I am. I wondered when I first broke with Christianity if perhaps I were the Antichrist- I loved all religions, I wanted to see peace in the world, and I’m a grade-A Sodomite. The perfect Antichrist cocktail.

This whole process is exhausting, all this awful emotions, and the awful sense that I could get exactly what wanted by crushing anyone and anything that’s in my way while simultaneously standing horrified that it’s possible and that I’m somehow the cause of it.

If this is only the integration of the Shadow, well, by God, I pray for every bit of grace possible, but I dare not receive Christ in the Eucharist, unworthy as I am now, for it would surely kill me.

Pray for me, Holy Mother of God, that I may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Beaux

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On the Sacrifice of the Lord Christ

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Another issue that has come about more recently is the de-emphasis of the crucifixion and death of Christ on the cross. While the matter is open to interpretation, especially among Gnostics, I think an issue is of making the Incarnation itself the true sacrifice and disregarding the rest of the mystery of the life of Christ.

 

 

In fact, I think we can resolve rather easily the issues regarding the esteem of the Blessed Virgin Mary as the Mother of God and Co-Redemptrix and Mediatrix by focusing on the Incarnation, and so, too, we can uphold the power of the Crucifixion, all at once, if we look to the true Mystery of Christ.

And here the true Mystery is clear enough: it is not strictly the Incarnation, the Crucifixion, or the Resurrection that matter; rather, THE ENTIRE LIFE OF CHRIST IS THE ACT OF REDEMPTION ITSELF; CHRIST IS THE BEING OF REDEMPTION, THE PROOF AND ETERNAL EXISTENCE OF REDEMPTION.

What I mean to convey here is that the Mystery of Christ is not that He comes along and somehow “completes” the Hebrew tradition, as is the notion held by many modern Evangelicals; rather, Christ IS the Mystery of Salvation, of Sacrifice for the sake of Love, and so forth.

To address Mary’s role in this, I should say that God could have simply “appeared” somewhere without going through the process of human life, from beginning to end; instead, He chose a woman, a human being, through whom to manifest. Mary’s cooperation in the process of salvation seems, then, to take on a much larger role; indeed, she could not have been any ordinary woman.

The archetypal dimension of these things may speak of something quite different, where Mary is the potential of matter to give birth to Divinity that is both man and God. Perhaps this is the true mystery that happens all along; truly, the Eucharist is the revelation of the latent Christ within matter, and each Eucharist encompasses the celebration of Incarnation, Passion, Crucifixion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension.

I wish the Mystery were less obfuscated by the legalism and attempt of modernism of the various Churches. Maybe Christ will one day reunite all the Churches to Himself again. In the meantime, I will devote myself to His Most Sacred Heart and pray most fervently that the Unknown Father would reveal Himself to us in whatever ways He can.

Beaux

Back to Square One

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Author’s Note: I wrote this almost a month ago, so this is not my current state of mind.

So it happens again- a cycle that makes absolutely no sense, a cycle that happens again and again. No matter how hard I try, sometimes I find myself back at Square One.

Fucking Square One.

What psychologists and mystics alike have failed to address is something that is very, very important, and here I’m going to address that:

Just because you are aware of how you are reacting, just because you’re aware that your reaction to something is irrational- it does not STOP YOU FROM REACTING IN THAT WAY.

Emotional reactions are oftentimes automatic. With some things, we can easily talk sense into ourselves- someone cuts us off in traffic or drives on our tail, then we can reason out that maybe it’s a little irritating, but it isn’t really a huge deal after all is said and done, and we can get on with our lives.

But what about things such as phobias? What about fear of rejection? The slightest thing happens, and before you know it, you’re completely swept away in it.

My problem right now, my beef, is that I have no one to whom I can 100% honestly vent, and I realize I’ve never had that, and likely never will. I can’t even honestly vent online because of the fact that my identity is exposed here- the fact that someone, somewhere can identify me, the fact that people who know who I am have already happened upon me here and know that it’s me, me, typing these things.

The worst thing is that now, I can see the rise and fall of the energy patterns within myself and others. What I mean to say is that I can see how people “link up” energetically at times, I can see how it creates a sort of net, I can see what exactly happens with the rising and falling of the energetic tides, and hell, I’ve seen my own emotions and thoughts affecting other people.

One problem is that I always second-guess myself, and that’s because I have to second-guess myself. I try my hardest not to be arrogant- meaning that I accept the smugness and superiority for what they are, and then I go on with my life instead of thinking that I actually have everything figured out.

The problem now is that even people joking with me can still upset me. I know they’re joking. I know they don’t mean what they’re saying. But it still HURTS- and I can’t express that truth, I can’t express that what they’re saying is upsetting me, because I’ll be met with attacks that I’m taking things too seriously or that I should lighten up or that I’m just being immature.

But that doesn’t take away from me the feeling that I’m going to cry, does it?

I don’t think people realize that when they pick on other people, when they make fun of them, that it’s like launching energetic bullets at them. It’s a terrible thing, to be pelted with energetic hits like that.

I don’t like crying, especially not out of people having picked on me and not really being serious.

Sometimes, I’m able to shake my moods and go on with life, but before I know it, the bad mood returns. I don’t mean to say that I’m repressing my feelings- I do accept that I feel a certain way, and the I try to understand it. I try to understand the underlying cause. I try to understand the very mechanism that’s making me feel a certain way. There are times when I arrive at great epiphanies in doing this, and then there are times when absolutely nothing comes of it- when there is no particular reason that I feel a certain way, or at best, it’s a vague emotional impression that refuses to manifest itself in an intelligible manner.

I’m not trained well enough at this point to be able to work with the vague emotional impressions, as you might be able to tell.

In the end, I understand that this is all the ego-suffering, I understand that these experiences are likely projections, I understand all that, but that doesn’t take away the suffering. It doesn’t lessen it. I still hurt, and *I* still exist.

What to do?

I can only pray that God will speed me along the Path, that I will arrive at His Throne sooner than later.

Writing helps. This is literally helping to balance my mind. Of course, there’s always still a fear about “expressing emotions” that was conditioned into me by the Actual Freedom Trust, those fuckers, so I fear writing them online. I fear these things, even though I shouldn’t be afraid. Sometimes expressing an emotion is the right thing to do, and sometimes holding back is the right thing, and perhaps the best thing is to actually experience the emotion and sit with it, embracing it, accepting it, while not acting it out.

More ramblings to come.

 

Beaux