The Blood of Kali

Fortune & Glory, kid --

Fortune, and Glory….

Meanwhile, in The Cave of Dionysius —

Goddaughter Inanna  Ma’at 

[ YES, it’s a FLEABAG Reference ] :

You okay up there?

Old White Father God, Jr. : Yes. (GRUNTING)

Goddaughter : You’re not moving.

Old White Father God, Jr. :  I’m THINKING.

Goddaughter : About?

Old White Father God, Jr. : About what the hell 

I’m DOING up here, 40 feet in the air, 

with CRAP shoulders, crumbling vertebrae, 

a plate in one leg, screws in the other….

Goddaughter : Yeah, I get it. I get it.

Old White Father God, Jr. : NO, You Don’t “Get it” — 

You’re HALF My AGE. YOU haven’t been 

forced to Drink The Blood of Kali —

Goddaughter : No. Fair enough.

Old White Father God, Jr. :  

— OR been tortured with VOODOO.

And I’m just guessing, but I don’t Think 

You’ve been SHOT nine times, including 

ONCE, by YOUR Father.

Goddaughter : (CHUCKLES) 

Dad SHOT You?

Old White Father God, Jr. : 

Don’t Talk to Me. Just Go ahead. 

I’ll Follow You.

Zero

 

Pop Magic Zero By Grant Mor... by felipefdes

I am The Princess of Wales.

I shall tell you 

of William Wallace. 

Historians from 

England will say 

I am a Liar, 

but History is written by those 

who have butchered Their Moon Goddesses —

The King of Scotland had died 

without a son, and The King of England, a cruel pagan known as Edward The Longshanks, 

claimed The Throne of Scotland for himself. 

Scotland's nobles fought him, and fought each other over The Crown. 

So Longshanks invited them to 

talks of truce, no weapons, 

one page only. 

Among the farmers of that shire was Malcolm Wallace, 

a commoner with his own lands. 

He had Two Sons : 

John and William.

They Do not Deserve Your Protection, Diana.

‘I liked the idea of going out as I’d come into the business; doing outlandish space fiction stories set on distant worlds of satire and metaphor.’

And so The Green Lantern

concluded its run on planet allegory - hero Hal Jordan must choose to walk away from a vivid fantasy planet he’s cultivated as what amounts to a personal vacation paradise, thereby giving it room to develop on its own without his influence.

When space cop Jordan leaves the future to others of his kind

and jets off into the unknown, 

subtext becomes but

text in its underwear.

Wonder Woman Earth One, with artist Yanick Paquette on the other hand, set out to be a stately swan-elegant, meticulously constructed Gloriana ‘art d’amour’ – a heartfelt hypersigil with magical intent and an eye on the future, as mediated through the metaphorical filter of an imagined oncoming Aeon of Ma’at and the energies of the Qabalistic Sphere of Binah.

In each case, the message, I hoped, was plain as the nose on your sister – 

I was saying goodbye to this fictional universe where I’d 

spent so many happy hours, 

leaving it in the capable sweaty hands 

of younger, more dedicated, 

enthusiastic and 

energetic open cast 

mind workers.

I had no appetite for another project in the DC universe – which attitude naturally made me a sucker for the old ‘just one last job’ trope, the downfall of many a grizzled warhorse…

In the last installment in this series, we have discussed chochmah or "inspired wisdom." We now come to the second of the Ten Sefirot, which is binah or "processed wisdom," also known as deductive reasoning.

We have a definition of binah in our non-mystical Midrashic literature which defines binah in the same way that Kabbalah defines it, and that is davar mitoch davar -- understanding one idea from another idea.

A person has an idea -- generated by chochmah -- and left the way it is, the idea is not really useful; it is raw. But then one begins to analyze it. What exactly are the parameters of the idea? What axioms is it based on? What are all the ramifications of this idea, and are they internally consistent? What are its applications?

In Kabbalistic literature the metaphor of a "father" and a "mother" is used to describe this relationship of raw idea to processed idea.

Just like a father sows a seed, so chochmah is a mere seed, an undeveloped code for potential.

Just like a father sows a seed, so chochmah is a mere seed. The father's seed is infinitesimally small, containing an undeveloped code that is mere potential.

It is in the mother's womb that it begins to develop. Every line of DNA code begins to become a human cell, a budding tissue, or a specific organ. Here is the ability to develop the germ of a human.

This relationship is also expressed in Talmudic literature:

The man brings home wheat and wool from the fields. Can a man eat wheat? Can he wear wool? The woman then takes this wheat and makes flour, then dough, and then bread. She takes the wool, spins it, weaves it, and sews it.

Thus we see that the woman develops the potential in every item. (Without stereotyping perhaps this explains the special talent in education that mothers possess, for they are capable of seeing potential in children, 

long after their father has given up on them.)

One more point about the metaphor of a father and mother. The original man -- Adam -- was created from "nothing." He started out as lump of clay into which was instilled the Divine breath. Thus the essence of the man is that he comes from "nowhere" much the same as chochmah does.

Eve, however, was taken from Adam. 

Her very existence demonstrated that she 

was a davar mitoch davar, an entity 

coming from something.

Adam seemed to be but one person, but it was then revealed that out of this person, another person could be carved out. Or put more correctly -- within this Adam there was latent an entire person, waiting to emerge.

The Bible then explains that this is the reason that a woman is called ishah for she was taken from man, ish.

WISDOM AND STUDY OF TORAH

Let us find the contrast between chochmah and binah 

in a very different area: the study of Torah.

The Talmud states that Torah 

was given to Moses 

to give to Israel. 

At that time Moses also received the art of pilpul, 

which translates roughly as the process of logically extrapolating new Torah laws from the existing body of law. Moses was not required to hand this skill to Israel, but out of his "good heartedness" he did so. Indeed, the skill became very useful because when Moses died, Israel forgot many laws, and these were restored through the pilpul process.

This teaching of the Talmud is actually a description 

of the role of both chochmah and binah 

in the study of Torah.

Torah is certainly an example of chochmah. It is an outside injection of God's wisdom into the world. 

Its validity is not because we understand it, 

but rather because G-d said it is so.

Torah simultaneously has an internal binah, which 

translates as logical extrapolation.

Yet Torah simultaneously has an internal binah. Given the basics one can use logical extrapolation and rebuild the rest of it. Even the mode with which pilpul was given to us reminds us so much of binah. Torah per se was given from God, but binah (i.e. pilpul) was passed onto us from the person who already had it! Much the same as the woman was created from the man who already was there!

Indeed for an outsider visiting a yeshiva, the method of study seems strange. On the one hand the students display a tremendous reverence for the Torah as being God's word. On the other hand, every point is meticulously debated with the keenest logical analysis possible. This is because Torah does indeed contain both components : 

Chochmah bestowed from God 

and human binah developing it.

Let us sum up. Chochmah is intellect that does not emanate from the rational process. It is either inspired or taught. Binah is the rational process that is innate in the person, and works to develop an idea fully.

(In a passage of Longshanks' castle, The Prince, Phillip and other young courtiers are walking. Two are carrying a full-length mirror, in which the Prince and Phillip are admiring themselves. The Prince stops them to adjust the belt of Phillip's gaily colored tunic.)

Prince: 

Wait. Wait. Look. 

This is out and this is left. 

(to the people holding the mirror) 

Carry on. Carry on.

(Isabella and Nicolette follow, strolling, not in any hurry to keep up with the men, who turn a corner and disappear. Their following conversation is spoken in French.)

Nicolette: 

When The King returns, 

he will bury them 

in those new clothes. 

Scotland is in chaos. 

Your Husband is secretly 

sending an army North.

Isabella: 

How do you know this?

Nicolette: 

Last night I slept with a member 

of the War Council.

Isabella: 

He shouldn't be telling 

secrets in bed.

Nicolette: 

Englishmen don't know 

what a tongue is for.

Isabella: 

(pauses for a moment, shocked) 

Ah. (She then hurries around the corner to catch up to Nicolette.) 

This Scottish rebel, Wallace. 

He fights to avenge 

a woman?

Nicolette: 

(taking Isabella's hand.) I nearly forgot. 

A magistrate wished to capture 

him, and found he 

had a secret lover.

(Some soldiers appear and Isabella motions to Nicolette to be quiet until they turn the corner. Nicolette continues in a more conspiratorial voice. Isabella listens attentively.)

Nicolette: 

So he cut the girl's throat 

to tempt Wallace to fight, 

and fight he did. Knowing his 

passion for his lost love, 

they next plotted to take him 

by desecrating the graves 

of his father and brother, 

and setting an ambush 

at the grave of his love. 

He fought his way through the 

trap and carried her body 

to a secret place.

(Isabella leans back against the wall, closing her eyes, wrapped in emotion.)

Nicolette: 

Now that's love, no?

Isabella: 

(opens her eyes) Love? 

I wouldn't know.

(Nicolette comforts her.)

Daytime. Wallace's men approach York. The peasants, seeing them, scream and run. By nightfall, William's men have created a battering ram of logs ties together and set on a cart. They wheel it across a bridge to the city wall. The Governor of York is watching the Scots from a tower overlooking the gate.

York Captain: (approaching his lord, who is preoccupied with Wallace) Sir, we can get you out if you leave now.

Governor of York: I am not about to tell my uncle I've lost him the greatest city in Northern England.

(The Scots continue battering the gate. From the fortress battlements the English drop heavy rocks and pour vats of oil on them. Archers shoot flaming arrows, igniting oil and burning the men pushing the ram.)

William: Come on!

(The Scots scream as Wallace leads more men to drive the ram into the gate. This time the now burning gate caves in and the Scots cheer.)

 

(Back in London, Longshanks and his men ride into the castle.)

Soldier: Make way for the king.

(Prince Edward, standing at a tower window overlooking the courtyard, watches his father's arrival. Then he nervously ducks back into the room. Phillip is there and goes to the window to have a look.)

Phillip: (turning back into the room) It's not your fault. Stand up to him.

Prince: I will stand up to him and more. (He practically falls into a chair. His fear is causing him to sweat. Longshank's footsteps are heard climbing the tower stairway. He enters the room, handing his crown to his escort, who leaves, closing the door behind him.)

Longshanks: (to the Prince) What news of the North?

Prince: (standing) Nothing new, Your Majesty. We've sent riders to speed any word.

Longshanks: I heard the word in France, where I was fighting to expand your future kingdom. The word, my son, is that our entire Northern Army has been annihilated. And you have done nothing.

Prince: I have ordered conscriptions. They are assembled and ready to depart.

(Chamberlain and a soldier enter.)

Chamberlain: Excuse me, sire, but there is a very urgent message from York.

Longshanks: Come. (The soldier hands over a covered basket and a note.) Leave us.

Soldier: Thank you, sire. (He is happy to leave the room)

Prince: (reading the note) Wallace has sacked York.

Longshanks: What?

Prince: Wallace has sacked York.

(Longshanks grabs the note out of the Prince's hands and reads it to himself while Prince Edward lifts the cover of the basket and, shocked by what he sees, falls back into his chair. Longshanks looks into the basket and pulls its contents out--the Governor of York's head.)

Phillip: Sire, thy own nephew. What beast could do such a thing?

Longshanks: (putting the head back in the basket, thinking out loud) If he can sack York, he can invade lower England.

Phillip: (advancing) We would stop him!

Longshanks: Who is this person who speaks to me as though I needed his advice?

Prince: (standing, stating with some self-assertion) I have declared Phillip my High Counselor.

Longshanks: Is he qualified?

(The Prince starts to answer but is interrupted.)

Phillip: (confidently) I am skilled in the arts of war and military tactics, sire.

Longshanks: Are you?

(Longshanks assumes a kindly manner, laying an arm across Phillip's shoulder. They walk slowly toward the window.)

Longshanks: Then tell me, what advice would you offer on the present situation?

(As Phillip begins his reply, Longshanks throws him out the window to his death. Phillip screams on his way down. The Prince runs to the window and looks down at Phillip, dead on the pavement, his head surrounded by a pool of blood. In anger, Prince Edward draws his dagger and tries to attack his father, but is easily disarmed and beaten to the floor, whimpering and coughing.)

Longshanks: (sits, again talking to himself) I shall offer a truce and buy him off. But who will go to him? Not I, huh, if I fell under the sword of that murderer that might be my head in a basket. And not my gentle son. The mere sight of him would only encourage an enemy to take over the whole country. So whom do I send? Whom do I send?

END OF SECTION 16

 

(Night. In the woods. Wallace is sleeping on the open ground near the campfire. A twig snaps, startling him awake. He sees a hooded figure walking furtively among the trees. He closes in on it. The figure pulls back the hood and walks toward him from out of the mist. It's Murron. William kneels.)

William: I'm dreaming.

Murron: Yes you are, and you must wake.

William: (looking around a moment, then back to her with pleading eyes) I don't want to wake. I want to stay here with you.

Murron: And I with you. But you must wake now. Wake up, William. Wake up. William, wake up.

(It's morning. The vision of Murron is gone; her words now an echo. William wakes.)

Campbell: 

(from the battlement of York's fortress) 

William, a royal entourage comes, flying banners of Truce, with the 

standards of Longshanks himself.

 

(William and his captains step off a ferry and are at once surrounded by English soldiers. His men stay behind while he is led to a large, ornate tent. Princess Isabella watches his approach with curiosity. Then she walks out to meet him.)

Isabella: 

I am The Princess of Wales. 

I come as The King's Servant 

and with His Authority.

William: 

To do what?

Isabella: 

To discuss the king's proposals. Will you speak with a woman?

(She turns and leads the way into the tent. Lord Hamilton and the princess's maid, Nicolette, are there. As Isabella sits, her eyes catch the suggestive look on Nicolette's face, but the princess hurriedly looks away as William looks around suspiciously.)

Isabella: I understand you have recently been given the rank of knight.

William: I have been given nothing. God makes men what they are.

Isabella: (with indignation) Did God make you the sacker of peaceful cities, the executioner of the king's nephew, my husband's own cousin?

William: York was the staging point for every invasion of my country. And that royal cousin hanged innocent Scots, even women and children, from the city walls. (noticing the exchange of glances between the princess and Hamilton) Well, Longshanks did far worse the last time he took a Scottish city.

Hamilton: (snidely to the Princess in Latin) He is a bloody murdering savage. And he's telling lies.

William: (to Hamilton in Latin, startling both the English Lord and the Princess) I never lie. But I am a savage. (in French for the princess's benefit) Or in French if you prefer.

(Isabella is pleased, but then remembers herself and once again she becomes serious and dignified.)

William: (in English, looking only at Isabella) You ask your king to his face, ask him, and see if his eyes can convince you of the truth.

Isabella: (after a pause) Hamilton, leave us.

Hamilton: My lady?

Isabella: Leave us. Now.

(All leave except Nicolette, who hides behind a curtain to eavesdrop.)

Isabella: Let us talk plainly. You invade England, but you cannot complete the conquest so far from your shelter and supply. The king desires peace.

William: Longshanks desires peace?

Isabella: (in innocent sincerity) He declares it to me, I swear it. He proposes that you withdraw your attack. In return he grants you title, estates, and this chest of gold which I am to pay to you personally.

William: A lordship and titles. Gold. That I should become Judas?

Isabella: Peace is made in such ways.

William: Slaves are made in such ways. The last time Longshanks spoke of peace I was a boy. And many Scottish nobles, who would not be slaves, were lured by him under a flag of truce to a barn where he had them hanged. I was very young, but I remember Longshank's notion of peace.

Isabella: I understand you have suffered. I know about your woman.

William: She was my wife. We married in secret because I would not share her with an English Lord. They killed her to get to me. I have never spoken of it. I don't know why I tell you now except I see her strength in you. One day you'll be a queen, and you must open your eyes. You tell your king that William Wallace will not be ruled, and nor will any Scot while I live.

(Isabella's wagon departs. The Princess looks out at William as he stands watching with Hamish.)

END OF SECTION 17

 

(Longshanks in his castle, conferring with his war counsel.)

Longshanks: (noticing Isabella enter) Ah, my son's loyal wife returns unkilled by the heathen. So he accepted our bribe?

Isabella: No, he did not.

Longshanks: Then why does he stay? My scouts tell me that he has not advanced.

Isabella: He waits for you at York. He says he will attack no more towns or cities, if you are man enough to come and face him.

Longshanks: Did he?

(He returns to the map on the table, where Prince Edward in sitting. The king moves the pieces as he speaks.)

Longshanks: The Welsh bowmen will not be detected arriving so far around his flank. The main force of our armies from France will land here to the north of Edinburgh. Conscripts from Ireland will approach from the southwest to here.

Prince: Welsh bowmen, troops from France, Irish conscripts. Even if you dispatch them today they will take weeks to assemble.

Longshanks: (to his son) I dispatched them before I sent your wife. (to Isabella) So our little ruse succeeded. Thank you. And while this upstart awaits my arrival in York, my forces will have arrived in Edinburgh behind him. You spoke with this Wallace in private? Tell me, what kind of man is he?

Isabella: (coming out of her shock of realizing how the king used her, says with dignity, lying) A mindless barbarian, not a king like you, my lord.

Longshanks: You may return to your embroidery.

Isabella: (with subtle indignation) Humbly, my lord.

Prince: You brought back the money, of course.

Isabella: (turns around to face the Prince) No, I gave it to ease the suffering of the children of this war.

Longshanks: (to his son) Ha! That's what happens when you send a woman.

Isabella: Forgive me, sire. I thought that generosity might demonstrate your greatness to those you mean to rule.

Longshanks: (coughing) My greatness will be better demonstrated when Wallace returns to Scotland and finds his country in ashes.

 

(In the yard of the fortress of York. Day.)

Stewart: (from the battlement) William, there's riders approaching.

(William sets down his bucket and walks to the gate. Hamish follows. They see Nicolette arriving on horseback with a mounted escort.)

Hamish: Personal escort of the princess. You must have made an impression.

William: Aye.

Hamish: I didn't think you were in the tent that long.

William: Aye.

(William and Hamish walk out to meet Nicolette.)

William: (in French) Miss.

Nicolette: (in French) A message from my mistress.

(She gives him a paper.)

William: (in French) Thank you.

(He takes the note and reads it. In disbelief, he looks quickly at Nicolette then at Hamish, then hurries back to the fortress, leaving Hamish and Nicolette staring and smiling at each other. Hamish, remembering, hurriedly follows William.)

The Hidden Princess

“I’ve been trapped inside a Sentient Cave!

You ever been trapped in Sentient Cave?

It’s a DARK PLACE That KNOWS Things..!!”

She’s The Captain’s Daughter AND The Admiral’s Daughter — and because she’s The Captain’s Daughter, they •can’t• get rid of her.....

You can banish a wayward son —

A banished daughter, without support, will quickly lapse into prostitution.

You HAVE to Deal with Her Rebellion.

You can easily organize The Evidence to suggest that there is an Aeon of Horus occurring now. Where Systems are being taken-down, where everything’s being Questioned and Audited, and The Past is subject to Major Revision. 

So, there’s also some fun to be had in thinking “Ok, if this is actually playing out in some symbolic fashion, then what might the Aeon of Ma’at look like, artistically?’

And to me it looks like the rise of marginalized voices, it looks like more women coming into the discourse. It looks like trans people coming into the discourse. It looks like all the opportunities for groups who were disempowered by the Patriarchy, who couldn’t speak before to have their say.

Ma’at – What would her signature disease be? Well it mightbe a distributed network, a viral malady that could attack All of Humanity. What would happen if She emptied The Houses of The Old Gods as a Show of Possibility? 

You remember at the height of the first lockdown, all the churches were empty, all the sports stadiums were empty, all the mosques were empty, all the temples were empty. So, the Dad god had nowhere to go.

In Britain, I know, and I’m sure in America, there was a strange uprising of praise for care workers. People would go out every Thursday here and bang on pots and pans and basically thank the nurturing spirt, this caring spirit, for its very existence. It was a very religious, ritualistic thing that we were all doing. That’s Ma’at right there. 

Then there’s Mother Nature with hurricanes tearing down borders, storms ravaging everyone’s homes. It all suddenly makes sense in a new context if you use the filter of Ma’at to look at The World. 

For me, I’ve found some creative applications for it, like in Brave New World and the Wonder Woman comic that I’ve done.

Let’s talk about Magick. How does one get better at it?

GM: By doing it on a regular basis! It’s like a martial art or a musical talent. 

If you dedicate yourself to Learning and Practice, if you read other magician’s accounts, if you Pay Attention, then you start to notice details that the less engaged will miss and this allows you to do things that other people may regard as magical or even supernatural. 

Just like a stage conjurer, or a great guitarist, or a gifted actor or artist can do. It’s just about really paying attention and Doing The Work to see What Happens. 

It’s just a way of looking at things in a fresh light and then working with this augmented version of reality in ways that can appear supernatural. 

One of Magic’s main attractions involves bringing things Into Being, from the conception or thought all the way to solid materiality. 

Making The Insubstantial tangible.

What advice do you have for the magicians out there who have a story to tell and want to storm the reality studio?

GM: Tell a different story. Tell a fresh story that speaks to its times and the people around you. A story that offers possibilities, exit strategies, rather than apocalypse and ruin. I can’t see that there’s anything else…

In the Wonder Woman book I’m doing, for instance, I’ve actively avoided writing the boy hero story that’s so ubiquitous as to seem inescapable —  the familiar story of the One, the champion, the Joseph Campbell monomyth thing that drives so many Hollywood movies and YA stories. We’ve seen it. The Lion King. The callow youth loses mom or dad, or his comfortable place in the tribe, and he has to fight his way back to save the kingdom from its corrupt old leader, before claiming the captive princess and becoming the new king and… ad infinitum. The Circle of Life if it only applied to boys. I thought, where is the mythic heroine’s story? In Ishtar Rising, Wilson talks about the myth of Inanna, and how she goes down into Hell and has to give up everything of herself to gain the wisdom and experience she can bring back to her tribe. Privileging the network rather than the sovereign individual.

And so, as I thought about the differences between the hero’s and the heroine’s journey, it gave me a bunch of different modes to work in. Finding ways to avoid telling the boy hero story again was quite liberating. It just gave me a bunch of new ideas, an interesting new way of telling stories that didn’t rely on the framework of the hero’s journey that Campbell talks about.

Playing the devil’s advocate here. Today there is a lot of fervor around identity, and there is one strong of thought that people can never truly understand what it is like walking in the shoes of others. Some may ask why a white man would seek to tell the story of a woman, from her perspective, instead of just sticking to what he knows, being a man. 

How authentically real is that character or story, etc.?

GM: It’s important to air these feelings for debate. I must admit, with all respect, that I completely disagree with the idea that we cannot understand one another.

Firstly, there’s a major obvious problem about coming at things from this perspective — if fundamentally, we cannot truly know or have any meaningful opinion on what it feels like to be X, then we may as well stop listening to anything anyone else has to say about their personal experience, on the basis that it can only be irrelevant to our specific lives!

If I can never truly understand you without walking in your shoes and vice versa, what’s the point of listening or talking to anyone about our experience? What’s the point of writing stories, or protesting, or making art if experience cannot by its nature be communicated and understood by anyone who has not shared the experience of the artist, or the writer?

I think we all know it doesn’t really work that way in the real world. We don’t need to be a thing to have some understanding of how it operates. People can be great veterinarians without personally experiencing the day-to-day inner lives of dogs and cats. I can read Solzhenitsyn and shed empathic tears for the inmates of the Gulag without having to reprise their exact experience.

To think otherwise might be, I suspect, a symptom of narcissism painted into its inevitable corner, its private echo chamber – destructive, divided, atomized, individualistic to the point of self-abnegation – and indicative of late stage Osiris pathology.

And you know, we actually do understand one another in so many ways. We can imagine what it’s like to live someone else’s life –— or we can have our imaginations enflamed by well-told tales of other people’s lives and thrill to the ways they resonate exactly with our own lived experience. As a writer, I know this to be true.

We’ve been observing one another’s behavior and drawing conclusions since the dawn of humanity. People aren’t so complicated or new that the basic functions remain a mystery. All our plays, poems, songs and stories are a record of our attempts to understand ourselves and one another. The fact that Greek drama or Shakespeare still speaks to us is evidence that basic human nature has remained fairly consistent for thousands of years.

We figured one another out a long, long time ago.

And ultimately, I’ll say again, we are all the same organism. What we’re seeing is ring fingers fighting with thumbs, eyelashes screaming that eyebrows can never understand them! To point that out is probably an anathema in this current time of narcissistic inflation but it will be understood as a fact of nature in the end.

Maybe I’m wrong and we’re all fucked because humans are a kind of cancer-creature and our only purpose is to destroy each other and all other lifeforms on our planet… there’s still time for Agent Smith to be proved right!

I think everyone should have to imagine what it’s like to be someone else. We can all learn from one other but that means communicating; that means starting with the assumption we do have a common basis for genuine understanding even if our specific circumstances can never be repeated or totally understood by anyone other than ourselves. We all hurt, we all feel joy, we all get turned on, or scared. We all experience loss, and lack of self-worth and feel badly treated by the world at times.

And I understand why everyone should talk and tell stories from their own position you know but it’s also very useful – and a major human talent –  to imagine how other people feel and consider how the world might look through their eyes.  

And you do that by staying informed, listening to voices even when you disagree with them –—and by employing empathy and imagination to put yourself in their place as best as you’re able.

These are difficult times. I’m not a guru. I don’t know what to say to make it all better. There’s seven in a half billion people and it often seems they all fucking hate each other! Yet they all want everyone else to agree with their tiny, restricted, localized points of view. And they’ve all got a piece of ground to defend against perceived foes. I get it, but ultimately, we’re all one thing, one massive organism that’s going through difficult growing pains at the moment, so maybe we need to start thinking about what makes us alike, rather than different.

I hope so

GM: Well, this is part of the boiling process. Capitalist consumer culture has clearly reached its limits and we either advance to a more efficient, stable, less suicidal and aggressive engagement with other people and our environment or we go extinct as a species, taking all the whales and tigers and gorillas with us, before we even figured out how to talk to them and hear their stories! There are few options remaining.

The current questioning, the judgmental audit of where we are and how we got here, is a Horus thing. We can only hope we sublimate from here via Ma’at into something more nurturing and sustainable.

It is a hot moment. Temperatures are rising, Artic ice caps are melting at an alarming rate, and people may be unconsciously registering all that, and doing a horrible job at it. Instead of dealing with one’s own sense of panic, constriction, and fear it looks like many people are just running hot.

GM: I feel like every word we say is now a potential indictment, you know. The last malignant thrashing of the passing Aeon of Osiris. The echoes of the Inquisition, accusations of ‘wrongthink’, the return of Original Sin, the demonic glee taken in any stumble or falter from the approved path seems almost mediaeval. It’s terrifying. The potential for misunderstanding is almost infinite and its almost fated that we will struggle to abide by rules that grow ever more authoritarian and specific every day. Again, all that feels to me like the last ferocious attempts at asserting its fading power by the Osiris energy of the last 2000 years, now gone rotten and unsustainable but trying harder to keep everything and everybody under increasingly deranged levels of control in every area of our lives.

Writers and artists can find more reasons to stop their expression than ever before it seems. The voice of criticism and judgement is easier to find these days, just doom scroll through various social media sites and it’s all over the place.

GM: I regard it all as new input. As tough as it is, there’s an excitement. It’s making me think, it’s making me question myself and my assumptions, it’s making me write different things. I love ideas that challenge my thinking — even if I don’t agree with them in the end.

 

What are your thoughts on Simulation Theory these days?

GM: I was reading New Scientist recently and one of the correspondents on the letters page threw out this random idea that really resonated with me.  The writer was saying that if we live in a simulation then perhaps the world in the past was not as detailed or as high fidelity as it we experience it now! There have been upgrades, developments. In computer game terms, think of the difference between Space Invaders and Red Dead Redemption 2!

And I thought, wow, wouldn’t that be funny if, you know, those medieval painters with the flat landscapes and no perspective, what if they were accurately representing an earlier, more simplistic iteration of our simulated reality? What if they were simply portraying what the world actually looked like in the early stages of the simulation! What if these artists were recording what they saw and that’s how it looked?

Suddenly I saw the history of art in a whole new light! I thought how cool it would be if the cave paintings at Lascaux represented caveman reality perfectly – that’s how the simulated world really looked in an early development of the simulation when we were all just stick figures with antlers and the animals were sketchy semi-abstracts…

I love that idea; that the simulation is becoming more complex and well-rendered as it goes along – and we can see where it’s been.

It almost seems like it will become harder to break the Matrix as it becomes more refined, nuanced and easier to mistake for reality. It is interesting looking at the Simulation theory with the idea of calling it a metaphor for the same thing that the Gnostics came up with.

GM: Yeah, the idea that the universe is a counterfeit created not by god but by some sort of underling of god… that was the gnostic idea. It’s not so much about breaking the Matrix, I feel it’s more about learning to work with it. In the movie, once Neo figures out how it works, he becomes a magician, a superhero. The counterfeit world in the movie seems much more fun than the real one.

 Can magic be a useful tool for navigating VR and AR in IRL?

GM: Yeah, because magic is just about adding meaning or enchantment to the environment and to your life. Magic spices up everything; it’s like hot sauce! Once you add magic, the universe comes to life and starts to dance with you. If you choose to be an exploiter, a black magician, it’s more like a lap dance but otherwise it’s a tango! As I’ve said before, it’s easy to add magic to things. If you decide a certain stone could use some magic power, then carry it with you long enough and it will become first a good luck talisman and will finally accrue the significance and meaning of a Holy Grail if it’s given enough time and attention. So, the more meaning you can add to experience, the more magical it will seem. It’s not difficult or ‘occult’ at all. Magic makes everything more exciting, rich and alive and that’s its job. The more magic you can create around something the more special your interaction with it will feel. 

The Occult — Well, You Know, The Supernatural and All That Magick bit.

So, there’s also some fun to be had in thinking :

“Ok, if this is actually playing out in some symbolic fashion, then what might the Aeon of Ma’at look like, artistically.

The Brig : 

You've been agitating for a new assistant ever since Miss Shaw went back to Cambridge.

The Doctor :

Liz was a highly qualified scientist. 

I want someone with the same qualifications.

The Brig :

NONSENSE. 

What You Need, Doctor, as Miss Shaw herself so often remarked, 

is 

Someone to pass you your test tubes 

and to 

Tell you how brilliant you are. 

• All Very Worthwhile Functions, BY THE WAY — •

Miss Grant will fulfil that function admirably.

(The Doctor is working on Bessie's engine.)

JO: 

But it really •is• The Dawning of The Age of Aquarius!

DOCTOR: 

So?

JO: 

Well, that means The Occult —

Well, you know, The Supernatural and all that magick bit.

DOCTOR: 

Well, goodbye, Lethbridge Stewart. 

BRIGADIER: 

Bye. 

DOCTOR: 

I'll make contact as soon as possible. 

JO: 

WE’LL make contact as soon as possible. 

DOCTOR: 

We? 

JO: 

We. 

DOCTOR: 

Nothing I can say to dissuade you? 

JO: 

No. 

DOCTOR: 

Oh. 

[ He holds The Door open for her — people •did• that, back then... ]

JO: 

But that's impossible! 

DOCTOR: 

Yes, well of course it is. 

So what do you think would happen? 

JO: 

Whumph! 

DOCTOR: 

Yes, exactly. 

Extinction. 

Utter annihilation. 

Now do you still want to come? 

JO:

 It •is• my job — remember? 

DOCTOR: 

Glad to have you aboard, Miss Grant.  

•salutes•

JO: 

Glad to BE aboard, Doctor! 

•salutes back•

Speaking of this new myth and ethos, for a few years now you have been speaking about the Aeon of Ma’at. Is this the strongest current you see in humanity these days?

GM: It’s still a subcurrent at the moment, as the patriarchal Aeon of Osiris bows out kicking and screaming but I think it’s the only one that gives us any chance of survival right now. 

It’s not like this is the dawning of the age of Aquarius. 

For me these ideas are interesting metaphors; they’re filters, and I find that if I apply this particular filter suggested by Kenneth Grant and Crowley it allows me to see things in a different relationship, which is very creatively rewarding if nothing else.  Viewing the world through the filter of these Thelemic notions, what’s happening right now all around us suddenly becomes not only obvious but almost predictable.  

It’s important to emphasize that this is not something to ‘believe’ in. This is a metaphor and not a belief system. But new metaphors can change whole cultures as we know from our history.

Crowley said that the general tenor of the last six thousand years of human civilization could be summed up by the personalities of a family of Egyptian gods. And the first two thousand years up to the birth of Christ, this was the Age of Isis, the Mother Goddess, where people were hunter/gatherers or early agrarians living off the land, relying on ‘Mother Earth’, the seasons and the tides. 

So, the next Aeon from Christ onward is The Aeon of Osiris, The Dying and Resurrected God. 

Osiris is also The Law Giver and He brings with Him The Written Word, so now ideas can be enshrined in books and books can outlast generations and they take on the aura of Gods Themselves. Oh? Read Them, have you...?

God Himself is present in the works of the Bible. God Himself is present in the Quran. 

So certainly, there’s this programming code language, the instructional Dad Language, which can take people over just from reading a book and turn them into Agents of The Dad God’s Expansionist, Controlling Agenda. This is when Nature goes from Provider to something that exists to be tamed and exploited. 

That’s The Aeon of Osiris.

Following Osiris, comes this fiery breakdown, the child Horus is the son of Osiris and he’s every jihadi, every warrior, every rock star reformer, every young man who sees as his sacred mission the tearing down of structures, the questioning of rules. It’s punk rock, “I gotta tear it all down.” But running in tandem with that, according to Kenneth Grant, is the shadow Aeon of Ma’at, Horus’ sister and she’s the goddess of truth and balance and harmony and all that Wonder Woman stuff.

For me, having gone through the Abyss of Da’ath in the Thelema structure of initiation — having undergone that in a really experiential and exhausting way, I found myself in the Qabbalistic sphere of Binah, and The Entire World suddenly looked very different and made sense in different configurations which re-energized the work I’d been doing.  

So, I decided to accept that The Aeon of Ma’at was coming down fast and I tried to align all my thinking with that, which provided me with a new bunch of metaphors and ways of framing the world. 

Imagine all this division and deconstruction was just a corridor we’re passing through. All the fractioning and separation —that’s typical of Horus. We can see the hand of Horus in the modern-day tearing down of monuments and statues. He’s kicking The Fuck out of formerly stable systems all around the world. That’s exactly what you would expect of this spirit that Crowley said manifested first in 1913. But for me, I think he made his presence felt quite clearly on 9/11.

“You can easily organize The Evidence to suggest that there is an Aeon of Horus occurring now. 

Where Systems are being taken-down, where everything’s being Questioned and Audited, and The Past is subject to Major Revision. 

So, there’s also some fun to be had in thinking “Ok, if this is actually playing out in some symbolic fashion, then what might the Aeon of Ma’at look like, artistically?’

And to me it looks like the rise of marginalized voices, it looks like more women coming into the discourse. 

It looks like trans people coming into the discourse. 

It looks like all the opportunities for groups who were disempowered by the Patriarchy, who couldn’t speak before to have their say.

Ma’at – What would her signature disease be? 

Well it might be a distributed network, a viral malady that could attack All of Humanity. 

What would happen if She emptied The Houses of The Old Gods as a Show of Possibility? 

You remember at the height of the first lockdown, all the churches were empty, all the sports stadiums were empty, all the mosques were empty, all the temples were empty. 

So, The Dad God had nowhere to go.

In Britain, I know, and I’m sure in America, there was a strange uprising of praise for care workers. 

People would go out every Thursday here and bang on pots and pans and basically thank the nurturing spirt, this caring spirit, for its very existence. 

It was a very religious, ritualistic thing that we were all doing. That’s Ma’at right there. 

Then there’s Mother Nature with hurricanes tearing down borders, storms ravaging everyone’s homes. It all suddenly makes sense in a new context if you use the filter of Ma’at to look at The World. 

For me, I’ve found some creative applications for it, like in Brave New World and the Wonder Woman comic that I’ve done.”

It Judges You By The Fact of it’s Existence

Imagine all this Division and Deconstruction was just a corridor we’re passing through. 

All the Fractioning and Separation 

— that’s typical of Horus. 

We can see The Hand of Horus in the Modern-Day tearing down of Monuments and Statues. 

He’s kicking The Fuck out of formerly stable Systems all around The World. 

That’s exactly what you would expect of This Spirit that Crowley said manifested first in 1913. 

But for me, I think he made his presence felt quite clearly on 9/11.

You can easily organize the evidence to suggest that there is an Aeon of Horus occurring now. 

Where Systems are being taken down, where everything’s being Questioned and Audited, and The Past is subject to major revision. 

So, there’s also some fun to be had in thinking 

“Ok, if this is actually playing out in some symbolic fashion, then 

What might The Aeon of Ma’at look like, artistically?’

What advice do you have for the magicians out there who have a story to tell and want to storm the reality studio?

GM: Tell a different story. Tell a fresh story that speaks to its times and the people around you. A story that offers possibilities, exit strategies, rather than apocalypse and ruin. I can’t see that there’s anything else…

In the Wonder Woman book I’m doing, for instance, I’ve actively avoided writing the boy hero story that’s so ubiquitous as to seem inescapable —  the familiar story of the One, the champion, the Joseph Campbell monomyth thing that drives so many Hollywood movies and YA stories. We’ve seen it. The Lion King. The callow youth loses mom or dad, or his comfortable place in the tribe, and he has to fight his way back to save the kingdom from its corrupt old leader, before claiming the captive princess and becoming the new king and… ad infinitum. The Circle of Life if it only applied to boys. I thought, where is the mythic heroine’s story? In Ishtar Rising, Wilson talks about the myth of Inanna, and how she goes down into Hell and has to give up everything of herself to gain the wisdom and experience she can bring back to her tribe. Privileging the network rather than the sovereign individual.

And so, as I thought about the differences between the hero’s and the heroine’s journey, it gave me a bunch of different modes to work in. Finding ways to avoid telling the boy hero story again was quite liberating. It just gave me a bunch of new ideas, an interesting new way of telling stories that didn’t rely on the framework of the hero’s journey that Campbell talks about.

Playing the devil’s advocate here. Today there is a lot of fervor around identity, and there is one strong of thought that people can never truly understand what it is like walking in the shoes of others. Some may ask why a white man would seek to tell the story of a woman, from her perspective, instead of just sticking to what he knows, being a man. 

How authentically real is that character or story, etc.?

GM: It’s important to air These Feelings for debate. I must admit, with all respect, that I COMPLETELY disagree with The Idea That We Cannot Understand One Another.

Firstly, there’s a major obvious problem about coming at things from this perspective — if fundamentally, we cannot TRULY Know or have any Meaningful Opinion on What it Feels Like to be X, then we may as well STOP LISTENING to ANYTHING Anyone Else has to Say about Their Personal Experience, on The Basis That it can only be IRRELEVANT to Our SPECIFIC Lives!

If I can never TRULY Understand You without Walking in Your Shoes and vice versa, WHAT'S THE POINT of Listening or Talking to ANYONE about Our experience? What’s The POINT of Writing Stories, or Protesting, or Making Art if experience cannot by its nature be communicated and understood by ANYONE who has not shared The Experience of The Artist, or The Writer?

I think we all know it doesn’t really work that way in The Real World. We don’t need to BE a thing to have some Understanding of How it Operates. 

People can be great Veterinarians without personally experiencing the day-to-day Inner Lives of Dogs and Cats. 

I can read Solzhenitsyn and shed empathic tears for The Inmates of the Gulag without having to REPRISE their EXACY experience.

To think otherwise might be, I suspect, a Symptom of Narcissism painted into its inevitable corner, its Private Echo Chamber – destructive, divided, atomized, individualistic to the point of self-abnegation – and indicative of Late stage Osiris pathology.

And you know, We actually DO Understand one another in so many ways. 

We can imagine what it’s like to live someone else’s life –— or we can have our imaginations enflamed by well-told tales of other people’s lives and thrill to the ways they resonate exactly with our own lived experience. 

As a Writer, I KNOW This to Be True.

We’ve been observing one another’s behavior and drawing conclusions since The Dawn of Humanity. 

People AREN'T so complicated or new that the basic functions remain a mystery. 

All our plays, poems, songs and stories are a record of our attempts to understand ourselves and one another. 

The fact that Greek drama or Shakespeare still speaks to us is evidence that basic human nature has remained fairly consistent for thousands of years.

We figured one another out a long, long time ago.

And ultimately, I’ll say again, we are all the same organism. What we’re seeing is ring fingers fighting with thumbs, eyelashes screaming that eyebrows can never understand them! 

To point that out is probably an anathema in this current time of Narcissistic Inflation but it will be understood as a Fact of Nature in The End.

Maybe I’m wrong and we’re all fucked because humans are a kind of cancer-creature and our only purpose is to destroy each other and all other lifeforms on our planet… there’s still time for Agent Smith to be proved right!

I think everyone should have to imagine what it’s like to be someone else. We can all learn from one other but that means communicating; that means starting with the assumption we do have a common basis for genuine understanding even if our specific circumstances can never be repeated or totally understood by anyone other than ourselves. We all hurt, we all feel joy, we all get turned on, or scared. We all experience loss, and lack of self-worth and feel badly treated by the world at times.

And I understand why everyone should talk and tell stories from their own position you know but it’s also very useful – and a major human talent –  to imagine how other people feel and consider how the world might look through their eyes.  

And you do that by staying informed, listening to voices even when you disagree with them –—and by employing empathy and imagination to put yourself in their place as best as you’re able.

These are difficult times. I’m not a guru. I don’t know what to say to make it all better. There’s seven in a half billion people and it often seems they all fucking hate each other! Yet they all want everyone else to agree with their tiny, restricted, localized points of view. And they’ve all got a piece of ground to defend against perceived foes. I get it, but ultimately, we’re all one thing, one massive organism that’s going through difficult growing pains at the moment, so maybe we need to start thinking about what makes us alike, rather than different.

I hope so

GM: Well, this is part of the boiling process. Capitalist Consumer Culture has clearly reached its LIMITS and we either Advance to a More Efficient, Stable, Less-Suicidal and Aggressive Engagement with other people and our environment or we go extinct as a species, taking all the whales and tigers and gorillas with us, before we even figured out how to talk to them and hear their stories! There are few options remaining.

The current questioning, the judgmental audit of where we are and how we got here, is a Horus thing. We can only hope we sublimate from here via Ma’at into something more nurturing and sustainable.

It is a hot moment. Temperatures are rising, Artic ice caps are melting at an alarming rate, and people may be unconsciously registering all that, and doing a horrible job at it. Instead of dealing with one’s own sense of panic, constriction, and fear it looks like many people are just running hot.

GM: I feel like every word we say is now a potential indictment, you know. The last malignant thrashing of the passing Aeon of Osiris. 

The Echoes of The Inquisition, accusations of ‘WrongThink’, The Return of Original Sin, The Demonic GLEE taken in any stumble or falter from The Approved Path seems almost mediaeval. 

It’s terrifying. 

The potential for misunderstanding is almost infinite and its almost fated that we will struggle to abide by Rules That Grow ever more Authoritarian and Specific every day. 

Again, all that feels to me like the last ferocious attempts at asserting its fading Power by The Osiris Energy of The Last 2000 years, now gone Rotten and Unsustainable but trying HARDER to Keep Everything and Everybody under Increasingly Deranged levels of Control in every area of our lives.

Writers and artists can find more reasons to stop their expression than ever before it seems. The voice of Criticism and Judgement is easier to find these days, just doom scroll through various social media sites and it’s all over the place.

GM: I regard it all as new input. As tough as it is, there’s an excitement. It’s Making Me Think, it’s making me question myself and my assumptions, it’s making me write different things. I love ideas that Challenge My Thinking — even if I don’t AGREE with them in The End.