From Sun to Saturn. Occultosophia Corporae: Lectures and Speeches - ebook

Clause Concerning the Use of LLM-AI Tools

Large Language Model (LLM-AI) tools were employed solely for the transcription of lectures and for linguistic and editorial refinement of the text. However, all substantive content was personally delivered by me through oral presentations or authored independently in written form.

This is a book about an invisible war — one that unfolds neither upon maps nor within chronicles, leaves no trace in reports, and defies easy definition. It does not pertain to the majority of mortal men directly — or at least not in a manner that could be effortlessly grasped or measured. Yet, its echoes permeate everyday life, influence choices, shape attitudes, and endure wherever man confronts questions of meaning, good and evil, freedom, and responsibility.

Presented herein are the philosophy, theology, methodologies, and values I have derived from this confrontation — offered not as a closed system or doctrine, but as a testimony of a journey. It is a record of an experience that eludes simple categories.

Any attempt to psychologize or pathologize this often invisible war against the „other side” — which acts upon mortal men indirectly, yet at times with surprising tangible reality — strips it of its true substance. Such attempts reduce it to a mere mechanism, a symptom, a dysfunction — depriving it of its depth, its metaphysical dimension, and its existential weight.

I write not to persuade, but to describe. Not to draw anyone into dispute, but to give name to that which became a formative experience for me. This is a narrative of the tension between the visible and the invisible, the rational and that which transcends reason, between dread and responsibility.

_Nothing human is alien to me._ Thus, this book — though concerning a war that is not perceptible to all — remains profoundly rooted in humanity: in its fragility, its dignity, and its capacity for self-transcendence.

I dedicate it to the causes that were worth fighting for — causes I loved to love, even when their defense demanded solitude and silence.

I dedicate it also to the veterans of these battles: those who never received laurels from society, heard no fanfares, nor stood upon the podium of history, but who, in their — at times Pyrrhic — victory, earned laurels from the Muses and the Gods.

If you believe that truth is soteriological, you err. Acting in accordance with truth within the Great Work is that of which I speak — and I shall not define truth; it belongs to the gods. Yet I can tell you this: when you feel the true forces, ideas in motion, powers, you are poisoned — not by them, no, for they liberate you. Suddenly, you are reborn into a world that has obscured these beautiful forces with filth.

Every act of heroism in the fight for these pearls, essences, truths, is therefore tragic; for in a world that, through advancing centuries, has covered them under a slick pit of babble, few draw near to them, and the majority stray.

You call this “my truth,” “my personal gnosis.” So be it. But if, perhaps, these forces are objective, then my clock is set to the correct hour in a world devoid of clocks.

The poison of truth first kills you; then, that which denies it in the world kills you. Within this poison, you cultivate your venomous gardens of discipline, righteousness, and refinement, until you may depart this world and drink from the Eleusinian Lake of Memory.On Enticement, Curses, and the Manipulation of the Aura of Perception

Some individuals betray their character through their physiognomy, complexion, physique, appearance, gait, manner of dress, and gestures — in short, they betray their entire constitution. Others are revealed through their speech, face, intellect, style of communication, that which they share and that which they conceal, their mode of thought, their emotions — and the totality of these elements combined. All of this reveals much about their present state — though not every state of life, for we behave differently under varied circumstances and toward different people. Complex individuals are difficult to decipher; simple souls, by contrast, are read like an open book. Here, one may apply Galen’s term regarding health _— krasia_ — the state of man’s natural constitution.

There exist numerous ways to modify it. The traditional manner involves the conscious manipulation of the malleable aspects of personality, which, in the hands of a master, become a weapon. What distinguishes the false actor from the manipulator is that the actor believes his own lies regarding who he is, whereas the manipulator knows who he is, yet intentionally chameleonizes his attributes. In this manner, _krasia_ is transformed into _eukrasia_ — the perfected state of what one is capable of being or imitating — or into _dyskrasia_ — the fallen state of what one becomes or merely feigns to be.

Within the magical art, there are innumerable ways to modify the perception of who one is — both through seduction and the assuming of another’s guise (that is, altering one’s entire aura), and by simultaneously influencing the perception of other, unsuspecting people. Most people are unreflective, possessing limited knowledge of others, and are typically preoccupied with themselves. They do not question their intuitions or impressions regarding others: some they like, others they do not — the natural course of things.

A master cannot afford the luxury of liking or disliking — he perceives with insight, striving to draw forth the true „self” of another human being, stripped of masks and falsehood, to lead them toward a nobler aspect of their nature.

Yet the „other side” understands these mechanisms and can transform the most splendid of men into a hated wretch, and the greatest villain into a charming favorite. Thus begin the games of perception.

When one becomes the target of ill will, their aura begins to radiate revulsion, distrust, and a lack of charisma — others react in accordance with the aforementioned law. If such strategies persist over time, social destruction inevitably follows: through rejection, through the exploitation of others” natural flaws, and through turning human weaknesses against him.

Before long, such a person becomes alienated and despondent, their life falling apart — they lose their job, their family, and end up on the street. And yet, they were righteous, wise, and virtuous — why, then, this fate? Because there exist forces from the „other side” that, in an „unfortunate place and time,” set their machinations in motion against them. No human being is perfect; in time, we degenerate under the weight of contempt and hatred, becoming the very proof that „they” were right from the beginning.

Why do people fail to recognize such processes? Because a single individual whose perception of another’s „evil aura” is manipulated by the „other side” does little harm — friends offer support, and others remain uninfluenced. But when this aura is cast across the many through no fault of our own, and their perception is magically heightened, we are lost. Beware the crowd — it is capable of committing the most foolish acts without any gain, while each individual within it feels justified. Individually, they pose no threat; but together, as a mass, they can destroy a man in the blinking of an eye.

What, then, are the remedies?

A resilient ethos, steadfastness, and vigilance protect against many misfortunes — yet they are not enough. We may be knights in shining armor for years, but if people are perceptually manipulated against us, we shall fall from grace regardless. Well-spoken words, virtuous thoughts, and noble deeds are beneficial — people naturally respond positively to kindness, courtesy, respect, and attentive listening. Yet even this falls short.

The root cause must be eradicated. First, one must restore one’s own aura by magical means: banish the malevolent shadows, perform apotropaic rituals, and implore the Gods for aid in lifting the curse.

What is a curse? It is everything that deprives us of happiness, integrity, the right to life, and the just enjoyment of the fruits of our labor — magically installed by the „other side.” Most curses operate in a mode of slow destruction: imperceptibly at first, and subsequently in a cascade — when one thing breaks, everything else breaks shortly thereafter, unless we intervene in time. It is the harbinger of ruin.

Another remedy is to turn to the „other side” — specifically to that which is allied with us — to cast counter-curses and restore normal perception to the people. It is better that they see things as they truly are than be manipulated into loving or adoring us.

Ultimately, we may simply be fools, arrogant pretenders, or wretched failures — such people perish swiftly if fortune does not favor them, or they become exceedingly hypocritical if unduly elevated by unnatural forces.

Know thyself, practice restraint and moderation — and you shall not provoke too many forces capable of effectively destroying you.Words Have Long Ceased to Be Ammunition. They Are the Sport of Civilized Men

I fear we live in times where the written word has long ceased to be ammunition. Writings no longer lead to revolution, reform, or inspiration, save perhaps for faint glimmers of individual perception or the ebbs and flows of insight, sighs, and the like.

With secondary illiteracy prevailing, I wish first to define precisely what secondary illiteracy entails.

Secondary illiteracy is a social phenomenon wherein an individual formally capable of reading and writing cannot fully utilize these literary skills in daily practice. It encompasses difficulties in comprehending complex texts, interpreting information, analyzing media content, or employing modern digital tools. Secondary illiteracy stems not from a lack of primary education, but from an insufficient development of reading comprehension, critical analysis of content, and the independent drawing of conclusions. It is an especially grave phenomenon within the context of the contemporary information society, where an excess of data demands selection, interpretation, and the assessment of source credibility.

A lack of critical thinking is an allied problem, consisting of the inability to independently evaluate information, question assumptions, or discern manipulation and logical fallacies. Deprived of this skill, a person readily accepts information in its superficial form, devoid of factual or contextual verification — a condition that leaves one vulnerable to propaganda, pseudoscience, or stereotypes. A lack of critical thinking frequently arises from both secondary illiteracy and limited instruction in logical reasoning, argumentation, and reflection upon the sources of knowledge. In societal practice, it results in a decline in the quality of decisions, susceptibility to manipulation, and hardship in navigating the complex world of information.

Presuming that a person who educates themselves for hours each day expands their conceptual apparatus, their thought, and develops their linguistic functionality — and language possesses innumerable functions: performative, phatic, utilitarian, and beyond.

Yet there exists a certain Wittgensteinian principle: that beyond one’s own understanding, knowledge, and experience, a human being is incapable of gazing outward — they interpret everything back into that which they already know, understand, and which their perception permits. Thus, the supreme tragedy of modernity is that those who wish to convey something intelligibly from first principles, who desire to impart a grand narrative and a grand history, strike a wall. For those ruled by secondary illiteracy are incapable of leaping across the chasm between conceptual, terminological, philosophical, mental, intellectual, emotive, and rhetorical apparatuses — because they were never taught to do so.

Everything gravitates toward a shallow simplicity, a codification of the functionality of life’s various aspects. In short, human beings are rendered utter fools, regardless of whether they attempt to engage politically or write books.

There is an old anecdote concerning the Tang dynasty Chinese poet Du Fu, who lived in the 8th century AD. If you tune your song too high, whether emotionally or intellectually, the rest will not join in. Where people tune their mental cacophony so low that they are incapable of attuning themselves to any song, they can only correlate it with an attention span akin to that of a goldfish. How can one focus on great works or grand rhetorical addresses?

Consider the Presidents of the United States: Trump’s vocabulary does not ascend beyond fifteen to seventeen thousand words. The cretins who address the public lower the bar of their ambitions. Intellectuals are on the losing side, withdrawn from this world because they cannot fight — for how can one fight while explaining daylight and daily life, while heroizing that which everything is and the value it holds?

In this predicament, the sole recourse is to begin inspiring the younger generations. Yet inspiration that falls upon the dead fields of human hearts, minds, and souls — which are so barren that even were all the gods to manifest together, humanity would revert to the paradigm of fear or religious drivel.

I have presented this solely because I have repeatedly encountered situations where, in speaking or conveying a grand history and a grand narrative, I was interpreted back through the narrow lens of what the listener knew — or an idiot greater than myself took me for a total fool. He understood not an iota of what I spoke, for how could he, when it was conceptually and abstractly beyond his grasp? Abstract thought, abstract humor — who today engages in crafting humor that embodies multiple layers of irony, sarcasm, and self-irony?

To people with a _disco polo_ mentality, one must speak in simple language; yet even when speaking simply, one can only convey as much as they are capable of receiving. And so, in an era of biotechnological dumps, no one cares.

Oligarchy replaces aristocracy, misconstrued as the rule of the mob — an ochlocracy — which it never was, neither in ancient Greece nor through all its possible evolutionary developments. Democracy, ladies and gentlemen, is the rule of an aristocracy of elites who inspire and educate. The _demos_ does not rule the majority, nor does it rule man’s festival of democracy. Assuming one deals with meritocratic individuals and an aristocracy, one chooses from among the elites, not from among the rabble. To quote Solon, the great Athenian lawgiver: _„Blame not the gods that idiots and cretins rule over you; you have chosen them yourselves.”_ Demand and supply mutually propel each other in cycles of stupidity, a feedback loop. Of course, none of this is linear.

In every ruin, hope emerges, change arises, and individuals appear who seek to alter the course. Otherwise, civilization would have collapsed long ago — as have so many others across the cross-section of fallen civilizations.Via Regia — The Creation of Gods in Practice: I Have No God Complex — It Is You Who Possess a Vulgar God

Once, a certain girl from the „other side” mockingly asked me how to become a God; other sacrilegious individuals in this era of _demos_ „equality” sought to repeat my steps, or outright steal my achievements. Allow me to provide the answer:

“Demigod” is a term that breeds much misunderstanding. Though our lives are never boring, we remain tied to mortal existence in the physical world. We cannot raise the dead, fly, or hurl fireballs. We age, we get pimples, and we die — just like you. In truth, we are much like you, only more so.

Demigods can often pass as exceptionally talented humans. Some live their entire lives without realizing they are anything other than ordinary men. The distinction arises only when our mortal bodies enter puberty. (I happen to be an exception, but such is the general rule).

Before then, we knew we differed from the rest of you, but we had no idea what was truly transpiring. And then begin the dreams, the visions, the ideas — the ferment commences.

Imagine it before you dare dream of being one of us. Your body changes, hair grows in strange places, and you feel like an unloved freak. And now, voices echo in your head, telling you that you have lived hundreds of lives and that you are a divine, extraterrestrial intelligence with tens of thousands of years of karma weighing upon your consciousness.

It is an alien, terrifying, and isolating experience. Many of us shatter under this weight. These unfortunate souls either fall into madness or suppress the thought entirely, never again regaining consciousness of their true nature in this incarnation.

One of the demigods, Tyr, whose present mortal incarnation I have yet to meet, almost never realized his true essence since the last Dark Age. The closest he comes is when, in human form, he enters the police force or becomes a self-appointed vigilante. Their earthly careers are always noteworthy — whether through resounding success or by blazing new trails in absolute failure.

— Curcio, James. 2007. _Fallen Nation: Babylon Burning_. 2nd ed. : Mythos Media.

So, you wish to become a god or goddess posthumously. First and foremost: you must possess a certain innate daimonic inclination — something present within you from birth, an inborn impulse. Second: you must undergo an Eleusinian initiation, ideally in your youth. This means that your spirit, your _daimon_, is submerged into Tartarus, into the abyss. There it is transformed within interplanetary, cosmic, interstellar realms, drinking the ambrosia of chaos, whereupon a specific sphere of dominion is assigned to you. In my case, it is the sphere of Saturn, and I have been destined as an intelligence (one among many) for this sphere since the age of twenty-one, during an initiation in Aberystwyth, Wales, in a small cottage, Heol Alwn 23, Waun Fawr. Perhaps it was an experiment of British magicians; perhaps, contrary to their belief, they were used by „invisible hands” for this „experiment.” In any case, objective Platonic forces responded, defying their expectation that I would not survive even a month. Thus, all is ordered by gods and goddesses of whom mortal magicians have no inkling.

You do not then become a „Marvel hero” in human guise, but rather a suffering, tormented entity — a creature inhabiting an abnormal world of objective demonic forces and spiritual intelligences surrounding you. This is owing to a civilizational conditioning that, in present times, refuses to recognize such anomalies, complete with checks and balances upon the powers that have colonized such endeavors, rendering them impossible for the majority — I speak here of the metaphysical, Judeo-Christian architectures on Earth, which are themselves incapable of deifying the individual, yet destroy such possibilities for others.

If you survive — and the last one managed to endure for seven years (I have survived seventeen thus far) — you are still not a god. You are a mortal who has plunged into cosmic chaos, hell, Tartarus, possessing a certain capacity to act through _logos_ — provided that creative voice is not stolen, squandered, or neutralized for the purpose of playing out political and religious machinations on Earth.

As a magician, you may be stripped of your soul, your power, and your strength; you may be rendered entirely helpless — and yet the gods shall remember you, for your demon is immortal. Therefore, you strive to live decently and virtuously, with human, „mortal” senses and faculties. Subsequently, in accordance with the royal tradition of the _Via Regia_, the Gods of Sumer construct around you the _Meś_ tree — that is, they interpret the movements of the totality of your life through a period of trials into the body of a young god: a posthumous, individuating vehicle inhabited by your _daimon_, _pneuma_, or _hegemon_. In my case, this period spanned from 2013 to 2023; behind the backs of my adversaries, the alchemy of the extract of all that I was became immortalized, purified, rectified, and interpreted into my posthumous vehicle. It is a form of posthumous mask revealed to the world, imbued with all that is compatible with Divine realms.

Yet the greatest ordeal arrives only after death, Trismegistus. Why?

Because imagine a woman giving birth to a child in agonizing pain. It is precisely the same with birth into the realm of gods and stars — you give birth to yourself, severing ties with the biological life of mortals to be born into a world of powers and forces. The gods act here as facilitators as you hatch from the mortal cradle of the Gods into the veritable world of the Gods.

I expect that after death — as I have been informed — I shall pass through immense torments, through all the pains of the past (and there were many), to burn them away and be purified. It was a well of suffering that I must cross and span with a bridge, gathering all my divine qualities around the Ankh, the _Meś_ tree, which was shaped within me by the Babylonian and Egyptian gods — in the firm hope that I shall endure.

I wish you the very same journey — and at the same time, I wish that you need not suffer quite so severely. For those who aspire to this caliber must know that becoming a power, a force, a god among gods, entails heavy posthumous obligations and duties. You then belong to a grander order of powers and forces, burdened far more than mortals, possessing minds deep as oceans, with an effective idea that merges with the subject of their action in the world of phenomenal hearts, minds, and souls. It is a process of de-anthropocentrization, of dehumanization from the human animal — a Hephaestian forging of a new minor deity.

Then, you are no longer a mortal. You no longer think as a human animal. You are impartial, objective, strong; you become an executor of the ideas of Higher Deities, their catalyst, and their judge. You belong to the cosmic order — the _kosmoi_ — to the harmony of the universe.

All human instincts, biological desires, and drives are eliminated. You become a perfected purification of your _daimon_, separated from all impurities through the great fire, through the torments, trials, and experiences that prepare you.

So, if any among you still desires to become a god or a goddess, let them be prepared: to attain this status — even as a minor, „high-ranking” god of human origin — one must pass through hell in life, and then through hell once more after death. Only thus can one reach a stage that itself remains uncertain — unless the gods see fit to admit you into their Council.

May the gods aid me, then, and may I succeed in passing through after death. This life was a hell, yet I am ready for the next stage of transmutation — to shed my serpentine skin and become akin to the dragon gods above us.Praxis and Doxa: The Tree of Life, the Embodiment of Royal Qualities, and the Transmutation of Beggars into Gods

Today I should like to address the theme of the Tree of Life embodied within the king or queen. We read in Douglas Estes’s work _The Tree of Life Themes in Biblical Narratives_ (Brill) that on a seal from Uruk dating from the third to the second millennium BCE, the goddess Inanna addresses her king, comparing him to the _meś_ tree — the Tree of Life:

“My king, the _meś_ tree that faithfully yieldeth fruit, radiant with the fullness of charm, son of his mother and father — I shall cause thee to shine like the _Meś_. May Anu (Saturn) grant thee life.”

What, then, is the Tree of Life within the traditions of Sumer, Akkad, Assyria, Babylon, and Egypt?

When the goddess Sab-Seshat and Thoth inscribed divine qualities and names into the Pharaoh, they fashioned what may be termed a cradle of the gods — a path whereby a mortal, through labor and a life in the embrace of the gods, meeting divinity halfway, attained immortality after death. Thrice-great like Hermes Trismegistus, he underwent three stages: the Descent, the Virtuous Life, and the Posthumous Ascent.

Thus we have the tale of the goddess Ishtar’s descent into the underworld, as she sheds all her jewels and garments while passing through the fourteen gates of hell. What is this act?

It is the very same archetype as the descent in the Eleusinian mysteries or Osiris’s descent into Amenti. All these myths articulate a shared cycle that leaves behind a blueprint for the mortal — a track that may be followed.

The ambrosia of the gods is the dense matter of chaos, which must be reclaimed in order to forge the _daimon_ from it. It is precisely within the interplanetary spaces, in the cosmic abysses, that the transmutation of consciousness occurs. Thither one must travel in soul to accomplish the proper transformation of the daimonic „self” — the spirit that shares fates and bestows destiny.

What, then, occurs next if one has indeed descended into the underworld and returned to earth with the trophy?

Precisely here begins the true path. Through trials and torments — of nature, as well as of the demonic and divine spheres — the mortal is tested and expanded. His nature is subjected to strain so as to draw forth the greatest movements of life, its total sum, bound simultaneously to the natural world and the world of planetary spheres in the Chaldean order: from the solar nature unto Saturn.

As man traverses these planets and acquires their qualities, expanding them and learning from them, something further unfolds in the process. For every successfully developed quality congruent with a given planetary dimension, one receives a seal — upon the right and left lung, in the solar plexus, the throat, the eyes, the _Ajna_ (brow), and the crown (_Kephalos_).

The Tree of Life, the _meś_ tree, is thus proportionally scaled to the mortal’s occult, bio-sexual-psycho-pneumatic apparatus.

In other words, it is adapted to the mortal. This does not imply that man is the center of all things or the absolute — rather, that he is a divine animal capable of being restored according to exceedingly complex parameters.

Let us assume, then, that a man or woman has successfully undergone numerous trials over many years, and that across various times and places these spiritual centers have been preserved. Thereupon, a matrix of their full nature is formed, in harmony with the planetary natures. This is a continuous discipline — one cannot remain perfect at all times; yet when perfection is attained even for a fleeting moment and rendered permanent, that constitutes the result. Thus, at various moments of life, these divinely worthy qualities are preserved and — so to speak — transmitted (interpreted) into the body of a god, which is prepared by the Annuna gods.

This divine body receives the seals of these qualities, as if individualizing them through this unceasing labor. That which is deemed worthy to bear the vestments of a new god or a new goddess is preserved in immortality. Man does not become a god within the flesh — he may cultivate certain faculties, certain qualities, yet he remains subject to decay and impermanence. However, upon death, triumphing over it, his husk — the Dionysian body, the tomb — is cast aside, and the spirit acquired within the abyss inhabits the new divine body, fashioned from these divine qualities and attuned to the divine assembly, to the grander order. In this manner, the spirit collaborates with the gods who elevated the mortal.

One may say, therefore, that this entire process is an ongoing interpretation and translation of the mortal into a god or goddess. The mortal mind and body are discarded, and only the subtlest points of the _Via Regia_ — the royal road of philosophers, kings, and queens — are retained. This may be understood as a divine catalyst of the purest qualities, enabling cosmic expression to flow through the individual.

This has been a summary of the practical aspects — omitting the mythologies, methods, and narratives that accompany them. Do I know how it works? No. I am a practitioner — I live it, and thus I impart that which I have intuited and which I believe is worth imparting.

With Socratic irony, I shall say: that which can neither be spoken nor imparted must nevertheless be said.

I remain forever grateful to the dragon gods of Sumer, Babylon, and Egypt — the great Igigi-Annuna — for opening this path to me and to the few others who have chosen to tread upon it.

Glory to the golden wings. Thank you.

_Non Omnis Moriar_Shadows of Politics

Aristocracy, not ochlocracy. Meritocracy, not opportunism. Aretocracy, not the administration of mediocrity. What serves as the litmus test of all these in the contemporary world? There has always existed a vector directed toward ancient things — in the Roman Republic, in the paideic Athenian democracy. And that litmus test never fails: virtue.

Virtue — everyone cries „virtue!” Yet, all too often, it is merely a shadow and a spectacle. True virtue is that which can be embodied as merit; that which emanates from a person in a vision — a grand vision. Grand history — that is what endures.

Look around you: politics, the military-industrial complex, „diplomacy,” power plays — how they are waged elsewhere over resources, finances, wealth. To quote Solon of Athens, the great reformer: blame not the gods for choosing these idiots to rule over you — your Trumps, Putins, Orbáns, Le Pens, and the rest. They are mere facades, leading to long-term decline.

Politics has become a business rather than leadership. Politics as a vocation — in the Weberian sense — has vanished.

It is ironic: I gaze upon the Presidential Palace in Warsaw. The city’s coat of arms is guarded by two _Angeli Bonum_ — feminine, pagan, noble ladies — Muses. Muses from various epochs, flanked by two caducei, Heraklean knots — and thus masters and mistresses who have attained perfection in virtue and merit, designated to the planetary spheres, to the stars, to the unceasing operation of deities.

And in the center resides the Thyrsa, or the most ancient word for the Thyrsa _— Narxos_.

Many pass for philosophers, yet few are crowned by the Muses. The Muses have been converted into a museum — a modern museum where one may view paintings and artifacts of bygone eras. Meanwhile, the true, worthy goal is to render oneself a museum — a temple of the Muses.

This is achieved through preparation from first principles: discipline in merit, discipline in virtue, discipline in education and knowledge — embodied in all these things. Only thus can one build a museum, a temple for the Muses within oneself.

It is a worthy endeavor — even if you are vanquished on Earth, within the material sphere, you emerge victorious as a spirit destined for this unceasing pursuit.

Many are known to the gods; few are recognized and acknowledged, philosophizing correctly, Thyrsa-wearers.

This perpetual chatter, the gossip of the earth — shallow souls, incapable of grand deeds.

Grand souls are rare — those animated by intellect. It is a sorrowful reflection, yet alas, life moves onward.

And after my departure — even if my role be that of a disruptor, a rebel, the dissident I have been — so be it.

To oppose the idiocies of your right-wing populist demagogues, your left-wing cancel cultures, your administration of mediocrity, your bureaucratic ideals repulsive to anyone who knows the value of good when institutionalism degenerates into pandering to the wealthy.

Critical thought possesses value — as do intelligence and intellect. Most likely, I have not much time remaining upon Earth. This harrowing march across the globe has been a disgusting ordeal, I must confess, considering what has been done to me. Yet I shall continue from the beyond — past the Dionysian bodily tomb.The Orphic Gold Tablets: Child of the Starry Heavens, of Earth, and of the Heavenly Race

“Mnemosyne is required to ensure that the initiated remember the ritual, presumably the initiation rite. In the Orphic hymn dedicated precisely to Mnemosyne (OH 77.9–10), the function that this goddess presumably performs in the tablets is explicitly defined: to awaken within the initiated the memory of the pious ritual and to drive forgetfulness away from them.”

Considering that in the Greek language the concept of truth (_alētheia_, ἀλήθεια) etymologically signifies „un-forgetting” (_lēthē_, λήθη), to remember proves equivalent to „to know.” Remembering in the otherworldly realm likewise denotes the transcendence of the temporal divisions of a brief mortal life. In Ent. 2 (B11.2) there appears a reference to the „hero who remembers” (_memnēmenos hērōs_, μ]εμνημέ<ν>ος ἥρως). This expression must pertain to the prerequisite for becoming one of those „heroes” with a distinct destiny in the other world: to remember the initiation, not to forget all that was learned, and to know what must be done and spoken in the realm beyond.

The term „hero” recurs in the great tablet from Thur. 492.9 (C1.9), followed by the phrase „light for the intellect,” which appears to be a lucid reference to the illumination of the believer’s mind, presumably upon the path to initiation. The expression „he who remembers” may be equated with the maxim from Thur. 487.2 (A4.2): „to be fully conscious of all things.” Only by recalling everything imparted during initiation will the soul of the deceased attain a blessed afterlife with the status of _hērōs_ (ἥρως).

— Alberto Bernabé and Ana I. Jiménez San Cristóbal, _Are the “Orphic” gold leaves Orphic?_ in _‘Orphic’ Gold Tablets and Greek Religion: Further Along the Path_. 2014. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 75–76.Wheels of Fortuna: Who Goes Up, Who Goes Down

Beyond all my favorite methods for destroying dissidents such as myself, I have observed one in particular, which I perhaps communicate as a warning to those engaged in a state of metaphysical combat — spiritual warfare, shadow operations, psychological operations, the war for minds, hearts, and souls.

Over the years, a strange desire implanted from the outside repeatedly arises within you to murder someone. Suddenly, at critical moments of synchronicity, anger, violence, and aggression surge — the inclination to „kill him,” is it not so? Or rape — an unnatural sensation of arousal, a chthonic heat emerges, and one’s gaze is directed toward some solitary, defenseless woman. I shall not analyze the sources here; it suffices to know that psyops, esoteric warfare, computational radionics, and our friends from the demonic realms possess such capabilities. Self-control and awareness sharp as a dagger’s edge! What occurs if you commit the act? You end up in prison. You end up in prison, and all that you strove for — your knowledge, your devotion to the gods, to whomever remains upon the earth worthy of being fought for, man or woman — is destroyed.

Society will not understand. To them, you are a criminal — an outcast. Likewise with the madness they can induce within you. They will drive you insane. You will end up in an asylum. Whom will they believe — you, or the psychiatrist? From a societal perspective, you are swept into nothingness. This does not explain away all criminal cases; there are exceptions to the rule that drown among criminal cases, indistinguishable to the untrained eye. I am fortunate not to be in prison. I thank the Gods that I was not made a lifelong resident of a psychiatric hospital in Eastern Europe. For precisely in this manner are dissidents eliminated today. Quietly — this is a silent war, far removed from the oblivious masses, from the crowd.

People live their lives. They have never laid claim to any power. They have never attempted to penetrate metaphysical reality or possess any force. If you do — you are finished. There exist numerous mechanisms to pacify, neutralize, and remove you.

Who goes up, and who goes down? Look where human dreams and desires tend. What do they long for? If you know who can control dreams and supply the illusion of fulfilling their desires and needs — therein lies power.

Thus, when you see celebrities praising Jesus, a Jew, and the entire psycho-social structure, praising the existing order through a resounding „yes!” to this abomination, falsehood, and degradation, or offering the illusion of a counter-narrative within the religion of popular entertainment to „control rebellion” by delivering it in a pacified form — ask yourself: where resides power, where is propaganda directed? What is the finest method to secure advancement in society by justifying its lies, illusions, and ignorance?

Well, if you possess sufficient fortune and potential to participate in this propaganda machine, they will grant you money. They will grant you a place upon the stage so that you may dilute the consciousness of the masses, who look upon these people as the golden calves of modernity — which they shall never become, yet which awaken their dreams and desires, leading them like dogs on a leash.

So, if you are a contemporary opportunist capable of packaging this in the guise of goodness, so long as you remain a puppet to those more powerful than yourself — that is the finest prescription for rising upward. If you possess the proper networks and contacts, they will provide you with money, fame, affluence, and delights. You shall be used as a hypocritical catalyst for their lies, deceptions, illusions, and ignorance. This is the foundation of power for these swine in the establishment — in big entertainment, in the military-industrial complex, and in social engineering practiced upon the living tissue of minds, souls, and hearts.

Look, then, at what entertainment offers you. Look at the narratives in films, series, sitcoms. What do they present in their metarhetoric? Are they autonomous, is it authentic art, or do they numb you toward certain matters? Do they manage your cruelty, your indifference? Do they direct your aggression? Do they control your reaction? Do they condition you toward certain behavioral-emotive-cognitive ends?

Precisely thus do they pacify the masses — through entertainment, films, music. For it is psychologically proven that if a human being replays these scenarios in the simulated reality of the simulacra of entertainment, the ordinary, uncritical spectator is swiftly lulled to sleep. He neutralizes, adapts, and normalizes these scripts, absorbing them.

Consequently, he becomes ineffective in any form of political rebellion, critique, or resistance. His conversations are confined to banal chatter about people, work, and family. He poses no threat to power — for, by design, he possesses no right to do so.

But if you are such a threat, if you construct an alternative discourse — you constitute a danger. For you are not part of the short circuit. If you expose the lies, illusions, and ignorance — you are a natural enemy. They must pacify you. You will not advance. Do not dream of it.

So you operate from behind enemy lines, advancing while remaining faithful to your traditions, to your Gods. If you cannot destroy this entire fortress of swine, then at least undermine it, sabotage it, subvert it wherever you can.

This is the essence of dissidence. It consists not of frontal warfare, but of total underground war — a war of subversion. Whether it unfolds through narrative, writing, metaphysical acts, psychological operations, or collaboration with the heavens, stars, or hells — act where you are able. And dare not retreat. This is not nihilism, for you offer something else; you have an entire superstructure of ideas prepared to restore the metaphysical, political, and social order. A grave error of most decision-makers is that, apart from resistance to injustice, they have nothing with which to replace these false orders.

And when the scoundrels tell you: „You are meddling in our affairs,” you shall be swiftly destroyed, murdered, driven to madness, or forced into committing a crime so that they may eliminate you. So many have already been swept off the earthly stage into oblivion!

Yet so long as you act, there remains a chance that certain scenarios shall triumph. This is the present narrative of the planet — a battle over whose narrative shall prevail in the noosphere.

And if you align yourself with the righteousness of a true decision-maker carrying his inner truth, sooner or later the gods shall answer, protecting you from the earthly swine. No psychological operations, no attacks shall be capable of harming you, for you return to your _Daimon_ — the Socratic genius and your inner truth; these are metaphysically indestructible matters, like the deified qualities of our great Muses, calling to us in a quiet, mighty language: „Onward, onward, follow us!”

They wish to kill you — they hire a sniper. The sniper shoots himself in the head and disappears. They wish to beat you, to intimidate you — they are destroyed. They wish to send religious fanatics — they are annihilated.

If you prove your worth in dissidence, the gods uphold you. You are an anarchist toward the established order, but if the order you carry within yourself is righteous — the gods shall support the anarchist who is an _imperator_ within his own internal empire.

The _Anarch_ — the king of anarchists. Why? Because you are right when the world stands upon its head. And you walk with the gods, for the world upon earth is inverted, and they support you — not those in dominions whose plans you disrupt.White Flags

Look upon these fetishists of mundane reality! Do you imagine you will force them, teach them, or inspire them to gaze anywhere beyond? You shall sooner become an object of ridicule yourselves, a curiosity for fools! Bearing hells upon our backs that permit us to live like playthings solely to witness the virtuosity of our downfalls and failures over the years — it is ever a grand game when unaware of its destiny, prescribed like medicine by the Fates — yet it fights and speaks, performs miracles and rituals — for whom, for what?

Perhaps for one’s own justification in the eyes of the gods, who look upon these struggles against stupidity — long lost to humanity — with amusement! One cannot compel action, inspiration, or brilliant motivation like a flame! They shall sooner bury you beneath religious and political lies, severing the threads of your mind from greater matters! No, not out of wanton malice or perfidy, but in the name of their delusional good, which they mistake for truth as they dance like servile swine to their masters!

I have done my part — secretly, invisibly — before the swine burst in and trampled all that was sacred, grunting with filth over my works, over my words, over my truths and seductions — through wonder and corruption, through furious hatred and a benevolent, yet treacherous patience! In the end, they shall call you a liar and drown all your hard-won experience in psychiatry, psychologisms, or within their own flawed narratives of an inability to reach for anything of worth!

Petty wranglers, learned simpletons — from the atheistic reductionist, to the political swine, to the blinded devotee of false religions, the half-baked esotericist, and the arrogant occultist — all initially take up something grand in their ignorance and ostensible righteousness! Why?! There, let them shine for a moment — and with what do they enrapture themselves?! With themselves, feeding upon the drivel of their own pigsties! They never paid heed to that which I had to convey to them — they merely sought to justify their babbling delusions, half-truths, or beliefs! I shall remain with my inner truth and my _realizations_, which contradict these babbling pests!

It is agreed, then — a retreat from this human species, which I no longer deem my brotherhood; securing the barricades so the swine cannot crawl and storm our former positions, posing their _questions_ to me merely to prove themselves right; fortifying the citadels and ramparts behind us — which they shall conquer regardless, yet which will retard their march of swine while I proceed disembodied toward the stars.

In the final spectacle, they will attempt to reanimate your corpse, thrusting into it their narratives of nonsense, their own ignorance, and stupidity. They would display my dead carcass upon a podium in the public square to speak that which _they_ wish to say — that which their slaves have ever _longed_ to hear! I am already too old and exhausted to pursue a mightier path of contempt toward them, let alone educate the few who stand ready to learn.

And so another flame is extinguished, another retreats — times will not improve; it shall only grow more arduous in the coming decades. Already I wail and lament over the future fallen who shall attempt to move mountains! At least they will try; at least they will attain something worthy of their own names!

And when the swine upon the airwaves of Radio Earth, animated by things they do not comprehend, continue to chatter at those few who are resistant to death — well, I have learned all from a perfect silence filled with magnificent substance, from a perfect night filled with instruction. The swine are ever loquacious — were they to cease for but a moment, they would swiftly stand face to face with the death of everything they believe about themselves, wallowing in their own filth!

Once I heard: „He knows too much” — from swine who knew even less, cowardly tangling themselves in their own powerlessness because they dared not reach for anything that contradicted their cowardice. We hold contempt and spit for them, for they were complicit in the destruction of entire generations. The cowardice of those who _could_, yet possess a ton of rationalizations to _refrain_, is a transgression by omission; nothing shall convince me otherwise.The Twilight of Heroic Human Dignity

We dwell in a world wherein even the greatest and most noble minds are lost in translation. How are we to move the hearts, souls, and minds of men — to elevate them toward that which is noble and magnificent — when so many remain imprisoned in a barren land of ashes, confined to the narrow bounds of what they know, feeling no thirst for liberation through pure ideas, accustomed to the lowlands and mistaking their own blindness for the totality of reality?

Even when we are heard, seen, and felt, we are seldom understood. Our deeds, motives, and actions are translated exclusively within the narrow boundaries of what the modern mind is capable of conceiving — nothing beyond its habits, knowledge, experience, or aspirations. This is entirely natural. A fool will ever mistake a master for an idiot. And a fool ought not to be condemned, but taught with patience — like water carving stone — only after one has first discerned his vantage point.

And yet, why squander time upon legions of fools who desire to remain as they are? Herein is born the heroic Socratic tragedy: the duty to speak, to transmit, to interpret, to explain. But today, men no longer deny the truth — they simply do not comprehend it. They are incapable of perceiving their own ignorance, let alone liberating themselves from its grasp. Thus an antagonism arises: the man of goodwill is perceived as an enemy, for he disrupts the play of fools. The fool hates him, and the masters of fools hate him all the more, fearing lest their slaves revolt and unmask them as mediocrities. Consequently, the noble spirit becomes hated everywhere.

Why then labor at all? Why not seek refuge among the gods and goddesses who recognize and uplift us? Because we must. Because there is sorrow and lamentation in the rhapsody of Ossian, there is yearning and grief in the Orphic hymns, there is power in the words of Nolano: those who love this world too intensely offer themselves as sacrifices upon the altars of history, of the gods, and of the earth — and the world curses them most bitterly of all.

With the passage of time, they descend toward lesser fates — once burned at the stake, today annihilated by the silent mockery of envy. We no longer rend the garments of our hearts like the sages of Egypt; instead, we grow heavy, venomous, embittered. And yet never, even in the face of the direst calamities, do we renounce our longing for the divine stars, wherein we have immortalized our loves, our visions, our names, and our lives.

Bearing aloft the Olympian torches of Hecate, with resignation upon our brows, we burn with the desire for purification — not out of hatred for the world, but from the impossible alchemical culmination of greatness. Meanwhile, the world marches on, indifferent to our endeavors to restore that which was lost long ago. And we curse our knowledge and our perception, finding solace solely in the rupture between total affirmation and absolute despair.

Like tightrope walkers, we leave behind everything we love, for love itself demands that we do not fall. We must reach the summit of the mountain.