In a 1992 lecture, Popper explained the connection between his political philosophy and his philosophy of science. As he stated, he was in his early years impressed by communism and also active in the Austrian Communist party. What had a profound effect on him was an event that happened in 1919: during a riot, caused by the Communists, the police shot several people, including some of Popper’s friends. When Popper later told the leaders of the Communist party about this, they responded by stating that this loss of life was necessary in working towards the inevitable workers’ revolution. This statement did not convince Popper and he started to think about what kind of reasoning would justify such a statement. He later concluded that there could not be any justification for it, and this was the start of his later criticism of historicism.

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

Eternity by William Blake

Still Life

In my dream world there is a village
Silent songbirds are painted with potion
So their colors will run onto paper
They fade to dark rainbows of oil slicks
Tropical sunshine to grave raven

When will you learn, O mind,
to sleep in perfect comfort
between the captivating lovers,
holiness and defilement?
Only when you can keep
these two consorts peaceful
beneath a single roof
will you truly encounter
the brilliance of the Goddess.

– Ramakrishna, Translated by Lex Hixon


“No, you don’t need to see my face.” It’s like the fantasy art anti-cliche!

Now you better write it, you better pay for it, or don’t listen, and get the hell out of my life.

– Judy Garland, America’s Sweetheart

Fearless Beauty

Further reflection on Ajna to Anahata

Ajna (to perceive and command) to Anahata (unstruck sound)

Pattern recognition/Self-reflection to Love and Balance/Self-acceptance and Acceptance of others

Binah to Tiphareth

Path 17 on the Tree of Life: Zayin (Sword)

The culmination of meditative action realized in action based in love (beauty, miracles, compassion).

There is an Assyrian legend of a woman with a fish, and also there is a legend of Eve and the Serpent, for Cain was the child of Eve and the Serpent, and not of Eve and Adam; and therefore when he had slain his brother, who was the first murderer, having sacrificed living things to his demon, had Cain the mark upon his brow, which is the mark of the Beast spoken of in the Apocalypse, and is the sign of Initiation.

The shedding of blood is necessary, for God did not hear the children of Eve until blood was shed.  And that is external religion; but Cain spake not with God, nor had the mark of initiation upon his brow, so that he was shunned of all men, until he had shed blood.  And this blood was the blood of his brother.

- Liber 418

I had recently asked some friends how they dispel feelings of self-pity, as I’ve been finding myself bathing in it lately.  It’s rather fascinating how diverse the answers were (feel sorry for others, do something you love, accept those feelings, distract yourself, find the root and channel the energy elsewhere).  One of my first real epiphanies was when I realized the necessity of pain and suffering for one to truly see and understand joy.  Often people find God or inner strength because they are searching for the power to cast off the binds of corruption.  My mantra is gratitude, but in my lows I found myself transforming gratitude to guilt, i.e., “I do not deserve any of this.”

This all started when my heart was broken, so it seems reasonable that in my first attempts to remedy my sorrow I sought to be a content hermit.  Love was my enemy, and therefore it was impossible for me to be happy in any situation.  I was forgetting my very first life lesson: you can’t love anything without first loving yourself.

The events from last night have unveiled my lust for the love of another.  It’s a band-aid I see many people use.  I feel blessed that, to me, a little miracle arose so I might better expose my unconscious.  Since my first explorations of magic, I’ve quickly learned that synchronicity is the voice of it.  Though it seems to abound when I can express my mantra purely, I am probably most awe-struck when it arrives in my times of need.

I have to wonder if Cain was lonely when he saw his brother with God, and therefore only wanted the same connection.  The power of loneliness clouds our vision of right and wrong, if such things exist.  Perhaps when we are singular entities it begs for balance, and so any action of will, whether dark or light, seeks to find completion.  If God had never rewarded Abel with a divine presence, perhaps Cain would have been content before murder.  So, was it God, then, who was the first one to seek completion?  Could God exist without recognition?

Yes, of course.  God is completion.  At my core, I am already complete, but it is my intended desire for conscious completion that fuels my will to live (or die, on my off days).  Yay, I just answered my question from the story I wrote a couple of days ago: How does one continue when their supplies are exhausted?

Do what thou Wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Gosh, Crowley, you’re really making a come back in my life, aren’t you?

From Binah to Tiphareth

I was sitting alone in my friend’s kitchen while the two couples laughed out on the deck.  They had followed me out when I needed a cigarette, so I’d wandered back in to try the new vaporizer.  I found myself staring into space, sucking the inside of my cheek, squeezing my thighs together every time I thought of my unforeseen muse.  He’d come out of nowhere: sexy, charming, a complement to my every oddity.  His girlfriend was a bit of an issue, but there could be no harm in friendship, right?

More laughter from outside.  Fuck it, I’m going.  From some recess of my dependably shy nature I unsheathed a sudden urge to see him.  As a regular at the coffee shop, I confidently decided he’d be working.  I walked out of the house, and bravely set off to go say hello.

What am I doing?  This is creepy and weird.  Were the last thoughts I was thinking as I nearly skipped down the street.  Instead, like a 19-year-old boy trying to master his manhood, I replayed every possible scenario and found the perfect script.  Like a zombie survival guide, I detailed a chapter for every situation.  1.  What to do if he’s locking up.  2.  What to say if he’s not alone.  And so on, and on…

Throughout it all I fed off a high that did not want to recognize how odd this all ways, certainly for me in particular.  I didn’t hesitate until I saw the door, twenty feet away.  I stopped, or slowed down to a crawl, and asked myself Are you serious? before picking up my pace without an answer.

Lights off, gate across the door.  Thank God.  Nothing like being caught as a fool to bring some humility back to the situation.  So I started heading back.

Whether it was the barometric pressure, sultry summer heat, or all the yoga I’d done a few hours before, something had me lusting for that man.  My skin was begging to be touched, in a way where I didn’t even argue the idiocy of my actions.  The reptilian mind was out to play and I was merely an obliged passenger on it’s back.  He ravaged my thoughts over and again until suddenly…

I did a double take.  From around the corner and out of the hands of magic, there he was, minding his own business and walking his dog.

Breathing?  Oh!  “Hi!”

"Oh, hey there.  What are you up to?"

I blushed.  “I, uh… I was just heading to my friends, actually.”

My eyes lowered from his.  “What a cute dog.”

"Oh, be careful.  My girlfriend and I rescued him and he’s a little rough around the edges."

We carried on for a couple of minutes, but I was in such shock it was all I could do to pretend I wasn’t insane.  After I extended an awkward invitation to my friend’s, which he accepted with a tentative yes, we parted.  We both knew we wouldn’t - shouldn’t - see each other that night, or likely any other.  It was nothing as I’d planned.

Nothing is ever as I plan, really, but it always seems to end up more unreal than even I could imagine.  How much of life is a hopeful dream, deterred by masked fate, and rebuilt by a higher power.  My mind reels at the voids of pain in loneliness, combated by the presence of God in this incomprehensible path of synchronicity.

I am the Lovers.  Tonight I traveled from Binah to Tiphareth.


The Key of Joy is disobedience.

Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
To glut brute appetites, his sole content
How tedious were he fit to comprehend
Himself! More, this our noble element
Of fire in nature, love in spirit, unkenned
Life hath no spring, no axle, and no end.

His body a bloody-ruby radiant
With noble passion, sun-souled Lucifer
Swept through the dawn colossal, swift aslant
On Eden’s imbecile perimeter.
He blessed nonentity with every curse
And spiced with sorrow the dull soul of sense,
Breathed life into the sterile universe,
With Love and Knowledge drove out innocence
The Key of Joy is disobedience.

- Hymn to Lucifer, Crowley