The Goblin King Is Dead

Very often it is not until I am actively writing that I figure things out. It is integral to my thought processes. If I do not do this, when I am not writing, the thoughts which go through my head are usually bio-feedback from conditioning, other peoples implanted opinions, connecting to the human herd the hive-mind which tbh is pretty messy and not functioning with the clarity some of its rare components achieve. The higher we get above that grungy national-average perception, the closer to the mystical we can achieve.

I was always into the occult and Bowie is a great teacher of it. The day after he died, every newspaper in Britain displayed one of his many faces; a multifaceted lens. It is a sad he did not live to see it but then again, I have a feeling he scryed it long ago and it spurred him onto achieve a relevant greatness. So here is what I wrote about him after somebody posted up this illustration to facebook, which reminds me so much of Frank Herberts book Children of Dune:

Now Bowie, symbol for ego, has been burned - the sun came out in wales after 95 days of rain. All the dark grids he cast for money and fame have dissolved. We all love bowie yes but detach and see it for what it is, the good he did had a shadow as deep. How he warped the life energy with his sorcery was a steep price for us all to pay. He sold the world and gloried in it while most of us had to slave our lives away. I am not writing of envy but from seeing the whole.

Bowie is a deity, self serving; while the hope he helped us feel was his projection, would we have needed it at all if he was not conjuring also the background of despair which he exploited? See the world this way as the crystal orb turns, even for a moment and you will be changed. Again, that man an icon for liberation. This is the upshift a secret knowledge he held onto and that's why so few others were ready to know it, to protect his mastery compared with his fans sycophantic ignorance. And deep inside you know it.