The demonic artifice of instrumentality take 4

This is the first excerpt from the audio version of my book "How Australia Made Me An Anarchist", soon to be available in full.

The demonic artifice of instrumentality take 4

The original text is also available.

The demonic artifice of instrumentality

We discuss it in jest with healthy minds but it is happening to us, has been happening and will happen.  We have been blinded by the doctrines of Universal Education as a common good and the First World as the epitome of terrestrial life.  Our culture is our blind spot because it prevents us, everywhere it is present, from correctly perceiving reality.  We are at unconscious odds with our own creation and we do not recognise our predicament, bound as we are by the illusion of good versus evil and the consequential arbitrary distinctions of what belongs to which category.  When we wake up from our self-imposed psychotic delusion through the healing pain of massive trauma we will perceive an environment in constant change but with fundamental unchangeables, such as the portal of death and the process of decay.

A war is being fought behind our eyes, so close we cannot see it, between humanity, the terrestrial creature of breath and water, and the extra-terrestrial, a linguistic creation that does not exist in the traditional sense but none-the-less exerts a great influence on our mutagenic lives.  This extra-terrestrial has been worshipped as Jahweh, condemned as Satan, but each attempt to name, and therefore destroy, the influence of the creation has been culturally assimilated by the creation itself and today it flaunts every futile attempt to disempower it as "cultural diversity" or "freedom of religion" or the tragic loss of what has become "art" to cultural assimilation.

Within every human soul there is a desire to destroy the artifice of our creation, a desire to reach through the non-existent veil of human superiority and touch beauty.  A daring few step beyond the veil, experience beauty and try to communicate it or share it with their lovers.  Those amongst these precious few who manage to get their message out, who may or may not have been crucified in their own day, are today being mass-produced by Penguin and are available everywhere for $9.95.  Those who were once burned at the stake and condemned as heretics or witches, a practice we now condemn as "inhuman", are now being hailed as "artists" and "scientists" and are burned on the slow fire of material wealth and the perverse attention of fame.

The smart use the trenches dug by the alien to send messages to sympathetic heretics across the world and around the corner; the desperate destroy themselves in public, screaming obscenities and slogans.  Some find love and decide to share their love with only one in private in a secure kingdom, but even love has been culturally assimilated as heterosexual monogamy and this behaviour soon results in children who must be sacrificed to the greater good of Human Superiority and at the age of six they are handed over to the State and the extra-terrestrial influence, having relied on the tenuous grip of television and materialism, proceeds to systematically destroy their ability to process sensory data autonomously and ridicules their intuitive connection to the earth, to each other, and to their own body, until it can easily be labelled "superstition", "paganism", "psychic powers" or "mental illness".

At every step of the process we give our consent for it to continue.  Rather than shed ourselves of its obvious poisons, such as alcohol and nicotine, and therefore begin the process of examining its relatively non-existent poisons, such as ideology and shame, we become addicted to everything that temporarily removes us from the illusion and thus cling to the veil like a helpless baby, having glimpsed the vast expanse of reality on the other side, rather than tearing it down easily with our own weight.

We are fundamentally perverse, our perversions have taken us here and our perversions can break us out.  We find love or beauty or truth and we greedily drink it all up and cling to the empty plastic bottle as it begins the slow process of decaying in the sun over thousands of years.  We stumble upon a lover and we suffocate them to death with the perversity of our love and then we fuck their corpse until their bodies break and then we consume their rotten flesh until we're violently ill; this we call romantic love.

There is also the love of the mother, who gives us life and lets us go into the chaos and freedom of the world and whose form then falls back naturally and selflessly and becomes the topsoil from which our own children sprout; but we place the mother who gave us life into hospitals and nursing homes, where she is attached to machines and institutions which artificially and tortuously prolong a spent life in a decomposing body.  We then cruelly exhibit her to our children like some sort of demented artifact.

We are under the influence of an extra-terrestrial force of our own creation that we fail to recognise as our own.  We believe that extra-terrestrials come out of the sky in flying discs and we even see these creatures and call them angels  and gods and reptilians.

We do not consider why we feel pain or see beauty, we simply label one "bad", the other "good", and satisfied we continue to perpetuate our own entrapment, lamenting the strain and envying the free and turning a blind eye when the unlocked shackles fall open and the policeman taps us gently on the head with his baton and pushes them closed.

"The demonic artifice of instrumentality" (Terence McKenna)

Acknowledging the depths I have always appreciated being loved from

My mum always told me that if you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all; I extrapolate that if you don't have anything nice to write about you are free to use "stream-of-consciousness" as my beautiful English teacher in years 10 and 13 described it, free typing with your "piano fingers" as my precious mummy described the limbs at the end of my wrists. 

I am so lucky to have had these beautiful women to guide me as a child.  There was, as I mentioned, Mrs Käsner and her love, which, as you may know, does not emanate from every high school teacher in this world.  A year or three later there was Norelle Scott, who was equally encouraging and loving in her way toward drawing out the rhythms and secrets in my mind that can be translated to external works of art that seem to resonate with others.  What a beautiful anomaly she is in an education-industry dedicated primarily to role specialisation for the benefit of an economy that is draining our planet, enslaving us and and making sure our lives are as meaningless as possible.

Some people go their whole lives without encountering these women who are able to exist within and without the male-dominated hierarchy that we allow to define our society.  They somehow manage to effortlessly spread the security of the chaotic depths of their love for all life on this planet and their, I assume largely unconscious, connection to the mind of this Earth.  I don't understand this connection because I was born into a male form and while my journey has certainly been to overcome many of the limits of my masculinity, I still have a penis and I like having a penis and I am not going to ever not have a penis and even if I did not it would not mean that I would have womb and so my body will never contain a microcosm of the universe.

But I will continue to encounter these women and their depths of infinite love and I can even say with pride that I emerged into this dimension from the womb of one of these women.  Her name is Mum and she was my mother.  She identified with a superficial external world and waited for someone to acknowledge the secret universe inside of her that was not utilitarian enough for the cultural context we are talking about here.  The cultural context, specifically, was Australia and New Zealand 1950-2005.  This strange and idiotic attempt at European civilisation in what is referred to, without humour, as Oceania, is by no stretch of the imagination a legitimate benchmark against which to judge the value of your own worth.  You will discover with a small amount of travel that European civilisation is actually stronger and healthier in Europe and has actually continued to evolve along much more sensible lines into the 21st century.  However, New Zealand and Australia are not failures of human civilisation because each land possesses the spirit and even the physical presence of a different attempt at human society which could possibly resonate with the land somewhat more comfortably than capitalism and political correctness.

I don't think Mum consciously tapped very strongly into the profundity of the expansive possibilities of the human experience in Oceania, though she did tell me once how attractive young Maori women are.  "They are so full of life," she told me.  They don't subscribe to the same repressive performances of restraint that I was taught by my loving parents and hateful teachers, she implied.  Unlike my blessings, seemingly perpetual, of these engaged, encouraging, beautiful teaching women, my mother never danced with the young Maori woman who was to draw out the joy and delight of life that she left dormant within her.  Instead she ended her life dreaming of the father who dominated the household with such love that Mum felt safe, long before she was my mum or anyone's mum; back when she had a mum herself and so needed love instead of just giving so much of it away.

I guess even a woman who doesn't acknowledge the universe inside of her can still manage to access profound amounts of the love contained within it when she has five children to send out into the world full to the brim with love and acceptance.  I am almost tempted to say that this undefinable impulse of women is more powerful than the massive concrete structures and institutions with their layers of bureaucracy that men create in attempts to control their world.  If you understand any of what I have just said then maybe you will have an interesting answer to the question of who is the real god in this world, the war-obsessed Alpha Male god of our monotheistic religious institutions or the goddess who personifies nature and the collective mind of all life on this planet?  A simple question when you understand my definition of all these extremely unspecific words I am using.

Maybe Yahweh and Allah don't exist and maybe Gaia does exist; and of course only a male would make such an idiotic statement.  Don't get me wrong, I am not reinforcing any dichotomy between male and female.  The control systems men have created on this planet have infected women and men alike and both men and women are realising this and choosing to remove themselves from it.  However there has been a retention, thankfully, that survived the last two thousand years of Christianity and Islam and as a result many of us are blessed with mothers or teachers or friends whose abundance is inconceivable within the constructs of certain control-freak realities.