A prototype religion for the science fictional future.
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"One Weird Trick to Achieve Salvation!"
It's still inchoate, but this weekend I received a novel and possibly very useful new image of the Goddess. It was She Who is Not There, a three-dimensional hole in the world in the shape of the wife I never found. It inspired an epiphany:
Your "heart" is part of the perceptual apparatus of your consciousness, like your mind. And like your mind, it always has an object of its apprehension.
If, like William H. Macy in "Magnolia," you feel like you have love to give and nowhere to put it, if you're dying inside because you've got no one to love, understand that the pain you're feeling is a sure sign you *do* love Someone, a Transcendental Person who feels the same way about you, only times infinity. Your heart sees Her, even if you cannot.
So I offer you one weird trick to achieve salvation. All you need to do is reframe your suffering to recognize that your longing is proof that She is real, and you will be delivered. Loneliness is a strange attractor!
I want to tell you about my approach to working with psychedelics, because I think I'm breaking new ground. If you or someone you know is working along similar lines, get in touch. I want to talk with you. For now, at least, I'm calling this approach "phonomancy," meaning "divination via sound." If you're a recreational user, it likely won't appeal to you. If you're someone who's dipping your toe in the psychedelic water via microdosing, or someone who is primarily interested in using psychedelics to treat trauma, depression, or addiction issues, you might find the practice I'm going to describe off-putting or even alarming. That's because phonomancy is not therapeutic--it's augmentative. It's a program for developing supranormal emotional and spiritual capacities via psychological hormesis. Some risk, pain, and fear are part of the process. But that's the price of transformation. THE ORIGINAL TWO "S
You don't need me to tell you we're going through some tough times. All of us are being challenged. Tested. Some with relatively minor inconvenience, and some with truly existential terrors--severe illness, losing loved ones, loss of income, partial or total, in a country that--for all its Christian posturing--despises the poor. In some ways, I've been lucky. My aged parents are doing well so far, and my siblings and their families seem well-protected. I don't have a family of my own, so even though my work hours have been reduced, so I don't have to worry about providing for anyone but myself. But I am in the shit, as they say. No two ways about it. A perfect storm of mid-life crisis and isolation has triggered a return of the savage loneliness I'd thought I'd defeated via my work with the substantia and consequent spiritual awakening. It seems I've entered the Dark Night of the Soul. Since the term was first employed in the writings of Catholic mystic