Monday, February 27, 2012

Instructions for the Kali Yuga

Kali Yuga (Devanāgarī: कलियुग, lit. "age of the demon” or "age of vice") is the last of the four stages the world goes through as part of the cycle of Yugas described in the Indian scriptures. Yugas are vast periods of time… epoch’s that relate to the Earth’s journey around a cosmological central sun. The other ages are Satya Yuga, Treta Yuga and Dvapara Yuga. According to Hindu cosmology, all life in universe is created, sustained and destroyed once every 4.1 to 8.2 billion years, which is one full day (day and night) for Brahma, God of Creation.

One of the most interesting “harmonic coincidences” in relation to the Kali Yuga, is the similarity between the start dates of the fourth and final Yuga and the last long count cycle of the Mayan Calendar system.

Most Mayan Calendar researchers are aware of the 3114 BCE start date of the current long count cycle, less people are aware however that the Kali Yuga, a predicted era of moral decent and spiritual bleakness, began in the year 3102 BCE... a startling similarity. There is a mere 12 years difference for systems on different sides of the planet. The Brahma Vaivarta Purana Sutra, from ancient India depicts a period which has many of the failings visible in our modern society. Such is the backdrop of the spiritual decline in the Kali Yuga… and the following excerpt from that great Tek-Gnostic Saint, Hakim Bey.
(sourced from Wikipedia & 2012 Rising dot com)

Instructions for the Kali Yuga
Annotated Edition – written by Hakim Bey

The Kali Yuga still has 200,000 or so years to play--good news for advocates & avatars of CHAOS, bad news for Brahmins, Yahwists, bureaucrat-gods & their running-dogs.

I knew Darjeeling hid something for me soon as I heard the name--dorje ling--Thunderbolt City. In 1969 I arrived just before the monsoons. Old British hill station, summer headquarters for Govt. of Bengal--streets in the form of winding wood staircases, the Mall with a View of Sikkim & Mt. Katchenhunga--Tibetan temples & refugees--beautiful yellow-porcelain people called Lepchas (the real abo's)--Hindus, Moslems, Nepalese & Bhutanese Buddhists, & decaying Brits who lost their way home in '47, still running musty banks & tea-shoppes.

Met Ganesh Baba, fat white-bearded saddhu with overly-impeccable Oxford accent--never saw anyone smoke so much ganja, chillam after chillam full, then we'd wander the streets while he played ball with shrieking kids or picked fights in the bazaar, chasing after terrified clerks with his umbrella, then roaring with laughter.

He introduced me to Sri Kamanaransan Biswas, a tiny wispy middleage Bengali government clerk in a shabby suit, who offered to teach me Tantra. Mr. Biswas lived in a tiny bungalow perched on a steep pine-tree misty hillside, where I visited him daily with pints of cheap brandy for puja & tippling--he encouraged me to smoke while we talked, since ganja too is sacred to Kali.

Mr. Biswas in his wild youth was a member of the Bengali Terrorist Party, which included both, Kali worshippers & heretic Moslem mystics as well as anarchists & extreme leftists. Ganesh Baba seemed to approve of this secret past, as if it were a sign of Mr. Biswas's hidden tantrika strength, despite his outward seedy mild appearance.

We discussed my readings in Sir John Woodruffe ("Arthur Avalon") each afternoon, I walked there thru cold summer fogs, Tibetan spirit-traps flapping in the soaked breeze loomed out of the mist & cedars. We practiced the Tara-mantra and Tara-mudra (or Yoni-mudra), and studied the Tara-yantra diagram for magical purposes. Once we visited a temple to the Hindu Mars (like ours, both planet & war-god) where he bought a finger-ring made from an iron horseshoe nail & gave it to me. More brandy & ganja.

Tara: one of the forms of Kali, very similar in attributes: dwarfish, naked, four-armed with weapons, dancing on dead Shiva, necklace of skulls or severed heads, tongue dripping blood, skin a deep blue-grey the precise color of monsoon clouds. Every day more rain--mud-slides blocking roads. My Border Area Permit expires. Mr. Biswas & I descend the slick wet Himalayas by jeep & train down to his ancestral city, Siliguri in the flat Bengali plains where the Ganges fingers into a sodden viridescent delta.

Headwaters of the Ganges River
We visit his wife in the hospital. Last year a flood drowned Siliguri killing tens of thousands. Cholera broke out, the city's a wreck, algae-stained & ruined, the hospital's halls still caked with slime, blood, vomit, the liquids of death. She sits silent on her bed glaring unblinking at hideous fates. Dark side of the goddess. He gives me a colored lithograph of Tara which miraculously floated above the water & was saved.

That night we attend some ceremony at the local Kali-temple, a modest half-ruined little roadside shrine--torchlight the only illumination--chanting & drums with strange, almost African syncopation, totally unclassical, primordial & yet insanely complex. We drink, we smoke.

Alone in the cemetery, next to a half-burnt corpse, I'm initiated into Tara Tantra. Next day, feverish & spaced-out, I say farewell & set out for Assam, to the great temple of Shakti's yoni in Gauhati, just in time for the annual festival. Assam is forbidden territory & I have no permit. Midnight in Gauhati I sneak off the train, back down the tracks thru rain & mud up to my knees & total darkness, blunder at last into the city & find a bug-ridden hotel. Sick as a dog by this time. No sleep.

In the morning… bus up to the temple on a nearby mountain. Huge towers, pullulating deities, courtyards, outbuildings--hundreds of thousands of pilgrims--weird saddhus down from their ice-caves squatting on tiger skins & chanting. Sheep & doves are being slaughtered by the thousands, a real hecatomb--(not another white sahib in sight)--gutters running inch-deep in blood--curve-bladed Kali-swords chop chop chop, dead heads plocking onto the slippery cobblestones.

When Shiva chopped Shakti into 53 pieces & scattered them over the whole Ganges basin, her cunt fell here. Some friendly priests speak English & help me find the cave where Yoni's on display. By this time I know I'm seriously sick, but determined to finish the ritual. A herd of pilgrims (all at least one head shorter than me) literally engulfs me like an undertow-wave at the beach, & hurls me suspended down suffocating winding troglodyte stairs into claustrophobic womb-cave where I swirl nauseated & hallucinating toward a shapeless cone meteorite smeared in centuries of ghee & ochre. The herd parts for me, allows me to throw a garland of jasmine over the yoni.

A week later in Kathmandu I enter the German Missionary Hospital (for a month) with hepatitis. A small price to pay for all that knowledge--the liver of some retired colonel from a Kipling story!--but I know her, I know Kali. Yes absolutely the archetype of all that horror, yet for those who know, she becomes the generous mother. Later in a cave in the jungle above Rishikish I meditated on Tara for several days (with mantra, yantra, mudra, incense, & flowers) & returned to the serenity of Darjeeling, its beneficent visions.

Her age must contain horrors, for most of us cannot understand her or reach beyond the necklace of skulls to the garland of jasmine, knowing in what sense they are the same. To go thru CHAOS, to ride it like a tiger, to embrace it (even sexually) & absorb some of its shakti, its life-juice--this is the Path of Kali Yuga. Creative nihilism. For those who follow it she promises enlightenment & even wealth, a share of her temporal power.

The sexuality & violence serve as metaphors in a poem which acts directly on consciousness through the Image-ination - or else in the correct circumstances they can be openly deployed & enjoyed, embued with a sense of the holiness of every thing from ecstasy & wine to garbage & corpses. 

~ Fin ~

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Eight Easy Steps - Part One (updated)

Tek-Gnostics Media, in association with our fledgling animation production company, Paxar Animation Studios, is pleased to present our first animated short… How to Achieve Cosmic Consciousness in Eight Easy Steps.

In this four-part video series, Paxar’s animators illuminate the ancient Hindu Tantra known as the "Eight Circuit Model” of neurologic development. This system was popularized in the West by Timothy Leary, Ph.D and (one of our favorite authors) Robert Anton Wilson. Part one of this series provides an introduction to this curious and enigmatic artifact.

Presented by Tek-Gnostics’ rascally avatar, Sensei… the path to understanding the Eight Circuit model of consciousness has never been simpler… Now you too can achieve Cosmic Consciousness in eight easy steps!

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Idiot

Eliminate logic and watch Earth’s problems disappear.

Must we fear what others fear? Must we be content with the map, without having explored the territory?

How much difference is there between yes and no? …between light and dark? …between success and failure?

I observe other people… the mainstream… and see that they are exuberant… joyous… clearly they are living the good life. I alone am drifting… I alone am expressionless… like a new born babe before it has learned to smile.

Other people have all that they need… wondrous possessions… I alone possess nothing.
I alone seem to drift about… homeless like a vagabond. What a fool I am… my mind is… so empty.

I look about me in the blog-o-sphere… Other people are clever and bright…their reason shines… I alone am dark. Other people are full of wit… their minds sharp… I alone am dull. Other people have a purpose… possess eloquence… I alone have been eluded by intelligence.

I seem to drift with the changes… like a rowboat on the ocean, I seen to rise and fall with the tides.

Different from ordinary people… I find value in seeking the mysterious matrix… and drink from the Great Mother's breasts.

- adapted from the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Anonymous vs "Anonymous" (revised)

In America today, there are two different versions of anonymous, both vying for influence over the American Media landscape… in competition for influence over the as-yet undecided course of this country’s socio-political future.

On the one hand, there is “Anonymous” …good ol’ anonymous… the amorphous collective of socio-political, protest-as-theater, hacker-esque, artist-commentators on modern media. Anonymous appears as a spontaneous, synchronistic expression of dissatisfaction with the current dominator culture. If this phenomenon is viewed as a movement, it is sparked by a myriad of autonomous media-savvy souls, who simultaneously grasped the powerful and mimetically rich symbolism of the V for vendetta, Guy Fawkes mask/persona as the face of outrage.

Use of the Guy Fawkes mask not only created a caricature or personification of the phenomena… it “branded” Anonymous, in the marketing sense, as a movement. It was the collective adoption of Guy Fawkes that solidified this illusion of organization. As different individuals or groups pursue different agendas, by assuming the Guy Fawkes persona, they perpetuate the outward appearance of an international cabal.

A common thread of the anonymous phenomena is the illumination through media of the inherent injustice of contemporary politics and finance. Set aside the flashiness of the tech-hack-driven public image... and anonymous aligns with other successful grass-roots movements of the near past, like the civil rights movement of the early 60s. This makes anonymous potentially very powerful… for in the words of Victor Hugo… “Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.”

In the minds of their competition, Anonymous is an international (terrorist?) organization, comprised of countless “cells” of networked hackers… intent on bringing down the existing fiscal and political systems of the power-elite.

Which brings us to the second, opposing anonymous.

The second “anonymous” had it’s overt beginnings in January, 2010 with the “Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission” ruling by the supreme court, wherein: Government may not ban political spending by corporations. This effectively opened the floodgates for unlimited financial contributions to political candidates and/or campaigns, which allowed for the rise of the “Super-PAC.” This means that any super-rich, 1%-type individual can now legally give millions (and millions) of dollars to his/her candidate of choice, thereby effectively “buying” any given political race. Depending on the structure of the Super-PAC, these mega-rich individuals can pay-out their millions of dollars… ANONYMOUSLY.

Although anonymity has always been a time-honored tradition in politics, it historically was a protection of the disenfranchised. For the first time, it now masks the buying and selling of politicians... who have always been a notoriously unscrupulous bunch… by the power elite. The power elite, through the protection of anonymity afforded to them through their Super-PAC, can pour money into any given local, regional or national political race, potentially tipping the scale in their favor. In this way, the power elite have donned their own anonymous mask… the mask of anonymity.

So there you have it… on one side, there is the grass-roots Anonymous, protesting the ever-increasing inequity in the American political system. On the other side is the influence peddling, power brokers… paying out millions of dollars to effectively rig elections… anonymously.

Anonymous vs anonymous… in the lyrics of the old protest song…

“Which side are you on?”

Sunday, February 5, 2012

An Alien Odyssey

Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: a Space Odyssey was a masterpiece of state-of-the-art pop media as is existed in the mid 1960’s. As described in an earlier post, the 1960’s was not only a high-water mark for “Old Earth Culture” …it set the stage (to use Kubrick’s vernacular) for the end of the old era, and the heralding in of the new. The coming of the millennium, as prophesized in Kubrick’s 2001, marked the end of the old paradigm… the old empire… and the transition to the new vision. To accomplish this ambitious task, Kubrick used the prophetic mediums of the era… psychedelia and science fiction.

The film is overtly an Ancient Astronaut tome, with many layers and subtleties. From the “dawn of man” alien intervention to the then-present arms race/space race speculation on our alien assisted near future, Kubrick prophesizes in the fine science fiction tradition… a classic cautionary tale/hero’s journey. The most profound depiction of what astronomer and UFO researcher J. Allen Hynek referred to as: CE3, or close encounter of the third kind (ie: one-on-one alien contact) is beautifully rendered in what can only be described as Kubrick’s 60’s psychedelic magnum opus. It captures the essence of not only the times, but what a mind-bending, reality-morphing event alien contact must be.

Here is the Star Gate sequence from 2001: a Space Odyssey. We redid the audio mix, using another titan of the 60’s (& beyond!) The Grateful Dead…


A very enlightening examination of film’s considerable (and continuing) role in shaping public opinion can be found at one our favorite “watering holes” …The Secret Sun. In his post: Stanley Kubrick and the Reality Star-gate, revisited, Christopher Knowles delves deep into Kubrick, NASA, ultra-terrestrial hypothesis, as well as other emerging 21st century mythologies. Check it out…

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Yankee Psychedelia - Dr Leary, High Priest

…the masters of the Berkeley Renaissance read Gertrude Stein aloud and practiced Poetic kabbalah (charming synchronism that psychologist Timothy Leary met poets Jack Spicer and Robert Duncan in that same 1948 student scene) Neal Cassady drove Jack Kerouac to Mexico in a prophetic automobile to see the physical body of America, the same Denver Cassady that one decade later drove Ken Kesey's Kosmos-patterned schoolbus on a Kafka-circus tour over the roads of the awakening nation. And that wakening began, some say, with the first saxophone cry of the new mode of black music which shook the walls of white city mind when Charles Parker lifted his birdflightnoted horn and announced a new rhythm of thinking, an extended breathing of the body in music and speech, a new consciousness. For as Plato had writ…

"When the mode of the music changes, the walls of the city shake."

The new consciousness born in these States can be traced back through old gnostic texts, visions, artists, and shamans; it is the consciousness of our ground nature suppressed and esecrated. It was always the secret tale of the tribe in America, this great scandal of the closing of the doors of perception of the Naked Human Form Divine. It began with the white murder of Indian inhabitants of the ground, the theft and later usurious exploitation of their land, it continued with an assault on all races and species of Mother Nature herself and concludes today with total disruption of the ecology of the entire planet.

Dr. Timothy Leary takes up his part of the tale of the tribe in a Mexican hut and brings his discovery to Harvard harmoniously and there begins the political battle, black and white magic become public visible for a generation. Dr. Leary is a hero of American consciousness. He began as a sophisticated academician, he encountered discoveries in his field which confounded him and his own technology, he pursued his studies where attention commanded… he arrived beyond the boundaries of public knowledge. One might hesitate to say, like Socrates, like Galileo? …poor Dr. Leary, poor Earth!

Yet here we are in Science Fiction History, in the age of Hydrogen Bomb Apocalypse, the very Kali Yuga wherein man's stupidity so overwhelms the planet that ecological catastrophe begins to rehearse old tribes-tales of Karmic retribution, Fire and Flood and Armageddon impending.

It would be natural (in fact deja vu) that the very technology stereotyping our consciousness and desensitizing our perceptions should throw up its own antidote, an antidote synthetic such as LSD synchronous with mythic tribal Soma and Peyote. Given such historic Comedy, who could emerge form Harvard technology but one and only Dr. Leary, a respectable human being, a worldly man faced with the task of Messiah. Inevitable! Not merely because the whole field of mental psychology as a "science" had arrived at biochemistry anyway. It was inevitable because the whole professional civilized world, like Dr. Leary, was already faced with the Messianic task of accelerated evolution (i.e., psychosocial Revolution) including an alteration of human consciousness leading to the immediate mutation of social and economic forms.

This staggering realization, psychedelic, i.e., conscious expanding and mind-manifesting in itself, without the use of chemical catalysts, was then forced on all of us by images of our own unconscious rising from the streets of Chicago, where city tear gas was dumped on Christ's very Cross in Lincoln Park AD 1968.

The drains are backing up in the cities, smog noise and physiologic poison in food turn us to insect acts, overpopulation crazes the planet, our lakes corrupt, old river-ways become dark fens, tanks entered Prague and Chicago streets simultaneous, Police State arrives in every major city, starvation wastes African provinces, Chinese genocide in Tibet mirrored American genocide in Vietnam, Alarm! Alarm! howls deep as any Biblic prophecy.

Ourselves caught in the giant machine are conditioned to its terms, only holy vision or technological catastrophe or revolution break "the mind-forg'd manacles." Given one by-product of the technology that might, as it were by feed-back, correct the berserk machine and liberate the inventor's mind from captivity by hypnotic robots, Dr. Leary had in LSD an invaluable civilized elixir. For, as Dr. Jiri Roubichek observed early in Prague ("Artificial Psychosis," 1958), "LSD inhibits conditioned reflexes." And this single phrase, for rational men, might be the key to the whole Gnostic mystery of LSD and Dr. Leary's role as unique, alas solitary, courageous, humane and frank Democratic Boddhisatva-teacher of the uses of LSD in America.

- by Allen Ginsberg, from the forward of Timothy Leary’s “High Priest”