Tag Archives: Alastair Crowley

rider on the wheel

Many of us have constructed a linear life based on a progression from adolescence to adulthood based solely on an accumulative sense of responsibility. A pestering sense we’re led to believe that is appropriate and correct, and whatever the consequent sum of our benign existence is just because it is the result of our own doing. But sometimes, just sometimes we realize halfway before the final score our lives have played is revealed that we must abandon the tactic we’ve employed if there’s any chance of winning or, at the least tie the game. We realize that the only way anyone would have a shot at that point is to let the pressure implode our persistent, albeit unavailing rationale into neutral nothingness as we adopt a new approach. Idealistically, it is a philosophical approach that is best applied to a team, but this adoption can sometimes serve its purpose best in a more selfish setting. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing because even if you apply a new approach to your own life your life is unforgivably connected to others.

Not quite a “spiders on a web” euphemism but we’re more like the crosses and links in the web, and the spinner herself is but a piece of the inevitability of time. The only constant proven in existence itself is time and even then time itself is not a absolute constant in our lives. They say life is a two way street but I can surely guarantee your reaching a crossroad. No one ever has 100% certainty over the directions they were given. It only takes 1% of questioning the possibility of anything else. It could be better, it could be worse, it could be the end of the line, but if you’ve lost your sense of mystery and wonder… well, you must take life very seriously.

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Rearranging the furniture is one thing. Moving is another.

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my first, my last and my everything. You.

Many moons have passed since she and I were in the same room together. And in many ways it seems like we were in each others presence for a day, even a blink of an eye. There was a strange crippling hue of blue about us that was so tranquil, so extraordinary. We indulged in it, of course. Nothing base. As if that blink of an eye was like a reward for a job well done. What job that was, I have no idea. But I had to go back to work back on earth. Dragged by my wings, wings she had given me as a gift. A gift I enjoyed for a day. A bit like Michael. But I have as much chance ay being the incarnate of Michael as she being a man.

Since then we’ve become different people. I’m an actor of sorts so I’ve been many people. Many more at least. I fear not being the same charming fella she once knew and that’s the sort if thing that happens in a descent. Then again, I myself, don’t fear what she’d have become because her soul is probably the same as it’s always been. Bright as fuck. I don’t feel as bright I was. As though I’d spent too long as an officer deep undercover to the point he’d forgotten he was an officer. Maybe I’d even empathized with the enemy. But then again true justice is a blind matter, so I digress.

I can’t wait to see her again. Though, field advantages are against us. I don’t want to live on the hope. I had always found that to be a terrible way to live. On hope. Same belief as with having faith. Both can only get one so far, but the remainder of the trip belongs to the individual. They take it or leave it.

There are so many things I need to change in the world, but that’s what happens when someone else has a head start. I’m sure they don’t mean any harm when they started, but take a look around. Everyone wants and desires something for themselves. Themselves only, though unfriendly. If I had had that head start no one would have a want or desire for themselves. Instead, it’d be like a constant courting. For everyone. Believe in ourselves than to ask for imaginable favors from a higher power. Call me crazy, but if we all believe in ourselves to be that higher power, we wouldn’t have a need for the unimaginable. Sound nuts? Probably. But who are you?
It’s already hard enough to battle ideologies with you’re birth parents who believe hard work is the secret to life. Like ants believe. I don’t have pincers. I feel they’d come in handy for the headpins of bet cans and the like but I just don’t see it happening.

I just want to go back to 0. 0. Where it all began. Because the wing things happen when the wrong people have the power. But with 0, I get to see her again in all her splendor. And so can she of mine. Maybe the secret if life is to get back to 0. You can fit the infinite into a circle if the circle is infinite in and about itself.

But what do I know? I’m just some dude thinking of someone he met once.

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