When the I Becomes the Thou (Or, when Metaphysics Becomes Phenomenology)

Part One Part Two Part Three

1st series (Judaic Strand from Homo Serpiens): Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Audio at the end. Old Homo Serpiens text in bold.

Christ the Cosmic Vagina

“As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” —John 3:14

As previously suggested, the magikal view of the Christ Event, though it concedes all the other major tenets of the tale, does not allow for a resurrection, being obliged to consider it still underway. [This would seem to invert the more conventional Christian view, which is that the resurrection already happened, not only for Jesus of Nazareth, but for all who believe in him. Possibly, the two opposing views are complementary, the connecting tissue being that Christ’s resurrection is only completed by the full resurrection of the Body of Christ, via all souls being reborn in Christ.]

When Christ “ascended” he did not simply fly up to Heaven, or if he did, the ascent was simultaneous with a descent—into the Earth. This operation exactly parallels the infiltration of a body by a virus, and for precisely the same reason. For Christ to enter into humanity at a cellular level, he had first to disappear from the external world, and this is perhaps the meaning of his mysterious words concerning the “Comforter.”1 Poetically speaking, Christ reduced himself to a microbe and vanished into humanity’s bloodstream (just as his own blood entered into the Earth). This is also the meaning of the Eucharist: what surer way for Christ to enter our bodies than for us to consume his blood? The Paraclete, plasmate, or Holy Spirit took refuge in the one place “the Empire” could not rout it: in the secret chambers of the Earth, and deep inside the bloodstream of the human body. [Is this why mRNA tech is the current spiritual weapon of choice for Empire? Much of the above is influenced by P.K. Dick’s idea of the plasmate, as most succinctly laid out in Valis.]

This process may be symbolized by the blood and water that was spilled from the wound in Christ’s side as he hung on the cross after being pierced by the centurion’s spear. The blood was drawn from the wound into the receptacle, or Graal. The act of piercing was that of penetration, hence the wound can be seen as Christ’s vagina, while the Holy Graal itself is the womb.2 Some occult schools have interpreted this metaphor literally, as Jeshua’s and Mary’s bloodline; but the deeper meaning of the act (fable or fact) seems to be the awakening of the genetic heritage of mankind in toto, and the resulting transformation of species. As William Irwin Thompson writes, in The Time Falling Bodies Take to Light (pg. 109):

The labial wound in the side of Christ is an expression that the male shaman, to have magical power, must take on the power of woman. The wound that does not kill Christ is the magical labial wound; it is the seal of the resurrection and an expression of the myth of eternal recurrence. From Christ to the Fisher King of the Grail legends, the man suffering from a magical wound is no ordinary man; he is the man who has transcended the duality of sexuality, the man with a vulva, the shamanistic androgyne.

Genetic Pioneer Work

Christ’s mythic journey is that of a man (Jason in Greek myth) who, in his quest for the divine, rejects the female (i.e., the natural world) and sets in motion the forces of his own destruction/transformation. He is crucified and reborn, and through the shedding of his blood, the sacred DNA is passed on (via the Eucharist; the Catholic host is a kind of tablet, bringing to mind the Philosophers’ Stone, which is a masculine variant of the Holy Grail.) More secretly still, this new strain of humanity is passed through Jeshua’s sperm into the womb of Magdalene (the sovereign/Serpent DNA becoming so secret even its carriers may not know about it!).[4] All this is at the same time symbolic for the lost wisdom of the heart, namely, the Goddess. (And let us not forget the secret knowledge that is passed on to Jeshua in the desert by the adversary, via his three “temptations.”)

What the myths all describe is an ancient form of DNA (Osiris/Isis, the Serpent, the Dove) creating life through an earthly vessel (Osiris’ clay phallus, Eve, Virgin Mary) which then leads to the “forgetting” (becoming dormant) of the code (the Fall) and the inception of decay. This is from the perspective of the seed, at least, i.e., the solar-phallic god. From the point of view of the feminine, the womb is “lowered” (polluted) and then redeemed/regenerated. Isis is widowed then conceives the child Horus. Eve’s heel is bruised before she gives birth to Cain. In reverse order, Mother Mary is chosen by the Spirit, inseminated by a dove, then rejected by her son and has to watch him die. Reflecting and balancing this process, the other Mary (Magdalene), a “whore” exorcised by Christ, (symbolically) becomes his wife and carries his child.

[Not sure I can follow this and I get a slight headache just trying; but there seem to be some potentially meaningful correspondences, so I have left it unstruck throughout.]

The body of Christ had to be sacrificed—according to the prophecy as one of the “transgressors”—in order to establish the “Eucharist” by which humanity might partake of the flesh and blood (the DNA) of the New Adam. This would in turn liberate humanity from the old Law of blood sacrifice and inaugurate a new era of grace, mercy, and individual subjectivity. If so, Jeshua’s occult function was as a “genetic pioneer,” a prototype for the race to follow, a “door” through which every soul must pass, from the first to the last. As the Gnostic text, Odes of Solomon (41), has it: “I seem to them like a stranger because I am from another race.” [ET Jesus? Funnily enough, I joked to my wife a couple of nights ago that Jesus was autistic but that all his disciples were neurotypical (NT), and so they just didn’t get it; amusing to note also that NT stands for New Testament.]

The Spear of Longinus is a sacred power object because it was the means by which Christ was pierced, by which the plasmate entered into him. This piercing allowed the blood and water of the dying Christ both to be gathered into the cup (the Graal, symbolizing the womb) and to flow into the Earth. It is said [by who?] that “the Holy Spirit enters through a wound.” As the body is pierced and bled, the mind, through the pain of the ordeal, secedes. It is at this point that the Spirit enters and the plasmate awakens. In other words, the crucifixion is the means by which the (animal) mind, but not the body, is “destroyed.” When Christ gave up the ghost, it signified the moment when the personal self surrenders to unitive energy or divine consciousness. The plasmate can then enter into the newly “opened” body, for it to be reborn “from above,” as Logos-God—the (window onto the) Totality of Existence.

[I left the whole paragraph, but the only grain that seems coherent or substantial to me now is that of the mind dying rather than the body. Aeolus was very wordy, a wind-God indeed, bringing to mind the satirical speech of Elihu in the Book of Job, in which Elihu—sincerely—likens his need to speak to flatulence.]

Embryonic Forms for Angels

Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that the shift from Judaism, the OT, and Yahweh, to Christianity, Jesus, and the NT relates to a shift from a collective, group-mind, worshiping an external God and under the Law, to a subjective ego-self that accesses, embodies, and expresses (and articulates) the Holy Spirit and the Kingdom of God that is within.

Apparently, this idea is similar to something I intuitively sensed, back in my Aeolus daze, but that I was overly reliant on borrowed occultic formulas to understand or articulate, as anything other than a confused mess of signs. As garbled and “heretical” as this Aeolus material now seems to me, I cannot in good conscience simply redact it all. But nor can I revise, correct, or update it, because it is simply too hermetically sealed within the Aeolian bubble of “prelest,” or spiritual delusion—when intuition rushes in where angels (and good scholars) fear to tread.

This is (part of) the rationale for the Christian injunction to submit to the Church fathers and to Apostolic tradition, so called: to let them, or it, do our thinking for us, so we are not tempted to try and work it out for ourselves with our fallen intellects, and so become prey to all manner of unholy influences.

OTOH, “The fool who persists in his folly will become wise,” said Blake (Proverbs of Hell). To develop a sense of a connection to God via subjective consciousness (and what else is there finally? Scriptures and magisteriums and church authorities?)—to find God precisely where our subjective “I” is (theosis)—surely requires, above all, the willingness to at least try to think for ourselves?

And what better way to test whether we are thinking for ourselves but by thinking “unthinkable” things that have previously not been thought—or at the very least that aren’t obviously outsourced? The problem with Aeolus is that he/I thought I was thinking original thoughts, when, most of the time, I was cryptomnesiacally (though sometimes consciously) regurgitating ideas I had imbibed from Blavatsky, Steiner, Crowley, Castaneda, Strieber, et al. Worse, thoughts that were fed to me by entities belonging to those same sorts of occultic eggregores, rather than emerging from Spirit/Christ/God.

Nor can I say that this isn’t still the case today; really, I have to presume it is, some of the time. But there is no way to pan for gold without sifting through a lot of dirt.

Nonetheless, some of those thoughts, even back then, I still trust, came from God, and were at least embryonic forms for angels trying to incarnate through my consciousness. Some were still-born, and others were perhaps mutants that no honest author could love. But a few have been on incubators ever since, and this current series is an attempt to see if these angel-children can survive the transition to real air; and if they can, to nurse them back into health and wholeness.

God & History

There are at least two ways the idea of God entering into history can be understood. The first is the catastrophic, eschatological, or apocalyptic, whereby God acts on history and directs it to a desired outcome, as in the stories in Genesis (such as the flood) and Exodus. The second way is via human beings, the prophets and saints, who are seen—either at the time or retrospectively—as instruments of God’s will, and who perform miracles on God’s behalf (Moses, Elijah, Jesus).

The first kind of God-intervention is strictly from the Old Testament (not counting the Book of Revelation); the second tends to blur any dividing line between divine intervention and everything else that happens, and is largely (or entirely) subjective. Human-created miracles—when humans perform acts of God—is where the two areas overlap. Did everything Moses or Jesus did count as acts of God, or only the miracles? In the end, the idea becomes somewhat paradoxical and obscurantist. Is God hidden or revealed? In Christ, God is both hidden and revealed. The Son of Man reveals the God. “Ecce homo.”

But if God can act in, through, and even as history, why does He only do so some of the time?

The answer (post-OT) would appear to be that He increasingly requires human agents to act through. But then, again, we are confronted with the puzzle as to who decides which humans are acting for God and which are not? This conundrum deepens when we see that God’s will, acting through Christ, became a form of non-action, a non-resistance to evil that resulted in self-sacrifice to evil, via the crucifixion. The Resurrection was the affirmative or positive act of God; yet tellingly, unlike the crucifixion, this latter cannot be “pinned” as historical event.

Not only did God the Father not act in the world to save His Son, but God the Son declined to save himself (which would not have required any miracles, since he could almost certainly have talked his way out of it).

The paradox of God’s power becomes then (in Christ) that it is visible—or efficacious—in the world only as powerlessness.

To follow the example of Christ all the way back to God is to renounce the omnipotent Yahweh of the Israelites, who wields and demonstrates a power, justice, wrath, and apocalyptic reckoning to shape (or end) history, in favor of the “sacrificial lamb”—baby Jesus, meek and mild.

History, in other words, is no longer God’s concern. Those who strive to be on the right side of it, with God’s name as their sword, armor, and shield, become those to whom Christ says, on the final day, “I knew you not.”