Sewn into his coat, Pascal kept a note sealed, a record of his ecstatic experience for two hours one night in 1654. Found at his death and written in his own hand, perhaps it was a message for his conscious mind or an anchor for his memory.
"Certitude, certitude; feeling, joy, peace ... Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy. ... 'My God will you abandon me?' ... Total and sweet renunciation. Total submission..." Such are my feelings when I sink deep within Goddess, her embodiment like some taboo Jesus, a dark incarnation. I wish to be her possession even as I drink deeply of sweet acceptance; I thirst for this essence--a life-force like blood--even as I long to pour mine out to her, withholding not one drop. Perhaps these words are like a ring of commitment or tattoo of consecration, a signpost placed in the sunlit world to mark a space of sacred energy in the otherworld or underworld. Chaos magic, I think works in the opposite way: planting seeds through hypnosis or burning sigils in ritual, a message is taken from the conscious realm down into the subterranean depths. Primal longings are deeply ruptured to be branded or bound rather than erupting on the surface to leave a mark in the waking world--like Pascal's memorial message.
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Alan YESpet, puppet, plaything, precious possession Archives
May 2024
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