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I forgot what I came here for.
I never really knew,
because no one ever showed me.
And so I’m forgotten.
A ghost
among ghosts
who don’t believe in ghosts,
because no one can touch anyone.

© Leon of Solitary Thinkers, November 1992

“You have tapped the source”, the visiting professor Christopher Bakken wrote down beneath my Haunted Castle back in 1993, when I requested his opinion on a few poetic sufferings of mine. We connected as members of one spiritual family with this philhellene poet. An atrium wall in the old building of the Faculty of Philosophy must still be holding these lines beneath a layer of paint or two, and here they are now for everyone to reflect upon. During that semester in the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Christopher also gave me a straight A for my analysis of the role of death and the afterlife in Emily Dickinson’s poetry. The title of this very first post of mine is actually a paraphrase of an Emily Dickinson favorite.

Haunted. Ghosts. Death. Forebodings of what was to befall this ancient Hellenic land once again.

During that same year I met my beautiful fellow ghost Plutonia. We shared each others’ heavy load and we gradually became a well-known translating and writing team, but painstakingly selected words matter less and less in the book market oligopsony we had been serving for almost two decades. In this line of trade, oligopsony (ολιγοψώνιο, “[a market form where only] a few purchase”) means that the number of buyers of translation services (the powerful publishers) is very small, while the number of external suppliers (translators) is large, the result being that the deeper thinkers like ourselves not only had to be working our heads off producing the most demanding fiction and non-fiction books within irrational deadlines (irrational, that is, for the outstanding quality that was expected from and delivered by us each and every time), but also to compete with low prices to our own annihilation, because everybody here takes it for granted that you have at least one nice and caring family to support you.

And now the majority of the Greek people can hardly afford to buy enough food anymore, let alone books. The South has once again been manipulated into guilt and cannibalism. Depression has set in and the silent genocide is escalating. Everything in our region is being burned to the ground and debts are frantically piling up even –and especially!– for those who have never lived beyond their means, because these are debts created by a mean and absurd overtaxation. Politicians hate the people they are supposed to represent. Injustice, lawlessness and shamelessness against the weak and the already downtrodden are running rampant. People beg to become slaves in order to survive, but there are “jobs” only for the mindless and ignorant herd connected to the higher places. The decent Greeks with no connections are the first led to despair, they beg outside the supermarkets for their children’s next meal until they fall sick and cannot afford any medicine or food, homelessness is skyrocketing, there is no social housing, the too few charities are preyed on by profiteers and organized religion thrives on our mass suffering. More and more people are dying around us every day with no mention in any mainstream media and in any statistics, lest our colony’s seeming peace is disturbed and the vulture fund investors are put off by the sheer extent of this sui-killing thing; aliorumcide it should be called, because this caedere has nothing to do with sui. This covered-up mass killing of an entire nation who have been lured into a pseudo-prosperity and then pushed to their limits in order to start tearing up each other’s flesh, is speeding up in order for the cradle of Europe to be turned into something new, devoid even of the distorted shadows of its ancient language, wisdom and humanitarian civilization.

Plutonia and myself are not ready to join the souls of the innocent dead just yet. During the time that is left to us, we will be sharing awareness and connecting with members of our global family who feel the need to work through compassion on the etheric level, to think together for our sacredness and against the exercise of tyrannical power. So no small talk here. No pretentious talk. The cerebral and the emotional will be harmoniously united. Whatever will be said through this blog will be minuscule compared to what will be felt – and that means something from two people who are passionate about the art of writing. In order for this fellowship to be communicating through words meaningfully and effectively, let us be meditating on the essence beyond words, on how we need each other in order to reclaim our enthusiasm, literally our “being inhabited by gods” (νθεος in Greek meaning “inhabited by a god”), because we all partake in the creator’s divine nature, exactly the reason why our life’s force attracts parasitic entities (παράσιτος: “person eating uninvited at another’s table”). We need each other in order to heal our souls, so that we can face our passing with style when our time comes. Not earlier. ‘Please try to stay on this planet with me. I know it’s too hard. But we’re here doing “too hard” together’, says Willow in these last paragraphs below the hilarious horse-picture in her Willow’s Web Astrology blogspot. Please support this Canadian sister of ours for her dedication in keeping our collective soul alive and sparkling.

We have no ulterior motive in speaking for Willow the “friendly anarchist astro-reporter”. She is a Hades sister of ours, Plutonia being a less-than-favourably-aspected twelfth-house Moon-Plutonian, and me having strong Scorpionic influences and a chart-ruling Saturn t-squaring my high-powered midheaven system. We do not know Willow personally and we cannot pay for her much-needed services and her valuable insights, having had our life’s work as translators and writers tragically undervalued in this materialistic publishing climate in the horrifically engineered decadence of modern Greece. But we are speaking for Willow, because we are happy to have her among us; we are happy and proud for all these rare and authentic, humanity-serving, extremely-crucial-for-the-balance-of-forces and exactly therefore shamelessly defamed Anarchs in the true sense of the word. This very word is devilishly distorted in all languages, and it is my mission as a human translator (that is, a bridge builder) and a holistic linguist (a healer of and through words), to help us retrain ourselves to stop forcing intelligent people into defending themselves for what they are. They and we cannot afford wasting their precious time.

Anarch. Ἄναρχος in ancient Greek, the mother of most intelligent languages, is an adjectival noun for “God”. It literally means “the one who has no beginning”, no ἀρχή. So ἀρχή means “beginning”, but it also means “authority”, and from this meaning derives the adjective corresponding to the human level, namely the word ἀναρχικός or anarchist, which analogously means “the one who does not accept the authority of lesser entities”. Every time the ἔτυμον (etymon), “the initial root and the authentic meaning” (what etymology is all about) of a word like anarchist or democracy or politics gets either misused or abused because it has been either lost or twisted around under the all-hallowing scientific justification that it is natural and healthy for language to evolve through its use (as natural and healthy it is for our biological soul-vehicles to be stuffed with genetically modified plant and animal soul-vehicles until we become compliant consumers of purely synthetic anti-nourishment and unknowing agents of dark rituals), the purposefully uneducated human masses become more and more cancerous to the planet, more and more enslaved to the devils of this world, to the διαβολείς, literally to “the ones who divide” so that they can be condemning us to the pits of Hades, δης meaning “the Invisible”, my Haunted Castle kind of place.

Notice that I am using the word devils and not demons or daemons. The δαίμονες (singular δαίμων) during the Antiquity were divine beings who were highly revered for sharing out fate to the mortals. The noun δαίμων derives from the verb δαίομαι, which means exactly “to share out” and it has nothing to do with evil (like the symbol of the swastika has nothing to do with evil in so many civilizations –swastika in Sanskrit meaning “it is good”-, a symbol which was reversed by the occultist Nazi regime to bring chaos). The balance of the cosmos (κόσμος: “orderly arrangement, ornament”) requires that everybody receives their fair share of fate, and there could be no such term and state of affairs as demonic possession in ancient Greece, because the daemons were divine regulators and not interested in messing up our lives at all. Of course all sorts of evil forces have always been following and pestering this planet (πλανήτης: “wanderer”), but with the construction of Christianity in the course of much less than two millennia, the propaganda of the evil ones against the regulating forces has gone over the top in the Greek-speaking world, and consequently everywhere, since we all use Greek words all the time, because they are the most intrinsically meaningful building blocks for our global communication. The great German physicist Werner Heisenberg declared that “studying the Ancient Greek language was for me the most important intellectual exercise; there is, in this language, a perfect correspondence between the word and its notional content”.

Moreover, the Greek alphabet is also an arithmetical system, because the letters of the Greek alphabet are not just letters, but numbers at the same time, units of intrinsic numerical values making up a system on which the profoundly mystical Pythagorean mathematics are based (which has nothing to do with the Gematria-based Western numerology systems known nowadays). Every Greek word has a unique lexarithm (λέξις meaning “word” and ἀριθμός “number”), a value which is the total sum of the values of its letters. The word ΛΕΩΝ, for example, has the lexarithmic value of 885 (30+5+800+50), and ΠΛΟΥΤΩΝΙΑ 1741 (80+30+70+400+300+800+50+10+1). The implications of the lexarithmic intelligence of the Greek language are staggering. Here is a quick-reference table of correspondences we created to be using for some of our book-translation assignments. As far as the Arabic and the Roman numerals are concerned, it is evident that that these are not the letters of the Arabic and Latin alphabets, but only arbitrary symbols.


Picking up the thread. Daemons were the divine regulators who were sharing out fate to the mortals. The word δαίμων, like many others, has had its meaning usurped and reversed through systematic catechism by the Christian religion (the historical Jesus –and any enlightened individual, for that matter– has nothing to do with organized religion), and thus we have been neurolinguistically programmed to be sending away our own allies. Why do the devils, the real evil ones –devil and evil have no common origin; we saw διαβολείς, “the ones who divide”, and evil is of Germanic origin: uvel > German übel: “bad, foul”–, why do these devils bother to disguise themselves as pro-human to be programming us to be sending away our own allies? Because they are well aware of the fact that they destroy everything good and beautiful in this world, and that their fair share of fate will be harsh; they try to avoid punishment by tricking even us, their cattle and minor regulators, into forgiving them altogether so that they will be attracting no higher attention. If we fall for it, there goes our spiritual combativeness; instead, we are led to channel our aggressive urges into fighting amongst yourselves, so that the parasitic devils can suck in all this coarse energy and get well-fed. This is the tricky thing with all organized religions of the “good” and their do-as-we-say-and-heaven-is-guaranteed-for-you dogmas or with the New Age happy-happy-pastel-paint-our-Mother-Gaia pacifiers: the shortcut-to-happiness trap. Don’t you want to be a part of our eternal-bliss web? Gotcha baby! Now try to wiggle yourself out of this one!

They are missing something, though, these black-souled tormentors of ours: we are not here for their pleasure; we are not here to be serving them until we get sucked dry of our life force. And they are not going to get what they demand, because we are not here to hate them, either, or to feed them with our fear. They can knock themselves out playing innocent and thinking they can get away with it. As the greatest modern Greek philosopher, writer and poet Nikos Kazantzakis put it: “There is a mystic law in this world (for if there were not, this world would have been annihilated thousands of years ago), a harsh, inviolable law: in the beginning, evil always triumphs, and in the end it is always vanquished”.

What we are here for, is to honor each other and to help each other regain our freedom. As long as we do not fear what we cannot see, the experience of Hades “the Invisible” is instructive, as is confirmed by the teachings of both astrology and mythology (the real history behind “History”, that is). The name Hades, which has become more common as the name of the underworld as a place, is in ancient Greek mythology the earlier name for the god Πλοτων, Pluton, which represents a more positive concept of the god who presides over the afterlife, because the noun πλοτος (from the verb πλέω: “flow”) means “affluence, free flow of earthly goods”. Thus Pluto is a god of wealth, because underground there is an abundance of mineral wealth. To the philosopher Plato, the god of the underworld was an agent in the beneficent cycle of death and rebirth. So in the long term there is really nothing to be afraid of for those of us who are suffering on this level. Do not ever let anyone manipulate you into believing you are doing something wrong and are being punished for some God-repulsing sins. Let us face our life lessons with courage and gratitude and cherish each other with all our temporary imperfections until, having completed our incarnation cycles, we return to the source Christopher Bakken was writing to me about almost twenty one years ago, before even he himself had realized his life path.

Approaching full circle in this post. Thank you for bearing with me.

Christopher’s life path offers a brilliant case study of how words actually shape our destinies. This poet’s favorite subject is Greece, culturally, historically and mythologically. How did it come to this? No, not the circumstances; these are just the props of our lives, not the real us. A Norwegian-Swiss Wisconsin-born and -raised dairy-farm boy was given a Greek birth name! The compounds of Χριστοφόρος mean “the one bearing the anointed one”. Far from any shallow religiosity, this mystical meaning in the poet’s case can only be paraphrased as “the present incarnation bearing the mark of the previous one”. A fragment of the Hellenic Soul coming home. The veil between Christopher and the Light of Hellas has apparently been very thin in his present lifetime, which is why he so naturally basks in it. The physical vibration of his name is not the only link in this chain of karmic causation, but the unmistakable navigational tool that explains the attraction of his soul. Such is the power of names, that ὃς ἂν τὰ ὀνόματα εἰδῇ εἴσεται καὶ τὰ πράγματα: “he who knows the names knows also the things” (Socrates, in Plato’s Cratylus). It was an honor and joy knowing Christopher Bakken, and I am grateful to him for passing on the Light, now that the unholy forces are working to brutally quench it once again through politics for those of us still breathing on these sacred grounds. Even if we cannot meet in the flesh again on this level, like Willow and her Wendy have not been able to, we are spiritual kin, and we will meet again. As the 12th century Persian mystic and poet Jalaluddin Rumi puts it: “Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world; the forms may change, yet the essence remains the same. Every wonderful sight will vanish, every sweet word will fade, but do not be disheartened; the source they come from is eternal, growing, branching out, giving new life and joy. So why do you weep? The source is within you and this whole cosmos is springing up from it”.

Full circle. This post’s title. Emily Dickinson, too, goes through Hades and writes some of the finest poems in the English language. Titleless, all of them. She refuses to name them, lest some lesser entities snatch away their meanings from us; they are usually referred to by the first line, and here is the one I paraphrased. Poetry cannot get any more timelessly breathtaking. Savour it. Through words. Beyond words. Feel it deep within your heart and let healing tears flow down your face. We are all carriers of the divine spark who cannot stop for Death.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

Thank you all so very much, dear sisters and brothers. Although the Wheel of Fortune is stuck with the two of us at the bottom for so many agonizing years, maybe it is not too late for a little nudge upwards, now that we have finally found our way out of our complete social solitude. We cannot fight this war on our own. Please do send some prayers this way.

Bowing to the divinity in each of you,