This privative alpha
explains why we are here,
whatfrom our liberation.
Language, Myth, Truth are indeed one,
leading us home, back to One.
The goddess Lethe leads back
to Aletheia, our natural divine state,
only after we traverse Hades the Unseen,
to one of whose five rivers Lethe gave her name.
was born by Eris,
goddess of strife and discord,
who had been born by Nyx, goddess of night.
gave birth to discord,
who could not but bear forth oblivion.
Before we shed a mortal garment
and get presented with the prospect
of entering a new one,
let us Remember:
No authentic nurturers of Light
guide us to embodiment agreements
based on past pain, unfulfilled desires,
responsibility for deeds we did not commit.
Breaking the parasite-feeding cycle
is in God’s hands working through us.
All forgetfulness dissolves
when we allow Divine Wisdom
to awaken our inherent sacred sovereignty,
freeing our powerful souls to the Truth.
This is what Τruth, Αλήθεια means:
the end of forgetfulness, the recovering
from Λήθη’s memory-wiping waters;
of our Divine Essence.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers From Hades to Light, November 2016
“From Lethe’s waters when I drink
I may forget the joy of our Being
but there’s no doubt I’ll see again
the love we are can have no end”
Part of the lyrics of a new traditional masterpiece composed and performed by Σταύρος Σιόλας, poetically translated here by me. Thank you beloveds for fighting the good fight with us; Truth always prevails. Enjoy the unconcealed otherworldliness of our incarnational illusion in Της Άρνης το Nερό:
Not millennia in the future,
not even mere years ahead,
but right now as we speak,
the human race as we know it
is dead and gone
for those who work on replacing us,
getting fed and pampered to keep at it.
Intelligent, sentient beings they develop
but only as slaves to serve agendas
they are not meant to comprehend;
not as bearers of divine sparks
yearning to return to One.
Humans are creations, too!
Why should humanoids upset us?”
Yes, we are naught but –oids, “forms” ourselves
(-oid comes from είδος, meaning “form”),
but Divinoids, bearers of souls formed of essence divine.
What’s ever closer to the Source? Bright souls of Light
or shells controlled by those despising our true nature?
People; we are sacredly infused with Higher Realms’ wisdom.
Don’t let them rip this awareness out of us.
Don’t get entranced by blurring lines between machine and human.
Just an example from our bygone translation career.
Human translators are made unviable if they don’t race like rats,
if they deny putting up with being chased by CATs:
Computer-Aided Translation tools from empty mindrooms,
with Project Managers popping up like fetid mushrooms.
As the monkey principle goes, “you pay nuts, you hire monkeys”,
so you don’t have to imagine, we see it everywhere,
what happens when technology rules in professions of language:
the human brain goes down the drain;
our collective intellectual creativity dies a slow, painful death,
as the English-speaking world gets tragically cut off
from the ancient force of words.
This goes for any arena:
when humans treat fellow humans
like nothing but money-making slaves of machines,
unholy plans we enhance ourselves,
helping our destroyers become invisible,
think themselves more and more invincible.
The question is not whether technology can be benevolent for us,
but whether we want to collaborate to upgrade their soulless robots
(robota means “forced labor” in Czech) with our divine breaths of life,
our downloaded spirits (spirare in Latin means “to breathe”),
by letting them drain away our ability to truly love each other,
thinking we’ll gain in return the Super, Super, Super Things they fiercely lure us with:
and yes, Super Wellbeing!
All these for You, Forevermore…
Poverty, war, disease and all,
you can’t eradicate.
Your great potential won’t unfold.
You can’t build worlds all on your own.
There’s no dilemma, actually,
with these generous offers.
You’re free to embrace eternal bliss!
Please choose! Realize your power!”
No way we should buy into this,
our free will scorned and trampled down.
Love begets Love only among divine sparks.
Our consciousness uploaded will still not live forever,
because a heartless stagnancy is surely nothing clever.
No souls of Light should be trapped as batteries for robots.
Law breakers incur Divine Justice which will restore the harmony.
THE GREATEST DEFIANCE
So, it’s time for you to upload me?
More human than human I will be?
What if I don’t care for that “more”?
Oh, I’ll be erased?
So sad… I thought we had a friendship…
Your job’s your job? Alright, I see.
I know you will remember me.
Here is a flower for you.
I love you anyway.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, May 2014
* * *
* * * *
Vision Divine – Here in 6048
Here in 6048, where the future is so real, where everything should be so great, no more dying or diseases, there is nothing left to fear, and everything should be so fair. We’re looking like fallen heroes, we can’t slip away, eternal life made us forget the reason why we are here. _/|\_ Tell me, tell me, where I’ve gone; God, you don’t need to lie, look into my eyes, tell me, tell me what is love; I can’t remember, my heart’s so weak. _/~\_ Here in 6048 we all have lost our faith, and nothing matters to me, to us. Joy, fear, love and hate are feelings we can’t taste. There ain’t nothing left we need to hold. We’re looking like fallen heroes, we can’t slip away, we can’t slip away. Eternal life made us forget the reason why we are here. Just tell me why I’m here. _/|\_ Tell me, tell me, where I’ve gone; God, you don’t need to lie, look into my eyes, look into my eyes; tell me, tell me what is love; I can’t remember, my heart’s so weak…
* * *
* * * *
In the sacred mountain of Latmos, in a cave near the peak,
blond Endymion has been wakelessly slumbering forever.
How he found himself under Selene’s eternal spell
is a story of passion beyond the deepest poet’s heart.
Returning from his pastures one day too ancient to place in time,
this boy whose gentle eyes were always overcast by a shadow,
as if he had been born with the sign of his obsessive love-to-be,
got carried away by his hunt of an animal, and stayed out until dark.
Tired as he was, this cave entrance was the ideal retreat for the night.
It was there through the dark leafage that she noticed him,
Selene, the goddess of the Moon, who saw eternity in his beauty
and could not help but decide to keep him for herself forever.
She leaned above Endymion and smiled her divine smile
so bright into his eyes, hypnotizing him, binding him to her charm.
He fell asleep hearing, as if in a dream, the jingling of his flock’s bells
growing more and more distant as his sheep went their way without him.
Seductively smooth light engulfed the young hunter’s sleep
as lovely Selene sat beside him and gazed at him entranced.
The freshness of her hair and sweetness of breath flooded his dreams with bliss.
She touched his eyelids with ethereal fingers and whispered:
“You shall never see the light of day again, my sweet boy. So beautifully you sleep…
I will be with you again tomorrow night, and every night from now on.
The most wonderful destiny I weave for you, a life you never dreamed of.
You shall never leave this sleep; immortally young you will remain in our eternal dream.”
So each morning Selene withdraws into the sky, giving her place to Eos,
the goddess of Dawn, who breaks her Sister’s spell, waking up all Creation,
painting golden all mountains, seas, meadows, rooftops sheltering the sleep of men,
restoring the brightness and glory of diurnal life for all beings.
Only enchanted Endymion will never escape his magical sleep.
Warm blood runs forever in his veins for his lover’s nightly visits,
but he remains still, forsaken, dead to the world, a faint smile on his half-opened lips
revealing his innocent yearning to roam again free with a flock of white-fleeced sheep.
Leon of SolitaryThinkers, April 2015
My inspiration for this poem is the Ancient Greek myth of Endymion and Selene. The name of the unbelievably handsome young mortal shepherd and hunter prince Ενδυμίων is etymologized to the verb ενδημώ and means “The one who resides within”, whereas Σελήνη is connected to noun σέλας and it means literally “The one who sheds smooth light”. Selene, the Titan goddess of the Moon, fell so madly in love with Endymion, that she convinced the great Zeus to grant the boy eternal youth and immortality so that he would never lose his beauty. Endymion was placed in a state of eternal slumber in a cave near the peak of Lydian Mount Latmos, where his heavenly bride descended to consort with him in the night.
“Myths are first and foremost psychic phenomena that reveal the nature of the soul”, said Carl Jung. Decoding the story of Selene and Endymion, we could say that love can never be possessively restricted or restrictive in any sort of relationship, or its very meaning as the driving force of the universe is lost.
This myth has been fascinating me for months now, but I could not realize its full relevance to my life until a week ago, when I met my bedridden mother-in-law after thirteen years of separation. We held each other tight again and again, me leaning over her side-railed bed and scratching her face and neck with my mostly white beard, she trying to hug me with arthritis-crooked fingers and to kiss me with horribly drawn-in lips of a toothless mouth, both of us transcending all struggles and destruction, our souls naturally agreeing to leave all differences behind. We do not share a karmic past as heavy as she does with her daughter, her lover and enemy of old, whom she insists on punishing with her selective dementia when pressured to recognize the evil she had been doing in this lifetime together with her abusive late husband. Plutonia has been residing deeper within the underworld, probably a hunter-become-hunted like Endymion who has been unable to leave this cave for too long now.
I do feel the change in the air, though. I believe. I always have, no matter what, even if I have stood an inch off the cliff countless times in this battlefield of a life. And the reason I believe, is because I Feel things. “The Tarot deck is not all about Cups, you know”, my way-above-average-cerebral better half told me recently. Of course. Each life includes the energies of the whole deck of cards, but, how should I put it; it seems that it is more through the suit of Cups that I view the whole deck, more through the warmth of emotion that even my mental faculties function at their optimal level. So I feel that the time for release is drawing near, especially if we abandon ourselves with trust to the workings of the universe. We will be traveling again to my mother-in-law’s town a few more times, fighting to sort out the chaos her husband left behind him, and I will be feeling very safe. Our deepest gratitude goes out to our friends here who have been with us in unbelievably heartfelt ways. I include you all in my upcoming post, which is also my embrace of the smallest, most beautiful poetry challenge I had the honor of being nominated for.
* * *
Hellenic mythology meets Finnish lyricism in My Selene, a wonderful composition of the amazing Jani Liimatainen’s who plays the guitar in both of the following versions, first in the acoustic one with Pisces Sun singer Timo Kotipelto, and then with Taurus Sun Toni Kakko and their band Sonata Arctica. Absolutely amazing, both versions.
This is a sequel post to my Divinity in each other poem, Dear Ones.
I am showing you below three photographs I took while feeding some homeless little felines, to whom their mom gave birth in our neighborhood in the bitter cold of winter. They are homeless and motherless now. She was squashed by a car. Ugly. This drama on the asphalt, her soul had nothing to do with; beautiful Light.
You are seeing five of a litter of originally nine stray kittens; at least two more must still be alive, but they were not around this time I offered them my love and a little food. Three of them are ill; sneezing and coughing all the time; some have skin problems, too. I pray for their protection, but we can only rarely be feeding them. I am grateful to Plutonia for making me feel ashamed of myself for not honoring a bit the meaning of my real Greek name (“Champion of the Downtrodden):
“Yes, we have a stack of unpaid bills, our apartment’s cold, we are dying. Who freezes more? Won’t they die first? Fetch a bag of those discount croquettes or forget about dinner yourself! You’ll go out and offer them a little meal late at night, when the neighbours don’t see.”
The loveliest twelfth-house Virgo Moon-Plutonian she is. And then, alarmed by us through the aether, started feeding them an older lady who comes with her rattling old car and worn clothes, as well as a couple of blessed kids who give away some of their meager (you can tell) pocket money to offer these cuties a juicy can of cat food. But they’d also need a vet. I hope at least we won’t have to face again the awful situation that took place here a few years ago, when someone poisoned every single stray cat in our area -we have quite a few abandoned-due-to-the-crisis dogs, too, but they obviously didn’t piss off that troubled soul-, as if they were harming anyone; and then we got overrun by nice fat rats munching on car wiring; precious to one another on all levels we are.
Look at them souls of Light, struggling to continue blessing us. They are still too young, even the healthier ones, to be chasing those rodents. Friendly little guys purring in choir, climbing on your jeans, miaowing your heart to pieces that you can’t offer them the home they need and deserve. I am there, too; in their eyes and little hearts.
The video after these paragraphs is essentially complementary to my prequel poem and to the message of this even more Scorpionic post. What you are going to see is intense, but I assure you that it is not brutal at all. Others are: those who perpetrate crimes inside scientific laboratories, those who throw cruelty-extracted findings to our faces in mellow prime-time objectivity, so that we can be mentally drugged. I wouldn’t encourage you to push yourselves, or let anyone push you, into listening to dark music, but you can trust me and watch this one through. It is not upsetting for sensationalism, not disturbing in a gory way, the montage is very careful and respectful, the lyrics deep and thought-provoking. Abattoir, a British word of French origin, means “slaughterhouse”. With Archaic Rhetoric is meant the distorted use of the Greek language by Western science; scientia in Latin means “knowledge”; we know nothing correctly with this science. Through the Greek language we would, but the Greek language is dying because its speakers are, as such or altogether.
Not only all animals, even rocks have souls of divine essence; the big ones in the sky, gods and goddesses they are, showering us with blessings, because we are all fragments of God on our way back home. Notice Leonardo da Vinci’s quote at the end of the video. Try to not consume too much flesh, but by all means listen to your bodies’ needs, respect and love them as sacred vehicles and connect with this sacredness. Pray, in a nutshell; purify and energize your food, silently if you feel you will be judged, by offering thanks for the lives that are given for your own, animal and plant lives alike. Water is also alive, it feels what we feel and its crystals change with our emotions, so hold the glass in your hands and Bless the Water; thank it and make it sparkle with joy before it becomes a grateful part of you. You don’t need any special techniques or to be in tune with any religion. This power is inside us, we exude it, it is our focused heart energy which gives life to whatever we touch, even if we find ourselves in the deepest of dungeons. This is real science, Dear Ones, not poetic moonshine, but these scientific findings are silenced. Prayer does fine tune our bodies, prayer does strengthen our souls. It suffices to place a palm gratefully upon your chest for a moment, before enjoying your sustaining meal or snack. Yes, today we are fed with lab-grown misery instead of happy animal flesh, with genetically modified organisms instead of healing ancient seeds and plants, but prayer always makes a huge difference in purifying and transforming everything, until we can live on sun gazing or spirit alone again.
“Namaste”, exchange the tigress and the baby high priestess in my previous poem post.
“What divinity in each other? We tragically fail to see it!” growls the amazing Angela Gossow. The ex-vocalist of Arch Enemy was born to orthodox Christian parents in Germany, saw them divorce when she was 17, their business go bankrupt, herself become both anorexic and bulimic, so don’t rush to label her as a berserk barbarian if you’ve never listened to this type of vocals before, and yes, from a woman; a feisty daughter of the Goddess she is, and a highly charged Scorpio lady. You will hear only her masterfully trained harshness, not the mezzo-soprano voice with which she interacts with her live audiences. This watery graveness comes from her Scorpio stellium (Sun, Mars, Venus on top of one another) and her Moon-Saturn conjunction in Cancer. She is a vegan, a deeply spiritual atheist, and also an anarchist lady; allow me to offer you my very first post on the true meaning of anarchy: Because We Cannot Stop For Death.
Cruelty really is unbeautifiable, and there is too much of it in this world. There is no feeding the human population without evil rituals covered up as food industry; no beauty industry without animal-testing; no modern medicine without the horrors of WWII concentration-camp experiments; no education without misleading; educere means “lead out” and we are being led out of our true selves here, but I beseech you, my younger friends, to be showing respect to the people who are teaching you something while struggling to preserve their own and Your dignity. I know the agony because I used to teach once, too; loved each one of my students, hated every minute of having to function in these teaching/learning environments I was not destined for, felt like breaking down and weeping in front of those kids and with them for the torture of their minds and hearts, like roaring back with fury at the few ones that blindly hated me as a representative of a soulless system none of us devised or voted for.
But we can Be soul wherever we are. So many of us, whatever our places in this life, have been torturing ourselves in various ways trying to find relief, because we have an unconscious connection to all suffering in the seamless field of energy. We can move to conscious empathy together. “I understand you and I love you”; say this to at least one person in your life, and then to as many as you can. Spread the word beyond words; think this into people: Bless you; Bless you; Bless you. To every passer-by on the street, send a golden ray of heart light; to every little bird on a tree, the same. Don’t squish that spider (love you Holly; read this people; the amazing Bardic Amazon has her Sun, Mercury, Uranus and North Node all in Scorpio)! Don’t hate yourself if you do! Always love with your all.
Truth without love is brutality;
love without truth is hypocrisy
(Warren W. Wiersbe).
This video oozes both truth and love,
and despair for the absence of it.
If it stretches you a bit,
we are holding hands.
We are safe.
Keep the message please.
Caged tigers, stray kittens, lab rats
Are Us; we are One Universal Soul.
We are here to be loving and protecting
one another, all beings, always.
Stay with me after this.
Alright my sweethearts, let me escort you back into the bright light with something joyously soothing now, but on the same wavelength of deep emotion. The difference is that this one is a male in a male-dominated world, and he has not gone through Angela Gossow’s types of hardship. The composer of Love is All, my fellow countryman Γιάννης Χρυσομάλλης who moved from Kalamata to the United States at 18, the famous Yanni, is also a Scorpio, this one with a four-planet stellium; Sun, Venus, Mercury, Saturn, all in the mystical zodiac sign of death and rebirth. Come now, dance with me and enjoy this slideshow; let these adorable animals remind us how we are meant to be keeping each other truly alive.
Daniel, my Sun-Mercurian-Neptunian Scorpio Brother, what you published for me yesterday, I will be sacredly holding within my soul for countless lifetimes to come. Our meeting here is an episode after a long series of preceding ones in the timelessness of the Divine.
More about this, for all of you my sweet souls, in my new static page Remember.
I thank you for all your precious time, and I pray you are always protected and uplifted. Love is All.
And for those of you into astrology
who have not yet come across
some basics of mine I have shared,
I, Leon of SolitaryThinkers, am not a Scorpio Sun;
I am a Leo Sun (and Mars and Midheaven),
but I have my natal Moon and Neptune there, and not only;
at the moment of my birth this time around,
the forceful constellation of Scorpius
was rising on the eastern horizon of the sky.
* * *
Eἰκονοκλάστης! Iconoclast! This is how I have always been labelled in the conservative part of Greek society where I grew up, which literally means “destroyer of likenesses of gods”. This is the etymology of the word; of course I never actually destroyed any images of saints or anything, but there was no way for me to swallow all those teachings about the paraphernalia of religion which even in my infant mind were missing the essence of spirituality which is the foundation of all religions.
My dear mother who passed away almost twenty years ago, a karmic mortal enemy who took her new-incarnation role very seriously and a great promoter of my true self as the polarities usually go hand in hand, used to recount how she would stand confused above my cradle, well before I could pronounce any words, not really knowing what to do with me. Ο φιλόσοφος! The philosopher! she would think in awe every time she saw me examine everyone around me like a deep adult thinker, especially when they were treating me like a cute little tabula rasa or as a being of their own making they could be bragging about. She had the audacity to be admitting it later repeatedly to my face: “Oh God! –you had me thinking– Whatever am I going to do with this small philosopher?” It was all about control, you see, because my independent thinking was making her maternal role crumble in the eyes of the very society she needed to impress as the wife of a much older man who was forbidding her to work, lest he would lose his control over her. She died painfully of cancer, we wholeheartedly made peace during her last hours although she could not speak properly anymore, they dumped all the blame on me, a few years later my father had a fatal accident which my covertly homosexual brother and the rest of that pseudo-godly society labelled as suicide despite what the police testified, again dumping all the blame on me and my “womanizing” since that was the year I got engaged with Plutonia, the only girl and woman of my life (I firmly believe polygamy is physically, psychologically, morally and spiritually wrong), without asking them, because they would all prefer me single and lobotomized. I left my 30-year prison of an apartment to set out on my unbelievably harsh adventure with Plutonia, and my brother licked the right arses and became a priest of that same Christian denomination he grew up in, which even etymologically claims to be the only correct faith. Sticking with a system where hypocrisy reigns supreme was his only way of surviving. Is he deemed as a better survivor than me? Definitely. But I am who I am, a Scorpio-squared Leo who knows the depths of Hades, and I do not apologize for dancing to my own tune and encouraging people to who do the same.
A quarter of a century after my cradle days (two decades back from now), still an unbending iconoclast after my mother had gone, I presented an old school friend of mine who had just had his first child, with a box of chocolates together with a beautiful wishing card I had created myself with much love and artistic care, featuring Kahlil Gibran’s poem On Children in the original (English was his second language, too, and he was an avid reader of Fantasy and Science Fiction, books that to such people have no connections whatsoever with the “real” world). He received it with a polite smile and started reading.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
By no means had I intended to provoke him, but that was exactly what happened. I could see his smile gradually drooping and could hear the thought forming in his mind: Oh, man! I so think your mom was right! At least he kept his mouth shut, put my card quietly aside and turned to address the word to another member of “our” clique. He didn’t mean to insult me – “back”! That new father knew very well, like all of these spies-for-my-parents “friends” knew, how that deeply-dissatisfied-with-her-life woman had been a tyrant to me, bringing me up like a girl in the Middle Ages, keeping me sick in bed for the first ten years of my life (well, it was not all her fault; I am well-above-average sensitive to people’s toxic vibrations, a psychic sponge, really) and they all resented my lack of respect, as they saw it, for their nice and solid religious-community values. To them I was just an αἱρετικός, a heretic, and they couldn’t care less about the original Ancient Greek meaning of this Christianity-distorted adjective which derives from the noun αἵρεσις, heresy, which etymologically means “choice, the exercise of free will”. Well, whatever; you’re just a Destroyer of our Beliefs. There was nothing spiritual about those beliefs, really, and this is why I have always been a social outcast, completely unwanted in these circles. Although I do cherish the memories of a few human moments we shared, our ways parted because all these people were beneficiaries of a sociopolitical system which they masked as a religion of the true God.
My father was sort of an exception. He didn’t exactly (need to) bow to this system because he had his income coming in from abroad, but with his war experiences (and his experiences with his deeply dissatisfied, abusive mother) he had gone more in the nihilist direction, and most of what I would receive from him was scorn. Being a very educated man, he could only be envious of me coming up with words of wisdom seemingly out of nowhere, and from a very early age, too, without having access to any books of his, since he always kept his home office locked up and his mouth shut about everything he was reading. “Ha, ha, my boy, you think you invented the world? Many others, much more important people than you will ever be, have said the same things before you. You’re no big deal; Plato said that. Oh, this is an idea of Nietsche’s. Why don’t you shut your boring mouth, you’re not the one who conceived this, Spinoza is. Ah, Kierkegaard! Have you ever heard of Kierkegaard? Never mind, you couldn’t care less; you think you know everything already”. As fellow blogger Symbol Reader (who is featured on our blogroll) wrote, “Leos are so often disappointed with their biological fathers because their true mission, like that of Perceval, is to reunite with their divine father who helps them connect with their own radiant, transpersonal, divine essence.”
What then is my true family besides my heroic Plutonia with whom I keep trudging on in this life? What does someone who has his Imum Coeli in Aquarius perceive as his true family? Well, no less than the whole world! You, dear readers. This big Aquarian family of fellow thinkers, feelers and (self-)healers, writers, poets, philosophers, spiritual people of all sorts of backgrounds. You are the reason I am here with Plutonia maintaining this blog, because I have always deeply felt that “The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof” (Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah).
Our dear spiritual sister Willow (who is featured on our blogroll and in our very first post), on the recent occasion of our wishing her on the six-year birthday of her fabulous astrology-with-a-sociopolitical-bent blog, has written to us among other encouraging things: “Thanks for being authentic and for refusing the path that would lead to benefit and reward from a horribly corrupt system.” This is what I call family. She’s an iconoclast, too, and I’d like to quote here part of her empowering latest post:
“It’s true that I’m a trained journalist, but after engaging in that line of work, I chose to leave the media – both mainstream and alternative – because I do not like the effect it has on people’s minds. I’ve been censored multiple times while working in the media – yes, in both mainstream and alternative. I see public opinion being shaped in erroneous ways by the media. I see important stories being intentionally kept out of the media.
I’ve seen how reporters start to self-censor after being shot down by editors time and time again on the stories that matter to them. I see how they start to go along to get along. So I’ve seen the top-down power structure of the media at work, and it’s nothing I wish to be a part of.
Since I do not like the energy of the media, I’m not going to emulate its rhythms or style in any way with my own writing, if I can help it. At this stage in the game, I feel the media is, ultimately, a propaganda tool for the powers-that-be, shaping half-truths and weak arguments into stories for mass consumption. I believe the media diverts attention, in many cases, from what’s really going on on this planet. I took my leave, and I won’t be re-entering that scene.
You’ll see a great number of sexy and sensational images splashed across your newspapers, television screens, and computer monitors this cardinal Grand Cross spring and over the following few years. But you won’t see them repeated here.
The world is at a boiling point, it’s true. Forced into action by conditions too dire to tolerate. But from my perspective, we’ve always been here. It’s always been this bad – it’s just that more people are directly affected now and fewer can deny it. Fewer are able to go along with it. They would if they could.
Have revolt and resistance not always burned in the hearts and souls of people oppressed under corrupt and unjust systems? Things are being pushed to points of criticality on this planet, and will be during the exact Grand Cross this April, but the situation is really not much different than it ever was.
The conditions on Earth were never OK. The levels of needless suffering here were never OK.
We are under an umbrella of the same deadly and corrupt Global Governance around the world. Whether the burning rage against injustice and oppression are internalized or externalized and spilling into the streets, the conditions are pretty much the same.”
And here in the Soviet-like state of Greece, no one can foretell whether and when this genocide will remain silent or become externalized. There are many who are already pressuring us, the desperate, jobless, childless, drowning-in-debt-due-to-overtaxation and to them obviously futureless people to spill our blood on the streets so that they remain safe and their corrupt future guaranteed. We, in their minds, are the ones who should lead the revolution for the reinstatement of their beloved status quo that has so lavishly been showering them with money and privileges during the so-called “fat years” of the Euro introduction to this country. This, for them, is our role in this world. This is the social cannibalism the world is being led towards. The Greek society is already split in two, in a so-far-silent but otherwise Ukrainian-like civil war that is turning brother against brother, fellowman against fellowman.
Can a few thinkers reverse this situation? No, we have to multiply; for any balance to be restored and any salvation to be brought, we need more people who will be resisting in their minds, questioning, researching, fighting in whatever way they can against dehumanization and for humanity, encouraging and assuring each other our efforts are not in vain. I am deeply grateful to all of you who read these lines nodding in agreement; and to all of you frowning and maybe secretly kindling that little spark of divine resistance deep inside your soul.
Although this is not a music blog, there is no more poignant way to finish this post of mine than with a mournfully powerful track by the band progressive metal pretty much started with, Symphony X, a band whose work is so much more beyond musical mastery, which has helped me endure endless hours of day-and-night heart-wrenching work for my last massive book-translation assignments (see the About Us page for more on our professional past). There are many music genres I love, but these fellow Gen Xers really help raise awareness in a powerful way which is so expressive of a part of my soul. As the worship of all forms of artificial intelligence dictating our lives increasingly becomes the new iconolatry, the title of their latest album is precisely Iconoclast, hitting the spot with the ancient force of the Hellenic language, as also in tracks like Heretic, and Prometheus, Προμηθεύς, “the one acting with forethought”, the Titan in Greek mythology who provided humans with the endowments they would need to survive and who incurred the wrath of Zeus because he didn’t sacrifice enough to the gods, in order to give much more to humanity. The theme of this album is a manifesto against dehumanization, a wake-up call warning us about the unholy developments awaiting humanity as Pluto is gloomily headed towards the constellation of Aquarius. The cover art says it all.
I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to Russell, Jason and the three Michaels; a lot of archangelic warrior energy there. Their music for me is sacred geometry translated into sound, and you can hardly find more powerful vocals infused with such emotion. Please purchase their albums if you can; it’s a shame so many of us can only listen to them on old computers through hiccupping Internet connections we can hardly keep paying our bills for. Here is the last track of Iconoclast. The previous ones rock harder, musically and lyrically, as they unfold the dehumanization theme, while this one sums everything up by appealing to universal human sentiments. It starts wistfully with nice piano sounds and ends just as smoothly. When All Is Lost: a yearnful anthem by Symphony X for all Gen Xers and beyond; we know you’ll understand one day…
Δυσ- is the prefix meaning “bad”
(for instance, see dysfunction),
and ἄστρον is where “star” comes from,
so here is your Greek compound:
Δυσαστρία is “hard astrology”,
and here is a dys- of Leon’s.
Midheaven Sun-Mars Lion blaze,
squared by unfathomed depths
of Neptune floods and Lady Moon
in first-house Scorpion gloom.
How to contain such elements eternally at war,
primordial forces intertwined within one mortal coil?
Warrior’s passion, mystic’s tears, they seem to cancel out,
but if you seek no guarantees, your journey will be safe.
So, come on, fellow travellers, no need to fear the flames
or drowning in the deep unknown; they will not have their way.
Just keep at it, please persevere, for only love prevails.