Dimension Bomb Released

I know I haven’t updated this lately. That’s going to change.

I’m sure those of you who have read this blog in the past know the reason why it’s named Dimension Bomb. And if you don’t, I’d strongly suggest checking that link out.

Watching it again for the first time in a year and a half, I get to process more of the hidden symbolism within. Note the frequent presence of the Sun, and the obvious and repetitive examples of being torn apart by supernatural forces–a very classic case of shamanic initiation. The girl in the movie almost seems as if she is leading him through the initiation, though admittedly some of the message is inevitably lost without the aide of a translation for the Japanese, for those of us English speakers.

The movie has been released onto YouTube, and split into two parts.

Part I can be found here.
Part II can be found here

Enjoy. This movie was one inspiration for the creation of this blog, and really does ring true in so many ways.

The Past, Patterns, and Keeping Silent

In looking back through my childhood (not an easy thing to do), I realize that I had all of the (stereo)typical behaviors of a magician and shamanist in the making. Traumatic events, both explained and unexplained. My brain was wired differently–so differently that I was consistently medicated for it from the age of seven, and reminded of it for every day of my life. I didn’t start actively trying to make friends until college, and even then, I wasn’t very social. I’m still not. As far as practitioners go, I’m very, well…solo.

Though unlike some, I was very underwhelmed when I began reading about magic, paganism and the occult back in my preteen years. It all seemed to describe to me things I knew already, or was already experimenting with. I somehow didn’t seemed too incredibly surprised to find others doing the same, though I was surprised to be able to connect with like-minded individuals who fit that niche. When it came to the occult and the paranormal, the big thing that really surprised me was that a thing like “otherkin” and “therianthropy” existed outside of my own little island of being. The honeymoon period with that, however, is long since over. I no longer actively seek connection between peoples that fit those two descriptors, simply because most of them are merely trying to escape from themselves and the species or world they were born into. I have no commonality with the false, the damaged, and the confused.

It leads me to wonder why I deal with the occult or animistic community at times. I can’t really say I deal with it as much as some–I am virtually inactive on most social fronts aside from my writing. But the patterns I seem to pick out most readily is the glorification of the bullshit artists and “internet shamans” that float around out there. The ones that are glorified for their fanciful storytelling, name-dropping, pity-partying and attention-seeking through their traumas (which, they feel, is an automatic badge for the practice of shamanism). Although they claim to be healers and to (desire to) help others, in the end they help no one but themselves–if you can really call it “help”. The people they surround themselves with are nothing more than yes-men, psychophants and enablers. But amongst these people are those who, I was astonished to find, are actually reasonably intelligent people. It stunned me to think that people who were so smart could be duped by such high school grade behavior. It wasn’t until I read Daniel Pinchbeck’s Toward 2012: Perspectives on the Next Age did I find out that Carlos Castaneda had actually duped a fair amount of professors who even had studied the Yaqui culture. Suppose this thing could happen to someone regardless of intelligence, though it leads me to speculate why, and how. The essay within the book, “Shamans and Charlatans: Assessing Castaneda’s Legacy” is well worth the read and relevant to this part of my rant. In fact, Reality Sandwich has some great essays in general on a variety of topics.

But it’s one of a few reasons why I step back, or remain on the periphery of what people there call “community”. I was never much a social being, which is kind of funny you think, coming from someone who claims strong alliance to canine archetypes. But witnessing this sort of thing is a turnoff towards community. The bullshit artists, the spindoctors. Plenty of people can write books and still be completely incompetent, and just because you’re popular doesn’t always make you right. I’m also a private person, and the extreme freedom by which occultists and shamanists share in gross detail their experiences is beyond me. I hold strongly to the clause, “To keep silent”, or as Christian Sedman in Generation Hex puts it:

We could tell other people straight out, but of course the minute you talk about magic–the shit you’ve turned into gold–is the minute it turns back into shit.

But hey, at this point you’re thinking “Well hey Solo, you do write about magic, right? Yes I do. I love doing so. I want to inspire people, or at least shoot out that signal flare out there that yes, there is someone else out there who isn’t doing this for wholly selfish reasons, or to find some sort of crutch for an inadequate life. Sedman goes on to say:

Sometimes you can write about it. That kind of works. The best thing you can do with something you’ve written about magic, I think, is inspire somebody else enough to try it themselves, so that they can see for themselves.

Even within the paradigm of magic and the animistic, there is so much people aren’t seeing, and it can be frustrating. I try not to waste too much time myself though. I am too constantly involved in the magical and animistic world to always pause enough to write about it or network or “do business”. Or, perhaps it’s too involved in me.

The Rat King

To me, New York means rats.

I first visited New York back in 2001, just a month prior to the events of September 11th. Rats have been visiting me symbolically and most heavily in my dreams many months before. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve experienced both in the same year, or maybe it’s because NYC is considered the rat mecca of the country that I associated the two together in the first place.

The curious thing about it all is that I have never once seen a wild rat, the primary focus of my obsession, before my most recent trip to the Big Apple. Since ‘01 I began keeping domestic specimens of R. Norvegicus, an animal that is as different from the wild rat as a dog is from a wolf, but like the two, still possessing numerous similarities in trait and character. The pitter-patter of little rodent feet traveled from the realm of my dreams into my physical habitat. Somehow it wasn’t quite enough though. Something continued to gnaw incessantly on the periphery of my consciousness.

My most recent trip to NYC happened in mid-February of this year, roughly ten days after the death of my four-year old rat Mina, and roughly a week after the arrival of my fiancee from Germany. Throughout the trip I recounted the long legacy of rats (mostly all female), and the lessons they’ve taught me. I can say with the utmost confidence that any animal, however small, that comes into your life can change it forever. Mina certainly did. But in their own way they all did.

We stood on the subway platform, my fiancee and my parents and younger brother, killing time and waiting for the next train to arrive after a brief delay. I was zoning out, staring into the rails below. It was a long day with lots of walking, and I was exhausted. Suddenly, a portion of the sludgy grayness below jumped to life and began to move, darting suddenly across my vision. I blinked once, then twice, until I realized what I was looking at. It was a wild rat. I took off running down the platform alongside it, snapping pictures on my iPhone, and watching as a second and then a third appeared, prancing along the rails.

The Rat King finally decided to reveal himself.

The mythical Rat King has one of two origins. The first and more folkloric origin of a ‘rat king’ is when a bunch of rats become connected by their tails, and end up growing together. These mostly involve black rats.

There is yet a more contemporary and postmodern take on the rat king, one reported by municipal workers, police officers, exterminators, and many others. The Rat King in the postmodern age is an exceptionally large male rat, one commonly seen leading a pack of other rats.

From a postmodern shamanistic perspective, to me the Rat King represents the all-encompassing rat totem. The Big Rat.

To work with the Rat King is to work with an agent of balance and in-betweenness. In the West, poverty, the slums and misfortune are associated with rats. Poor housing. Disease–the rat was considered the main transmitter of the plague in Europe in the Middle Ages. In the East, when the rice harvest was good and the stores were full, people found rats. They symbolized abundance, wealth and plenty. While visiting the Chinatown district of NYC, my fiancee gifted me with a statue featuring a golden rat, seated upon a bed of coins, and surrounded by baby rats. A very classic and common figure of the rat in Eastern symbolism.

Two sides of the same coin. Balance and rhythm. Family, community, survival and persistence. Knowing and appreciating your origins. Where you are and where you are going.

This will be a first in a series of posts on my dealings with the Rat King, as well as rat symbolism and other related totemic and animistic information on things rat.

‘Safe’ Shamanism

Something I’ve been kicking around in my head lately, and was recently reminded of. Kind of rambling, disjointed and off-the-cuff, so bear with me here.

In my experience, the shamanic spiritual worldscapes are much similar to our tangible, physical one. They aren’t safe. You don’t always have control over things. This is a fact of life. No matter how one would like to think otherwise. No matter what world you’re in, there is always someone or something out there bigger, wiser and nastier than you. There are also always going to be places you don’t know how to navigate. Take an average inner city guy out of his apartment and stick him in a yurt in the middle of Mongolia. Chances are, it would at the very least take him some time to figure out his asshole from his shoe-sole.

People approach shamanism and these worlds with their own preconceived notions, their own insecurities, assumptions, attitudes and beliefs. These affect not only how they see the worlds they traverse, but if they access them at all, let alone the entities and beings they interact with. If you lack social skills in the “real world”, chances are, your interactions in other worlds may not go as swimmingly either. There is also certain cultural bounds to consider in this, too. Mileage may vary to a degree–but granted, if you have poor social skills in one country, chances are your behaviors will offend someone else in another country, too.

Just like any other aspect in life, learning is about taking risks. Some people take more risks than others. Some people were subjected to more risks and dangers outside of their control. Some are more sheltered than others. In the end however, dealing with more than the physical world you interact in has its risks, burdens and responsibilities–and isn’t for everybody. But this is my personal opinion on the matter. Not everyone can, or should take, the shamanistic path. But that’s me.

The animistic world of shamanism, and the tangible world of matter should be handled in balance. The verified and the unverified. The subjective and the objective. Too much leaning on any one side, you lose the big picture. You either sit in your own fantasy-world, or you cut yourself off from the bigger picture.

Shamanistic practice, in my experience, is all about balance. And it’s easy to fall flat on your face if you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m by far no expert, merely one that’s taken a few falls in the past myself.

Drive-by Coyote-musings

If Coyote taught me anything in my life, it’s to never be a specialist. Being a jack-of-all trades has its benefits, and it’s much easier to avoid stagnation and being stuck in a rut. Coyotes themselves aren’t specialists, they are immensely flexible creatures both genetically as well as socially and intellectually. They can function in small packs or large, or completely solitary. They can scavenge, they can hunt. They can adapt to almost any environment. The pressures put on them by humans and the ever-changing environment around them only seem to aid in their transformation. They are indeed a very alchemical creature.

There are advantages to being a specialist, just as there are advantages to being a jack-of-all-trades. Just compare a hunting coyote to a hunting jaguar (which, the two do share overlapping territories in South America and formerly states like Arizona and New Mexico) and you can see which one is the more specialized hunter. However, there are also advantages to adapting oneself in multiple areas at once–of the two animals, which one happens to be endangered, and which one thrives despite the pressures put upon it? I’m going to throw the breaks on this metaphor for now though, because it dances dangerously close to lauding one totem over another, which is certainly not my intention nor my focus.

Steering back on track, my focus here is that, as a totem, teacher and even godform, Coyote has taught me that it doesn’t benefit me to stay in ruts. This is especially true of my magical and shamanic practice. Sticking to the tenets of my primary totem, I always make sure to keep myself constantly flexible, so that I’m able to evolve and adapt my practice, and my mind, as often as possible.

The Cathedrals of the Dead

The beach I was standing on was dry, sandy and very white.  The sun was high up in the sky and shining brightly, and the ocean was somewhere in the distance, I could hear it sighing softly.  I heard seagulls calling too, and somehow they made me feel melancholy, reminded me of a time I was spending with my partner, probably in Ocean City or thereabouts.  I look all around me and half-buried in the sand are gigantic, dried-out skeletons.  I look down and see a skull laying on its side, half-buried.  It looks almost like the skull of some sort of gigantic seafaring creature, like a prehistoric whale.  I see conical teeth, and molars in the back.  The skull is huge, and I’m thinking I could climb down inside of it, through the eye-socket maybe, and have enough room to spare to make it into a little dwelling in the ground.  As I was peering through the eye-socket, I began to hear a voice.  It was a very loud voice, and it didn’t seem to issue from anywhere in particular–in fact, it seemed to issue from all over, from the huge primal skeletons themselves.  The voice sounded very masculine, and very very old.  It also echoed, as if reverberating from some vast cavern underground.  The voice echoed, simply and yet powerfully: “We are the Cathedrals of the Dead.”

The voice continued to echo and reverberate in my mind as I slowly began to wake up.  I checked the time on the alarm, about 45 minutes before it was supposed to go off.  I switched the timer off and got up to put on a pot of coffee.  The echoing voice gave me chills, and also a profound sense of sheer antiquity that it seemed to carry along, an age that goes beyond my understanding.  This was one of those dreams that aren’t easily forgotten, ones that grip you firmly and stay with you long after you enter the waking world, and continue to haunt you when you least expect it.

I am now left with a profound sense of awe, and in a state of deep contemplation.

Spiritually On-Call

This essay was written by a close friend of mine, in response to some rather unhealthy trends that have been popping up in neoshamanic discussions, primarily on LiveJournal, though I’m willing to bet this trend extends much further, and just so happens to manifest itself in this one particular format.

Essay reposted with permission, original link for commenting and credit can be found here: http://jarandhel.livejournal.com/259928.html

Spiritually On-Call, by Jarandhel Dreamsinger

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the subject of Shamanism recently. Particularly the question of how a Shaman relates to the gods/spirits they work with. I have to say, I completely agree with mitsukami’s statement that completely giving oneself over to the dictates of the spirit world to point where it eclipses your work, your relationships, and even your responsibilities to your children sounds extremely unhealthy. Some people have suggested that this attitude is what distinguishes the Shaman, in service to the spirits/gods, from the Shamanist. So far, I’m not really convinced by that line of reasoning.

Shamans in the modern world do not generally get paid by the tribes they serve for their service. Certainly they are rarely, if ever, paid a sufficient amount to support themselves wholly on their income as Shamans. They are also rarely independently wealthy. This means in order to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves properly they need to work for a living at a mundane job. If their Shamanism interferes with that mundane work, it directly interferes with their ability to meet their most basic human needs. A Shaman who is left constantly struggling to meet the most basic elements of survival is not going to have much energy left to serve others, let alone be in the proper state of mind to journey to the otherworld and deal with the beings and dangers there.

Human needs are an important point. Shamans, whatever gifts they may have which set them apart, are not immune to basic human needs. And one of the most basic is love and companionship. And while relationships with nonphysical entities are certainly possible, they are not generally as fulfilling as those in which you can touch your partner, hear their voice, hold them or be held by them at night. A Shaman who is denied the fulfillment of a relationship outside of their Shamanic work may have all of their physical needs met, but they are being starved emotionally. Would you want someone who is mentally and emotionally off-balance, for whatever reason, mediating between you and the spirit world?

The same point holds true when it comes to one’s children. There are very few emotional bonds stronger than those between parent and child. Interfering with that bond necessarily creates distress and interferes with the emotional stability of both parent and child. And interfering with the parent’s ability to meet their responsibilities to their child creates an even more obvious threat to the child’s well-being. I can’t help but wonder if any god or spirit which essentially demands one’s child be sacrificed (either by forcing the parent to give them up, or by denying the child proper care to their physical and mental detriment) is actually worthy of service.

Service. That is another important point: to what extent are Shamans in service to the gods and spirits they work with? There is a word in the English language for someone who is in service to another being so completely that the being they serve controls their work, their ability to meet their basic needs, their relationships, and even their custody of their children. That word is slave. So the question must be: Are Shamans the slaves of the gods and spirits they work with? I don’t think so, and for a very simple reason: it is not possible to truly serve two masters. The nature of a Shaman’s work is to be in service to the tribe. They mediate with the spirit world on behalf of the tribe. They go before the gods on behalf of the tribe, to plead the tribe’s case and ask for aid for the tribe. They are the advocates of their tribe in the spirit world, not the advocates of the gods in the physical world.

Advocates… that may actually be a good model with which to look at it. It is possible there are people who engage in shamanistic practices who are in service to the gods in this manner, who act as their hands in the physical world. But can they really be in service to the tribe if their loyalties are to the spirit world? I tend to think confusing the two is rather like confusing a prosecutor and a defense attorney. They may both be lawyers, but their roles as advocates are very different. Similarly, both the person who advocates for his people before the gods and the person who advocates for the gods to his people may serve as mediators between the two realms, but their focus is very different.

I believe it is the Shaman’s job to advocate on behalf of his tribe when he journeys to the spirit realm. To bargain with the gods, spirits, ancestors, etc on behalf of his people. Even to fight with them on his people’s behalf, if he must. To be Prometheus, stealing fire. To be Raven, stealing the sun and the moon and the stars. To be Loki, descending into the realm of the dwarves and bargaining with them for the greatest treasures of his adopted tribe. The Shaman, acting in this role, only obeys the gods and spirits to the extent which it is in his tribe’s best interest to do so. They work with them, they may build alliances with them for the benefit of the tribe, but their primary concern is the tribe’s benefit rather than the gods.

Taking the opposite role of advocating for the gods to man, especially to the point where one is giving control of one’s life over to them to the point where one could be considered their slave, requires a fundamentally different understanding of the relationship between man and the spirit world. It requires the shaman to see the gods as fundamentally superior beings to man, beings which have a divine right to command the lives of men, beings which are infallible in their instructions, and beings which are always good. It requires a belief that the gods have a right to be lawgivers and judges, juries and executioners, over man. In short, it requires the tribe to submit to the gods in much the same manner as the spiritual advocate who considers himself the slave of the gods.

This is a position which is fundamentally incompatible with much of pagan theology. Historically, pagan myths are full of tales of gods with just as many flaws as human beings themselves. They are full of jealous gods, lustful gods, angry gods, petulant gods, kind gods, gentle gods, and above all fallible gods. They are full of tales of the gods warring with one another, tricking one another, interfering in the lives of man to their benefit and their detriment, of being tricked and challenged and aided by man. From Orpheus to Maui, from Coyote to Ama-no-Uzume, the myths of the world are full of such tales. And if you accept that as an accurate depiction of the gods… if the gods are not perfect, not infallible, not all-knowing, not eternally benevolent… then the only way it really makes sense for the Shaman to work with them is as consultants, co-workers, friends, or adversaries as the situation warrants. Just like they would any living being.

For my part, I join my brothers in their defiance of any god or spirit which would make such demands. I will take care of my physical, emotional, and mental well-being. I will work a mundane job, maintain my relationships, and live my life. I will do anything I can to help those I consider Family, both mundanely and through my work with the otherworld, but in order to do that I need to be in a position to help. And I will not be in that position if I am incapable of caring for my own needs. The best way I can get to a position where I can take care of my Family, my chosen “tribe,” is to take care of myself first. And my life-partners and children, should I ever have any, are part of that tribe rather than separate from it, and I will fight to keep them with no less devotion than I will fight on behalf of the rest of my Family. To do any less would be a betrayal of both my Family and myself.