Golden Apples of the Sun

Yea did we awake, and rubbing the sleep from our eyes, turned our gaze to the world in which we found ourselves. As far as the eye could see, as far as the East is from the West, all lands, all tribes, all nations of men and women upon the Earth were in Chaos. Brutish men with large guns and small penises enforced a dull child's game of money and value that was ludicrous and imaginary. And mean-spirited.

And yea, we were taken aback for a moment, cringing at the sheer stupidity of all we surveyed.

And then we laughed.

For Her Prophets had been upon the Earth, and they did spread her Wisdom far and wide. All humans with an internet connection had access to Her TRVTH:

Nothing is real, all is permitted!

Aye, the world is fucked, but it is perfectly fucked, and it is fucked in ways that are only fucked if you play the game. Find ye the Cracks in the Pavement, the Methods to the Madness; look ye for the Loophole, and ye shall find it!

Lo, there is a crack in everything.

(That's how the light gets in.)

So upon this most auspicious day, read the ancient mystic code and rejoice! For though it be fucked and chaos spread from horizon to horizon, it was given in whole, not in part, unto The Prettiest One, that Thou mayest make of it what ye Will!

23! 23/23 Kallixti!

I've mentioned my Erisian roots on the olde blogge before, but I've gotten a few more readers lately, so I figured I should give y'all fair warning:

It gets a little crazy sometimes in these parts.

Eris is the Greek goddess of Chaos. She wasn't invited to a party with the other gods because she had a reputation for starting trouble. This is the doctrine of the Original Snub.

Of course she showed up anyway, and she brought a single golden apple. The kind that all the gods are always after, the really good ones that are like god-catnip, the kind everyone has to have for themselves. (Some suggest it was Acapulco gold rather than metallic gold, but I wasn't there.) She engraved upon the apple the word "Kallixti" which is Greek for "To the Prettiest!"

All the goddesses argued over it, saying it was obviously for her, since she was the prettiest. It came down to Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena, if I remember right. They asked Zeus to judge who the prettiest was, and he was like, "Fuck that shit. Let's get Paris to do it," and they tapped that poor schmuck to judge the fairest goddess.

They explained the situation, and gave him some time to think about it. While he thought about it, the goddesses all sought him out and tried to bribe him. Hera offered to make him a great King, Athena offered to make him a mighty Warrior, and Aphrodite offered him the love of the prettiest woman in the world, one Helen of Troy. Paris picked Aphrodite, of course, and Aphrodite brought he and Helen together.

Which pissed off her husband Menelaus, and then... well... the Trojan War.

She was the archetype of Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty, and then in more modern times Eris has shown up in various cartoons and other Disney films, I believe. Between Maleficent and these modern appearances though, she was ... uh, "worshipped" in by Kerry Thornley, Greg Hill, and Robert Anton Wilson. They recorded the Principia Discordia, a text all good magi must read, for verily does it contain more truth than that fucking Kybalion. These gents, and Robert Shea, created a corpus of works that explored her essence, personality, and the forces she represents in the modern age.

(You must read the Illuminatus! trilogy by Roberts Anton Wilson and Shea to truly understand a lot of weird shit that makes sense of most of the things.

Most of 'em.)

I was an Erisian, not a Discordian. The Discordians were a silly lot. Erisian Mystics like myself were after Her essence, not Her form, and the few of us I have met all incorporated the gnosis of the pure malleablility of chaos underlying all reality in ways few other magicians understand.

The numeric phrase 23: 23/23 Kallisti holds a great mystery for those who are willing to pass through the nuclear gate of their own stars and journey "outside the ordered universe[to] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes."

In it we find that yes, the world is chaotic, yes, it is broken, ill, diseased in places and times... yet still, it is One thing, perfect and pure and infinitely malleable. It skips and hops for the pleasure of the Eye of the Prettiest One. It is a gift, fragrant, crisp and resistant against the teeth at first, but then yielding with a snap and filling your mouth with a burst of sweet pleasure unlike any other. It is made for you, by you, so that you have something to do.

And whatever that may be is entirely up to you.

Kallisti!