The Gnosis Wears Prada

 And now, for something new and completely different.

A Prada ad, wherein is recited, with some interesting jazz accompaniment, a fair amount of "The Thunder: Perfect Mind" from Codex II of the Nag Hammadi Library. The entire text is here.

Courtesy of Dr. Justin Sledge's post on Thunder : Perfect Mind. Dr, Sledge's channel is definitely worth a look.

Covid or Corvid?

Imperfections.

Imperfections and failures of structure, of connections.

The breaking of connections. Connections between family members, between neighbors, between citizens of various political entities from the city to the nation and beyond those even, if you include trade agreements and the EU.

Virus means "poison" in Latin, but "acid" would be a better analogy of the virus that is currently making life miserable for us humans. It is eating through the ties that bind us into functioning communities, entities, life forms. Now we're locked in our own homes, like beads in a box, without a thread from them to be strung upon, easy pickings for hungry, short-sighted birds.

The Vikings referred to battle as "feeding the ravens", as the shiny black scavengers would strip the flesh from the dead warriors for their repast. Now we usually get our dead buried before the scavengers appear---the feathered and four-legged ones, anyway.

Observation du jour

Those who consume their god are liable to consume you.

Update

My apologies for having been gone for so long--over a year. Some health issues, plus the usual daily grind, have interfered with a lot of things, including blogging. Hopefully, all that has passed and I can get back to more interesting and amusing things.

There are a couple of short pieces that were written last year that I will put up shortly. After that I hope to get back to fairly regular postings.

Random Musings, Random Weirdness.

Will Le Pen be mightier than the ISIL assholes’  sword?

So far its One No Trump in the U. S. bidding.

A random I Ching opening:

“Six in the second place means:

The bed is split at the edge.

Those who persevere are destroyed

Misfortune.”
䷖ (#23. Skidoo)

Repose is not possible, lest one be split with the bed.

Yeats’ “Second Coming” faintly stirs:

The falcon returns to the wild.

The gyrations of events shake the fastenings of existence.

The rocking cradle by the bed causes the bed’s destruction.

Neither Sleep nor Dream are come.

Only Darkness.

Only Void.

A Parable, after Luke 10, 30-37

There was a person traveling on the road once who fell among thieves who beat him and took his valuables and left him bleeding in the gutter. 

A Religious came along and saw the victim but didn’t help him saying, “I would like to help but I can tell by his appearance that this person is not of my faith, so tough shit, fellow.” And he continued on his way.

A Liberal came along and saw the victim but didn’t help him saying, “I would like to help but I can tell by his appearance that this person is not one of The Oppressed, so tough shit, fellow.” And he continued on his way.

A Conservative came along and saw the victim but didn’t help him saying, “I would like to help but I can tell by his appearance that this person should be able to help himself, as I did after I inherited my father’s money, so tough shit, fellow.” And he continued on his way.

Finally a Friend came along and helped him to his feet and, after giving him a drink from a flask, took the victim to a nearby inn where he was given room, board and medical attention which the Friend paid for. After seeing to his needs the Friend said to the victim, “I am leaving but I will not have left, having never been absent. Those who shunned you will always be absent even if they are present. I leave the flask for you; it will never be empty even though it appears only partly full. When you have healed continue your journey, for I will be with you even after you finish it.”

 Fr. Probolé

The Gales of November

The Pneu~ma may blow whither it wants to, but the yuxh\ a)rxontikh/, the archontic soul, travels the road to a lake of poison, wherein it drowns and slowly decomposes but yields neither fertilizer nor petroleum nor ought else that is useful for the body’s survival or the soul’s ascent to Pneute.

So what is the archontic soul? It is the evil spirit which causes us to remain locked in the Kosmos in the worst way by causing us to pay more attention to political leaders who would lead us from our natural quest and desire to escape from our material incarceration. It tries to masquerade as the pneu~ma and direct out attention towards political leaders who would like us to think that there is nothing other than the  material world and that being subservient to them is the be all and end all of human existence. This leads to the worship of the state, the “new idol” as Zarathustra’s prophet called it, the death of peoples, the enslavement of the individual’s soul.

Keeping on course is tough right now. Even if one isn’t on social media—speaking of enslavement of the soul!—it is almost impossible to avoid the spiritual, and sometimes even physical, bloodletting that is currently happening. Our spiritual vision is obstructed by the storm clouds of bile and our well being poisoned by the disease of hate.

The archontic soul is the angel of our worst nature, to paraphrase Lincoln, and leads us away from what we should be striving towards, a tremendous drain of energy better used for our families and our spiritual efforts. Or, as one Nobel Laureate once put it:

                                 Don’t follow leaders
                                 Watch your parking meters.

Fr. Probolé