Occult Fan

Master no Self

Month: June, 2018

Spirituality and Practicality, And InterDimensional Earnage

Consciousness Exploration Through Service, Work, and Persistence

Two seeming opposites which I believe I must seek to unite in order to advance in my soul’s purpose, my life purpose, in order to mature as an individual, in order to ‘live my function’, include the occult or esoteric or dimensional or spiritual and that of living a practical, work-a-day life realm, of having practical function, of making my mark, even.

What first comes to mind is both how work of the craft of the esoteric has been reserved to priestly classes in order to ‘make a living’ from it, which is legitimate if they are furthering knowledge and healing both individuals and groups of living entities, possibly both in this time realm and that from another or others.

Another much more personal aspect comes to mind of being functional in one’s own life, in order to be helpful to others. This is pretty much as simple as using common virtue (temperance, fortitude, etc) to live through the daily ebb and flow of a day’s cycle, in whatever order truly fits their individual being.

I seek to unite the heavenly aspects which lay deep grip to my interests, the topics that have always abided in the recesses of the parts of my mind I was too distracted and intoxicated and ‘mind-controlled’ not to recognize. This happens to many spiritual individuals. It’s part of the path, it seems;

We all hold an interest in the spiritual realms, from whence we came, all, but many becomes shuffled off the path and into a mirey-maze and many spend the rest of this incarnation there. College is a great way to do this to a person, at any age, in some respects, if you care to parse my meaning with your own common sense experience.

In college I studied at first English, following in my family’s footsteps, though Father was a businessman and Mother ended up working in various finance positions, so you see how that all works, I then doubled-down and began studying massive amounts of Psychology courses, and soon the same tonnage of Philosophy.

This was an unfocused mess of a process that took several years for me to complete, yet in 2012, complete it I finally did. It’s an ironic amount of student loans for someone who is now tripling down on the spiritual aspect of life as his main focus of function in this realm.

But that’s just the thing. Earn some coin o’ the realm. Rules are Royale, oui? It’s hard to seperate hierarchy from economy, and so we won’t at this current stage, suffice to say that the dimensions of meaning fold and warp even as we are able to support ourselves and live well-enough and be even more charitable to those who suffer because they have incarnated here and lost their proverbial way.

And so there is nothing right about refusing to apply yourself to this realm even if it is a bit gnarled and demigorgonesque at times. We must not fear the Jabberwock, but slay it, by Saint George. And that comes in this relevance in recognizing ‘necessary evils’ such as monetary systems, until you can fix it, and do so without marking yourself for a dum duum to the cranium, we must don the heavy armor of circumspection and benevolence.

The studies I took in my University years earning my BA all paraded in spherical atomic paths around the true ’empty’ core nucleus of ‘higher-level-advancement’ in the name of evolution, freedom, and healing. Great aspirations at different times in my life to this end included being a proper internal medicine doctor. Now it seems the best I can do for where I’m at is to write mostly coherent sentences.

These topics, the way they and I interact, it is subtle to describe with any meaningful efficacy in order to enhance the perception and reception of these ‘strange ideas’. For so great is the mind-control these days, so great is the assault on the freedom of thought, so great is the undermining of our basic liberties, that the pendulum swings, inadvertently, back in the direction of self-evolution, personal freedom, and healthy-minded-exploration.

Do not listen to the stories of the fear-mongerer. Just ignore their pathetic nature. There are heroes you do not even know exist, and it is good, for they cannot do their work if you know of them, in some cases. This is just how the world works, and this form of secrecy is not repugnant. A free and open society still has its secrets. And they always will.

To be an artisan of truth, perhaps that’s what I’m working at in this piece. It feels good just to be writing and attempting to make something … complete in if not its idea, at least its efforts. This is sorta my morning pages, but it’s also becoming vastly more like early phases of my life-long work. I do seem to like expressing myself, in the medium of words, as long as I can get going. Fearlessness, and Persistence seem to trump Inspiration, in particular flow times.

So to say that my interests in the esoteric, or the More Real Than Reality Itself, in intention and virtue and living well, all of which is energy, but let us not be so vague, we speak of the warp and weave, yes, the ebb and the flow, yes, the real vortex of whence all comes and returns… were always latent, this I am sure. But I was distracted.

This very act is esoteric, drawing the impulses of meaning somewhere from what seems my crown chakra to these dancing phalanges acrost the checkered tile grand manse ballroom the creation is almost very aware of itself, despite her digital lodgings. A paramor could never be more aware, of how her lover loves her as he births her in her own right.

I haven’t always been attentive to the act of being, in fact, I more often had sought to escape it, a fugitive from my own purpose and functionality, self-destroying of self-kind. And no one likes that shit, no one except other negative dynamos. And that is a major lesson of self-progression out of the whirlwind of maleficence and self-treachery. The act of writing this is an act of self-stablization, of self-evolution.

For to express in writing to the best of one’s current ability itself is a meta-act to the process of spiritual evolution and self-functionality progression. It leads to better spirits and higher challenges, in as it is like leveling up. It is not one act in a time-line. It is a clarion call in refrain that this is my song of strength and triumph, for I am CHOOSING to DO.

Thus it IS subtle that we hold these sways of being as I express my need and desire and practice to you for something so simple, so blatant, too overtly obvious hitting us over the head ¬†with a frying pan full of duh-oil. ow and hot hot hot, but yes, our focused attentions ARE there and see that by writing, I am being more ‘coin o’ the realm’… while expression spiritual needs.

Trust me, in my life, any writing that is done is practical writing. And it is good in-deed. See? I’m also in this process ‘finding my audience’. That will take a bit of time, but it is well on its way. This piece should fare and bare well in time, I imagine. I wonder if this type of verbiage will draw the spiritual, the intellectual, and the renegade. Perhaps.

I do not know why I choose that final noun. But all nouns are verbs. What if all verbs are nouns, at the same time, in the other dimensions? What if! But yeah, I’m not going to go further with that, not right now at least. Here in Wundabarland, one must play by the myriad rules, beginning with Natural Law, and progressing both in Spiritual Law and in Legitimate Practical Law.

To that last point, legitimate means not gaming the system. That’s both traitorous to this world and to the self- this simply means make your own and don’t worry about the crooks too much. With sufficient personal development it seems that you will either simply evolve to become too spiritual to care about such misdeeds, standing tall in any battle that comes your way, with virtue and taoist balance, or you will become so strong that any sort of misdeed brought in to your sphere will simply backfire on the Villain inherently.

So it seems, though I’m willing to entertain the thoughts of how heroic it is to die on the battlefield, not working for a mercenary outfit, but rather in the same name of the Patriots we allegedly laud (for we must assume their history is true, as it is presented us, convoluted and obscured as that is to my own self at this time, so I take an open mind’s position)… but rather in the name of Natural Rights. The rights that are not granted through a court of system of finance or of Bloodlines and Alien Geneticists.

For my own attempts to bring security to my own self through my own efforts, which is something that has been largely attempted to be wrested from so many of us (hence another angle of this spiritual progression – moral self mastery you may say), I write in the form of the spiritual man – inherent as it is in me to find topics that the audience can both learn from and understand and make part of their growth in turn, I but a node in this forest of actors… look now before me – there exists a body of work which, not an hour ago existed not.

The value of this piece may be nil. Or it may prove privy to the eventual bringing me of my fill of gil. Gilded gold is good to share, with those who will do much good with it. Helping the destitute and the ‘beyond repair’ is only a part of the good we do with it. You cannot know spiritual values unless you live them. And then it is utterly something you only know because you are doing it.

Do not take depression pills, I tell myself… when others ask about it either for themselves or if I have thought about it ever – I say – I am finding that keeping active with having some sort of purpose and refining myself in that purpose and then projecting it out in to the world is what it takes to keep me not only anti-depressed but in a feeling of real movement forward.

An employer of mine when I worked as a landscaper a few years back was a student of Gurdjieff’s. He studied under the man and master and imparted a few key pieces of wisdom to me that I will end this piece on for now, for I feel it nicely reflects the meaning I have tried to accomplish in writing this conveyance.

And that is to say that one every day should always keep the ball moving forward. Simple, I know, but it is that essential. Like having a schedule, and reviewing it the night before and intending to have a good day the next day, being strong in moments of crisis and focused so you can spread the necessary energy to avert that situation asap. Coz stuff will happen, it frankly freaking has to…

That is to say, this is a bittersweet post, for I know it is merely a beginning for me, rather, a series of milestones that marks this path of a higher, next level, yet this is really where the work begins, if I choose to accept it. To remain consistent. To remain focused and build an ark of my own covenant with TGAOTU, or Source as you may.

I have spent labor now, I have earned in some way ‘coin o’ the realm’, even if it is not readily apparent to me. This action is the sewing of seeds. Some will grow flowers, others merely leaves, some will rot fallow, whist even others become ancient trees, blowing softly, always softly, in the midsummer midnights full sky starlight laughing moon breeze.



The British Are Coming! The British (Came Too Soon) [Occult Fiction #1]

All’s well that ends well.

on this pernicious stage…

Here’s some ‘fun’ synchromysticism [astrotheological/astrohistorical analysis].

So here vee glow.

and we’re not gonna talk about Judy.

Doctor Joseph Warren is one of America’s most underknown heroes of the Revolutionary War, the war which is known historically as America’s War of Freedom and Independence from British Monarchic Rule/Crown Rule.

Both Dr Warren and I are Freemasons, and I value him as a Brother, while I Treasure him as a Patriot… a courageous man… a figure to live up to in my own personally-set life standards.

He was a humanitarian and was able to prevent smallpox from becoming a deadlier epidemic by helping cast broad a method of inoculation utilizing bits of string infected with the pustulous disease;

but we advance in rank of his life’s time to the point where he is known as the first real American casualty of the American Revolution.

Here’s where the sync-butter is now open on the table for you to spread on your wondertoast.

And here’s why… I’m a bit perplexed as to what to even think.

But… Warren. First American Hero.

Symbolic, eh?

Bostonian, no less. Famous for sending Revere AND Dawes on the ‘famous midnight rides’. Midnight and British to come soon… a warning sent out, The Lexington Alarm.

The War had in earnest begun with the words of Joseph Warren. He would die before the July 4, 1776* signing, but his blood was surely as much an admixture to that parchment’s ink as were any of the brave fighters who courageously lost their lives that others may live more free than not.

He prevented one British Invasion. With Another brave Bostonian’s death on 11/22/1963, a most wicked counterspell was cast and with it went the way of America, if it had slipped before with corruption, this truly was the portal gates wresting open.

JFK died. Shot. Murdered by the Men Who Killed Kennedy.

And we were to synchro-accept the INSULT to INJURY report. Named after, in curse effigy, of the original American hero. Don’t be fooled. The Warren Report is strictly symbolic, if not on the contents, than on the ‘front/face of it’.

Dig? Well, I don’t mind if you do or don’t. Them’s the facts, ma’am. (forty percent of this, eh?)

So as it were. I’ll cap this off (phrasing!) with how both Warren and Kennedy (God rest your heroic souls) were both ‘got in the head’. A head wound. Look in to that.

And what happened the next day/same day (time zones)? Doctor Who**, long/eternally-running ‘show’ which I’m not even going to get in to right now (but DON’T YOU DARE BLINK AND MISS THE JFK CONNEXIONS EVEN WITHIN THE SHOW ITSELF)…


and I’ll add some more midnight riders to this bill of passage (actually this link I have not really read, it looks like it could go either way – was looking for the Midnight Freemasons article on Doctor Who, but suffice to say, here’s something of potential relevant interest)¬†https://freshfromthequarry.com/2015/07/24/doctor-who-is-the-doctor-a-freemason/


Just remember – that’s DOCTOR Joseph Warren. God bless him and our Brothers and our families always.


Now I’m not associating Freemasonry with anything to do with anything besides Dr Warren and I are both FM and so too Doctor Who utilizes some symbolism related to St John’s Ambulance for instance, and it’s just a piece of correlating data without implying any cause nor relation. Just following the ripples by the light of skipping stone.

So then of course… the first time Warren was telling the truth and prevented a British invasion. Now the name Warren is associated with a lie, and the British pop media sends up a colourful flare declaring some symbiotic awareness on a sync level.



This was of course followed by The British Invasion.




*200 years later we get an album called ‘The Royal Scam’

**The War Doctor, get it? – Forget ye notte that mechanical robopuppy companion Nine-Eleven, I mean… K (eleventh letter of so-called English Alphabet) and niner niner niner is obvs a call-out synchromystically to the next ‘great tragedy’ in our country, where even some say Masonry itself was attacked, if you follow the Dr F/Bosley/Dark Journalist current on this one).

Glewcore Roc

long after the ember glew

trial by mercy and a skeleton crew

key to the guide of angels now

flickering in a gilded ghost field

strewn between the harvest livers

and the highly skilled mechanical sons

drawn upon the tracing boards

of seagulls and lost companions














across my back

and under

one knee

she threw me

for a loop


I heard her words as she

took me in

to her world

and then for three more

and then two more too many

in her stable

I was yearling buring

with electricity

straight from the horizon

we built her

temportaty wings

and I saw

I saw

and was in part

of her everything


the twilight dusk

doesn’t fall so well

within the south and western


and here we are

burning alive

one meal




and here we are


who knows









Apple of the Moon

apple of the moon

low shine ripples ripe waves on the

shores of your salty sweet fresh flesh

high on the ambition of the rhythm of your breath

salvation for the original sin

that broke from all to we

and here in the forest of the middle of the night

where in center hallowed grove womb

sits the lion, dances the unicorn

and silk shimmering

acrost the flesh

of the apple of the moon

Etruscan Notebook by Elena Clementelli

Cerverti Road:

over the drowsy voice of the pines

the long death contains stone words.

The secret language

slips on weapons,



and is gathered up by the sea

which alone can speak to the dead.

In the city of the dead

they tell tales of the living,

with discretion:

about us

and those to come,

heroes of a tradition always in the future

timeless gods.

The man who has bested time

has a different grammar,

therefore we do not comprehend

what the sea, only the sea understands.

To distract

restless curious boys

a dagger, a rope, a fan,

caved in the tufa.

by Elena Clementelli

The Penguin Book of Woman Poets

1978, 1989