Art and Artifex

There's a point where push comes to shove, pain becomes the weak, aloneness beckons the selfish, over-fullness begs the spill. A point on a map. Charted in coal and charred on your soul. No water, no sponge, no washing, no brushing. Away from integrity. This point is a membrane breaking and a part of you seeping through. It's the tip of the dart as it pushes through your skull and splits you in half. It's the point of intersection between you and your shadow's gaze, each one reflecting upon the other, none seeing eye to eye. This point, in Another's eye, is merely Art.

There's also a point when you make endless ends meet, opposites coincide, male and female conjunct. When you make struggle bare fruit, skill bare mastery, mystery, majesty. It's the point of clutching the dagger and pushing it through the back of your shadow, letting it bleed, igniting the fire, melding the glittering shards, and gifting the whole to another. To The Other. It's the point where you were your Priest and are now Artifex to Another.

Date with Illusion. Date with Destiny

When Neptune enters 7 degrees Pisces, I serve you. The heart opens into a blood eagle, the throat exhales into the sighs of the world, my eyes close into an open Eye, the mind unites into the Light. I heal. When Illusion meets certainty, they battle, and only one overcomes.

When purpose meets choice, spirit meets shell, toll meets life, and destiny meets identity, we serve each other. From South to North and East to West, rise to fall and beginning to end. We heal. When destiny hits you, you struggle, only one wins.

Purpose. Self. Others. Serve. Each Other. Sacrifice. End.

It's Not Horror, it's Welcome To Night Vale. From Personal Consciousness to the Collective Unconscious

In my journey around here, I stumbled upon this little gem that put a big Sagittarian smile on my face. As I grew to love it, I eventually reached that dreadfully painful yellow stage, eons more painful than the black, where I wondered and became highly interested in what others thought of it, as a deep thirst for connection dawned upon me. Then I read this:

Okay, why is everyone falling in love with this? It simply isn't funny, it's just describing random events. It's like some writer decided to jot down whatever he thought of and have somebody read it. It was actually painful to listen to. There is no plot or character development and no attachment to the town. It is bad in every objective way possible.

I struggled with it for a bit, and then decided upon this:

Precisely. The writer(s) DID jot down whatever (t)he(y) thought of and THAT is why it's terrifying and generally appealing. When one writes down like that, it's called stream of consciousness, but I would much rather call it automatic writing. Due to the continuous, stream aspect of it, this technique lets the unconscious seep through the conscious. If used right, and by right I mean often, intensely, and insightfully enough, it enables one to bypass the conscious part of the mind completely and open the door to the hidden region of the self, which has a personal but also a collective side (you know, that place where the fear of death and a bunch of other general stuff are said to reside). The writers of Night Vale masterfully did just that. They pretty much unleash the collective unconscious archetypal creatures (disguised as glow clouds) on you, and you are either repelled or amused, depending on your relationship with that part of the human mind.

Since the unconscious is a very terrifying thing to confront/ become conscious of when unprepared, listening to something created with this technique is at least unnerving. For people who have already confronted and won over the (collective) unconscious, meeting it again is amusing, like meeting an old foe turned friend. If you find that you do not resonate with any of the things described by Cecil, it is because you are too high up in your conscious self to even realize there may be things you are completely unaware of, regarding yourself and anyone else. You are completely unconscious about the unconscious. You haven't reached Nigredo yet. Shuffle along and go on pretending to be awake.