Bye Bye Beautiful

It’s not the tree that forsakes the flower
But the flower that forsakes the tree
Someday I`ll learn to love these scars
Still fresh from the red-hot blade of your words

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Broken dolls, broken toys, even Satanism attracts them. Actually, the darker and deeper the pit, the more of them buried in it. Some people think that the mere switching of labels and ideologies will cure them of their emotional issues. When they realize that Jesus hates them, they start searching for love in Wicca or in some New Age bullshit. If they don’t find love in Wicca, they turn to Thelema. If they don’t find love in Thelema, they turn to Atheism or LaVeyan Satanism. If LaVeyan Satanism doesn’t fulfill their need for love, they turn to theistic Satanism or the ONA thing. If they find that the theistic Satanism or the ONA thing don’t love them, they fly to some other mystical or pseudo-mystical mambo jambo. The usual reason is: People are bad, they don’t like me here. Perhaps, they will like me if I “reinvent” myself. Sometimes, those broken dolls return to Christianity as new-born Christians, ready to preach the gospel of love to everyone, if only to drown out their own inner demons.

Meanwhile, the tumor of self-hatred grows and grows, feeding regularly on ever-present guilt and shame. External circumstances and other people merely activate what is already festering inside.

There are consequences for even minor kind of non-compliance. Conformity is often rewarded but defiance is punished. Always. Whether you go against social norms, someone’s expectations or your own habits or principles. There are no exceptions to this and there will never be, even if you think it should be otherwise. As one smart guy once wrote “Life sucks, and yes, people do suck. Fuck forbid you also suck... The devil is not an advocate of pleasure, at least, not without tribulation. One must earn their horns and hooves. Endure some of what Hell has to offer, and baby if you do it right, you’ll come back on fire, and smokin’ hot.” The social rejects sometimes join the Satanic or other avant-garde groups, temples or orders expecting to be rewarded for their naughtiness and freakishness, to get some cookies for their Satanic rebellion. Perhaps, the Devil was lying when he lured you to the dark side promising cookies.

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It’s really amusing when some ONA kiddies, when they feel unloved and unappreciated, get all neurotic and have an emotional meltdown. For the purpose of this blog, let’s assume their all too embarrassing meltdown is for real. Then they start complaining about Uncle Myatt being an asshole, so full of himself and surrounding himself with ass-kissers. Now, what if they are right? Suppose Uncle Myatt, despite all of his poems and mystical writings, is really an asshole, has always been an asshole and has never stopped being an asshole. Why should the guy who is said to have founded the Satanic order be like Virgin Mary? Especially if we take into account that many Holy Fathers of the Catholic Church were most perverted libertines, it is quite strange that some expect Satanism to attract guys with the heart of a dove. Satan was an asshole himself, a pathetic fuck, who refused to serve in heaven because he was… so full of himself. So he was cast into the fiery pit where he was served and adored by his minions, still being proud and arrogant.

I can’t really blame the chap if he likes others adoring him. I would go even further and claim that he founded the Order of Nine Angles for the sole purpose of having his sinisterly-numinous Ass worshiped. If someone does his job of ass-kissing well, no wonder he is rewarded. Now let’s push even further and assume that all the orders, Satanic or otherwise, exist only for the worship of their founders’ asses. Let’s now entertain even braver conspiracy theory that Anton LaVey was in fact a Christian and invented Satanism to con gullible people who thought of themselves as special snowflakes but, in fact, were searching for the peer approval. Would any reasonable person trust a bald guy, with the goat’s beard, who was moreover stinking like a foul goat?

Ass-kissing is a true Satanic ritual of initiation, kinda like the one the witches at Sabbath were practicing when they were kissing the Devil/Goat’s ass in a truly religious frenzy and sexual ecstasy. The Devil is no gentleman, he’s no aristocrat, don’t be fooled. He has no manners, he’s a foul stinking and evil creature having no consideration for anyone. Even old guys indulging in “mystical peregrinations” and Greek translations can be perverted sociopaths. To err is human.

Does that a lil bit exaggerated picture strike a nerve with you, dear reader? It’s because you deny darkness in yourself and in other people. You focus only on the light, ignoring the shadows. Thus you miss the Whole that is a human being. You idealize people because you need to have some perfect and pure idol, a sacred cow that you can put on a pedestal and worship. You are a natural follower who gets furious when your idol doesn’t live up to your sentimental expectations. You are disappointed and denigrate the mythos because you were deluding yourself that the real people were as beautiful and fucking romantic as their mythos. The mythos exists for its ow sake. It’s real as long as it continues to inspire. And real people… well, they probably suck. As you suck. As I suck. As we all suck. Enlightenment is nothing else than shattering your illusions.

 

The Savior

Disappointment is a sort of bankruptcy – the bankruptcy of a soul that expends too much in hope and expectation. – Eric Hoffer

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There comes the time in your life when you realize it is impossible to put together the shattered glass or that the diamond you cherished for so long is only a piece of trash. You can hold the sham in your hand and still delude yourself it is a gem or accept the bitter truth and throw it away.

Disillusionment has many faces. Each will haunt your memory for days, months or even years and hurt like a knife stabbing your chest. Whenever your dreams are shattered, the part of you dies. The reality you must face is too often gloomy, unfriendly or even scary. This and the painful realization that you have been deluding yourself for so long.

When the guy you were in love with turns out to be someone else than a prince in the golden castle, when your dream job turns out to be a nightmare, when your friends reject you, when you lose your religion and when you see you’re not as perfect as you thought you were, bafflement, bitter disappointment and remorse are likely to follow. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so blind? I was in love. I was totally enchanted. I trusted my friends. I thought I could do that. Perhaps, I disappointed my friends. I was not a good wife. I could be more attractive. I could do better…

Cold evaluation of yourself and others is definitely in order, though not before you bury your dreams and illusions and let the grief pass. They deserve the mourning like the dead children, because they were part of you. Then and only then can you move on.

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Every wall is a door. The end of something is the new beginning, an opportunity to look inside. The God that can save you will come from the darkest depths of your mind, your inner voice, your real self, real, not imaginary, not illusory and that voice will lead you along the path, your own path of life. The feeble voice so often unheard because of the loud and persistent gabble of experts, religious leaders, authority figures and all those who think they know the best how you should live your own life.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.