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anarcho-shamanism, mountain spirits; sacred wilderness, sacred sites, sacred everything; psychonautics, entheogens, pushing the envelope of consciousness; dominator culture and undermining its activities; Jung, Hillman, archetypes; Buddhism, multidimensional realities, and the ever-present satori at the centre of the brain; a few cosmic laughs; and much much more....


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Sunday 27 December 2015

Abyss



I tumbled out of bed at 8.30 the other morning, then staggered across the cold, hard floor into the bathroom. I had hardly slept a wink; when I dared to peer blearily into the mirror, it showed. My dried-out hair was flying in every direction, like an elderly Warhol gone wrong. The rims of my half-closed eyes were red, the eyes themselves shot through with fatigue. Sinuses were up, and my brain felt dessicated. In many ways I resembled the sunken-eyed protagonist of the chapter that I had read the evening before, the main prior condition for my nocturnal disturbances. The main difference was that he had, the day before waking in his Los Angeles apartment, jumped into an abyss thousands of miles away in the Mexican desert. Despite the plenitude of suitable precipices within a two-hour drive of my bathroom in northern Scotland I had done no such thing. Not to the best of my knowledge, at least.

The very mention of the word 'Castaneda' provokes a veritable avalanche of views, feelings, opinions and counter-opinions. Scattered across the face of the globe are the remains of those once-believers who still reel in confusion at the discovery that maybe not everything Castaneda wrote was true in the literal sense. These people feel betrayed, victims of a pseudo-spiritual conman par excellence. I find this slightly perplexing, or at least not very clever. When, along with a close friend, I first came across the writings of Casaneda in the mid-1970s, we did not question the literal verity of the books. There was the unmistakeable mark of authenticity about them, they resonated with something within us. And that was the most important thing. The tantrums of the disillusioned are not, I suggest, the mark of emotional maturity.

It occurs to me that people claim to learn plenty about life from Shakespeare, or for that matter Buddha, without resorting to literal verity. Fundamentalist Shakespeareanism is not commonplace. So why apply this criterion to Castaneda? 'Ah' the smart will pipe up. 'Shakespeare didn't pretend that his plays were real. And Buddha goes back so far that we don't know for sure. But Castaneda passed off his writings as literal accounts. They formed the basis of his doctoral degree. He was dishonest in the extreme, and a very bad man.'

This is the crux. People have a crisis of faith, not because the lack of literal truth makes Castaneda's work any less valuable, but because they feel duped. This pseudo-shamanic bastard has got one over on them. He has insulted their intelligence, their ability to discern. He has well and truly humiliated them. What a great teaching this is! Ego mortally bashed where it most hurts! They don't realise it, but these Carlos-knockers should be truly grateful for his artful piece of sorcery; it has done more good than a wheelbarrow load of books on self-improvement could ever do. And as for writing a thesis built on fiction - another master-stroke. If Castaneda is out to demonstrate anything, it is that our linear, 'rational' mode of experience is only one of many. Don't reify that university view of life as the biggest, best, or one-and-only, please. Should you do so, it's further proof that you haven't done your Castaneda studies properly yet.

Many are the critics and detractors from Castaneda's life and work. There are the knockers of literalism and academic deception that I have just written about. Then there is Amy Wallace, She was one of Castaneda's inner circle of witches, and has written a book about life with the Great Shaman, majoring on his sexual preferences and propensities, not generally in very glowing terms. There are others still who point out that Castaneda died in a way unbefitting a great Sorceror. Instead of living to 110 years old in rude health, then disappearing into a rainbow at sunset, he was afflicted by a particularly nasty form of cancer of the liver, and died at the unremarkable age of 72. What's more, rumour has it that he spent a portion of his last period on Earth watching war films. Most inappropriate.

Without wishing to exonerate Castaneda at all, I am left with the unavoidable impression that the criticisms of Castaneda say more about the critics themselves than about the object of their ire. Their presumptions, prejudices, preconceptions about what sorcerors do and how sorcerors behave. They are all, as Don Juan puts it in an early chapter of 'The Active Side of Infinity', making 'figures in front of a mirror'. Making their own show, their own display, saying 'look at me, with my shit-hot intellect, my shit-hot reason, my shit-hot debunking of this loathsome fraud and trickster.'

For worthwhile critique, there are John Lash's thoughful and thought-provoking articles on the themes in the 'Gnostic Castaneda' section of the Metahistory website, communicating more sense than most of Castaneda's critics put together. Meanwhile, it remains for me to say that, in my view, there is one fatal flaw in the Castaneda world, a flaw not uncommon among the moulders of spirituality of a certain generation. Needless to say, it is a topic that appears to have passed Castaneda's hardcore detractors by. I shall return to this topic at a later date.

In the meantime, the volume giving rise to my early morning horrors is 'The Active Side of Infinity', in my view one of the finest and most important volumes in the Castaneda library. Written during the final passage of Castaneda's time on Earth, it catalogues the 'memorable events of his life'. The creation of an album of these memorable events is, according to Don Juan, a vital piece of work for the warrior-traveller. Having read the book several times, and on each occasion spellbound, I begin to understand just why.



  

    



  

  

Tuesday 22 December 2015

Down By The Riverside



Oh please. Just a few small ones. Please...... please!!!

On another occasion my wife and I were walking beside the river when we spotted four seagulls standing in the shallows. Nothing unusual about that: seagulls are all over the place hereabouts, even viewed as a pest by some people on account of their learned behaviour of dive bombing unsuspecting victims for their sandwich. On this occasion, however, the four seagulls were totally immobile, standing perfectly in line, all four pointed in precisely the same direction, and all standing on one leg. It was a sight both comical and magnificent in equal measure. We were not the only ones to notice the remarkable sight: a young male tourist was down by the river, camera in hand, smiling as he looked in their direction.

We watched for a moment before preparing to continue our walk. I then noticed something a little strange about the tourist with camera. Surely plenty of time had passed for him to take his photos, but he hadn't moved from the spot. What's more, his smile had hardened into a broad grin that had taken on imbecilic proportions. The birds were amusing, but not that amusing, I thought. He was beginning to look quite idiotic. It was at that moment that the truth dawned on me. The young man with camera wasn't taking photos of the gulls at all. In all likelihood he hadn't even noticed them. What he was taking was a selfie.



Monday 14 December 2015

An Unholy Trinity






Nigel Farage. Jeremy Corbyn. Donald Trump. Not the kind of dudes who normally check in to Pale Green Vortex. They do, however, have more in common than may appear at first sight. They deserve their day in the sun (kind of).

One region of common ground is the way that they have the habit of uttering utterances that are not fashionable, devised for media appeal, not even politically correct, goddammit. In the face of that monstrous juggernaut that is global imperialism, they dare to speak their mind. Sometimes, anyway, and to a degree. All three demonstrate a certain fearlessness in putting their heads above the parapet, to utter things loathsome to the orthodoxy. Regardless of how we may feel about the content of some of these utterances, we should feel grateful that there are a few high-profile folk around who speak their mind - or, indeed, have a mind of their own to speak about. We live in times when such people are sorely needed.

While Mr. Farage seems to have gone into hibernation, Messrs Corbyn and Trump hit the headlines, in Britain at least, on a daily basis. The amount of outrage, venom, scorn, and holier-than-thou righteous indignation spewed in their direction by large sections of the mainstream media is truly jaw-dropping. The attack is relentless and unrelenting. This, in itself, should alert us to the possibility that they might actually be onto something.

Last week it was Corbyn, daring to suggest that bombing the hell out of a place that British forces have no god-given right to be bombing might not be the brightest idea. This week it's been Mr. Trump with his idea of banning Muslim immigration into the USA while they sort out how to deal with the threat of terrorism. What is most revealing is the viciousness with which the guy has been attacked. In this way, the underlying problem shows itself. Headlines have appeared openly and shamelessly in the mainstream media: Trump a bigger threat to the USA than terrorists. Large numbers of people who have surely lost their own mind are baying for him to be banned from entering the UK. Hang on a minute, folks, let's get this straight. The guy's not actually going around shooting Muslims, or threatening to do so. He is simply expressing his point of view, that's all.

Thus does truth emerge. As pointed out previously on Pale Green Vortex, the mainstream agenda isn't really too concerned about terrorism. Look just below the surface, and you will find that it can be found funding groups engaged in terrorist activities. Furthermore, the occasional terrorist outrage provides a ready-made raison d'etre for our western governments to continue  their policies of aggression and increased control over the general public - all in the name of national security, you understand. These are all players on the same ball park, playing a game that they all know only too well. Terrorists and the executives of global imperialism understand one another's games intimately.

No, folks, the real war is not on terrorism, but on those who dare to point out that the emperor wears no clothes, and his naked body smells bad. On those who dare to insinuate that the war is on independent minds and independent thought, and it is a war bent on the destruction of the magnificent human spirit. Anyone who deviates from the mean is deemed dangerous, a threat. It's bizarre, but Trump now finds his place in a lineage that goes back to once-most-dangerous-man-in-the USA Tim Leary - and way beyond, of course.

Here in Scotland, our local chief executive of global imperialism, Nicola Sturgeon, has weighed in with her voice in favour of exclusion of Mr Trump from these fair shores. At the same time, procedures are now being put in place for refugees to be able to enter Scotland openly and 'legally' with fake passports, or no documentation at all. There will be proper prior checks on anybody entering, we are told; but these 'checks' are ones that appear to me to be, well, not exactly bomb-proof. Always one to jump on the right-on politically correct bandwagon, Sturgeon is allowing anyone in who passes themselves off as a refugee - while simultaneously wishing to bar someone else simply for their views.

There is a strange schizophrenic attitude to Islam. On the one hand, a number of 'believers' are held responsible for 9/11 and nearly every other terrorist atrocity of the past fifteen years. At the same time, any discussion regarding Islam and its adherents requires the wearing of kid gloves. Criticise at your peril. Above all, we must be careful not to offend people of different faiths. Here on Pale Green Vortex, it's always been pretty clear. Monotheisms - the main ones today being Christianity, Islam, and Judaism - all score badly on a range of scales, in their exoteric forms at least. They all have the tendency to persecution, suppression, a neurotic need to convert or exterminate non-believers. No monotheism gets the vote on Pale Green Vortex.  

Hate speech, hate crimes. These, too, reveal their true nature. While their public, 'official' aim is to protect those in need of protection, in reality they are used to suppress  views and opinions inconvenient to the dominant worldview. Few pieces of legislation are as full of ill-will as those rolled out against 'hate'. A look at various cases from around the world demonstrates how this type of legislation is used, not just, or mainly, against those who propagate violent terrorism, but against people who criticise the actions or ideas of certain groups of people, particularly Jews and Muslims as it turns out. 'Hate crime' legislation is a brilliant piece of work, perfect for shutting people up and ensuring that their opinions are not heard. Truly Orwellian.

While speaking of things Orwellian, here is a newsflash! Even as I write, news is coming in from the grand finale of the Climate Change Conference over in Paris. At  the very last minute, a deal has been brokered to Save the Planet! Well, thanks, guys and gals, that's great. Here at Pale Green Vortex we really appreciate that. We especially liked the photos of you giving yourselves a standing ovation. Fully deserved, I'd say. The planet is saved - fantastic!

Oh, hang on a minute. The bullshit-ometer in the corner of the living room has gone onto maximum red alert. It's started shaking and shuddering. It's gone completely off the scale. Oh no! This can mean only one thing. Oh dear! Now it's completely exploded, splattering nasty little gooey bits all over the carpets and curtains. This is going to take a while to clean up. I'd better sign off now........




      

Saturday 5 December 2015

Bunches of Bullshit



Frome time to time the dark clowns like to get together, to have a chinwag, solve the problems of the world, sip port and nibble caviar together. It gives them reassurance, makes them feel good about what they are doing. One of their favourite jaunts is to the occasional conferences that take place on the subject of climate change. For example, the one in full Parisian swing at the moment. In this case, they emit enormous quantities of carbon dioxide jetting around the world, to be able to sit down and talk about the evils of emitting carbon dioxide.

Any regular visitor to Pale Green Vortex will, I hope, have taken in the reality that most of this is complete bullshit. Another classic case of things not being what they appear to be. Not one little bit. Thankfully, there is an excellent summary debunking most of the false claims made by the anthropogenic warming crew. It's linked to below - find Christopher Booker's article for early December this year. For his tireless and excellent work on this most tiresome topic, Christopher Booker gets heartfelt thanks from Pale Green Vortex. For services rendered to the pursuit of truth, he deserves a decent rebirth.

So read, and all will become clear.......


www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/columnists/christopherbooker/

image: tapnewswire