I’ve always enjoyed the space between Christmas and New Years. These days are central to the Twelve Holy Nights (running traditionally from Christmas eve to the fateful J6 Epiphany, which for some reason no one notices is 13 nights), sacred in part due to the long period of darkness, and conducive to inner journeying and reflection. Also, according to biodynamics, a cosmic inbreathing flows into the Earth, thus us, and we connect better with these spiritual forces. Certain biodynamic preparations become potent through this movement, which are sprayed on the farm or garden in the spring. Growing has an interesting connection to Saturnalia, also celebrated now.
Saturnalia is the five day unloosening of what might be considered the typical stricture of astrological Saturn. Those days in ancient Rome involved Dionysian drinking, inversion of the master and slave status, no dress code, what amounted to burlesque performances, and we can imagine what else. But the Saturnus invoked then is the original god of seeds and agriculture, who ruled the cosmos during the Golden Age, when the human and divine realms were congruent. Also time in that age moved in a 360 day year, mapping onto the transcendent 360° circle. When the calendars shifted to 365 1/4, it marked an age less connected to our divine origins, alway off kilter, thus the five celebratory end of year days are ‘out of time’ and restorative.
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It is also the time for prophesy, and boy are we hinging on impossible timelines. So I woke up musing on Leonard Cohen’s song “The Future”. I will follow this post with another which is a paper about the song I wrote in maybe 2018.
My cousin Fran sent me a video of us at the 1965 NYC World’s Fair—Trump recently made mention of having a permanent world’s fair—taken by her dad, my uncle, when we were 7 and 10. My grandmother from Sicily is also there. Besides an amusing interlude where my mom is chasing me because I got wet under the fountains of the “one world order” Unisphere, the whole enterprise was about The Future. Everything was getting bigger faster better. SST’s from London to NYC in two hours. There was a 1967 CBS show called The 21st Century narrated by CIA asset Walter Cronkite with automatic cars, jet packs, personal robots and hand-held phones with TV.
Excepting computers morphing into phones, that future never manifested. No bullet trains, at least in the US. The SST had its last flight in 1978 (though plans are afoot for a return), the v8 engine that everyone knew had to repair is now a place I cannot locate a carburetor, personal robots are only sold in sex shops, we stopped going to the moon (yeah, I know, we stopped saying we did), that supposed 20 hour work week we were evolving toward is now taking three jobs to pay rent and groceries, all the gadgets giving us free time have sucked up our days into hours of swiping, deletion, filling dead forms and chasing verification codes, just in case someone wants to break into my account to pay the gas bill.
The future of time with family, time to pursue creative passions, has been denied us and replaced with infinite surveillance, functional illiteracy, ferret attention spans, and a continuous increase in the idiocy and asininity quotient. I feel gypped.
Things are going to slide, slide in all directions, won’t be nothing, nothing you can measure any more. The blizzard, the blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it’s overturned the order of the soul.
When they said “repent, repent”, I wonder what they meant.
Why they gave Dylan the Nobel for literature instead of Cohen is beyond me. Well, not really. Jabba the Kissinger won for peace.
We sitting in the limbo between years, between ‘administrations’, between world and soul orders, and between epochs. Either Trump the redeemer brings back the golden age in the form of a true justice system, represented by the words of half of his cabinet picks, or we remain the tools of an Israeli state openly bent on fulfilling their demonic deity Yahweh’s instruction to occupy all land from the Euphrates to Egypt, which is the stated desire supported by the other half of his cabinet picks, not to mention the evangelical Christian cabal.
The best we can hope for at this point is an end to the trafficking and mutilation of children, which is all connected to why we are in The Ukraine in the first place, center of trafficking, pharma and neo-con literal bloodlust. The possibility of it all being exposed exists, but the expanse is complete: hollywood, congress, mossad, cia, the church. But does Trump have the guts to take it out through to the roots? Even if he could? I am so jaded by now. All I see is a switch from the marxist-nazi consortium, ie globalist/neo-con/liberalism, to some sort of Christian dominionism, a US not ruled by the teachings of the Christos, but by the Hebrew bully. Even notice that preachers only quote the Old Testament? The bullhorns are already in place: from Tucker Carlson (the history major who believes the Christians have never-ever persecuted anyone in its history) to Candace Owens, to Russel (Mr. Rosary) Brand, to the old testament-spewing evangelicals hovering like drones over Trump. All podcasters (excepting Rogan) wear crosses and have to mention the dead god on the tree every show.
Repent indeed. Sin is the greatest con game control system in history. The original Greek word is hamarta, meaning “to miss the mark”, like in javelin throwing. It has no moral redemptive content. Leonard chants repent at least 20 times in “The Future”. And we know exactly what they meant. When Patti Smith sang “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine”, she was almost right. Except Jesus didn’t die (because he never walked this earth), and there is no such thing as sin. Get over it.
The new world to come, the Trumpian golden age, will maybe be a little cleaner and neater and soul-orderly under what Jason Brashears calls the “Christian reich”, at least on the surface. Then we will proudly be a heretics, devoted to Aletheia, truth, not dogma. And dogma will not set you free.
We will see . . .
Here are two epigraphs to upcoming Hermes Runs the Game to close the year with:
Now that you are one of us you will always feel lonely, and betrayed by what humans value, but loved by the echoing Holies. Get used to it.
—Chiv, Martín Prechtel’s Mayan shaman teacher, in The Unlikely Peace at Cuchumaquic
We long for the intelligent; the idiots are raining down on our heads.
—Turkish proverb
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Isn't there an archaic definition for 'sin' that means 'debt'?