Rocket Surgery and the Black Star

The sun is setting and the sky has taken on the hue of a perfectly ripe cantaloupe. A cold north wind blows the sky clean. To my right murmurations of starlings play in the dwindling light and Bowie croons on the car speakers. I have stopped here in a bank parking lot on the edge of a small Central Texas town to eat my dinner, a fried alligator po- boy. Soon the voice will come, I can feel the potency in the air. Meanwhile I sit in my private epiphany waiting for the Omen to come, as it always does in times such as these. I think back on how I learned to identify these moments, to feel the fluctuations in the force that let me know that spirit was moving towards me. The times when I must be silent and listen.

Bus Stop Epiphanies

I moved to Austin, Texas on April Fool’s day 1993, because the cards and the angels of Chaos told me too. I had previously died on whiskey and rootbeer and been resurrected by the Virgen de Guadalupe and San Martin de Porres in a garage apartment bath tub. My first marriage was over. My family was utterly confused by me and my desire for body modification. The dark yogas I practiced as a result of reading Peter Carroll, Phil Hine, and Georges Bataille were taking a toll upon my soul. Not even enchiladas eaten in the shadow of the Alamo could save me. After my death and subsequent resurrection it was clear that my path lead away from San Antonio to Austin. From Breckenridge to the Congress Avenue Bridge I followed the Mexican free-tailed bats.

When I first moved to Austin, I lived with my high school friend Mr Winters. He introduced me to Johnny Vagabond although he wasn’t using that name yet, no he was still Mr. Nations. Johnny became my mentor of all things green. Whereas Granny Jones had taught me how to grow, Johnny taught me what to grow. It was the time of Crash Collusion, Johnny’s zine about UFO’s, entheogens, conspiracies, TAZ, shifting paradigms, cryptozoology, and the OTO. It is said when the student is ready, the teacher will arrive. I was ready and Johnny gave me a job working on the graveyard shift at Kinkos. I rode the bus to work.

I had already taken the affectation of wearing black all the time, but to this I had added a cheap halloween witch hat and a backpack covered with rubber skeletons and brass bells. An urban wizard is what I fancied myself. Divine fool was probably closer to the truth.

One fine summer evening as I headed out to work I met St. Serendipitous. I was exploring strange music at the recommendation of MACUMBA zine out of Dallas, TX, so either I was listening to Exotica by Martin Denny or Tabula Rasa by Einsturzende Neubauten. My first bus stop was next to Toy Joy, Austin’s version of  Seattle’s Archie Mc Phee. There upon the box that housed all the electrics for the signals someone had wheatpasted a three headed being with Robert Anton Wilson, Dr. Timothy Leary, and Terrence Mc Kenna on the body of the dancing Shiva. In the background was the Sri Yantra with the Illuminati all seeing eye super imposed. Beneath this was a tattoo style banner that read The Three Stooges. I felt as if a door had opened. When I got to my transfer point, I found a book on the bus bench; The Transmigration of Timothy Archer by Phillip K Dick. Something about the light of the sunset, the cover art on the book, the music I was listening to, and the bats leaving their roosts just as we crossed the Congress Avenue Bridge, told me to pay attention; this was important. When I arrived at work Johnny asked me I ever read any Phillip K Dick. After I told him the strange tale of coincidence, he says matter of factly, “You’ve had an epiphany and that book is an omen.” Right he was and I have paid attention to shifts in energy every since.

The Black Star

I have been listening Bowie incessantly and reading  Gordon White’s Star Ships, which I highly recommend. Something about the origins of the Western Tradition considered from literally an entirely different angle and Bowie’s personal requiem dove tail nicely with my considerations over another failed marriage and the desire to travel. Star lore; I always come back to the stars. Whether I am recieving messages from the twelve as mentioned before, reading about our mythemes shifting to UFO’s, looking for Black Knight or the Space Station, or discovering new ideas from the field of archeoastronomy, I am still looking out into the Cosmic Ocean pondering the meaning of it all.

Here I am between the Epiphany and the anniversary of Bowie’s death talking about energies manifesting in my own life as Universe floods my awareness with little coincidences and synchronicities. Once again I am being drawn in by the deire to modify my body as a reflection of my inner processes. I still don’t know what a Black star is.

Rocket Surgery

I have come to realize how much I complicate my life. I create blockages before attempting to seek solutions. Take learning a new task as an example, before even considering how to make it happen, I have a ready litany of why it can’t happen. Lately when that happens, I call that impulse Rocket Surgery. Something that on the surface seems quite complicated but upon reflection is actually nonsense. So 2017 is the Year of Rocket Surgery. A year for defeating bogey men, false assumptions, and actual nonsense.

Back to the example of learning something new; instead of seeking reasons why I can’t, I look to creating strategies for how I can. Thank you, Jason Miller. Lets start with learning. Make yourself some flash cards, 3″ x 5″ index cards with a topic on one side and information on the other. You can learn tarot this way, herbs, aspects of ritual etc. Small, and compact, they travel anywhere. Make some when you have time, review while riding the bus, waiting at the doctor, or the pharmacy, etc. Read blog articles and listen to podcasts on the topic. Both can easily be digested during an average commute. All easy, doable, and conviently portable.

You can even cultivate more ritual into your life using this idea.Listen to music you find inspirational. Make mantras, for instance any time I use a bridge I say to myself, “Crossing water, crossing water, all hail the River Goddesses daughter.” If I’m walking I leave a penny or something on the bridge. You could practice “first fruits” when the weather is better. At lunchtime, before you eat take bits of your lunch and make small offering to your Matron, your Patron, or the Spirits of the land. Leave under a tree.

Meaningful Coincidences

A large part of magic as a practice is to create the conditions that increase synchronicity. This is what every sigil scribbled, every ritual enacted, and every prayer whispered is aiming at, to create conditions that the mage may manipulate to their personal advantage. There are many methods and techniques for accomplishing this, but only two directions by which this happens; internally directed or externally constructed. Only half of being a sage worker of magic is knowing how create meaningful coincidences, the other half is being open to messages coming from outside. Omens, oracles, serendipity, and all other synchronous messages. When Crow wants your attention, crow will appear everywhere, pay attention. When your magic is very potent these inner and outer machinations begin to feed each other and truly amazing things happen.

I have recently been blessed both by inwardly directed and outwardly noticed synchronicity. Whenever these types of events happen in my life I am always in awe at the strange and wondrous ways reality manifests around me. It is these liminal spaces that really open me up to a magical comprehension of what makes the structure of Universe possible. My conclusion based upon observation and experience is animistic and mystic. What I mean by this is that everything is “alive” in a spiritual sense, thus animistic, and ultimately interconnected into a whole, therefore mystic. This is what lies behind the veil, this is why magic is possible, and why universe communicates through potent symbols. This is why I pull into parking lots to watch murmurations of starlings and become mesmerised by their beauty. Here in the fading January light in my car the Omen comes and I realize that despite the tension of the coming days; a Great Awakening is also happening. I am a Black Star.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s