By Brian George
With three quarters the Man rose upwards; one quarter remains here
“What was the original model, and what was the copy, and what was the connection between them?”—From “The Creation of the Sacrifice,” The Rig Veda
Among other things, Roger Scott wrote:
“Someone's first-hand experience can be taken with a grain of salt as concerns their 'interpretation(s) (of hard inter-dimensional data).
“When I asked for 'references', it wasn't for some self-reference. I could do that. I can ask any reader to refer back to something I wrote before and so make circular nonsense appear to be 'referenced'…
“Do better. Present a crystal-clear delineation of bare-bone FACTS!
“Right. We'll get meat-of-fact from fictional characters or maybe someone who's got an 'e-meter'…
“Imposing world on dream or vice versa: gonna lead to some problems…
“And as enunciated above: internal, self-referenced or hermetic certainty is nothing to the world at large.”
Let Indra the killer of Vrtra drink Soma in Saryanavat
“He is the navel of all that moves and is firm, who with his mind stretches the thread of the poet.”—From “The Hidden Agni”, The Rig Veda
“They forced up the fountain with their power; they split open even the mountain on its solid base. Blowing their reed-pipe, the Maruts who give fine gifts performed joyous deeds in the ecstasy of drinking Soma.” –From “The Maruts,” The Rig Veda
In responding to Roger Scott, I did not attempt to counter his “rational” arguments with similar arguments of my own; instead I incorporated many of his points and phrases into a mythological narrative, before presenting a brief description of the method behind the madness.
Pretty harsh, and surprisingly incurious for someone who is rumored to be a serious student of the Vedas.
In pursuit of the 1-inch hyperobject, and, at will, moving up or down into the shadow known as “History”, those yogic poets followed where their energy systems led. Speech was the technology that gave birth to each archetype. Their random moods prompted changes in the weather; their fears could easily be mistaken for an army, against whose numbers an “enemy” would be delegated to advance. They did not need eyes to see; their vision was omnidirectional. They would not have put their trust in the “good intentions” of the gods. They would have asked questions and demanded answers from them.
To them, seeing was not believing; for even a good memory played tricks. A day was 4,320,000 years long, and no act of conjuration was ever to be taken at face value. The 1 law: to breathe in and out. Nature was not other than the fossilized image of one’s body—that an alien presence had made somehow discontinuous. First-hand knowledge was of a world that one had made with one’s own hands.
Snares had been set. In spite of the hermetic certainty of the magicians, and in spite of their explosive focus, the spell cast by the powers of devolution grew. Some strange trick of perspective had occurred.
The Satya Yuga and all of its wonderworks were now written off as a “hoax.” Few remembered that to speak was to create.
The Vedic seers became as nothing to the world at large.
—But I digress. Possessed by the 1-inch hyberobject, my intoxication is such that I am ignorant of the year. You must educate me. Much thanks for drawing the 3-ring target on my head; for by striking it you will wound yourself. And so, my ritual counterpart, let us start again:
My goal in posting “The Invasion of the Bindu”—which is based on a short piece posted in September of last year on the forum for Daniel Pinchbeck’s “Absorbing Orbs”, and which was revised over the weekend in response to issues raised on the “Crop Circles; An Invitation” forum—was not to present a scientific argument or to provide you with any “proof” of the phenomena that I describe; it was rather to call attention to the “direct experience” component of empiricism, which has long since been supplanted by the component of “objective observation.”
Let me say this very simply—I don’t believe that any amount of fact gathering is ever going to illuminate the mystery of crop circles, or open us to participation in the type of dialogue that is being offered. Without assistance from the lamp of intuition, and without the raw fuel of other-dimensional experience, the vehicle of abstract theory is not going to go anywhere at all. This is like the classic story of putting 10,000 monkeys in front of a row of typewriters, and waiting to see how long it will take them to come up with a version of “Hamlet” by banging on the keys at random. It is just not going to happen; or would, if possible at all, take longer than the amount of time left in the universe.
My objective in this, as in much of my work, is to speak directly to the deeper levels of the mind, to disorient and to provoke, and to challenge the reader to reconfigure the very structure of his/her thought. This, I believe, is also the objective of the actual makers of the circles, who are neither human hoaxers nor benevolent and/or evil aliens from a “different” part of the Milky Way—but rather something almost unimaginable from the “inside” of our present state of amnesia.
Once, an alien technology had coiled Soma in a cloud-mass; the life-force did not flow. Some regard this as the origin of the digestive system, or of the convolutions of the neo-cortex. We are what we ate. We are trapped within the factory to which we had herded other species. We must act, and yet even the most omniscient of our actions lead to death. As if planning for a war, the problems that we face are practical: by what means can we liberate our vision from the cloud-mass, and thus reconnect with the energy of the Zero?
Questions and answers go hand in hand. One leads the other, and the questions that we ask determine the answers that we get. We keep on asking questions—ad infinitum—for love means never having to say that you are sorry.
It is for this reason that we do not “see” or “hear”—or at least not like we used to; when, as resonant space, we gave birth to the gods.
Then we questioned the reliability of our omnidirectional senses, but, once having sorted through each atom of the evidence, we were just as happy to throw caution to the wind. We listened with wide-open ears. We did not hesitate to act upon our vision. Now, our eyes and ears have shrunk. One thought no longer fills immensity; false messengers stuff our heads with information. The more space we fill the fewer gigabites of memory are available. We do not always recognize that an answer is an answer.
Like a lightning bolt aimed at the dark bellies of the cloud-mass, a glyph can blast apart our conceptual obstructions. It must come from the “outside.” Through 8 overlapping worlds, flashing “in” and “down” from the circumference to the center, it will there imprint the map of its descent.
Quite suddenly, the “world” has stopped.
The world that is in front of you has stopped. Worlds continue to explode out of the back side of the mirror.
Do not attempt to adjust the settings on your television set.
For we control the Vertical. We control the Horizontal. But perhaps we faceless manipulators are not who or what we seem.
We may or may not have played both sides off against the middle. In the end, our “both/and” logic will prevail. What I have just said is true in a “manner of speaking”; it is one way to frame a fairly complex issue. Other tricksters may say otherwise.
Let us look once more at the following critique of my approach, which through the centuries has appeared in a long series of variations. The inventor of the Snare, once known as Vrtra, wrote: “I can ask any reader to refer back to something I wrote before and so make circular nonsense appear to be 'referenced.’” My reasoning may well seem circular, it is true; since the circles pose a non-linear challenge to the Psyche—one “gets them” or one does not; with all relevant details to be filled in later by some more transpersonal version of the Self.
In “Allogenes”, a manuscript from the Nag Hammadi Library, the author describes a kind of protean figure that can be understood only through his contradictions. Anonymous writes:
“He is superior to the Universals in his privation and unknowability. For he is not perfect but he is another thing that is superior…He is not corporeal. He is not incorporeal. He is not a number. He is not a creature. Nor is he something that exists…And he is much higher in beauty than all those that are good, and he is thus unknowable to all of them in every respect. And through them all he is in them all, not only as the occult knowledge that is proper to him. And he is united with the ignorance that sees him.”
It is not a question of raising one’s I.Q., or of meeting the most famous thinkers of one’s period at a seminar, or of finding the key to some lost theorem of Pythagoras, or of betting on the biggest dog.
For Darwin is dead, thus proving the Theory of Evolution wrong; he was unfit to survive. You will argue that I am not “playing fair.” Yet “I”, as well as “We”, am here; we have never ceased to live. We have put our shoulders to the wheel of Time; by stealth our energy has assassinated both Darwin and his opponents. Space does not need to be “created” by a god; it is the vacuum from whose geometry the past and future are projected.
We are going nowhere fast; even as we are not going anywhere at all. It is not a question of figuring out this or that; we must instead let go of our every preconception. The New Human will then improvise a new set of laws for Supernature, which every cosmonaut will be free to follow or to disregard, as he/ she chooses. This new/ old world will be almost infinite in its simplicity, and tactile; touch will be used to translate the most convoluted of archaic texts.
If there is any “end” that is imminent—and I do not dabble in linear speculations of this type—then I believe that this has to do with the completion of one particular stage in our growth, and with the breaking apart of the shell that has—for this period of 5200 or 12,000 or 26,000 years—protected us; even as it has blocked us from full access to our origins.
2) There is an excellent translation of the Rig Veda by Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty. In the introduction she has a comment on the peculiar style of the Vedas that I immediately saw also as a description of my work. She writes:
“The hymns are meant to puzzle, to surprise, to trouble the mind; they are often just as puzzling in Sanskrit as they are in English. When the reader finds himself at a point where the sense is unclear (as long as the language is clear) let him use his head, as the Indian commentators used theirs; the gods love riddles, as the ancient sages knew, and those who would converse with the gods must learn to live with and thrive upon paradox and enigma.
“The riddles in the Rig Veda are particularly maddening because many of them are Looking Glass riddles (Why is a raven like a writing desk?): they do not have, nor are they meant to have, answers. They are not merely rhetorical, but are designed to present one half of a Socratic dialogue through which the reader becomes aware of the inadequacy of his certain knowledge.
“This deliberate obfuscation of issues that are in any case intrinsically unfathomable seems to add insult to injury; one feels that the hymns themselves are mischievous translations into a ‘foreign’ language. Like the Englishman who announced that he preferred English to all other languages because it was the only language in which one said the words in the order that one thought of them, one feels that the Rig Veda poets are not saying the words in the order that they thought of them, let alone the order that we would think of them.”