So, the illusory
reality – and the future of proselytes the likes of Bezos (who drops his wife
at the drop of a hat) – is a logical fallacy that supposes the universe to be
ordered, as opposed to having the attributes of a body (symmetry, proportion).
The fallacy in
part results from the fact that the heads (of acolytes) can’t deny their own
physique, and the result seems to be physical boredom (see Grace Slick quote
Hyborian Bridge 62/1)
Staying with Le
Mepris (Pictorial 56) the sheer symmetry of Bardot (as Penelope) is
breathtaking. There’s a scene which cuts from a playhouse in Italy, where
Bardot is wearing a black wig, to a boat in Capri, where she is
resplendent in her golden locks. Truly a
Mediterranean goddess brought to life!
In the Ymir myth
“hair=plants” (here seaweed)
It’s our
universe of the warrior and the maiden (priest and farmer) - also Tarot, physical/psychic destiny, lifedeath - which has been
stolen by the carrion-feeders of the earth (see Ymir Pictorial 56) doubling as
scientists. How can I say that? Because we all live on Earth and we all need to
utilize its resources.
It’s futile to maintain
one lives in one’s brain when all the visual signs are that we live on Earth
and are constantly burrowing into it. In other words, scientists act like
carion-feeders while posing as logical thinkers.
I know this can
all sound terribly abstract; here’s one example that was in the news. Grand
Teton National Park plans to utilize phone masts so that, “You’re denying
people the ability to disconnect” (Jeff Ruch, Pacific dept of PEER). The
installations should set the tone for US parks in the future.
This plan is
just one example of the disregard of the physical reality of Earth for the
mental unreality of the head. As I believe I said previously (Hyborian
Bridge 37) the head is electrochemical impulses; everything, bar nothing, we
experience is nothing but that.
What has to
count much more is our appreciation of physical reality as a thing in itself
outside of our heads. Now, how do we know it’s outside of our heads? Again, by
the fact that it’s not ordered – not strictly verifiable – and in short is not
part of the Apollonian order.
Hence, it is
part of the hunt, the American Indian tradition, the cowboy tradition of
steering, the dirt and stench of the range. The other side to that equation is
the fairyland of gambolling kids in rosebuds of May. The cycle of lifedeath.
The way to get
out of the head is simply to saddle-up. It’s as simple and seemingly impractical
as that!
My Darling
Clementine (spot the cow
bones and vultures)
People merging
with landscape in the stockades of yore. The scene invites cattle to stampede
into the frame. The filth and noises and ripe aromas are not to everyone’s
taste, to be sure
The city has its
place, but the country is where the body connects to the rugged grandeur of the
body of nature. Opposed to both are the carrion-feeders/fact-feeding acolytes
who live only in their heads.
Instead of the
visual simplicity of a symmetrical universe, they supply a non-physical
universe of algorithms and DNA. The fallacy of this is that, even as the head
becomes less aware of its own physicality, it relies ever-more on the physical
resources of Earth, as an oblivious carrion-feeder.
There is no
action inside the head, and this is what a primeval landscape represents. The
clouds, the cliffs, the crags, the wooden posts, the damsel in billowing
skirts.
The land of
earth and flesh and the primeval cow is original and therefore strong and pure.
What “they” want is for the body no longer to merge into primeval reality, and
therefore they aim to change the head to become ever less physically aware.
This unreality, the hall-of-mirrors, has the illusion of truth, very persuasive
to the perspective head.
The answer to
this is really to use the head in the opposite way, introspectively, to dream
and connect with ancient signs in our subconscious. These signs match to the
body of the physical landscape, the fierce symmetry of bovine herds, the harsh flatness
of the plain, crags and scudding clouds (all together).
The harsh simplicity
is strong and pure and feeds our dreams and reason to live (the lyric “Feed
your head” in White Rabbit one assumes to mean introspectively, dreamlike,
rather than factual/political).
