Exorcism of Corona

Thanks, Ed, I will try to remember that. Prometheus is a character I much admire. That archetypal figure is on my mind a lot lately as the theft of fire brought down the wrath of the Gods…but where did the Gods get the fire from? And how can you claim your group owns fire? Much like corporations who claim they own your genes or seeds of plants, or the water we drink, or the air with breathe, we are in need of enough people who can still revolt against this and call it what it is. Evil is not the opposite of love. Love has no opposite. Love is not able to handle Evil if Love fails to recognize where it comes from. What is needed is to discover the daemonic in the demonic. My father was a bad seed. But I am not a bad seed, nor are my brothers. My father said," I gave you life and I can take it away." This is demonic. The father who asked me to sit in his lap ( I was about five years old) and wept because I would someday leave him, was lost. A child can’t take care of daddy. No child can do that.

So if a parent tries to take your fire or douses water on you, you must resist and find the right time to exit. And don’t look back. God bless the child who has his own.

If you had good enough parents you are blessed. But whether you had bad parents or good parents we have to find a way of moving beyond the Master/ Slave dynamic.

We are having to take back our fire from those who would claim it their own. We must wake up. Magic alone will not save us, nor will reason alone work against this ancient vampire force.

The Master/Slave dynamic is working through us in varying degrees and on a collective scale. I have few answers but a lot of questions and questions about my questions.

A writer I much admire who had a terrible mother addressed this issue. His mother who suicided at the age of thirty, never hugged him, kissed him, said a kind word. He admits he hated her. He said, " We can’t find our way home without evil." This is a very Gnostic idea. Our biological parents may not be our real parents. Many of us feel like orphans. But we can find, through the Imaginal Body, an enormous power.


This is a Relevant Podcast,Very Interesting how these Guys connect the Dots of Time?


Michael, is there another way I can listen to this? The player is not all there, cut off, and no PLAY button, etc.

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Try this:https://www.weirdstudies.com/
it’s #69 Podcast,this should take U straight to their Website.
Let me know & if U get to listen to it,I would like to know what U Feel-Think?

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Thank you! Yes, I am listening now…
A fascinating interview…maybe a bit over-focused on catagorizing and defining, rather than evoking experience? “The power of art points outside the historical” and is a lot like falling in love with “the gleam of a whole world…beyond the human.” I don’t agree that artists and/or people are “pieces of shit” . They can be. But defining artists or humans that way feels untrue and deliberately, “glamorously” extremist, to me. In the way that movie sex is often exaggerated, feelingless, cold. Whatever happened to slow and warm and tender? For me, creativity is born of many species of love, and the work of a lifetime, yes! to learn how to love in such a way that the work nurtures as well as seduces, inspires kindness and delicate restraint always coming into balance with profound boundary-crossing and even “dangerous” exploration. Without one or the other, art fails, it seems to me. They correct each others’ weaknesses, reveal each others’ power.
And that’s the task: how to evolve as an artist “tempered” by one’s power of compassion and forbearance. It’s not different than the spiritual goal of becoming a complete being among beings, capable of giving and receiving in equal measure…and that means embracing death and loss of power, and not-knowing, embracing these too as necessary to the wholeness of Life.

In the Tsalagi/Cherokee tradition, fire is brought to the people by one of the smallest and weakest, but oldest of beings: spider. Spider has no arrogance, she’s courageous in compassion, willing to risk her life to retrieve a piece of the sun: the people need fire to keep warm, to cook their food, and to see their way into the dark places, to make art and even to heal. In the end, to become smoke carried by the winds, to become formless again. For a time. Grandmother Spider spins the net of stars from her own body, spins thought and numbers and song. Poor Prometheus, in contrast, is incomplete and his fate is tragic. More to say, but I have to stop for now…
Thank you as always, Michael.


The planet was transformed into a pure lapis lazuli earth, color of the sky between seasons marked by equanimity of day and night, when the circumambulation of our home-sphere around the Sun illuminates the vision of 7 billion different views from each of 6 windows of the senses and their related coisciousness, revealing a non-originated and infinite substrate that serenely permeates the free nature of the mind and fills the space between the stars in the sky.

Like an astronaut contemplating our planet from space, we perceive it as a mirror that reflects with non-dual impartiality a very lucid perception of the planets and the surrounding space. Likewise, inside each atom that makes up those spheres, we contemplate energy-space. Due to its lack of solidity, we could even suggest a potential, but not real, existence for them. The harmony between these traveling giants, in any case, seems to be endowed with a complementary logic that only the enlightened ones who have passed in this land were able to express. But they were not understood…

Perhaps because their working instruments were common sense and lucidity, and not language ​​and numbers, they were considered metaphysical. For these beings, who have reached the full potential of consciousness, the new heaven has existed in the natural state of their minds was recovered. Einstein threw dice capable of altering the divine handwriting, so may us return to the space-time that gave rise to the recently ended Age of Pisces.

Forgiveness is arura, and the alms bowl in the left hand is the request for generosity, the first among the six perfections to be experienced in a eastern spiritual tradition. But the capital sins are greater in number, as are the seven seals and the seven trumpets. By writing in straight lines what the lord of duality forbids to be revealed, is punished with disease, war, hunger and suffering.

The mother of human civilization bleeds, and the planet is now scarlet-colored earth. The Sun and the Moon were arranged on opposite poles by angels from the East, while their Lord sitting in a meditative posture floating in space recited the healing mantra.

When observing the twelve stars that appeared on the mother’s head, the meditator realized that they were twelve angels from the West and out of compassion he made twelve vows to heal humanity. The forms of body, speech and mind of God could not make men better for the next two millennia. Looking from space, the revelation of the man whose master considered himself a blind man, seems coherent when he describes the first horseman who plays a plague in the world.

From the mud comes the stalk, and from the stalk immersed in the tears of the world the lotus flower is born. It is the spring equinox in the southern hemisphere. The consciousness of the Universe takes on bodies visible to all beings. The thousand petals of the flower that promoted the enlightenment of the second being after the one they called Buddha, are the thousand buddhas that have been appearing since then.

In the lands of the Middle East, they called him Messiah, the Son of God. The body of the pure nature of reality has the luminosity of the lotus flower in the lapis lazuli fields, on which the Medicine Buddha is born. In his right hand he holds the arura, the medicine that cures humanity from the plague launched by the dualism of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In your left hand, the bowl is offered to awaken the first step towards the vision of the pure land, healing everyone from the fertile but confused human mind. A New Earth and a New Heaven shall arise.


Sorry for the translation. Nice to be back!

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