Forgetting
Human:
A Treatise
on Finding the Soul, the Witch-Flight,
And the
Language of the Spirit-World
Copyright © 2011
By Robin Artisson
Contents
I. Non-Euclidean
Introduction
II: Forgetting
Human: The Wind of the Soul and the Loss of Ancestral Wisdom
III: The Amnesia
Ploy and the Game of Power
IV: The
Spirit-Language and the Sorcery of Sense
V: Well of Bone
and Pool of Blood: The Real Treasure of the Ancestors
This work is kindly dedicated to Laurelei
and Glaux,
To anyone who’s ever dreamed of flying,
And to David Abram, in gratitude.
* * *
Non-Euclidean Introduction
-Not Another Teacher...
-Not Quite Robin Redbreast
-The Egotist and What Might Matter
Not Another
Teacher...
Greetings to the readership of the American Folkloric
Witchcraft organization! I am Robin Artisson, hedge-crosser, renegade mystic
and troublemaker, and author of note in a few out-of-the-way places, and to a
few out-of-the-way people- which is my favorite kind of place and my favorite
kind of person.
Today I'm sitting down to write a pretty substantial
treatise about extraordinary matters, for whoever wants to invest time in
reading it. As with all genuine bits of writing, this writing will be a journey
of a type, in which I will (attempt) to lead the minds of my readers to various
verbal junctures in the road of mind, and to new "locations of idea"
that might help them to deepen their connection or understanding regarding the
very old Art of sorcery and the practices of mystical awareness.
I don't know how good of a guide I am at this; I'll say
why in a moment, but let me start by saying that I believe my power to really
help other people understand anything new is limited by my own understanding.
And that's true for everyone who presumes to
"teach" or "guide" another. In our strange world of
revivalist mysticism and revivalist "old ways", at first glance, it
seems we have precious little from the past to inform us in our sacred task.
That puts the onus on people to really activate deeper layers of themselves to
make up for the ominous and huge gulfs that appear to exist between us and what
we conceive of as the mystically-active but faded past.
And the power any person has to "teach" or
"guide" is directly proportional to the extent that they have
activated "the deeper layers" of themselves. This is why I was always
very unsure about the various people I've met over the years that tried to
"teach" others, or even me. I stared at them and tried to look deep,
to see and hear more than what they said and did, but how they lived, how they
handled life's challenges, and most importantly, what peace they seemed to have
with themselves and this world. Who could teach me or you or anyone anything of
value, if they weren't first "attained" somehow?
Maybe you're wondering if I doubt my own attainments. I'm
a guy who has, through enormous effort, managed to have precious tastes of the
soul and the unseen world- that much is true, and will remain true. So, I have
some basis to claim some "attainment". But is it enough for you,
whoever you may be? Can I meet your needs? Do I have one missing piece of the
puzzle that you might not have, such that we can have a successful sharing?
Even if I do, chances are, you have some piece I'm missing. And I'd like to
have it!
Problem is, we can’t know; aren't directly and
consciously together; we are meeting in a distant, hollow echo of written
words. I'm a writer who really distrusts written words- and that, friends, is a
terrible curse. I know, thanks to my greatest human teacher, how dangerous
words are, and how deceptive they are. Using words to gain some spiritual
insight is really akin to using chemotherapy to gain some freedom from
cancerous growths- there's a good chance it'll work, but it will exact a
terrible cost from you.
At least with chemotherapy, you can feel the damage being
done; with written words and the ghostly concepts they engender in us, there's
a great chance you won't realize that you've actually become more alienated
from the things the words are describing, rather than closer. That, we will
discuss soon.
So consider this my fair warning about these words I'm
typing right this instant. No matter what I say from here on out, please,
please, hop on these words lightly, like a dragonfly touching for just a moment
on a blade of grass, before lifting off again to fly. I want you to fly, and
when it comes to flying, that is something I can teach with certainty, because
I can fly.
Not Quite Robin
Redbreast
Now, don't rush out to buy plane tickets to see me and
demand a levitation show. I didn't say I could levitate; I said I could fly- I
can, after quite a few years of the most extraordinary efforts, experience
directly the aerial liberation of the soul. I never feel trapped in a heavy
body of flesh; like the legendary witch on her flying-besom or flying-pole, I
have discovered a sorcerous secret which liberates the awareness from what
appears to be a body-centered fetter.
The world is spread out before me and in me; I am free. I
belong to all of it, and it to me, and there's nothing in it that I can't have
or know. And I never imagined that, 18 years after I began my quest for the
"Old Way", that I'd be here now, able to grasp things that would have
been inconceivable to me before.
And I didn't achieve this by "escaping" from my
body; I did it by letting my body be what it is, and instead discovering what
my senses really were, and what my soul really was. In this Art, a person never
achieves anything by learning to hate what is there, what is apparent, what
they feel every day; they achieve by learning to deepen their experience of
what is there, what is apparent, what they feel every day. The way to sorcery
isn't away from the world, body, or senses, but through it. Please remember this always.
Now, we hit the first quandary of my writing here today-
and please be patient, because we'll likely hit several of these. I didn't plan
what I'm writing here today. I never plan out things I write, nor things I say
when I talk about these matters. To plan it out would make it sound contrived
and fake; I am doing the only thing that my heart says matters- writing
directly from the inspiration of the moment, from what is before me now, from
what I'm feeling now.
This is an important exercise for me; I do this not just
to edify and even entertain you with some good perspectives on sorcery that I
might have; I do it to make my connection with my own present mind and feelings
stronger. This is one of the sources of the power that I have attained- this
attention to my moment, and this world's moment.
I am actually writing here as I am today (I didn't know
which day I'd start this stream of written thinking and feeling) because the
wind outside told me that today was the day. This morning, I was outside, and I
had a conversation with the other-than-human being that we ordinarily
experience as the wind. Maybe it was just that wind; I'm never sure, because
there is more than one. But I took it seriously.
And the quandary is that I don't really know where to go
from here. I feel a lot to say in me, but don't know quite how to deal it out
to you, or how to deal it out to me. So, I feel like telling you what's coming
in this treatise, as a way of (hopefully) keeping your attention. This
stream-of-consciousness type writing is sometimes hard for people to bear, and
I know that, and I apologize beforehand.
In my long letter/treatise today, I will write about how
much we really do have, when it comes to the Old Ways, and I will try to defeat
(I hope) the idea that we really lack a lot from the Ancestral past. I will
write about how the wind matters, and always mattered to the Pagans of old, and
to the Witches of old, and of late- how the wind is far, far more than we
imagine it to be. I will write about the soul, chiefly, and how I discovered
mine, and how people can discover theirs in a vivid new way. I'll write about
what that soul can do for you, citing examples from my own recent life.
I'm also going to talk briefly about why we have to
"rediscover" things at all- either our Ancestral gifts, or the soul.
I'll tie all this together with some examples from the Ancestral past, and tie
it up in a ribbon of eldritch sorcerous aesthetic that can enflame your
imagination enough to help you digest this all!
Truly, it will be a witch's banquet for the discerning,
and a mass of empty vomit for the masses that have lost their senses. I can't
say that my before-mentioned topics will come in that order, or in a very neat
way at all; nothing in nature is neat and orderly, despite what you might have
heard or thought you saw. Organic life is always a great haphazard-seeming mixture
of countless forces- and the mind, partaking of organicism at the most
fundamental level, is the same.
So let yourself be a serpent in the flow of these
water-words, and coil and slide through without effort. Don't hurt your mind
trying to make this be something other than what it is.
The Egotist and
What Might Matter
Now, all of this writing is intended to do two things:
deepen me, and maybe kick an idea or two into your heads- one or two seeds-
that you might discover, to your delight, grows into something amazing, like
these seeds did for me. There is always the off chance that you'll think I'm
just boring or nuts, or just hate my writing style enough to say "thank
you very much Mr. Artisson *CLICK*." I want you to know beforehand that
whatever happens to you, I'm okay with it, and not offended.
I'm not for everyone. No one is for everyone. I'm not
special, despite the fact that I do love to act special from time to time, or
think of myself in that way- and I have a shadow side, full of goblin mayhem
and egoistic nonsense that can suffocate even beings that don't breathe air. I
own those things about myself. Actually, I find that I'm smiling at this
moment, enjoying talking about myself even now!
I think that half the people that say they really like me
are either just responding to a fellow egotist (which is okay!), or trying to
make me feel better, because I try so hard to be likeable. Whatever the case, I
am honored that they either really like me, or care just enough to act nice.
Because in the end, I will be swept away by the same great wind that blew me
here, just like you will be, and the earth will eat our bodies- or the devouring
power of flame will- and nearly none of the things we've learned to be
concerned about, or distract ourselves with, will really matter.
Please note that I said "nearly none" of the
things. A few things we gain in our lives will matter, and they'll make all the
difference in the world when you are going among the Unseen. And it is my
heartfelt belief that some of the things the wind is about to draw from my body
and mind here will be some of the things that do matter.
So give me a chance, and give me your attention, and I
promise to do my best. You can always turn back or turn away and forget you
ever read a thing I said, and all will still be well. That's what Fate really
means, dear readers: that come what may, all
is well, even if we find ourselves spitting in distaste or sadness.
* * *
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