Mind of Goo, Mind of Ice, Mind of Light

First, a little Cosmic housekeeping.

For some reason, I am embarrassed by the appearance of the, ahem, bold new look of the blog, even though I have nothing to do with it. Blogspot started acting crazy last Saturday, and the situation has only deteriorated since then. Surely it cannot be a coincidence that we have simultaneously endured this infestation of atheistic knaves and sophists and learned that a beloved founding One Cosmonaut, JWM, has apparently survived an, er, cardiac event of some kind, the details of which we are eager to know, so that we may call upon our various nonlocal operators for the appropriate transpersonal intervention. Until then, vague prayers are sent in your general vicinity.

I am ready to abandon blogspot for a new home just as soon as possible, and I am open to any and all suggestions, since my practical knowledge of computers approaches the atheist’s knowledge of Spirit. I am just like Google, or like Democrats, in that if I try to fix the problem, it will only get worse.

And if blogging is light in the next four days--which it may or may not be, depending on the Gagdad constitution--it is because of this horror: I so detest my mandatory continuing education that I wait until the last minute to complete it before my license to heal souls expires, which would then cause all of my readers to revert to their heathen ways. In short, I have to attend all-day seminars today, Saturday, and Sunday, which, if you hated school as much as I did, causes a wave of flashbacks, existential nausea, and memories of the endless wait for PE.

I don’t know whether it is creepier to be in a room full of psychologists or at an atheist convention. Probably the latter, because their minds are so coarse and their souls (which, after all, do not exist) so vacant. Psychologists’ minds tend to be more “gooey” (which, let it be said, is what makes ShrinkWrapped, Dr. Sanity, and other members of my Shrink Tank so unique), whereas the atheist mind is more prickly, defensive, and ultimately void of spiritual content. In the long run, both would drive me crazy, but in small doses I suppose I can better tolerate being enveloped in goo than being deprived of spiritual light and oxygen. Curious that atheists enjoy visiting Petey and Cousin Dupree and His Assholier-Than-Thou here in cosmic cloud-cuckoo land. Are they masochatheists?

Anyway, it is a test. I’ll just do what I did in high school, which is to say, sit in the back, bring a good book, and try to befriend the one or two like-minded souls who might be attending. Didn’t you do that in school? Scan the room, looking into their eyes, trying to identify a living being?

I don’t know how much more time to spend on this atheist business. As you know, like the Bush administration, I don’t plan things in advance, but just react to the chaos I have created on the ground. As I emphasized at the outset, it is a pure waste of time to debate an atheist, for the same reason that it is a waste of time to debate any person of faith--which is not to put down people of faith. It all depends upon what you have faith in. As I have had occasion to mention before, there is infinitely more wisdom in the simple soul who believes that the universe was created in six days than the bovine atheist who worships at the altar of pure chance, that almighty god of the saps.

Hmm, interesting. A reader just commented “I probably had something to do with the recent visits of Ka and the Bacon Eating Atheist Jew. I encouraged them to come over and take a gander at Christian writing that also accepts evolutionary theory. Even though I consider myself to be an Atheist I was impressed by the eloquence I found here and the fun with words. Atheist writing can be a little prosaic at times and I feel it often throws the baby out with bath water, mocking any appreciation for the mystical or the divine even when it is purely metaphorical.”

Atheist writing can be a little prosaic at times . Now that’s putting it mildly, isn’t it? As our barbarian visitors have demonstrated, atheistic writing is necessarily coarse and ultimately infrahuman, for the simple reason that it is a perfectly imperfect adequation to the coarse and infrahuman--to the lowest level of existence only. Here again, I say this not as an insult but as a simple description, because for an atheist, the most perfect description of reality would presumably be mathematical--which is to say, a language drained of all the explicitly spiritual categories and accompanying modes to which the human intellect has unique access, such as transcendental beauty, mystical union, and a sense of the sacred. (I am leaving aside the truism that all great mathematicians actually realize the transcendental beauty of the equations it is their privilege to know.)

"The soul is all that it knows," said Aristotle. What the atheist does not know--cannot know, by their own admission--is that language must be deployed in a very special way if it is going to be adequate to the realm of spirit. This “ inner science” is something of which I am never unaware, and I take great pains--or pleasures, actually--in trying to make my language comport with the spiritual realities we discuss here. Whether I accomplish this is of course for others to decide--or deicide, as the case may be--but I am absolutely aware of the struggle to do so. It is as real as the struggle of an artist to capture the essence of the spirit of the subject they are painting, or the struggle of a John Coltrane to breathe the love supreme through metal and reed. That he attempted to do so makes him human. That he succeeded makes him a mirrorcle of something beyond human. But again and always, only if you have ears to hear.

Now, I am a mighty, mighty man--my eighteen month-old can tell you that--but am I mighty enough to restore hearing to those with perfectly intact ears but who hear not? Ahh, no. I am not that mighty. With a lot of nonlocal assistance I may be able to croak a tune, but I cannot teach the tone deaf how to hear music, any more than I could teach my dog to appreciate poetry. While I could direct you to those who taught me to appreciate music, you must first be genuinely curious about this thing called music, and as I already said, the atheist is not so inclined, for as always, “the answer is the disease that kills curiosity.” The empirical brain-mind the atheist uses to understand reality is not the same as the heart-mind with which the soul intuits the Real. Such a misguided approach is condemned to metaphysical sterility.

Bacon Eating Atheist Jew has demanded that I prove the existence of God to him. This is something I, of all people, cannot do, if only because the injunction against casting pearls before swine loving swine is absolute. To be honest, he shouldn’t even be here, because such a proudly barbarous mind only sullies the truth that is trying to manifest. There are certain basic qualifications such a one lacks, and although he would no doubt regard it as a condescending insult, no one else has apparently been good enough to inform him that there is no reliable spiritual knowledge without the cultivation of certain virtues--deep humility, absolute sincerity, and a spirit of devotion being the bare minimum.

One does not eagerly grasp at spiritual knowledge, certainly not with the cold, dead hand of an atheist. That is an absurdity. If you wish to escape from your prison--which you manyfistly have no desire to do--you must first appreciate the thick layer of ice that has formed between you and your source. Or so we have heard from the wise.

I agree. What I just said is perfect nonsense. Now move along. Nothing to see hear. Or touch.

But I know. You cannot stay away, for darkness is envious of the light. How frustrating that the light shines in the dark, but the dorks don’t comprehend it, any more than pi can ever comprehend the circle, so simple and yet so perfect. For when time tries to comprehend eternity, it succeeds only in generating the bad infinite. In the end, it is infinite stupidity. Nevertheless, it is infinite, so that must be some small consolution.

Well, that’s it. Off to the land of infinite goo.