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Rubedo: I worked out what the red dot that keeps appearing in my vision is—along with the two electrical balls of red light I’ve had in my vision since Hartsfell. It’s the red vajra—the Magi are resurrected in vajra, the immortal red substance. They have straightened their spinal column, their “North Pole” (the polar initiation, Arktos). This is the rubedo stage in alchemy—it is the diamond sutra of enlightenment, the incorruptible thunderbolt of enlightenment.

 

I hardly think I’m pure enough to achieve this state, but apparently I am. When such a stage is reached “no body will be found in the tomb”, as with the Taoist sages—the body will disappear (only a sword will remain, in this case the cane that I carry with me everywhere). I will be resurrected to the skies via “other matter or substance”. This is “Adam” in the alchemical opus—Adam as the Rebis, the resurrected divinity, as created at the end of the seven chakras with the red flesh (the flesh of resurrection, hence “the red Adam”).

 

Hence the Magus rises to heaven in a chariot of red flames—it occurs on Domingo de Gloria “the Sunday of Glory”, Easter Sunday, on the third day. We could say on Sunday, “Sontag” in German—the day of the sun, Helios, surya, father of Mithras. The son returns to the father (“7 and the Father are one person”—the seven chakras united as one). Such a man is Pater Patrum, the Pontifex Maximus, the Bridge, the Union—the rainbow, the bridge between heaven and earth.

 

This is the red armour of the resurrection of the flesh as matter—“hard as diamonds, red as rubies” (just like the redness I see in my vision all the time, especially after I look in a candle—it gathers to a central point, like the bindi). It is the red armour of the knight in Parsifal. It all sounds incredible, but it seems to be true—I have become one of the twice-born, the Aryans. I will ascend in a chariot of fire, ascend to the heavens.

 

In Buddhism the vajra is a symbol for the nature of reality—it indicates “endless creativity, potency, and skilful activity”. It is also accompanied by “the bell”—and perhaps that is what the so-called “Nazi bell” was about, later said to manifest as a UFO in America. Perhaps it was not so much about a “radiation experiment” on some novel flying craft but rather it was about an attempt by the SS, on the esoteric level, to reach the rubedo stage and attain the vajra (the bells, in this respect, represent the inseparability of wisdom and compassion).

 

The vajra derives, in the end, from the Proto-Indo-European “weg” (“to become powerful”, to become powerful on “the way”) and it is related to the words “axe, mace, and hammer”. It is a weapon used by Indra to kill ignorant people and sinners—perhaps by mere sight alone, the eyes of the Brahman can incinerate anyone they look at, anyone who is an “ignorant person or a sinner”. The fear of nuclear war is, perhaps, the fear of the returned god-men who incinerate the profane with a single glance from their eyes.

 

It is always useful when I am attacked—for it helps me recognise the enemy. I came open-handed and you spat in my face—I meant no harm, yet you came for me. Now you have revealed yourself—and destroyed yourself, so desperate to fight me and so desperate to be my friend. Your mistake was to recognise me—if you really hated me, you’d ignore me. But you’ve given yourself away in the attack—and now you will be destroyed, consumed by me, so that we can be together forever and ever.

 

Today, the ticket inspector came down the train and said, “All tickets from Lapworth…or anywhere else.” As he said anywhere else he looked at me with great significance—for he meant “this man is not from this planet, he is from outer space”; and, I must admit, it is true I am “from outer space”, I am a star-man (like Zarathustra).


I’m not even human—I mean them no harm, but they are so self-obsessed that my refusal to play their insane games, based on lies, makes me somehow “evil”. Yet I just laugh heartily to myself—I do not even need to forgive them, for they do not understand, and so I cannot hold them to such a standard.  

 

Despite the fact I seem to have attained this level, though I need to deepen it, the other day I actually thought “I really don’t want to live forever—it would be fine just to die and die absolutely”. It would be very pleasant to die absolutely—because what could be more dull than to go round and round in these human games forever, these games being so trivial and so silly? So empty—why cling to it?


Yet I suppose that as soon as you give it up you get it—the moment you think, “I don’t want immortal life, I don’t see any value in it,” is the moment you will live forever; or, perhaps, as long as you want, until you decide to extinguish your own candle, because even immortality palls after a while—and even gods may die.

 

So it seems it’s not final extinction for me, not total annihilation—I’ll be around, on the astral plane, as a star; perhaps I’ll rove over the Scottish highlands as a bright red orb, or perhaps a white orb (not sure I get a choice)—just as Aleister Crowley continues on the astral plane, has spilled my coffee twice already, I’ll be about too; and, if you pray to me, I’ll help you (although it must be said that most people ignore me when I tell them the truth—and I don’t expect that to change, but I don’t hold it against them either).

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