You should be like the B-2 “Spirit” stealth bomber with its nuclear payload—the first your enemies should know of your existence is when they’re vaporised, bathed in white light. It should be seen as unbelievable that you exist at all. You should be off the radar, the only sign that you exist should be a blackened city—and you should be painted black as night, as the night raven. You travel alone because to travel alone is to travel swiftest and you are entirely self-sufficient—what you need comes from within, that is how you can be stratospheric (deep in the heavens). This is to be as God.
You might object that God is surely not a killer. It’s magical reversal again: to destroy is to create. We don’t have a raw life shortage on earth, de Sade was right about that: the matrix, the mother, throws up more life than we could ever know what to do with—there’s one born every minute, literally. The earth is fecund. Yet procreation comes before creation (“pro-” means “before”)—so you’re not created just because you’re born, you have to be made into something (you have to be ensouled).
The creative process is destructive. The sculptor chips away at the block—it’s about what he removes, not what he adds; it’s not like we have a marble shortage—we have a sculptor shortage. The same with the writer, “kill your darlings”—cut out what you’re proud about. The same with the mathematician, break down the problem into simple components. The same with the bodybuilder, cut out fat to become lean—there is no shortage of flesh as such, there is a shortage of sculptured flesh. Hence God is the destroyer—He is masculine, He is the remover; He removes what is ineffective—what remains is virile. On the spiritual plane, you cut away what is false and egotistical about yourself to reveal the soul beneath—which is a simple thing, smudged with ugly compromises.