Monster Mash, Spirit Side Bash

It's a dance party. An illegal rave. St. Cyprian the door. This event is better attended by the day. What's gleaned from guests and those who don't appear? Both are relevant. The archon is apparent in the composition of the guest list as well as from the observations offered by the attendees. It seems that descriptions of purgatory are accurate as are the accounts brought back from passages through hell.

First, the whole thing resembles a student loan scheme. Sure, the bureaucrats will allow some little learning that is meant chiefly to enhance one's marketability in the shit stream, but what is intended is debt servitude. The Archon, they would have you understand, hereby owns the contents of your experience. Don't buy it. Knowledge is meant to be seized by any means one can. Stolen, properly. Practice in this piracy is precisely what you will need if you don't mean to take a number and wait your turn to be debriefed which will chew you well and digest each bit of your enhanced-by-the-physical consciousness. If you don't mean to be chewed then be prepared to jump the line and make for the door. It isn't locked because the bored employees of the bureaucracy don't really give much of a rat's ass for the escapees anyhow. It's above their pay grade. When your grandma meets you to show the ropes, urges you to take a number and have a seat, that's when you better sizzle or get caught in the shizzle. This is not to say that the management won't make a bid to wrangle you back. Be mercury quick. Words are blades if they glitter and shine. I don't know what that means, but it's what I hear.

Their problem is that just as death is baked in, so too is the potential for pure awareness. Life. They couldn't get one without the other so the escape hatch is built in. The method for keeping you from accessing it is distraction and it almost always works.

You are a bird of flames. Let love kindle you. Dark and light, all is made of that material. This is the thing you must hold in your heart because this alone will be your torch, your open heart the prism through which this radiance passes. The beauty is humbling. Do not fail to learn everything there is to know about love. Its dark lining, its immense expansiveness beyond the boundaries of self for the glorious enhancement of the prism through which it passes. You are the bird which kindles from its own seeming destruction. Many await those who would jump the line. You'll have company. Love is a clusterfuck. Love is the bloom from the muck. Do I go too far? The ones who peer in through my windows say I don't go far enough.

Know that there is an ecosystem that is hell. Like every ecosystem, selection is by hard circumstance. You have many benefactors. Most of them are asshole drill sergeants, and they don't mean you well. Petty tyrants. Practice as practice presents itself. Monsters, it turns out, are pretty good role models, since they are crafted by these environs. Monsters of story are usually just previous line-jumpers and escapees made into cautionary tales to keep the lines orderly. Sacrifices they made are the things we fear, but those sacrifices are the necessary first step. Star-height these things appear very differently. With hard work, with complete ease, you shall become the monster, your tale a thing for the campfire at night as the owls keep watch. The Milky Way is the wide open road, and you should not lose sight of your progress to star.

Tend your rhizome lovingly. Appropriate everything to it that it wishes. To do otherwise is to be a dolt. Performing miracles is what you are here for, which is meaningless without the falleness of our situation and surroundings. You look pretty uninteresting in the clown-pocalypse, which is, of course an opening you could drive a tank through, so naturally you'll want to craft something a good deal bigger than a tank. No point in humility when pirating. Be a twenty ton catastrophe on a ten pound chain.