Here are your horoscopes, whipped up in the sanctuary where we meet in our dreams.
The following document was produced as a collaboration between myself and the hyperdimensional symbiote. I should also establish that I don’t know what iyam doing. Not really. But iyam also among the lonely few that know anything at all about this topic. Those that would pretend to know generally don’t.
Part of the process of coming to terms with the crisis that
we face has to do with following where each contradiction leads: We must, at
some point, find the means to reenter the clear consciousness that surrounds
[Pilgrimage to Nowhere] • After five days at the Thai meditation retreat, I had yet to find a proper teacher. When I met Roger, I launched into a capsule version of my checkered spiritual past, the eclectic influences; my suspicion of organized religion. As best as I could, I described the harrowing quality of those early mystical experiences. "It was as if I had died," I told him. "You did die," he said with a big smile.
[Must Not Sleep] • "'What if you could open your heart, not only to me but to whoever's brave enough to let go of their need to own another person?' 'I'm telling you it's not possible!' she yelled. By now she was steaming. 'You're just living out some adolescent male fantasy,' she said, 'screwing whoever you want. It's a joke…'" Episode 8 of the novel Must Not Sleep, a transformative ride through shamanic space.