Burning Peacock’s Blog of Magick

Time’s heavy with symbolism. On one of my many, many internet radio stations, a track from Tool’s Aenima, “Eulogy,” came on after years of the album having been lost to financial destitution. Call me cliche, but Tool has a special place in my heart, and amidst the vortices of life going on, it seems a comfort to hear (for as violent and bitter of a song as it is.)

I’ve been trying to utilize altered states as best as I can, lately, with mixed results. In some, I’ve been overcome with jealousy, paranoia, and rage, coming out of the state feeling remorse for my actions while not in my nominal state. In others, I’ve had enough perspective to divorce myself from my neuroses to begin to dissect them and understand why they’re there, and what to do about them. Good or bad, whether a gruesome beast snarls from the depths or an Alchemical genius manifests in sleepless ramblings, that knowledge is fuel. That knowledge is a tool to become something else, something greater.

The key on an altered state is that it’s an alteration, not a primary mode of consciousness. We kid ourselves, but that morning cup of coffee is already sending you on a drug-induced journey of increased mental activity. That beer in the afternoon is undoing locks on muscles, mind, and mouth, albeit on a small scale. Having a base state is dreadfully important, as without it, our minds fly into delusions, into extremes, and the fundamental pain endemic to existence becomes frightening, just as it was when we first popped out from that nurturing womb and into separation. Use sparingly, as they say. Water and sleep are your friends.

I have a bear of a time talking to any figures that I see in trance states. Thus far the bird hasn’t had much “Help”(heavy innuendo) when in this area, but plenty of people haven’t really needed it.

As it stands, I was feelin’ kind of lonely one night, so I lit a candle (apple) and some wild rose incense, and konked out, just letting my senses do what they wanted in the semi-dark. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and the week had been taxing, so I had no problem getting into the twilight state. Almost right when that starts, after the muscles started releasing (Yeah, it’s okay to get up and pee when doing these. I had to come to terms with this when I was beginning) I went into the trance.

It’s different with everyone, and with the stimuli involved with it. I had the vision of being on a dirt plane at night, with a distinctly female figure. Her face was an iron mask, sealed off with a Jack Kirby-like design on it. She had long, straw-like hair and a burlap cloak. She was hunched over, and everything about her seemed old, yet not feeble. I kept trying to ask her questions, but any time I would find something like an answer, it never would pan out. Something wouldn’t feel authentic. I’m guessing the lesson is to shut up and wait, which is damned hard for a lad of the ’80s.