by Jake Block
Things were so much easier when I was just starting out as a photographer. I had one camera, and one tripod that I used for just about everything. Before I got it, I propped up the camera where I needed it to be to get the shot I wanted. Finally, I decided that it was time to buy one, because although I was able to hold my camera still and firm, there are times you want or need a longer exposure, so your chances of blurring the shot increase with every second you have the shutter open.
I bought it in Germany for $22. I still have it and use it, although mostly as a stable platform for a group of three infrared converted cameras, or some other secondary use. It’s no real problem, because I have others. Still, it’s like an old friend that I would miss, were it not here.
Some are full size, some are “table top” models, some aren’t actually “tripods” at all, like one of my three monopods, which is basically one leg of a tripod with a ball head camera attachment and adjustable height, or my adjustable “box mount,” with is folds out to allow me to angle the camera in many angles and can be placed on the ground, for low level shots or on a table… or even atop a proper tripod, if I need to. I have tripods that can be inverted so that I can shoot with the camera upside down, or I can use the “boom mode” to suspend the tripod over an object on a table and shoot down from above, or I can adjust the level with bubble guides, and one that has a laser to assist me in being perfectly level for a really close macro or technical shot. Needless to say, but the days of a good, $22 tripod are long past.
Tripods in color, some plain black, some aluminum and some in a space age polymer that are surprisingly light, but strong enough to hold my Nikons with battery grip and a long lens with no problem. Some have spikes in the footpads that can he extended to give more stability in grass or on a dirt surface. Some can be weighted down with a bottle of water or a small weight when working in the wind, and one has a blinking red light to use when you might be standing in or close to traffic so… well… yeah, they saw me coming on that one, for sure. And finally, even though I don’t use my cell phone to take pictures, I have a cell phone attachment that can be placed on most of the tripods, should I ever decide to.
People are kind of like tripods. There are many types, many colors and many sizes, but basically, they all do the same thing, although some do it better than others. Some will stand up to hard times, like a good, sturdy tripod, and some cave in under the pressure and need to be adjusted for strength or they are seldom used when you need something reliable. Some give you great value for your investment in them, while, sadly, some will never be worth a damn, no matter how much you had hopes for them. And there will always be one that you want to have with you as often as possible, because you know they will never let you down.
But in the end, there is one big difference between people and tripods, at least for me. There are some that you bring into your life with great expectations, but soon show you that your faith in them has been misplaced and, no matter how many times you give them the benefit of the doubt, they will always let you down. So, when it comes to people, yes, I have met some that I just don’t like.
by Jake Block
“Everyone is trying to leave their mark on the world. That’s why there’s graffiti and babies.”
— Kristen Schaal
There is absolutely no difference between the person going from page to page posting Jesus memes and the person going page to page posting HAIL SATAN or HAIL LUCIFER memes. Both are simply following the herd mentality of religion and its philosophy, the only difference is that one embraces it, while the other denies.
What it boils down to is an almost Orwellian dumbing down of the populace; an inability to think and express one’s thoughts and ideas beyond the simplest of modalities, i.e. cut and pasted graphics with no personal or intellectual input, just rank propagandized graphics. It’s about as well thought, well constructed and well received as the words scrawled in public toilets anywhere in the world. It appears as simple graffiti with no real substance or thought, indicating what appears to be a pervasive cultural illiteracy.
I would challenge people to be better and, if you REALLY have something important that you want to say, do it in a well written essay format, so that your audience can have a chance to actually “hear” what is really on your mind in the fullness and the complexity of thought that is part and parcel of the process of interpersonal communication. If it’s really that important for you to say, then say it with the pride and dignity that your thoughts deserve. You obviously have SOMETHING you want to say, and your computer even has tools to help you say it with spell checkers and grammar editors.
Of course, I realize that, the past being predictive of the future, we’ll see more of the same for the indefinite future, because when one is asked to step up their game and actually do something that takes a little personal effort and commitment, it’s just too damned hard. Yet, hope springs eternal that I am wrong.
by Jake Block.
“You always seem outnumbered,
You don’t dare make a stand.”
— Turn The Page (Bob Seger)
Every so often we see someone on line, identifying as a Satanist, who goes into an extended rant that “we” should go to war with Christians and defeat them. Now, I can be a badass when I need to be, and I’ve been to war and a couple of conflicts as well. One thing I learned was that a small, well trained force can defeat a moderately larger well trained force with the right tactics, the right equipment and the right men in the right place, at the right time.
I’m fairly certain that this was on the mind of George Armstrong Custer on June 25th, 1876, when he arrogantly rode into the valley of the Little Big Horn River, with his cadre of men of the 7th US Cavalry, expecting to overpower and defeat a larger, but lesser equipped band of Indians that he was certain were no match for his 210 troops. He had split his forces, and chose to be the tip of the spear himself.
It took the combined Indian Nations forces under the fearsome Sioux War Chief Sitting Bull less than an hour to kill every last man of Custer’s detachment, who were then mutilated and left in the sun to rot. Custer’s Last Stand, as it was romantically called, was more appropriately a massacre. Custer’s 210 troops had no chance against Sitting Bull’s force of between 1,200 and 1,500 warriors. It was then that Custer learned his own battle lesson, that a small, well trained force cannot defeat a massive, well trained force determined to win at any cost.
Ok. Back to our battle-hungry friends wanting to wage war on the Christians. I’ll be generous and give “The Horned Horde” a sizable force of 100,000. The number of those who have any kind of military training and battle experience is anyone’s guess, but I would guess relatively few. Then we have the women and kids, and the “wannabes” as well. Still, it’s a big group that would almost fill a couple of Major League Stadiums. Dodger Stadium holds about 56,000, and Yankee Stadium holds about 54,000. Let the games begin.
In 2010, the number of Christians around the world numbered in the billions… a PEW Research tally showed their number as 2,168,330,000. “Our team” had better be REALLY good, because each member of the 100,000 Horde is going to have to defeat 21,683 of their guys, so they had better pack a lunch. Or maybe it might be better to take on the lowest major religious team, the Jews. There are only 13,860,000 of them, still a good skirmish as the Horde takes on just 139 each. Still, they’re going to need a light snack. And logically speaking, if there was going to be a life and death Armageddon, it’s quite likely that the kissing cousins of Judaism and Christianity would form an alliance. There’s a saying that applies, “Choose the hill you want to die on.”
The brilliant Confederate Cavalry General Nathan Bedford Forrest was once asked the key to victory in battle. He said, “Get there firstest with the mostest.” Good advice. Arrogant and counterproductive pride will get you killed in a battle. Even if the smaller force fights, using a long campaign of withering guerrilla tactics, the same tactics that were the bane of American Forces in Vietnam and elsewhere, they would still need some kind of force multiplier to prevail, and even then, with the tremendous disadvantages seen here, it’s still one hell of a long shot.
Back on the streets of East St. Louis, during the gang wars of the mid to late 1960s, a small gang might “woof” (talk shit) against a larger gang, but be very careful that they didn’t step over the line and find themselves outnumbered and surrounded. Back then, we fought with fists, sticks, bricks, bats, chains and once in a while someone would go for his blade. Guns were forbidden and considered to be chickenshit until about 1968 when a black gang known as the Warlords were rising to power. Prior to that, the worst sound you could hear walking alone or in a small group through their turf was, “Hey, white boys… you like BRICKS?” If you were smart, you dove for cover under any car close by. Primitive though, as it was, it was a training ground for urban survival.
You soon learned not to “let your ass overload your mouth,” when your group was smaller than your rival, because sooner or later you were bound to butt heads and then, you had better be able to back up the talk with some up close and personal action. I was a member of the State Street Boys and while we weren’t the biggest gang in East St. Louis, we were “known,” and when we showed up we weren’t there to talk, so we seldom had to show up.
Teddy Roosevelt, the 26th President of the United States shared his philosophy of power when he said, “Speak softly, but carry a big stick.” His entire quote was, “Speak softly and carry a big stick; you’ll go far.” In this statement he wished to convey that he believed in “the exercise of intelligent forethought and of decisive action sufficiently far in advance of any likely crisis.” He was no paper tiger. He was a straight talking man who seldom bluffed in poker or in his dealings with people or nations. In war, his was a strike hard and fast philosophy, but he also believed in always giving the enemy a way to back out and save face.
One can learn a great deal about power and being powerful from Theodore Roosevelt. You carry your stick and use it when you need to, but don’t act like an asshole, or telegraph your moves. You may or may not be a legitimate badass, but if your enemy knows you are coming for him, you might as well wrap your ass in a big, red bow. Before the day is over, it’s liable to be HIS.
by Jake Block
“You left the scene
Without a trace
One hand on the ground
One hand in space” — Hello Again (The Cars)
“To die before actually dying, that is what’s important in the world, to kill your ego. That’s why we wear white robes, which symbolize what we are wearing when we die. Even our hats look like gravestones.”— Celaleddin Loras, Mevlevi Sheikh
“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.”
— Sheikh Rumi
One of the things in which I have long held interest is the Sufi sect of Dervish, and more directly, the branch known as the Mevlevi Order, with its spiritual center in Konya, Turkey. While I was stationed in Turkey, from 1971 to 1974, I was able to travel through most of the country and found a group of Whirling Dervishes at a festival in Nevsehir, in the Cappadocia region of central Turkey. Although I was obviously not Turkish, nor Muslim, I was greeted warmly and offered a glass of tarçın çayı (cinnamon tea), and a few appetizers before the ceremony began.
At the beginning of each Sema ceremony, the participants (Semazens) stand with their arms crossing their chests in an “X” shape, and feet pointed inward. Young and old Mevlevis do this out of respect and to signify humility, fighting their ego through a spiritual journey inside and outside of the Dervish lodge.
The ceremony began as the ceremonial Sheikh stood at the head of the semahane (ritual hall) in which the Dervishes would begin their circular movement, and then, one by one, they came. They wore the traditional garb of the Mevlevis, a pure white robe with pants and a full, wide skirt, covered by a black cloak (removed before the Semazen performs), shoes made for the ritual and a tan or dark brown, conical, almost Fez-like hat . As each man greeted the sheikh with a bow, his black cloak was taken by an assistant and, upon being greeted in return, he stepped onto the sacred floor. After two steps, he began to slowly rotate to the left, counter-clockwise around the floor.
The ritual costumes of the Whirling Dervishes are symbolic. The hats represent the tombstone of ego, the white robes the burial shroud of ego, and the black cloak represents their worldly tomb. The whirling dance they do symbolically takes place in the space between earth and Allah. That dance is called “Sema,” which means “the listening.” The aspiring Sufi or Dervish student receives a transmission via sincere listening, so that the intuitive and emotional, as well as the analytical faculties are activated. As they turn slowly and their skirts billow around them, their arms begin to move to create “a bridge between God and man.” They silently pray and slip into trance. Dervishes of the Mevlevi Order work toward the goal of universal peace, and believe that peace must begin in the hearts of individuals. As the Dervishes turn, they stare, mesmerized, into infinite distance, prayer is imbedded in their ritual and the ritual itself becomes a prayer.The Dervishes turn round and round as the right arm reaches to the sky, palm up, “taking from God” and the left, palm down, “gives life to the earth.” Symbolically, they receive from God and give that gift to humanity.”To the accompaniment of drums and flutes, the Dervishes twirl on, while in their trance state, muscle memory assisting in the exact placement of their feet, they spin and rotate around the floor. Ilyas Noyan Ozatik, the accompanists explains that the Dervishes “are on an inner journey to where God is. Music is a unifying force” he says, “bringing our frequencies together leading to a completion of souls.” And on and on they spin, deep in trance, but occasionally, one of the Dervishes can become too enraptured in his spinning and another Sufi, charged with keeping the twirling orderly will gently touch his arm, and the Dervish will suspend his movement and begin again.
Akin Cakmut, a Dervish who began his participation as a Dervish at the age of 13, explains. “The Sema can be broken down into four parts. In the first part of the Sema the question, “Who are you” is contemplated by the Semazen. In the second, the Semazen accepts that he is human, and he is living. In the third part of the Sema, the Semazen recognizes that there is a force flowing through him, and he gives his heart to God in his trance meditation. In the fourth part of the Sema, the Semazen’s “soul” returns to his body and he understand that he is back as a human again.
Everything turns in the Universe. The world turns, the sun turns, your blood under your skin turns, and also the Dervish turns.”
Dervishes as Sufis say, “Allah is closer than your jugular vein,” it is because these mystics realize the impulses on the nerves of all the senses and discriminating mind give rise to an objective world and a subjective self, which appear to be separate, however these impulses are the life force or emanations of the “Only Beingness.”
The Mevlevi Order is over 750 years old, and is a living tradition based upon the teachings of Mevlana Celaddin, later to be known Sheikh Jalaluddin Muhammed Balkhi Rumi (1207-1273 CE), the 13th Century Persian poet, Sufi mystic, and Islamic theologian. The Mevlevi Order has its headquarters in Konya, Turkey, the former capital of the Anatolian Seljuk Sultanate.
The Mevlevis are also known as the “Whirling Dervishes,” because of their practice of whirling in their ceremonial trance meditations. Recognized by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization), their Sema Ceremony has been called “one of the masterpieces of the oral and intangible heritage of humanity.”
The word Dervish can be broken down into its component parts, with Der meaning “door,” and vish meaning meditation. The Sema (the whirling ceremony) is meditation while in a trancelike state that has been described as “sitting on the threshold of the phenomenal and noumenal worlds, being in them, but not of them.”
The Sufi branch of Islam is known for its mysticism and asceticism, and can be characterized as being of inner thought, esoteric, and mystical. Mevlevi Dervishes within Sufism follow Sheikh Rumi’s virtues of unlimited tolerance, positive reasoning, goodness and charity. To become a Dervish, one took a vow of poverty, and lived similarly to Christian monks.
Training of a Semazen is a process that takes approximately one year to complete, with the student practicing every day and learning not only the process and the movement, which in and of itself can take six months, but knowing and accepting what the Sema represents. The murshid (teacher) must diligently instruct, but also instill within the trainee the concept that one must surrender ego and immerse oneself in the spirituality of the ritual. Personal fears and doubts must be overcome, so that there is no doubt that they can indeed commune with their concept of god. The steps of the Sema are few and simple to learn, but to achieve the exquisitely precise movements while rotating and turning within the circle while maintaining perfect balance when entranced is a skill that not everyone can attain. To lose oneself in the movement and become as one with it is what the Dervishes call “True Love.”
In the training of the Semazen, he learns of the popular theory that Sheikh Rumi’s self-initiation into the act of whirling, which apparently came to him while listening to the hammering of the goldsmiths in Konya’s bazaar. It’s most probably a romanticized account, as the historian Abdülbaki Golpinari noted that Rumi had been influenced by Shamsi of Tabriz (1185-1248 CE). It is thought that some sects of Sufi have been “whirling” from about 1049 CE. This may well be, but the Mevlevis, under Rumi have advanced the art to its highest degree. There is speculation that the act of whirling might he a vestige of middle eastern shamanism.
Men are mostly seen in the role of Whirling Dervishes. There are female Dervishes as well, whirling alongside their male counterparts, but their legitimacy is not recognized by the Mevlevi Order. The women claim that were he alive today, Sheikh Rumi would sanction their participation, as even in Sheikh Rumi’s time, he had several women as students. In the early days of the Order, there were female Semazens and Sheikhs as well. A woman known as Destina Khatun had been shaika of the Kora Hisar Mevlevi Lodge. “In the early days of the Mevlevi order, women and men were known to pray, share sohbet (spiritual conversation), and whirl within each other’s company, though more often as the centuries unfolded, women held their own Semas and men also whirled in zhikr (devotional services akin to prayer meetings) separate from women. However, in the time of Mevlana (Rumi), spontaneous semas would occur including both men and women.” ( Women of Sufism, A Hidden Treasure, Camille Helminski (2003)*1
Despite this, today’s Mevlani Order does not officially recognize women as Semazens. The Order is still run by the decendents of the Order’s founders. Spokesman Faruk Celebi says, “They are not Mevlevi. This is a show.” While there are no longer formal instructions to be a member of the Mevlevi Order, he believes that traditions must be respected. The Mevlani’s are at their heart religiously conservative, and while change may come, it will be slow, even by traditional Sufi Muslim standards.
In addition to obligatory Islamic worship, some of the main spiritual practices within the Mevlevi Order are as follows:
- Dhikr: invocation of the Divine Names which is believed to purify the heart
- Sema: the whirling ceremony
- Study of the Quran and Rumi’s works (especially his poetic masterpiece the Mathnavi)
- Spiritual conversation led by the shaikh (sohbet)
- Meditation, known as muraqabah, in Islam
- Adab: developing courtesy and mindfulness.
In light of the popularity of the Whirling Dervishes in Turkey and much of the rest of the world, it should be remembered that they have were banned as Sect, when in 1925, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, founder of the Republic of Turkey, prohibited all Orders of Sufism under secular law #667 of the constitution on maintaining order, fear that their religious roots would lead them to revolt against the new secular government. This law was amended in the 1950s, allowing the Sema to be performed in public, probably more as a nod to boost the tourism industry than a sign of religious tolerance on the part of the prevailing secular government, however as private worship, Sufism and its Orders remain officially banned. This said, at a recent festival in the city of Konya commemorating the death of Sheikh Rumi, thousands gathered to witness the Dervishes and their spiritual dance.
While philosophically, I can’t connect with the idea of “communing with “God”, “Allah” or any supreme being, I can see the benefit of the idea of trance meditation and the intense concentration of the Sema. How one gets to that “inner communication level” can be a unique experience, and there are any number of repetitive step processes that could easily result in the self-hypnotic states to get one there. Additionally, the idea of receiving messages while in a trance state, at least to me, is akin to a particularly lucid dream I had recently, in which I asked myself serious questions that needed answers. Upon awakening, my thoughts had cleared and I could formulate a plan for moving forward.
Talking to oneself, for instance, is something that many people do routinely, independent of any religious, or even meditative processes. Most people, at times, seem to need a sounding board for their ideas and to help them make sense of stressors and complex scenarios that have an impact on their lives. Many children invent “invisible friends” that play roles in their lives and similarly help them cope with problems from loneliness to interpersonal problems with siblings. The cultural concept of employing this process to a religious experience and a communing with one’s god isn’t such a stretch that compromise should totally negate the value.
Problematic, from a Left Hand Path standpoint, would be the concept of the elimination of the ego as a component of the Sema. However, in considering oneself one’s own god, the mitigation could be seen in the inclusion of ego as a healthy part of one’s totality, rather than a negative influence on it. One’s ego can be a double edged sword, but them so too can any facet of a person’s life, or emotional health. Even love can be weaponized.
“Stop acting so small. You are the Universe in ecstatic Motion.” — Rumi
Sema, a Whirling Dervish Ceremony performed at the Mevlevihanesi, or Mevlevi Sufi Lodge at Galata in Istanbul on 18 December 2012: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ywa6glFr6io
*1 Camille Helminski presents a letter (dated from 1991) from Celaleddin Bakir Çelebi (who was the Çelebi heading the order at that time) which grants permission for men and women to once more whirl together in mixed Mevlevi ceremonies. Women of Sufism, A Hidden Treasure, Camille Helminski (2003)
Note 1 — Fun fact! The Guinness World Record holder for “most Sufi whirls in one hour” in 2015 went to Nicole McLaren in Zurich, with 3,552 rotations. That’s 59.2 rotations per minute, or not quite 1 rotation per second!
References: — The Threshold Society. Good information on Sufism, and contains a detailed explanation of the Sema and the prayers and movements of those involved. https://sufism.org/al-fatiha
— Women in Sufism, A Hidden Treasure (Camile Helminski 2003)— The Whirling Dervishes, (Shems Friedlander 1992)
— Whirling Dervishes, (Murat Duzyol 2015)
by Jake Block
We all need a place from which we know that we are on course and steady. Sailors at sea search the night sky for that one star that is always true, and always leads them due north, and with that star in their sights, they can go anywhere in the world. Without it, they might as well be adrift and at the mercy of the tides and the winds that billow their sails.
Dry landers too, know that they must find their sense of direction, even when things look the same all around them. The Bedouin, crossing the desert needs to know which way to move, lest they be lost forever in the shifting dunes of the Sahara. Tracking their star can take them safely to the Mediterranean Sea to the north, to Mecca or Medina in the east, or to a sparse oasis with fresh water and cool grasses.
Pilots in the skies, before the days of electronic navigation, found their salvation and a safe place to land by following the stars. In the darkness, the sky and the land or sea below can all look the same, but their northern star, their blessed friend could always get them home again, as long as their plane held together at the end of its mission.
But what of us who journey the dark passages of the mind, ever left on that mostly uncharted path to enlightenment? Our solitary wanderings can sometimes leave us feeling a bit lost, and at the mercy of strangers whose path we might cross along the way. But when we remember that these strangers are, like us, finding their own way along that path, we have to question where we actually stand. Where is our safe harbor, that place we can rest and take stock of our situation before traveling on?
We, along that path, can’t find our star with a sextant, nor is it on any chart, or logged in any book of heavenly bodies. It can’t bee seen in the sky with the naked eye, nor with the most powerful telescope known to man. Our star, steady and true will only be found when we search deep in side and then we can feel it in our heart. Our star is a dark star, and while there could be millions of dark stars, only one star becomes our own, and when we follow it, we know it is true and we know it will never lead us wrong.
From my earliest days on the Left Hand Path, I found one concept that resonated as true and right, and when things seem off course, I can always return in my mind to that set point and retrace my steps to see where I feel I might have erred. Some might resonate with “Satan,” some with “Lucifer,” and still others with “Lilith,” or “Sekhmet,” “LaVey,” “Crowley,” or a thousand other points of reference. These are metaphors for what we found to be that kernel of truth in a sea of doubt, and returning to that initial point of certainty, gives us a “reality check” to see if we are still on course with our core beliefs, whatever they may be.
Maps made by others can be flawed, and the things that others might swear by can often seem off to you. Trust that keeping true to oneself and one’s dark star can see you through, when it seems that you might have lost your way. Know your dark star, and you’ll always find your way back home.
“Dark star, I see you in the morning…”
— Stephen Stills
by Jake Block
A preacher one day was ministering to his flock, and he said, “God is great! God is perfect, and God has given us this gift, this perfect earth! Look at the skies. Are they not perfect? Look at the trees. Are they not perfect? Look at the universe. Is it not perfect? Look at the…”
Just then, a misshapen and crippled hunchback raised himself from his seat in the church and painfully made his way down the aisle to confront the preacher, shouting, “PERFECT? PERFECT? Look at me, you hypocrite! God made me perfect?”
The preacher was taken aback for a moment, but then raised his Bible up in his right hand and looked adoringly to the heavens and said, “Perfect? Glory hallelujah, brother, you’re the most perfect hunchback I’ve ever seen!”
Were we to look back at the totality of any life, there will always be instances that we can bring into question. No one leads of life of perfection, and no one stands above all others as a paragon of virtue. Now, there are always people who do better than others, and probably better than most, but from Jesus to any other man or woman you’d care to name, they all have faults, and if they have faults, there will always be someone to bring them to light, especially if they have a cause or an agenda.
Now, I have active more faults than the State of California. I know it, and I would never set myself up as some kind of example of the perfect ANYTHING. So, it often irks me when I see someone, especially a “johnny-come-lately” piping up and spouting off about “what a Satanist does,” or “What a Satanist must be.” Who’s to say that his or her vision of Satanism is any more valid than Anton LaVey’s, Michael Aquino’s, Peter Gilmore’s, Thomas LeRoy’s, mine or any of a hundred others who legitimately claim the title and not only talk the talk on the internet, but walk the walk in real life? None of us are perfect, and I’m not charitable enough to just hand that crown to some smack-talking Jabroni off the street.
“What gives you the right, hey you’
To stand there and tell me what to do?
Tell me, who gave you the power
To stop me from livin’ like I do?
Remember, if you plan to stay
Those who give can take away.
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
— Power Play (Steppenwolf)
It’s interesting, and a bit disturbing at the same time, when people try to twist and turn themselves inside out to become associated with a philosophy that rejects the herd, then try to twist that philosophy around even more to abandon its very nature and become just another herd. I suppose that trying to hijack a philosophy and force it to serve you might seem somewhat easier than actually developing and promoting one that you truly believe in, and letting people decide for themselves if they want to follow it. My question would be, if you are so fragile and weak minded that you would accept such people as a part of your group, why would anyone want to follow you in the first place?
“As far as I’m concerned, I would like my organization, the Church of Satan, to exist as a cabal for the mutual endowment of those already occupied with interests and activities other than organizational. I have often stated that I like to think of the Church of Satan as an organization for non-joiners. Affiliation need not negate independence. Affiliation should be based on respect, rather than desperation. Respect for a set of principles and for other men and women who share those principles, yet who are not dependent on an organization to give substance to their lives. The obvious question arises: ’Why then, would such persons need a Church of Satan?’ The answer is,’They don’t, unless it can do them some good.’ Affiliation should enhance one’s life, rather than be a substitute for it.”
— Anton LaVey
Perfection is rare in nature, and that’s why we treasure it when we see it. That perfect flower, perfect day, or perfect jewel are all a matter of perspective. When viewed from another vantage point, flaws begin to appear and become magnified, the closer one examines the object. A flower that looks perfect from a distance might be spotted with disease on close inspection, and a perfect day for your location could have tornadoes in another, and your perfect jewel could be loaded with inclusions. Leaders and wannabe leaders have blemishes as well, and you often don’t have to do that close of an inspection to find them!
by Jake Block
It’s been my experience that the farther you go on the Left-Hand Path, the less you are likely to be involved in some of the sideshow activities that people newly set on the path seem to engage in. Perhaps it might be a function of maturity, or it might just be a realization that certain modalities are counter to the path one feels will take them most directly to the place they wish to be.
Time, in my estimation, is a deciding factor in what we engage in and what we leave behind. When we are in our youth and we look at the hourglass of our life, the grains of sand flowing through the narrowing of the glass’ center divide to the small pile of sand below are less important to us than they are when the pile is larger and the upper chamber’s supply is dwindling and precariously low. When that vision is always in the back of your mind, you know that there is only a short span of time left for you to finish the race, and the tasks that are left for you to perform. It is at this time that you need to conserve, concentrate and carry on, because the one thing that you have no control over is time.
External distractions and dramas are often unavoidable, if they arise from the day to day stressors of family dynamics, personal economy, medical conditions, etc. These are the obstacles and pitfalls that are taken into account when we begin the race, and we simply have to find a way to navigate them while running the best race we can. Nobody said that the path you took to the left was ever going to be easy. So many have already failed that have gone before, and you must strive to best the obstacles that felled them while their bones lay scattered around you. Working your hardest, you hardly notice the ball and chain.
The Left-Hand Path is a path full of tests and adversaries with which you must contend. In your mind, you’re prepared, because you’ve read Nietzsche, Campbell, Jung and LaVey. The books on your shelf are well worn and dog-eared. Crowley, Sun Tzu, Gurdjeiff, Blavatski, LeRoy and hell, maybe even a few quotes from Block fill your head as you strike out on your measured pace to the end of the path. You’ve plotted your course and you are on your way, but the odds are “dollars to donuts” that in a very short time, something or someone is going to try to lure you off of that path with a battle to fight or a request to help someone over a wall that’s in his way.
Now, consider that that same wall is in YOUR way as well, when you stop your race to assist someone else. Make sure that it’s worth it. Even the shortest detour takes time, and there are enough of your own tasks to complete on the Left-Hand Path, that you should always ask the question, “Cui bono?” Who stands to gain from your expenditure of time and effort? If you can’t find a legitimate way to benefit and indeed advance, then consider if it’s worth your time and effort to deviate. If not, stay the course. Race on!
Adversaries along the path are strategically put there to test your skills and your resolve, so do what you are prepared to do and continue the race. But there will always be one persistent adversary that detains you time and time again, knocking you down and daring you to get up and face him again. This is Adversary One, and you will never see him coming unless you take a good, hard look in the mirror to see just who it is that is holding you back on the path. In 1972, cartoonist Walt Kelly, in his comic strip POGO coined the phrase, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”
Like Don Quixote in the book by Miguel de Cervantes, we spend most of our warring years tilting at windmills. That is to say we fight the imaginary enemies that amass in our heads and oppose us. We spend so much time in fighting these enemies that we lose sight of our goals and become ineffective. When we are the enemy, we cannot prevail! Learn to avoid the internal conflicts by being brutally honest with yourself and making corrections to your way of thinking and expected outcomes. Don’t dwell on decisions made and battles that went badly. You survived them. The past will hold you back and what’s done is done. Move on.
To be honest with you, the race itself was probably never meant to be won, simply because no matter how much you learn along the way, no matter how many complex problems you have solved, and no matter how many adversaries you have bested, there’s still more to come. There always will be, but even knowing that, we can’t give up, because it all means that there is also more to learn and more to know! So make haste. Conserve, concentrate and carry on, because the sands keep flowing through the hourglass, and the pile at the bottom is much larger than the remaining supply at the top.
You know that there is only a short span of time left for you to finish the race, even it it is only a race with yourself. It’s then that you realize you just don’t need that ball and chain.
by Jake Block
When one journeys along the Left Hand Path, that journey binds seamlessly to his earthly journey, which is instantly and irrevocably altered, as one’s searching into the darkness of his own existence continues and intensifies. The enlightenment one gains through his esoteric experiences brings clarity both into further mysteries along the Left Hand Path, but one’s day to day apparent life as well. While to the casual observer the journeyman remains as he has ever been, but a depth of understanding and deeper perception will often spill over to the “mundane” aspects of his existence.
The reasons for this are simple to understand. Those who simply live the life to which they are assigned know only that. They are aware, but on a superficial level that only allows for their function within the herd and in support of the herd’s continuation and ultimate support of the status quo. They are minor components in the mechanism of society, replaceable and redundant. They can live and die without the world either knowing or caring. Depth of thought and revolutionary change are simply not relevant for them, or necessary to their survival.
Those who become actively engaged in the “Left Hand Path Experience,” however, begin to take interest in things beyond their assigned place in their society, and as their increasing enlightenment clarifies their understandings, they discover that they have greater control of their own destinies than ever, and that with each new discovery along the way, their feelings of self empowerment intensify and urge them on to new and greater discovery. As they delve into the mysteries they see and find answers in their own minds, they begin to question the wisdom of the herds that had told them that only a god had power, and that man was subordinate and incapable of understanding.
Some quickly separate from the herd and move out on their own along this new path. However, there are some who, while tentatively making their way, still find the need to maintain a connection to their herd. They will often attempt to find correlative threads between the dogmatic aspects of the herd and the powers and freedoms to be found on the Left Hand Path. This can be quite a juggling act, as the Left Hand Path surrenders its enlightenment to the strong and independent, while the herd discourages independence as incompatible and “evil,” within the context of its ethic and ethos. In the end, the traveler must make a difficult choice to either return to the herd and the comforts it can offer, or to leave the herd behind to strike out boldly on his own.
My personal thinking is that one can either be part of the herd, or someone who is making their way along the left hand path, but not both. There are obviously people who will try to do both and merge those disparate worlds, but in my world, they’re ultimately incompatible. It’s simply a case of “either/or,” or “neither/nor,” no matter how many false equivalencies and convoluted paths one might create to make them compatible.
Perhaps the Christian Bible said it best in Matthew 6:24. “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.” In my mind, I can hear Bob Dylan sing:
“But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You’re gonna have to serve somebody.
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody”
To my mind, it’s best to serve yourself, and your own best interests, if you ever truly plan to be “your own god,” and leave the rest to their own paths and their own “gods.”
by Jake Block
I once worked on Van Ness Avenue in San Francisco, and commuted to work on BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit). The train ran about seven blocks from my office, so every morning and every evening, I made my brisk walk to and from the station. I had to walk past a homeless encampment that had been established just a block away from the City Hall of this busy, affluent city. After a while, I got used to seeing the homeless, cuddled up in their blankets, sometimes next to a shopping cart that they had “liberated” from a local grocery store, that held what meager possessions they might own. However, one morning in the fall, I was making my way through the area when I stepped on a wet patch of leaves. I landed with a painful “OOOF,” sprawled on the concrete walkway in my now wet three piece suit. My light gray trench coat was stained and torn.
Almost immediately, I felt someone grab my upper arm and help me to my feet. I thought that perhaps another commuter had come to my rescue, so I was surprised to see a disheveled man wearing old and tattered clothes. He smiled and said, “Hell of a fall you took there, sir. Are you ok?” I smiled sheepishly and shook his hand, thanking him for his help. He smiled back and started to walk away, but I took a $5 bill out of my pocket and handed it to him. I was surprised as hell when he told me, “That’s not necessary, sir.” I insisted that he take the money and at least get some hot coffee and a donut, so he did and told me to have a good day.
I was surprised because if you have ever been to San Francisco, at least at that time, it seemed that you couldn’t go from point A to point B anywhere in town without someone panhandling you on the street. In fact, an inside joke about the city at that time was that the official greeting in San Francisco was, “Welcome to San Francisco. Got any spare change?” So, sitting in my office on the 5th floor of the glass-walled building, I thought about that good Samaritan who helped me. He could just as easily have taken my wallet and run. He obviously could have used the money. He was living on the street. I had been there and done that, so I knew how cold the nights can get when you have to find some protection from the elements and be prepared to defend yourself. Then my day got busy and I put him out of my mind.
On the way back to the train station, I saw him in the little park and he waved at me. I waved and kept walking, but then stopped and made my way to where he sat next to his plastic bags of “things.” I shook his hand and introduced myself, and learned that his name was “Jimmy.” I asked his last name, and he told me, “It don’t matter, man.” It didn’t, but as we talked, I began to like him. He was a bit younger than me and had been on the street for about four years. He had come to San Francisco from Chicago because he said that he just couldn’t do another midwestern winter. I told him that I was from Illinois myself, so I knew what he was talking about, but I also knew that a cold night in San Francisco was no picnic, either!
I told Jimmy that I wanted to do something for him, seeing as how he had helped me, and asked if he would like me to help find him a low cost place to live, as the company I was working for had connections with the City of San Francisco. He told me, “No, thank you, but if I wanted to live in a house or an apartment, I would.” I told him that I understood, but that I really thought that there should be something that I could do for him. He thought for a few moments and then said, “Jake, let me show you something.” We walked several yards away and into a small area of where. sitting next to a wall, chained to tree was a large, “igloo style” dog House.
“Do you want a dog,” I asked. Jimmy smiled and said, “No. I would like one of these so I can be out of the weather and warm when I sleep.” About that time, a flap moved on the white dog house and a man emerged, crawling through the entrance to the dwelling. He waved at Jimmy and Jimmy waved back. Jimmy asked the man, his name was Terry, if I could take a look at his igloo. With Terry’s approval, I looked inside and found that a man of medium height could curl up in the thing and be relatively comfortable and, being made of thick, rigid plastic, his body heat could raise the temperature inside as well. So I asked Jimmy if this would be the size he wanted, and he nodded yes. Terry even volunteered to share his space next to the wall. I told Jimmy that I would meet him there on Monday morning at 8 AM.
I went back home, purchased the igloo, a few odds and ends and a pair of walking shoes with treaded soles to wear between the train station and my office. I made arrangements to come into work a bit later than normal, and to borrow my wife’s pickup truck. Monday morning at 8AM, I was there with the igloo and both Jimmy and Tommy were there to help me unload it. It had a thick, plastic floor, and I had drilled holes to run a chain through and a padlock, so that we could attach it to the tree. Moments later, it was move in ready, and Jimmy was happy to have a place to sleep that night. I went back to the truck and brought back four warm blankets and two thick pillows and gave a set to Jimmy and to Tommy as well. I’d spent about $200, but the smile on the men’s faces was worth every cent. I told them I had to go to work, and left them there to themselves.
I saw Jimmy every now and then over the next few months on my way to or from the office. Mostly, he and Tommy would be by their little hovels by the wall, where they felt safer in the night, end the spring and summer foliage on the bushes there hid them from sight most of the time. Once in a while we would wave or just nod, and if I should be walking through the area and met him on the walkways, we might speak, and I might slip him a few bucks from time to time. He seemed to be ok, or as ok as a homeless guy can be. The last time I saw him was on an evening in October. The next morning, he, and all of the homeless people that frequented that small area of San Francisco were gone, along with their things, grocery carts and the igloos that Tommy and Jimmy had chained to the tree. The homeless encampment had been removed by the city to accommodate one of the many festivals in the area each year. My warped sense of humor reasoned that it certainly must have been a “Save The Homeless” rally.
It’s not uncommon for cities with larger homeless populations to purge their homeless from time to time. If the city is relatively progressive, they might just round them up, clean them up, and transport them to the local bus terminal and they’re given a ticket “elsewhere,” where they can be “someone else’s problem.” In other less affluent cities, they’re simply woken by a less then friendly cop in the middle of the night and told to move and don’t come back. So, Jimmy could have been moved to Key West, or Albuquerque, El Paso or somewhere else, where I hoped that at least it would be warm. And his igloo? Like all of the other shacks and temporary structures the homeless sometimes manage to build to find some comfort, it probably ended up in a landfill as part of one of the city’s beautification projects, replaced by a bed of tulips or fresh, green grass.
Even though I’ve been on the streets myself, I’m not one of those who will damn the city as being heartless and cruel. It simply is what it is. We all have to take responsibility for our own survival, in the long run, and some of us simply do it better than others. And sometimes, because of a reciprocal act of kindness, individuals can sometimes, at least temporarily, make a difference in the lives of others in need. Jimmy helped me up when I was down, expecting nothing in return. I helped Jimmy when he was down, expecting nothing in return. It was up to Jimmy to change his life, if not here, wherever he ended up, and whatever temporary assistance he gained along the way was only a chance benefit, like a bandaid on an infected wound, that would eventually fester unless one makes a personal effort to affect a cure.
It has always reminded me that you can help someone if they are down, but you can’t change their lives unless they want change. If they don’t, your efforts might mitigate the circumstances for a time, but in the end, you’re only delaying the inevitable. Retreating into your personal igloo to keep you warm and somewhat safe at night is an interim fix, but it won’t save you if your igloo isn’t on your own property and safe from those who can just remove you when they need the space, or just want you gone.
by Jake Block
From the Looney Tunes Cartoon “The Last of the DoDos.”Porky Pig: “Are you really the last of the dodos?”
Dodo: “Yes, I’m really the last of the dodos.”
The dodo dances all over Porky Pig and then says, “Wooooooooooooooooo.”
One of my last civilian jobs was working at a place called the “DoDo Drive in” in Belleville, Illinois, and the owner had been a big fan of that Porky Pig cartoon. The “Big Mac” at the place was called the “DoDo Burger,” and every time one was ordered, you had to say, “Wooooooooooooo” into the microphone. People throughout the joint were laughing, and you felt about as close to being a dork as you ever would, and woe be unto you if you just decided not to do it. On my last day at the Do Do Drive In, I walked out the door after picking up my last check, just as some schmuck ordered the DoDo Burger, and the clerk did the “Wooooooooooooo” schtick. I muttered, “Woooooooooo my ass,” and I was gone.
The DoDo long ago went the way of its namesake, and now there is Sonic Burger on the site where it once stood. I would wager that the food is better now, but I wonder if echoes of dodos past can be heard woooooooing in the night, like some of the hokey “spirits” on one of the many TV programs dealing with “ghost hunting.” Probably not, but it illustrates a point that those who at one time frequented the DoDo are likely now customers of their local Sonic burger joint, as much out of habit as their dedication to the franchise store. People are creatures of habit and of tradition.
If you go to most places of veneration and tradition, you will find that they probably always were sites of religious or spiritual significance, although the object of veneration might have changed several times. Indeed, sometimes, people long ago forgot why a place was particularly important, yet they are still drawn to it, like salmon who must fight their way upstream to spawn in that one pool of warm water that every salmon in their lineage spawned for as far back as salmon spawned, to swim to the sea, eventually to return to spawn again.
Stonehenge is a prime example. Sitting on a mostly vacant area of the Salisbury plain, it’s been there for as long as anyone can remember. Many people attribute it to the Druids, although that’s a matter of speculation, and it’s almost certain that Stonehenge was already there in some form when the Druids came on the scene, as archeologists find that the latest construction on Stonehenge occurred sometime around 1200 BCE, predating the earliest Druids by approximately a thousand years. Indeed, radiocarbon dating of some of the 50 “sarsen stones” were in place from around 2000 BCE. The legend and lore of the site has it that Stonehenge was constructed by the legendary wizard Merlin, per writer Jeffery of Monmouth. Other guesses, for few real clues exist, are that Stonehenge was the handiwork of Saxons, Danes, Romans, Greeks or Egyptians. The Druidic connection is actually relatively new, having originated with the 17th century archaeologist John Aubrey. It’s one of those sites that humans are drawn to, just as the earliest inhabitants of the area have been for over 4,000 years.
All around the world there are places of veneration and tradition, much the same as Stonehenge, from the ancient monolithic temple complexes on the island of Malta, the erotic Kamasutra temple complex at Madhya Pradesh, India the vast temple complex at Ankor Wat, Cambodia. Before them all was the prehistoric temple site at Gobekli Tepe, Turkey, considered to be the oldest temple in the world, predating Stonehenge by an estimated 6000 years. It seems that people have always frequented spaces dedicated to the satisfaction of their religious, economic or survival needs.
How these places came to be is anyone’s guess. Perhaps they were originally stops along ancient trade routes. You can find places like this here in the Americas, where the great Native Indian “cities” thrived before the Spanish conquests and the encroachment of white men brought their eventual destruction. These trade routes spanned from South and Central America up into the midwest and southwest of modern day America. By pack animal and by simple boats, the indigenous groups traded furs and beads, food stuffs and seeds and information on their individual cultures as well. Also traveling with the native traders were ideas about religion. One such idea was that of “The Buzzard Cult,” which originated in the Yucatan Peninsula of what is now Mexico, but at that time was the home of the Maya Indians.
As times on the American plains got tough, the tribes began to hear of the Mayan concept of the Buzzard Cult, in which the ritual torture and killing of enemy troops was a way to placate the gods. Now that the crops began to fail, tribes from the Mississippi valley to the great southwest began, in their desperation, to take such desperate measures. Variously known as the Buzzard Cult and the Southern Death Cult, such practices spread from the southern tip of Florida, northeast to the Carolinas, into the Ohio Valley, north to what is now Wisconsin, including all of what would become Illinois and Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, and the eastern third of Texas. The largest mounds of Kahokia, in Illinois, became a principle area of trade and worship. Recent archaeological digs in the area have found evidence of extensive trade amongst the tribes, with conch shells from Florida, copper from the Great lakes region as well as the Appalachians, lead from northern Illinois and Iowa, stone tools from Kansas and Texas. On the darker side, the mounds of Kahokia have also yielded evidence of human sacrifice on a large scale and human bones, split lengthwise and scraped with stone knives, indicating ritual cannibalism and the eating of human bone marrow.
These were places where ritual and magic and the availability of goods, food and drink brought people together for well over seven hundred years. They were multi-generational places of expectation and reward for the good people of the society, and where these good people could witness the death of their enemies and the knowledge that they were superior against the force that would rejoice, should they fall. The main complex habitats, according to John Muller of the Southern Illinois University built up from around 900 CE to 1150 CE. The cultish period of the culture began shortly after, circa 1250 – 1350 CE, and after about 100 years of trade and growth, the trade networks began to crumble due to overpopulation, crop failures and warfare, so that by 1450 CE, alliances and empires were replaced with localized regional culture, society and ritual. Beyond this time, with the encroachment of European cultures and the assimilation or elimination of indigenous tribal groupings, these cultural centers began to dissolve and scatter.
Still today, however, places like the Kahokia mounds, a short way from the bustling metropolis of St. Louis, Serpent Mound in Adams County, Ohio, Chaco Canyon, Chetro Ketl, in Nageezi, New Mexico, and other historic Native American sites are popular places to visit and learn about the tribal societies and the warrior chiefs of the plains.
People very much need to be attached to the past, to remain connected with what came before, so that they might have some idea of what is to come. If you are like me, you have a cable system with a bout 500 available channels, most of them duplicates of others up and down “the dial,” but within them will be a selection of “history” channels. There are channels for the military, for science, for sports, for ancient cultures and even for speculation on ancient aliens. These stations are popular, and people will watch their program offerings over and over. You can learn a lot from the past, because, as Mark Twain once said, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.”
I don’t think that my experiences as a “burger guy” at the long defunct DoDo Drive In will ever make it on a history channel as any kind of significant event. Burger joints are, for the most point, insignificant to most people. They’re simply a place to go, grab some fast food to quell their hunger, and then go about their day. But there are some “legendary” burger joints out there that make me wonder at times! When I think of iconic burgers and burger joints, one name jumps into my mind; McDonald’s. I remember when they started serving cheap bag-food out of small little places that were mostly just a kitchen and a drive-through window. Now they are everywhere, serving billions and billions of burgers to a world too busy to sit down for a good meal. They’ve been at the top of the heap since just after they opened their first store on April 15th, 1955. Sixty-five years and going strong! Millions of devoted customers.
There have been several cultural analysts that have suggested that McDonalds has many of the same characteristics as a religion to their customers. Could it be that sometime in the distant future, perhaps at their original site in San Bernardino, CA, the Golden Arches , complete with a red sign announcing “Trillions and Trillions Served” will be a place of pilgrimage and archaeological importance? Perhaps, between the golden arches, carefully preserved for the faithful, will be a colorful statue of that red-headed “god,” Ronald, surrounded by the hosts. Seated at that sacred table with swivel stools of red naugahyde, there will be Mayor McCheese, TheGrimace, Birdie the Early Bird, the Fry Kids, Officer McCheese, Hamburglar, The Professor, The Happy Meal Gang, Captain Crook and the McNugget buddies, under their individual spotlights, and there, in a lesser and darker area of the tableau will be “the arch fiend,” Burger King.
Yes, they will come by the millions to that lone paper-hatted server standing forever at the ancient “cash register.” (Cash? What is cash? “Well, my son, long before Bitcoin was made the universal currency of the Earth and all of the 16 planets…”) One by one, the faithful will approach, lean their heads back and stare at the sign on the wall and recite the sacred words, “Gimme a Big Mac, fries, a Coke and a hot apple pie.” Yes, and then the robotic server will raise his hand for the benediction and intone, “Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun,” to which the pilgrim will respond, “Yeah, and super-size me!”
And somewhere in the distance, the Angels of Cholesterol will sing, “Wooooooooooooooooo.”