Happy New Baktun! Let’s kick this Apocalypse into a full-on New Age.

•December 21, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Approaching another apocalypse, I assess the situation at hand. As I may’ve mentioned- here or in my theatre- the apocalypse is neverending. In my theatre I like to examine the apocalypse, taking into account the nature of eternal time. There’s always another apocalypse, just like in Buffy or any other fun action-packed story. Apo-calypse, Greek apocálypsis, apokalyptein, ἀποκάλυψις, becomes re-vel-ation, from the Latin revelare. Revelation is, of course, exactly what it sounds like. Literally, re-vel… lifting of the veil, is a disclosure. One begins to see what is really there. An older association was “insight, vision; hallucination”- a cataclysmic event is a much more modern invention. Calypso was a nymph, her name translates to Covered, she was perhaps a death goddess, and the root of her name is the origin of the word Hell. If we can apo-calypse, and lift away the hidden, and lift away Hell, imagine the possibilities.

Calypso, ogygian nymph, by immortalis

Calypso, ogygian nymph, by immortalis

I am so fond of the apocalypse for this and other reasons. Certainly it is a common theme in religion, which I enjoy. Christianity sprang from apocalyptic cult members, and still makes use of apocalyptic motifs. But you see, here’s the thing- there’s a right way to do apocalyptic cult, and there’s a wrong way. Harold Camping? Wrong. Yet we obviously see there are many good ways to practice not only Christianity, but several other religions which have eschatalogical features.

John is tripping balls.  This picture is titled THE REVELATION OF SAINT JOHN, and is by wanderweird.

John is tripping balls. This picture is titled THE REVELATION OF SAINT JOHN, and is by wanderweird.

The thing is, one must not become confused that there is an “end” of the world. There is no such thing as the end, for we are eternal, as I have often said in the past. We are also not going to be swept away in a sudden light-show rapture, and we must not rely upon this. Jesus was teaching a true apocalypse two thousand years ago, based upon religions thousands of years older than he- what sort of responsible person (and I know several of these people exist) would then expect the world to end within their lifetime or soon, and so not take into consideration certain consequences?

We are eternal, but all things, all material phenomena, are ephemeral. We ourselves all die. We will continue on forever, but not necessarily as human beings- and if we don’t take care of the planet, our race may die much sooner than need be, no matter what any calendar or apocalyptic preacher says. We must take responsibility now, for ourselves and for our children, to learn how to live in peace and harmony in this holy garden floating around on a giant living rock spaceship. We mustn’t wait around for the Universe, for God, to fix things- we must be responsible enough to fix them ourselves. God and the Universe are conscious, and act, through us. God wants us to take loving care of ourselves; love is the law. There’s no reason to turn cults into nasty business.

In a similar vein, you don't want to do anything like think a parasitic slug is the Second Coming and so murder people with it.  Season 8 Episode 4 of The X-Files:  Roadrunners.

In a similar vein, you don’t want to do anything like think a parasitic slug is the Second Coming and so murder people with it. Season 8 Episode 4 of The X-Files: Roadrunners. X-Files had the Bad Aliens set to colonize Earth on 12/22/12, which the Mayans knew.

As for this current, Mayan apocalypse- well, is it really? Yes and no. The Mayans did not really hold the Christian concept, or shall I say, classical-language-concept, of apo-calypse in their beliefs that we know of for sure, but every culture has their own version. In their calendar, we are reaching a major new cycle. So it is certainly comparable, in the sense that we are reaching a whole new way of things. Of course, it is not the end of the world, for reasons already mentioned- we are eternal/the world never ends, though the planet can- but for some reason, it gained traction as such.

I’m not sure why. The Mayans certainly never thought this- indeed they saw it as a new cycle in much the same way as we might see March turn into April, or the changing of astrological signs. There has been so much hubbub over it that it has indelibly marked the date with apocalyptic quality. So how did this happen?

Astronomical Astrology Design, by Amaqueria

Astronomical Astrology Design, by Amaqueria

Well, let me say something further about astrology. I love astrology. I have a passion for it. I’ve been studying it for some years now. At first, I knew next to nothing. But the more I learned, the more I wanted to learn, and the more I saw that even if we study for twenty five years, there’s still so much more to learn. So I might not have been the best astrologer- and I’m still not. But I know a damn sight more now than I once did, and so much more than your average joe, and while I might not know when everything important is about to happen in the sky, it has really helped out my goetic work in many ways.

Astrology is a beautiful mathematical and scientific art- not the same kind of science/knowledge one finds in chemistry in which adding two hydrogen atoms to an oxygen atom will give you a water molecule- but rather the kind of science/knowledge regarding that which breaks down at the very small, and very large, levels. It is beyond rationality- the brain, an organ, a meaty computer, which exists in the middle of scientific parameters and matter, cannot understand the science of the very large and the very small- matter breaks apart by then- but the mind within oneself can.

Birth of Athena, by MattRhodes.  My Pallas is 10° Cancer.

Birth of Athena, by MattRhodes. My Pallas is 10° Cancer.

Astrology’s science gives knowledge of how everything is interconnected, and everything is one, in this one uni-verse. All is held together in the universe in one energy, one love, and one gravity. By observing the patterns and cycles of energy, we can more thoroughly know ourselves, and make more informed decisions. It is not that the future is set in stone- not at all. That sort of fatalism is impossible and boring. Yet by observing these patterns and cycles- when the moon does what, when everything does what- and, having kept track of these patterns, then analyzing them, we can decide when to plant, when to harvest, and how to set our clocks.

Both the Mayan calendar and NASA keep time by the movement of the heavenly bodies such as Venus, and measuring when it has certain relationships with the Sun and so forth. Time can be measured via the orbital motion of Earth and other planets, or the stars, or the oscillations of atoms. We know that Aries is the time of new beginnings, and know that the energy of the universe tends to repeat certain sorts of patterns at those times. That is a time to plant crops, to make war, to prepare for lambs and flowers. Since everything in the universe is interconnected, and everything in the universe exerts gravity on everything else in the universe, from the unimaginably small to the unimaginably large, I find it fascinating and useful to examine the energy play therein.

Apollo and the Satyrs, by by Gustave Moreau.  My Sun is 17° Aries.

Apollo and the Satyrs, by by Gustave Moreau. My Sun is 17° Aries.

So, as for patterns and cycles, indeed a very long Mayan cycle is coming to an end, to begin anew. Now, there’s a lot of bullshit out there. Like that there’s some grand alignment- there’s always some grand alignment, but the specific alignment thrown out so often about December 21st, that of the Sun aligning with the Galactic Center, actually occurred a couple of days ago. (Not that it wasn’t wonderful in its own right! Like I said, I love astrology.)

I don’t claim to know all the answers- even though I love ancient religion, I can’t say I know everything about it. I try my best. And I think I do a lot better than certain hacks out there who just want to take your money. There are so many charlatans out there in astrology and religion. (N.B. If anyone tries to use scare tactics and fear to get money out of you, saying that darkness is following you and people are jealous of you, so you need cleansing, and a super important period is coming up you need to take advantage of, a transit period, and that you are a special person good in so many special ways that set you apart, ignore them. This is true of everyone and is just the psychic version of evil marketing, and while cleansing is good, if you are good too, the darkness cannot really harm you unless you let it.)

The Queen of Cups occasionally warns us against charlatan diviners.

The Queen of Cups occasionally warns us against charlatan diviners.

As I’ve said before, while I enjoy most every religion as something beautiful, every religion has people who practice bullshit too. Because of this, people often blame an entire religion different than theirs as being bullshit. I see it happen all the time- I’m sure you do as well.

I have before said that I was formerly the sort of person who disliked “New Age mumbo-jumbo”. Yet then, before I began these writings, and as I’ve related in them, there came a day when I visited the New Age section of a bookstore. While indeed dismissing a lot of it as nonsense, I picked out books I thought might have the only answers left for me. Answers which are all ultimately within ourselves, but, as someone who had exhausted herself of everything else she’d wanted to do, and not finding happiness, I thought investigating magic might help. And so it did. And so did I immediately see the effects thereof.

Hermes Trismegistus, by fmdc

Hermes Trismegistus, by fmdc

Now, what is “New Age?”

Well, it isn’t really a specific religion, much as some people might say so in deriding it. But it is a label applied in certain instances. And while I did not take this label upon myself for some time, and did not like it, I was given it. Why, just trying to be in theatre and teach people to do the right thing got me labeled as a “New Age hippie”. Enjoying practicing yoga techniques- which are the best thing possible for one’s body, which is an actor’s instrument- got me labeled a “New Age hippie”. Pointing to the oneness of the universe got me labeled as a “New Age hippie” who shouldn’t be taken seriously, because she lives in California, and can therefore be dismissed because we all smoke too much green, ma-a-a-an. My logic could never be correct. I am also given other labels, those I’d never heard of or identified with, at that point, for instance, “monist”, and hear that certain people would like to have a party at which bodily harm and violence are committed against those with the label I’ve been given. I am given a label and forced into something that I never said I was, and then “persecuted” for it. (Lord, save me from persecution complexes.) Well, I could say I’m a little tired of that. Luckily, I am on the path of enlightenment and don’t let little things like that bother me. It’s just annoying, like a pest. I have therefore decided:

Fuck it. I’m New Age. Even though that’s not even a fucking goddamn religion. You wanna call me that? FINE. I’ll wear that label as a badge of honor, and anyone who doesn’t like it can suck it.

I guess I just scream hippie.  secretary, by esfenico (Of course, she's really the boss, if you know what I mean.)

I guess I just scream hippie. Secretary, by esfenico (Of course, she’s really the boss, if you know what I mean.)

So why don’t we all try to stop ragging on New Age folk, then? Because now, everytime I hear something disparaging said about “New Age”, I often feel slighted, even if they aren’t necessarily talking about me, because so often have I been labelled such! Why, I was in the New Age section of the bookstore again the other day, and I looked at a copy of some book that had to do with LaVeyan Satanism because it had a pretty pink pentagram on the cover. The description on the back, however, put me off- it told me that Satanism would help me see past all those “New Age idiocies”. You know what? New Age isn’t necessarily all idiotic. And the book is in the fucking New Age section.

Another day, I was looking for some guided meditations to help me cleanse my chakras. I found a nice one and clicked around to the lady‘s other videos. I was then horrified to see that, while I had enjoyed the chakra cleansing video, this lady had an astral traveling meditation that I had once tried to use before, and had put down just as I’d put down the Satanism book. It had even been the first astral travel meditation that popped up when I searched for it on YouTube.   I was unpleasantly surprised because at the beginning she has a disclaimer: “You should all educate-yourself to find out the TRUTH about the “new age” deception (starseed lie) its facilitation of the NWO MC” while she has an electronically-affected voice say “Christina Dream Presents” and Enya plays in the background. Let me get this straight. You’re doing an astral travel guided meditation and you’re putting that shit up at the beginning of your video? Are you fucking kidding me?

Out of body experience, by  Giohorus

Out of body experience, by Giohorus

And then of course there are certain pagans who think syncretism is cool, but New Age? Oh, no, they’re fucking ripping everyone else off, and their syncretism couldn’t possibly hold any water, or any real spiritual value. Even though, guess what, it fucking does. And Crowley agrees with me, because, as I’ll maintain until I’m blue in the face, all religions are in their quiddity identical.

I could go on with Abrahamic, Atheist, Hindu or whatEver examples, but you get the point.

Maybe this all comes down to self-hatred, hatred of ourselves, our communities, and our practices, just like I discussed in an article about theatre recently. We really need to overcome this nonsense. We also need to give up using generalization fallacies. They are my pet peeve. There are those who use them when speaking upon religion- or anything- so, so often! Without ever realizing what is inherently and logically wrong with them! We must banish these fallacious ways from our behaviors.

Welcome in the new age, by Magic Fox

Welcome in the new age, by Magic Fox

So then, what is “New Age” that people keep calling me that in harsh tones, or disparaging others for following “its practices”? You know what? Long story real fucking short: It’s about a New Age.

WOAH I didn’t see that coming.

Just like I mentioned earlier about this apocalypse- what is it really? It’s just a new age. A new beginning. The end of one calendrical period and the start of another. It is a time when one cycle and one pattern ends. It is a time when a new cycle and new pattern starts. This one occurs today, on the winter solstice. What is that? Quite simply, it is the time of the year when our part of the Earth is tilted farthest away from the sun, and so, we have the longest night and the shortest day of the year. This Mayan new age coincides with it, and several other holidays fall nearby- Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and so forth. The ancients would celebrate this time with various holidays as well. I’ve talked about the rebirth of light before, this holy period of the never-ending cycles of life. We are all celebrating the same thing. We all get a chance for rebirth in a new cycle.

The Winter Solstice in Belize.

The Winter Solstice in Belize.

The New Age is a spiritual movement that is not organized. You can read a lot about it on Wiki. It syncretizes that which is useful and good in spirituality, religion, science, and art- the metaphysical, psychology, health, quantum physics, and is at once both “pluralistic” and “monist”. It seeks enlightenment and evolution of consciousness. And of course this unorganized movement is so much more. It came about through various persons who called their ways by different labels- I should say, perhaps through many more not listed on the wiki, thousands really.  The label is attested perhaps earliest by William Blake, that lovely man, poet, and artist who saw angels and painted them despite his mother having violently discouraged it.

An illustration from Blake's "Milton".  In the preface he states, "... when the New Age is at leisure to pronounce, all will be set right ..."

An illustration from Blake’s “Milton”. In the preface he states, “… when the New Age is at leisure to pronounce, all will be set right …”

Now here we come to my reflections upon the apocalypse that are personal. So- you already know that I’ve gone ahead and decided to go with the New Age label (even though, if you know me, you’ll know I know that labels are meaningless and that I have so many others, such as Catholic, goetic wizard, yogi, Cleric of Ganymede, actress, writer, producer, kinkster, Aries, Scorpio rising, Pisces moon, Venus dominant, cat-lover, Aphrodite).

A major New Age at play here is, of course, the Age of Aquarius. Astrological ages are a product of precessional rotation and last 2,150 years on average. Astrological ages appear in retrograde, that is, they appear backward. So, some four thousand or more years ago was the age of Aries, some two thousand years ago was the Age of Pisces, and now or later we will be in the Age of Aquarius. I find it fun to imagine the hallmarks of these times and themes through religion and spirituality, as others do- with Moses as a representative of Aries and Jesus as a representative of Pisces. Fun, but again, not an exact, materialistic science.


Pisces is also associated with Aphrodite and Eros. So I present again a piece by Hullabaloo 2, the second version, hence Aphrodite and the Erotes II.

There are so many guesses as to when this age began or will begin. Astronomers and astrologers have widely varying views, from more than a hundred years in the past and likewise into the future. Carl Jung said that in 1940 we approached the meridian of the first star in Aquarius. Aleister Crowley believes we entered the new Aeon of Horus, rather, in 1904. Considering that the energy of the transit of a planet can be felt a day or two before or after it transits- or even a month with the farthest outer planets- how much moreso must it be with an Age? How could we really pin a start date down?

But we like start dates. And calendars. They give us fresh, new beginnings. I have often wanted a new beginning, and I think I have received several. This Mayan apocalypse offers another, and, like the Age of Aquarius, or the Aeon of Horus, a new age offers a new beginning on such a grander scale than just the New Year.

What the caterpillar thinks is the end of the world, the butterfly knows is the beginning.

What the caterpillar thinks is the end of the world, the butterfly knows is the beginning.

Now, if you’ve read my blog, you’d realize that I worship Aquarius. Or, shall I say, Ganymede. Ganymede is the name I call out so very often, as naturally as I do God. Ganymede is the name I give to what Crowley would call my Holy Guardian Angel, and what Christians might call the Guardian Angel, and what New Agers might call the Higher Self. Ganymede, raped up into Heaven, is transformed into the constellation Aquarius, the water-bearer, the god of service, in perpetual service to the gods, and is boytoy to Zdeus, the most powerful father god, himself. He pours the waters of enlightenment out for humanity. He is the one thought to control the Nile, and so bless or curse humanity- again I note that ancient astrologers would also track Sirius to determine the pattern and cycles of the Nile. It is interesting to note that further connection with Ganymede and Sirius, which my friend and ex Merlin first brought to my attention.

And though I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, there was a time- when Jupiter was aligning with the Sun, in which I received an apocalypse, a revelation. I’ve had several. This one occurred on my birthday, or just before, considering that, as I’ve said, the effects of the planets’ movements can be felt a day or two before or after- and really, once you get into the real stuff, time just breaks down. It is illusory, after all. Which reminds me that maybe Hair was right- because the Moon is in the Seventh House for a bit every day and Jupiter aligns with Mars several times a year- perhaps the New Age could come anytime; whenever we feel it is so.

Found this on some website disparaging the New Age as Eeeeeevil.

Found this on some website disparaging the New Age as Eeeeeevil.

In my revelation, the night before my birthday, I was having perhaps one of the very worst days of my life- beaten, forgotten, crying, and so forth. And yet, Jupiter’s exact alignment with the Sun is to be the luckiest day of the year. And in my sign, which only happens once every twelve years! And on my birthday! On this day, spacetime fell apart for me, before me, and I saw all the way out to Jupiter, Mr. Zdeus. And he spoke to me as though I were Ganymede, after a fashion. As is often the case with my revelations, there was an air of disappointment. Why, I wonder? Am I really that disappointing? They tell us that we are all wonderful beautiful snowflakes, and certainly I’ve tried very hard to do my duty- yet I feel a sense of karmic frowning for what reason I know not.

Well. I am disappointed too. Or I was. You see, I’d been wanting this New Baktun of the Mayans to be really quite something special. And I had wanted, I think, to live up to what God, Zdeus, my parents, and certain others who see me as Ganymede, would have wanted, by now. I had wanted, you see, to be so much closer to saving the world than I am right now. I had wanted to make so much more of an impact. An impact has been made, to be sure- but for me, it is not enough! It is far too miniscule for my tastes. My lover, Iakov, tells me that I cannot be expected to save the world. That it is too much responsibility to take onto myself. Yet I feel I can settle for nothing less. I have to at least try. Since I have so often hated the world; I must make it a place I would want to live. I have to make it a place I wouldn’t mind bringing a child into.

I've used this one before, too.  This is Shamaness 2012, by lauraborealisis.  This is her description:  Mayan glyphs read thus right to left: ya-ah-la "her mother's child"/ ye-be-ta "his messenger"/ ek-yi "star war" ek y-otoot "fire venus" "in her house" hul ool-wa "arrive at heart"/ japay/way "maw, portal to the Underworld"/ way-ib "dreaming place"/ chum-ajaw ti chan "sit as ajaw in heaven"/ t'abay-y aj-ts'ib-ba "ascend raise exalt" "the scribe"/ aj-k'uh-hun-n(a) "she of the holy books(codices)"/ "29 days"/ Underneath the Mayan glyphs runs a band of "duats" the Egyptian glyph for star, or, when encircled a portal to the underworld. the other stars pictured are pentacles (otherwise know as pentagrams) in honor of the lovely Venus and her constant tracing of the same symbol across our sky, reaching completion every 8 years. Essentially this is a story about a seer, shamaness or prophet/scribe pulling in the strongest energies/currents for the greatest good pf herself and all of humanity.... reaching a state of ultimate akashic knowledge and flowing inspiration through knowledge of self, the rhythms of the earth, signs, omens, and communication with the stars she becomes the royal librarian, the highest ranking scribe, joyously recording her times in an effort to recreate a sacred portal into an esoteric realm previously un-glimpsed by the majority of beings but known within...a place where we dream our reality into existence...centered in source/heart/anahata energy, sahasrara: blooming effulgent like the birth of a thousand suns...we are gods, my friends, let us not forget. walking dream-matrix magi. state-shifting myth-shapers.

I’ve used this one before, too. This is Shamaness 2012, by lauraborealisis. This is her description: Mayan glyphs read thus right to left:ya-ah-la “her mother’s child”/ ye-be-ta “his messenger”/ ek-yi “star war” ek y-otoot “fire venus” “in her house” hul ool-wa “arrive at heart”/ japay/way “maw, portal to the Underworld”/ way-ib “dreaming place”/ chum-ajaw ti chan “sit as ajaw in heaven”/ t’abay-y aj-ts’ib-ba “ascend raise exalt” “the scribe”/ aj-k’uh-hun-n(a) “she of the holy books(codices)”/ “29 days”/

Underneath the Mayan glyphs runs a band of “duats” the Egyptian glyph for star, or, when encircled a portal to the underworld. the other stars pictured are pentacles (otherwise know as pentagrams) in honor of the lovely Venus and her constant tracing of the same symbol across our sky, reaching completion every 8 years.

Essentially this is a story about a seer, shamaness or prophet/scribe pulling in the strongest energies/currents for the greatest good pf herself and all of humanity…. reaching a state of ultimate akashic knowledge and flowing inspiration through knowledge of self, the rhythms of the earth, signs, omens, and communication with the stars she becomes the royal librarian, the highest ranking scribe, joyously recording her times in an effort to recreate a sacred portal into an esoteric realm previously un-glimpsed by the majority of beings but known within…a place where we dream our reality into existence…centered in source/heart/anahata energy, sahasrara: blooming effulgent like the birth of a thousand suns…

we are gods, my friends, let us not forget. walking dream-matrix magi. state-shifting myth-shapers.

However. I find that- here I am. I have done what I could. I have been what many call an amazing, brave, brilliant, and accomplished person, despite the fact I so often do not see this. And I find myself needing to take my own advice- what I had been teaching to everyone else regarding the New Age: That this is a new beginning. I had wanted to be so much more finished by now. But no. I must now begin. I have conquered so many demons, and now that they are behind me, I shall find my way unimpeded. If any more choose to meet me I shall be able to defeat them quickly in zen fashion. And I think using this new calendrical age as a deadline did help motivate me to get more things done and sooner. All the things I have wanted, all the pieces are falling into place. It is time to overcome the illness I developed as a result of not feeling that things were right- it is time to step into being in the right place, now.

This is my new start, and I hope everyone will join me. Some say the New Age requires that everyone be enlightened, in light and love. Perhaps. I think that would be real utopia. But those of us who can must start living it now.

Concert in Heaven, by sabin-boykinov

Concert in Heaven, by sabin-boykinov

If we take an astrological interpretation- why not- we know that the Age of Aries had its ups and downs. Rules, rituals, and structured civilization helped us evolve, while violence demeaned us. The same with the Age of Pisces. The Age of Aquarius will likely be the same. There are good points and bad points to each sign of the zodiac. I certainly know the downsides after a horrible relationship with an Aquarius. I hope that the Age will not bring these nightmarish parts of Aquarius to light too much- Aquarius is not all light and love. It can be overly detached, intellectual, rigid, unemotional, unfeeling. But I imagine we will have to conquer these things- we are in the process already.

So let’s all conquer the demons and play together in the light. Happy New Baktun. :)


Saturn Ascends; Transits Again.

•October 3, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I have been waiting for this for months- at long last, this Friday, October 5th, 2012, Saturn will exit Libra and enter Scorpio.

Saturn in natural color, photographed by Cassini.

Saturn is the planet of boundaries and rules, the planet of obstacles, domination, discipline, responsibility, organization, structures, and tests.  He is also the planet representing Father Time (Saturn is Kronos, or Cronus, or Chronos).  Saturn represents the tyrannical, abusive father figure, and perhaps even the oppressive patriarchal God of the early scriptures.  His day is Saturn, Saturn’s Day, Saturday, the Holy Day, the Sabbath.  He is a melancholic titan, the father who ate his children, and his element is lead.  Some view this myth as the metaphor for the alchemical transmutation of gold into lead.  Some say this alchemy is indeed the old devouring the young: the “fattened elder ruling class” stealing  their wealth from the future of their educated, hard-working, enslaved, and indebted children, as happens occasionally…  however, on a more positive note, some say this alchemy is to be done in one’s spiritual journey- that one must transform the dark leaden parts of one’s soul into gold.  In any case, when Saturn appears, it is time to be tested, to face facts, reality, and responsibility, and to play by his rules if you want to get anywhere.

Saturn comes back around about every 30 years in the cycle of the Zodiac.  He spends about two and a half years in each sign.  Every planet has a certain sign in which it is exalted- where it is most powerful.  For Saturn, this is Libra.  This means a time of trials for everyone, especially in relationships, as Libra governs balanced partnerships.  Yet Saturn in Libra has been particularly hard, in many ways, on the sign exactly opposite of Libra in this Zodiac wheel, and the sign, astrologically speaking, therefore most “oppositionally” tested by Saturn:  Aries.

Saturno devorando a su hijo, by Francisco de Goya. This was one of the first images I ever saw upon researching mythology and the occult at the library as a little girl. The creeps x10. What kind of guy paints this on the wall of his own house?

My Iakov went to an astrologer during this period who explained how, during this time, every sign has had some troubles with relationships, but most particularly Aries.  For many Aries,  relationships crumble in horrid, dramatic fashion.  This is true for myself, Iakov, and almost any other Aries I know.  His relationship with his wife ended during this time, and the nightmare I had with Luken ended as well.  If the relationship of an Aries did not crumble, or become horribly disfigured and marred in some way during this time, then it has become beautiful and strong after having found the knowledge that they have the strength to overcome trials together in real love.

Iakov is a double Aries, so he will experience some greater ease come this Friday, and the focus will move from his former partnership with his wife to new, transformative sexual relationships, and the psychic, psychological, occult, and regenerative parts of life.  I am an Aries with Scorpio rising, so it may be that Saturn will not only go easier on me when entering Scorpio, but also help me out.  I feel like I’ll be able to navigate that much better.

As Saturn leaves my twelfth house in Libra and enters my ascendant- my first house, Scorpio- he will move from testing the secret otherworld, fantasies, psychic abilities, the hidden of institutions, and my karma, to testing and improving my somewhat Scorpion identity.  This will be a time of healing. Saturn is the planet of rules, so I have to learn how to work with them- I have to learn how to work with the rigid structure of the skeleton over which he presides in order to reap his benefits- but I feel that we will start working together.   This will improve my “identity” and place in the world.

Saturn eclipses the sun, again as seen from Cassini.

My Saturn return will occur in a few years.  A Saturn return is when Saturn comes back around to where it was located when one is born- what is called its natal position. As I said, this takes about 29-30 years.  Some are afraid of this, because this is when he really shows you your karma, and asks what you will have with the rest of your life.  I am not afraid, and I think that he gave me a very good chance to prepare for that with this ghastly nonsense we’ve been squabbling over while he’s in Libra, and the help he’ll be giving me and my position in Scorpio.

Saturn will also be crossing my natal Pluto soon, and favorably so… he will be crossing the natal Pluto of many in my generation.  Pluto, in Scorpio, brings death to all that is mysterious or taboo.  It’s a sexual shocker- think of all that came to a head, that finally showed itself and would no longer be covered up, when we were born.  As Saturn meets with our natal Pluto, these planets will help us in our intense discoveries in taboo areas.

Yet there is one thing that this Saturn transit means for me most of all, and what I would advise everyone to consider.  I have heard it from astrologers and I can see from my own personal signs and communications that it must be true.  Saturn rising up from the bottom of this circle that is the Zodiac, from his position of exaltation in the trials of Hell, and back on up toward the beginning and Aries- starting with Scorpio- means that we must forgive.

Shani, the Vedic name for Saturn

I have been trying my best to figure out how to forgive by Friday.  I have been trying to forgive God, Ganymede, my abusive ex, my abusive family, and everyone in between. Everyone I ever met inside of God’s body who ever wronged me or hurt me.  And I have been trying to forgive myself.  You see, the world is a reflection of our inmost self- my world is a reflection of me.  Iakov tells me not to blame myself for all that has gone wrong- after all, that would be the opposite of forgiveness.

To explain this further- last Christmas, I had one of my most awful nightmares.  The sort which I have often, and have had more and more often since shortly before that Christmas when hearing the constant abuse of my neighbors.  No one but a therapist really needs the exact details of this repetetive, yet varying dream- so I’ll just say that, someone (sometimes it is someones) was hurting me in such a way that I shall never forget it in all of my days.

Saturn, the father, castrates Heaven, his father. Unknown origin.

Whenever I wake from these dreams, I know that they are just dreams- and most people would dismiss them summarily.  Yet I am one of those who also knows that dreams are real, in their own way.  There are those who feel dreams are more real than waking life.  And whatever the case, while I am in dreams, they are real then.  And then, God is there.  God is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, and so on.  Everything I see in these dreams is God- everyone I ever meet, in them, I see God.  Everything they ever say- in that, I hear God.  Some preachers or philosophers say this is meant to help us forgive and understand and love even more.  On the contrary, I often just get mad at God instead.  He is everything that has ever hurt me and everything that has ever helped me.

In this dream, on Christmas morning, the morning of our saviour’s birth and the morning of my great torture, I cried out to the man hurting me, “Why are you doing this?”  I cried out this query over and over.  My limbs began to flail as if that would make the terrible situation disappear.  And so it did- the entire world disappeared around me.  I found myself in a state akin to that of my wildest hallucinations.  I was between everything.  I was everything.  I was the greatest heights of all space, looking through rays of light and atoms and the giant arms of galaxies.  It was fairly nonsensical, but I could tell that I was seeing the fabric of reality.  My shouting of this demanding question continued as my arms continued to flail, both my human arms, which now seemed almost nonexistent, and my arms on a much grander scale.  And then normal surroundings came into view again, and I realized that I had been dreaming.  My limbs were jerking lightly, and, instead of shouting, the question was coming out of my mouth in murmurs as it does when one talks in one’s sleep.  I had been staring and shouting at the man in my dream, across from me- but when I woke, I was angrily demanding “Why are you doing this!?” of my reflection in the mirror directly across from my bed.

Saturn Ascends, by digitalreflexion.

I know very well that the world is my own reflection, you see.  I know that just as God is omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent, so am I, and we are One.  I am One with my entire reflection.  So, as I hate God, and all the people who hurt me, so do I hate MySelf.  But now I am trying to forgive.  I often wonder if I ever can, when I remember all the things we have done.  Some tell me to pray for my enemies.  Which is fine.  But I think what helped most was, indeed, when Iakov said not to blame myself.

Surely I can love myself, yes?  For even if I am all those Omni words, I never meant for the world to contain all these nightmarish things.  And that makes me hate myself in another way- why was I not powerful enough to stop it?  Why am I so talentless and helpless in that regard?  But again- I shouldn’t blame myself.

It seems an awful lot to forgive by Friday.  But I am trying.  I have been trying.  I have been feeling separate from God- even a highly amateurish and misguided psychic noticed- but I am still trying.

Saturn, by MadLittleClown

One of the nice things about the universe we’ve created is art, of whatever kind.  I mostly do theatre, but I love all kinds.  Sometimes I look at the art and I hate that I love it, because I know that it is a result of this khaos whence We Am.  It is a constant reinterpretation of OurSelf, a rearranging of our pieces, and, if I am going to hate MySelf, I hate that I should love art.  A man recently told me, in the midst of my self-hatred, that I am one of the most beautiful, intelligent, exceptional, whatever-and-so-on, women he’s ever met in all his life, and that I need to turn my pain into art to help others.  Which of course made me angry.  But I want to heal, yes?

And art is so healing.  I will undoubtedly continue my work there.  Now, I’ve mentioned before that I find spiritual healing in music.  I once included a song by one of my favorite spiritual artists.  I shall do so again.  Before I do, I will say that in my studies of neurology, I came across some rather misinformed and unsupported notions by a certain doctor regarding his disliking the particular artistic expression of music known as “heavy metal music”, that is, what he labeled as any music full of “hate and despair”.  I have been meaning to write upon neurology for some time, and I feel I should do a whole other post on this topic debunking his claims.  In a sad sort of hilarious way, this doctor so encourages rock’s sister, classical music, especially Mozart, which is also often full of hate and despair.  I mean for Chrissake my favorite Mozart song is his Lacrimosa, which means “weeping”, and it is part of the Dies Irae, or, “Day of Anger”, sequence in the Requiem mass, which is a religious tradition meant of course for the betterment of any congregant in attendance.  I also love shouting “DAY OF WRATH. DAY OF JUDGMENT!” in soprano.  Conjointly, any actual scientific studies I’ve read point to the same positive results with metal music and mood, as has been evidenced in my experience and others’, studies which this doctor never conducted or referenced- it is just that he and others are so ready to judge that which they do not understand as negative. Likewise they do not try to understand at all- to understand its purgative, wonderful effect.  Indeed the pain we see in art helps us in our lives. Yes, I should discuss this in another post instead of here.  But for now, the song, “The Grudge”, which is not necessarily a “heavy metal” song, but perhaps metal, if labels mean anything:

Truly, this is a song which has helped myself and many others in our spiritual quest for the transmutation of our souls, and in seeking our own forgiveness.  Let go as Saturn ascends.  And hail Shiva, god of heavy vibrations.

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Handcrafted Healing and I

•September 30, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I was recently honored by the Los Angeles Female Playwrights Initiative in being asked to perform with them in a Tactical Read of Nancy Beverly’s Handcrafted Healing. I wrote about an LAFPI Tactical Read I attended previously hereAs mentioned, these are called “Tactical Reads” because they have purposes beyond that of your normal staged reading.  They are meant specifically to connect female playwrights with female directors, and make the work go somewhere. They are also meant to provide a place for females in our business to connect, period, while we consider each others’ work and whether we might come together to produce it.  We- LAFPI and the audience- consider the questions of production, writing, and direction by not only pairing women together for the reading, but also by including a helpful talkback.  The connections are further helped by a meet-and-greet-and-wine beforehand.  Considering the gender disparity in our business, and others, in so many areas, this is meant to work to represent women fairly.

I was brought into this particular reading by its director, and my former director, Sabrina Lloyd, whom I have lauded here before.  She asked me to read the stage directions because “I really like your voice and story telling prowess“.  My heart is all aflutter!  I was so glad to help this project come to life for LAFPI and to meet again with so many nice people, and to meet many more for the first time.

“How You Build it Matters”

“Build a new table to seat a family of eight? No problem. Navigate a life-threatening illness with the same precision and grace? Pretty tricky. Find out how master craftswoman Cam and her partner Meredith deal with the question, ‘Do we create our reality?’ while trying to hold on to their lives in Nancy Beverly’s new drama.”

Before sitting down to read the script Sabrina sent me, I’d been speaking with my Iakov about how much I’d like to visit a particular Hopi sacred site during the Hanukkah/Christmas/Holiday season.  I’ve mentioned in previous articles how one ex (I’ll give him a name now that I’ve mentioned him three times; I’ll call him Merlin- bahaha, that was his wizard name just as mine is Kora) had told me, whether he was lying or not, that my angel, whom I call Ganymede, had come to him, and Ganymede told Merlin that he is Sirius, the kachina dancer.  And there are certain folk who think that, or other indicators, should mean that my angel or I am to bring in the “New Age”, or the “Fifth World”, or some such, which some of course call the “Age of Aquarius”, who is Ganymede.  Well.  Sabrina and I laughed it off as I explained this- she said I have quite a lot to do! I almost wouldn’t know where to start.  Of course we laughed it off. Trust me, I’m not exactly this guy:

(From the episode Red Museum, airing December 9, 1994.)
ODIN: Today is a blessing from our lord and master, who awaits his flock in this time, the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Eighteen earth years from the beginning of the new kingdom….
MULDER: They’re walk-ins.

If anything, I was always one of those who was as skeptical as Scully.

But there is a particular Hopi place regarding this issue that I should like to visit anyway, just to get some positive energy flowing. I told Nancy Beverly this too- she was interested that I should have been considering this directly before reading her script.

You see, Handcrafted Healing is, indeed, a story about creating our own realities.  It is discussed how doing certain “magical” activities, or sending things “out into the universe” can shape your life. I had just been pondering this issue and considering visiting said Native American site. In the play, while attempting to reach out and do something positive to hopefully reflect back into their reality, two of the characters visit a Native American site. They hope that it will heal the main character, who is suffering from cancer, and guide another soul whose body had died of cancer into a good place.  And the play mentioned a few times various synchronicities- when putting something out there meant receiving a proper return from the universe.  Like writing something down in a magic grid, and then receiving a gift certificate from friends in the mail for just that thing.

The play’s main character, Cam, is an atheistic skeptic, as I once was.  By the end of the play she is more serious about using these methods to help heal herself, after coincidences occur and she becomes “ready” to listen to signs given her, such as the suggestions that she should switch to a sugar-free diet. She also receives an undeniable sign in a “heavenly” visitation- or just an encounter- which gives her information she would not have had otherwise.  It is nothing too out of the ordinary, but I can see how skeptics might still dismiss it all and throw the baby out with the bathwater- after all, like I said, I had that same mindset once. Then something changed.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I still employ logic and hold fast to science; even if they are not my only gods as mathematics are to my father.  And of course, it is not like one is able to control one’s reality entirely, and the play discusses this as well. Sometimes we don’t pay attention and we make mistakes. Things don’t always turn out for the best. Or maybe we want one thing, but the universe gives us another because that’s what we need.  For instance, if Cam had never broken a rib, she would never have had an X-ray exposing the tumors in her bones.  And eventually, no matter what we do, we all die.

So Nancy found the way I discovered her play interesting enough- ah, that I should have been thinking of just these things- creating reality and going to a Native American sacred site. Then, just as in the play, I receive something that evening which is just exactly that.  And during the short preparation process, the cast and director and I had such lovely talks about their experiences with the play too, and topics such that I’ve mentioned here regarding spirituality and the universe, and we had girl talks, and so forth.  (There was also a gentleman, so they were not all “girl talks”.)

Of course, this wasn’t all that occurred during this play. I should mention the beautiful writing about the wood, which is also forming one’s reality. Physically molding beautiful handcrafted furniture.  I am not a very experienced carpenter in this life, although I do have some experience with carpentry and wood and saws and such, mostly in the putting on of plays and creating sets.  I’ve also done some metalsmithing and a lot of two-dimensional artwork… of course, just crafting the words in a play, while they do not have the lovely texture and smell of wood, and producing theatre… this is my own carpentry.  And the way woodworking was discussed was a theme that could resonate with many, I feel.

And then there is the topic that, despite all I’ve spoken of here, might have been the only topic noticed by some audience members:  Cancer.  The playwright asked if the play was at all repetitive- I feel she must have feared that as the scenes go along, and we follow the cancer’s progress in Cam, and all the different ways one might fight it, it might have seemed repetitive.  I tell you, when I did my first reading of the play, I didn’t find it repetitive at all.  It was simply a war containing many battles, and I do not find that dull.  In fact, we all had a great time in the first read-through and found a lot of humor in the play.  Yet for some audience members, I do not think they catch on to the spirituality in this play, or in a lot of other plays- and so, they see cancer, and, if they aren’t invested or looking at it the right way, it probably could get repetitive.  Well, that’s just the nature of it.  I think it was very interesting despite the topic.  I would often avoid anything about cancer because I would expect it to be, well, so dramatic and dull, even if everyone is affected by that disease in one way or another.  But this play was entertaining, I felt.

I also enjoyed the space.  It was Rogue Machine, and the sign outside said “Theatre Theater”.  It was a bit out of the way- I’d never really been to Mid-City before, or at least not extensively.  But it was a lovely theatre with a lovely set.

Someone took some loving care in manifesting this set into reality there.

Lastly, I wish Nancy and Sabrina luck should they decide to put on the piece, and I thank them for giving me such a fun time.

And good luck to all of you as we handcraft our own realities.

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Disasteroid and the State of Theatre, with beverages to follow.

•September 21, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I meant to write a normal review.

Instead, I ended up making it more of a diary entry and a treatise or some shit on theatre. Fuck it.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a review for Disasteroid: The Musical buried in here somewhere, because I like to review every show I see. It’s just that- well, was it that there wasn’t a lot to review? No. I could have written a short review, right? Wrong. I decided to go off about how I felt that day about theatre, and how I’ve felt since, and about the whole damn world. I used to think I’d start a second blog for my theatre reviews, and keep them separate from my goetic diary entries, but today, I know I made the right decision in keeping them together. Sometimes they contribute to one another.

Now, if you seek only to read the part of my review that covers more technical matters- for I know that’s all Certain souls care about when it comes to reviews (God forbid I should discuss plot with any thought for its use)- you may want to scroll down to the Second Part of this review, marked with asterisks, for the First Part here is, as mentioned, dealing with more Dionysian, philosophical, personal, or impersonal/community-and-world-oriented ideas than most reviews might cover, extensively.

I would’ve indeed written after opening night recommending this show as at least entertaining, but I was unable to do so until now, and the show is now closed. So I’ll simply review it after-the-fact, and you can see it the next time it goes up! At least this time gave me a chance to think- over and over. I would’ve written other things too- more reviews and goetia indeed- but I had a bit of a domestic emergency instead that knocked me all off-kilter. I intervened in some violence, that of one of my abusive, drug-dealing neighbors (yes I had more than one) toward his wife and children. I subsequently became endangered myself, of course, with loud, aggressive, mentally disturbed attempts at violent break-in, and others have been working with me in relocation. What a shame that such things should still be so prevalent in modern society- three out of my six former neighbors beat their wives, and the other three were bachelors. My neighbors and I called the cops regularly, and I finally stood up to one of them when I thought I could get sufficient police action- sadly, not as much as we would all want (we as a society are so often limited from taking action unless we are vigilantes with superpowers), but it is something. (And how odd I found it to be faced again and again with possibly the same policemen who had once marched against me in riot gear!)

Thus, after I’d already spent a month or so hibernating after 26 years of hard work, I then was set back another month (I hate inactivity and lack of progress, despite how it beckons and tempts me!) in moving. And that’s when Everything Fell the Fuck Apart. Amidst the regular stresses of life, there was moving. And thinking too much about the shit for which I moved, and the whole world. And dating. And spell-work to see what I might do to improve the situation. And work (which has become really shitty on their end and my end; there is malaise among everyone thanks to steadily increasing incompetence in my superiors, cut hours, reduced pay, corporate America being evil, etc., and I got called in and basically asked “what the fuck happened to you; you used to be the best and held the team together” whatever like I care). And theatre. And maybe a little too much focus on exercise and yoga, which so nicely shut everything off. And of course I became reacquainted with my old valuable friend, consuming, on average, half a fifth of vodka a day as though I were Masha of The Seagull. Once in a while I indulge Dionysos. Other times, like now, I am afraid I must set certain facets of his aside. The pattern wears itself out and is to be discarded. I’ve returned to fasting as though it were Lent.

There was also a lot of shouting at myself, like Allie Brosh pictured here- shouting at myself, God, the world, the air… “I hate you! No I don’t! I hate you! No I don’t I love you! I hate you! I love you, Ganymede; why do you hate me so much? Why do I hate you so much? I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING NO I WON’T.” Her apt article, “Adventures in Depression”, can be found on her blog, Hyperbole and a Half, at http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html. She is often apt- this article certainly reminded me of myself. I’ve already “broken on through to the other side” and developed emotions “mostly comprised of rock music”, but this still happened anyway. After hitting bottom, I guess the climb back up from there can be as painful as on the way down, and hit some of the same patterns. (And may I mention that, unlike others, I never allow my shouting to interfere with neighbors’ domestic bliss; the most they ever hear me scream is while I practice my instrument- my voice- classical soprano screaming or zen screaming in metal. And that’s always at very reasonable hours; I mean srsly people get it together no one wants to listen to you at 3am.)

Of course, I am also like Allie in that she started her blog when she was totally apathetic and depressed, and posted often, because that’s all she was doing, and had many stories to tell that she didn’t spend as much time on, and was focusing on that rather than her poverty, hunger, and future as a vagrant, as she says. So, like her, now I post less often. Now I try to insert a little more quality. And I have so much theatre to do!

So I shall begin by discussing my day leading up to the show. I had read my Facebook feed as I am wont to do and came across a HuffPo article about theatre shared by a friend. Articles about theatre are often full of pretentious pronouncements and individuals attempting to make ingenious breakthroughs by stating what they think must be some new Fact about why theatre is the way it is- this article did the same, and I won’t hypocritically pretend I am not guilty; mine here is probably doing something like that as well. But you see, so many concern themselves with various negatives as for why they think theatre isn’t working. It’s so trendy to disparage your own art: For instance, this article I speak of concerned itself with what the author considered to be the “Scandalous Failure” of the arts, music, and theatre. It is not the only such article I have read upon fairly well the same topic in the past few months. I’ve read several. I read another a couple of days later, which claimed theatre is not effective anymore, because we, the people of “modern times”, are “desensitized”. I read another a few weeks ago entitled, quite plainly, “Why Theater Sucks”. I read another a few days ago saying that theatre is failing because we “work together” too much, as in, we are too cooperative, too helpful, and try too hard to be a social service, as if that makes any sense WTF that’s our job. And so many more articles will say we are FAILURZ for so many other reasons. A friend had re-posted the “Why Theater Sucks” article on his wall, recommending, “Why Theatre Sucks”, and the author of the article responded, “You misspelled theater” to which my friend who had recommended said article responded in friendly fashion, “You’re a dick.”

Hah, I know many “pretentious” sorts who would insist upon the spelling of “theatre”, myself included. Butchoo kno I dun rly care how nething r speled; languig EVOLVZ- of course, I also enjoy studying ancient language, and so my predilections for the Greek spellings of words such as theatre, Dionysos, and phallos will continue! It is good to know just why language is the way it is. Then you can understand everything on a deeper level. But I digress. Or do I? Surely Dionysos is amused… ah yes: I read yet another article saying that the “Theatre” spellers are the reason theatre does not appeal. IT R 2 INTIMIDATIN’ n forein n snobby n stuf.

The methoxypyrazine lvlz r 2 herbayshus!

I had reproduced one article, “Why Theatre Matters”, in its entirety here on my blog a couple of years ago because it had discussed the theatre festival which my friends had started and with which I began to primarily involve myself overall; again I said I was not sure about certain pronouncements Morris made, but his article still certainly pointed out the function of theatre and the consequences of its not functioning properly in society. It wasn’t as negative as these other articles in saying that we are horrible failures for some reason, but pointed out where we are going if theatre fails. Now back to the particular ARTicle I read before Disasteroid- it says that theatre has failed, and so have the ARTs: The “Scandalous Failure” article.

This “Scandalous Failure” article said that because theatre has failed to do its job, that society has, after a sense, become a failure too: A monster. Theatre does not prevent society’s sins, as it should, and instead of people receiving their therapy, catharsis, and mass healing through theatre (because theatre has failed) they instead receive their input from the mass media which the corporations feed us after the fact- that we process things only as they happen, that we see shootings as they happen, and set up memorials afterward, rather than preventing them.

A truly monstrous society; Camazotz: A planet which has given in to The Black Thing. According to the book A Wrinkle in Time, our planet Earth is unfortunately shadowed, but has not yet given in, and is fighting The Black Thing.

I say: If that is the case, then theatre has always been a failure. My dear god Dionysos has always been a failure. So too did I discuss this in my own play: In a meta moment, my Ganymede, played by Will McMichael, the same lead as in Disasteroid (who sometimes calls himself Dionysos Will!), was deciding whether or not to create theatre, and was bemoaning that he thought it was pointless, for, “Everyone saw [Aristophanes’] play, but that didn’t stop the war, and Athens was utterly defeated.” We theatre creators have been failing to stop the sins of the world even since the classical height of our art, when it was much more a required and reverenced religious practice. And now, it seems as though we have little funding compared to then, and little education compared to most ages too, though at the same time we have so much more available- better resources, and more education out there to be had even if not seized upon by our school systems. Like some have said, now it seems as though people are trying to squash the arts and squash the thoughts that stop the sins of society. Yet we in theatre struggle on, for what else would be the right thing to do? This “Scandalous Failure” article I read before Disasteroid says we need to get our shit in gear and step up our game to actually finally accomplish theatre’s purpose, which some think is a hopeless cause.

Arbron asks, <Aren’t lost causes sometimes the best causes, Elfangor?> This is Andalite Resting, by bonytigress.

I met with my assistant producer before the show. We had dinner, wine, and coffee at a pleasant café on Sunset. I discussed this article, other theatrical topics, and personal matters with her. We discussed the function of theatre and how we might be able to save the world with it. She said she believes that it is too late to save the world- that the world is too far gone. We happened to see another member of my cast just next door- she was acting as a hostess at a bar, and we promised we’d stop by after the show for drinks. So we did, with said hostess’ boyfriend, and Will of my show and Disasteroid, and others- in fact, my music director happened to stop by as well, making it quite the coincidental CATAMITUS reunion none of us had planned!

My music director, V2 Schneider, half-jokingly said that he thought it has always been too late to save the world- yet he says that is the beauty, and that is what makes it fun, in a Sisyphean sense. I laughed and managed to get my music director and associate producer to debate for a few moments, but we were having far too much fun to do that for long. V2 also thinks- and I’m surely not quoting this right- that people who write articles about this-is-the-reason-why-theatre-is-failing are incorrect and “negative unproductive fucks, and those self-mutilating authors actually in theatre and disregarding their own art are the worst”.

Rachel also thinks lost causes are the only ones truly worth fighting for. Well shit- she and I have so Much in common; could I think the same and have thus created my current reality? This picture is Animorphs: Rachel, by Char486

I suppose I do not yet think it is too late. I may agree with V2 that it seems like it’s always been too late to save the world, because I think that the world has been an awful place for… most of time’s existence, in many regards, and sometimes I feel that God has certainly treated much of the world’s populations as cockroaches to torture and upon which to perform experiments- well, at least it seems like that on occasion. It’s crazy to think that I was born in a time in which I felt no discrimination for any gender, or anything racial, or any other kind of bias- at least, for some years. Then one day in fourth grade I wondered why everyone was making a big deal about this word called “faggot” and I learned that the world was not so devoid of discrimination after all.

Yet, for a time, the world seemed a perfect place in terms of equality for everyone. I lived in such a bubble as a child, here as a protected middle-class child in modern America, having no idea of the inequality, having a vague idea that people of various races had been slaves in various countries in various times, but thinking it was all in the past. I knew vaguely that women had once been so subject to men and their societal constructions, but not to the horrific degree that they were, and that they still are, and that men are still out to squash them with icky laws, and so forth. Yet I was born in a time in which… we can taste perfection, as innocent children, even if we don’t have it. And so I think I know that we can have it, and that we can all know that we can have it.

I once, as an innocent child, thought the world was almost perfect, and that God had no further purpose here: That there was no reason to talk to said supposedly-distant deity, and that all there was left to do was return to Eden… many many years later, my ex, in an angry moment, asked me why I did not then immediately dedicate myself to said return to Eden, and why should I have been satisfied with the world the way it was? Well. Disregarding that moment of negativity, there is no reason that anyone even has to do without, except for our own free will; there is enough here for everyone. And I have often hoped that we can reach this state- and I have not thought it impossible, as my assistant producer and music director have.

Yet the world seems increasingly apocalyptic, and certainly it seems so if one pays any attention to articles upon the arts and theatre, or politics, which theatre and the arts are supposed to fix. Indeed if you read that Morris article I mentioned I reproduced a couple of years ago, it also says the world seems vaguely “apocalyptic”- yet it need not be so! It is just that a few people seem to ruin it for everyone; or that is how it seems to me, even if we all ruin it a little bit in our imperfection. I hope we will some day be able to defeat The Black Thing.

Pictured here is Mrs. Whatsit flying the children on her back to show them what they are fighting against: The Black Thing. Later, “‘You see!’ the Medium cried, smiling happily. ‘It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!'”

Why, this past month as I have more and more been forcing myself to face the world- not just the nice parts as certain Positive Thinkers recommend, when they rightly say that, since the world is our reflection, to whatever we bring our focus, well, that will become the world. Yet it cannot be that we cannot give the dark things our attention- there are those who say we should not. They say that if we give the dark things our attention we will bring more of it into our life. I believe we must face the darkness in order to fix it. We cannot simply ignore it by living in our happy bubbles in our mansions, as I suppose I could have done. Instead, I was forced out of my apartment into a closet next to Skid Row where I constantly listen to the arguments of the mentally ill. You see, Skid Row is where humanity throws itself away- not because it can not, but because it will not take care of itself anymore. When speaking with the police, they told me I ought to move again, so I will- even though my guardian angel guided me to this place. For my own safety, my temple, my sanctum unto Him was destroyed, but I will rebuild my temple elsewhere. When speaking with the police, I found that they have a secret code name for this hotel: The Asylum.

“Therre willl nno llonggerr bee sso manyy pplleasanntt thinggss too lookk att iff rressponssible ppeopll ddo nnott ddoo ssomethingg abboutt thee unnppleassanntt oness. ” – Mrs. Which. Again, this is Mrs. Whatsit flying the children to see The Black Thing, from Jeremy Sorese’s lovely site, Picture Book Report, at http://picturebookreport.com.

And so in my new makeshift closet, until I move away, and while I have been trying to pretend the world is a nice place by indeed drinking far too much vodka, I have also been facing more and more all the truths out there to be had: Not just the environment immediately surrounding me; which is a failure of not just theatre but humanity, but the also the environment as a whole. I was so bewilderingly hot I couldn’t sleep; this was the hottest summer on fucking record. Like Gaia, I prayed to Zdeus to strike Phaeton down. Phaeton, of course, is the word I used to represent those human actions which are leading Gaia to suffer so. Then of course there are the problems that have existed my whole life that no one has ever fixed, such as deforestation, unethical food ownership and policies and propaganda, starvation, ignorance instead of education, hate crimes, the oppression of peoples everywhere, the choice of war over peace and understanding, etc. Then there are natural disasters and the way a human life is so fragile- that God can squish one person like a bug over and over in some horribly torturous, ignored life, while elevating another.

So I drank. I spent my days waffling back and forth between “Omg life is wonderful; you have given me so opportunities and I am greatly enjoying myself; thank you, God!” to, “What the fuck was the point in creating a world like this? Why do you allow people to suffer so? How can I possibly find inner peace and enlightenment when I know that you let this happen? How can I possibly enjoy my own good fortune and attract more abundance to myself to help others? What, am I supposed to callously imagine that they are simply like NPCs in a video game, and therefore of no consequence? Why bother? Why not strike me down now and return me to my namesake, the state from which you took me?” Yeah pretty much every day.

So, how can we work to save the world, if this is still possible? How can theatre save the world, as I have been told it will? I have had faith that it can, even if it hasn’t quite yet succeeded in thousands of years.

I also think: How silly that theatre should save the world! How silly that I should pay it so much attention! Hell, how silly that I should pay anything attention! Why care about the good or the ills of the world; why care about what it is that I do in this saṃsāra here, when I perfectly well remember that it is all a dream and all an illusion and all a game, and I may feel nothing, and nothing is good, and nothing is bad, and that, underneath, I am still the same Kora, or shall I say, Kaos, and quote Ovid:

“Before the seas, and this terrestrial ball,
And Heav’n’s high canopy, that covers all,
One was the face of Nature; if a face:
Rather a rude and indigested mass:
A lifeless lump, unfashion’d, and unfram’d,
Of jarring seeds; and justly Chaos nam’d. …
Earth, and air, and water, were in one.
Thus air was void of light, and earth unstable…
All were confus’d, and each disturb’d the rest.
For hot and cold were in one body fixt;
And soft with hard, and light with heavy mixt.
But God, or Nature, while they thus contend,
To these intestine discords put an end:”

And so He separated light from dark and so on and so forth.

Yet here I am, doing something. I suppose theatre is as good a mission as anything else; and certainly more enjoyable than others.

Again, Mrs. Whatsit takes the children to see what they are fighting: The Black Thing. This is a theatrical performance at the CSUSB Barnes Theatre; Photo by Corinne Jamieson.

So. As for this theatre show. And saving the world….

Before Disasteroid, my assistant producer and I discussed what we thought the show might be like. We did not think it would be any such show as would fit the description of one which would help to save the world, but our friend was in it and it sounded… like there might be a few good jokes, at least. Maybe. It is not the sort of play which would normally appeal to me. You see, honestly, we both thought it would be flim-flam. The show’s description had lead us to believe as much, and that it was just a senseless, fluffy play which would one day be reenacted as a horrid high school production:

“‘Disasteroid!’ tells the tale of Alfred Edgley, a career tax auditor who’s given a shot at some excitement when astronomers at the local observatory trick him into thinking the end of the world is rapidly approaching. Naturally, he runs off and travels the world with the wealthy philanthropist, Mabel Bellcoat, much to the chagrin of his boss, the stern Ms. Stern, and also Mr. Bellcoat. His co-worker, Petty, meanwhile, dreams only of finding a nice backyard. Featuring music and lyrics by the vivacious and charming one-man band, The Bicycats.”

We certainly thought it was one of those plays which was “not doing theatre’s job” according to the article I’d read.

But you know what? WHAT THE HELL. We thought we’d try to find the meaning in it anyway. We postulated that- well- maybe it might just have something to offer someone. Surely it would at least be optimistic, and hopefully funny enough to lift people’s spirits. Maybe someone somewhere would find just the right sort of thing in the play. Maybe someone would be looking for a message and they would find something. So I gave it my best shot (and had another glass of helpful wine, which the theatre poured for a donation, which is, as I’ve said, always a plus and in Dionysos’ favor).

So now on to the, ahem, actual review.


The acting and singing were excellent. I enjoyed all the actors, especially the two leads. The girl was such a good singer that I had to tell her so afterward. Now, I say the acting was good, but as mentioned, the play was less than “deep”, or so it made itself out to be, despite indeed carrying certain themes which I will discuss. So, I will say they did their best with the material and the nature of the lines. It was certainly not realism- like I said, something kooky that maybe a high school will do someday. You know the type.

The dancing was amusing, and I enjoyed whenever that popped into the show. I did laugh often enough as well, which is a plus, so, sure, it’s a good show and I would recommend seeing it next time it comes around; you’ll be amused and get a laugh.

Something impressive about the show was the way that the band leader had written it, and besides that, all the music. I may’ve written my show, and the lyrics, but I’d needed help with the music (even then, I thought I could have used more. V2 was excellent, but I didn’t have much time, nor did I have a whole band like this show did, which was great).

Libélula Asteroide: Certificado [de Sirius y Artemisa], by keepwalking07. Characters in the play may or may not see such objects such as Sirius or asteroids in telescopes… I now have a certain interest in Sirius, since an ex told me my HGA is “from” there, and that he is a kachina dancer, and apparently the Hopi have this whole end-of-the-world/beginning-of-a-new-age myth about Sirius the Kachina Dancer, who will dance in a square and take off his mask- and according to the first site I stumbled across when looking up these words, the water of his blue starfire will be borne by a priestess of Aquarius (aka the water-bearer aka Ganymede). I’d had no idea about these things until said ex told me about just the words “Sirius” and “kachina dancer”. He said he hadn’t heard of it either till “Ganymede”, or my HGA anyhow, gave him the ol’ sleep-body-paralysis, visited him, and told him. Of course this ex, knowing I call my HGA Ganymede, may’ve done a bit of obscure occult research and just made the whole story up to get into my pants, at which he failed.

As for trying to find a deeper meaning: Well, of course, it concerned itself with the end of the world. Humans are often preoccupied with that, and I certainly have fun with the topic. My play had explored that too- I like to know, what does the end of the world really mean for us? This play followed one avenue, that of spending time with someone. Making love and seeing the world. Something we should all do- if we could, before our own worlds do inevitably end. Which is a lovely enough idea.

Now, something finally occurred- that something my assistant producer and I had been waiting for. Will’s character began to discuss the deeper questions of life. He began to explore them, as I did a bit here in my “WHAT’S THE EFFING POINT” kind of way. Ah, yes! This is why we came, ultimately! This is what we want to see in theatre! This is the sort of thing people should be watching instead of listening to Kardashians bitch at each other! And, as Will began to sing, one of his coworkers at the IRS joined in, and took over, and immediately turned the song into-

The quality of milk with breakfast.

Yes, the “creaminess of the milk” was the song. The philosophy was interrupted for banality. My friend and I looked at each other in mild horror. Banality… well, ah, yes, that’s exactly how one feels at the corporate machine, anyway… surrounded by coworkers who don’t care about anything except their milk, the zit on their face, their fancy new handbag, or some such. It is soul-sucking to stand there ineffectively, wishing you were working to save the world, when you know your coworkers would never understand, or brush it off in favor of something else to talk about.

I asked around afterward whether this was intentional. Was this supposed to be a comment about theatre? About life? How we prefer banality to the meat of things? Or was that just what the play was supposed to be- ultimately, banal, with no real substance underneath besides the regular old themes we feed ourselves in easily digestible sitcoms? I didn’t really get a straight answer besides that one person thought it was a comment upon the character who was singing that song.

Warning: I’m now going to veer away from purely technical review again. How about a *****Part Three*****?

A shot from Greg Bank’s A Wrinkle in Time production at CTC; again, Mrs. Whatsit shows the children The Black Thing, so that they know what they are up against.

Back to an article I’d mentioned earlier- “Why Theater Sucks” was, as far as I can tell, essentially saying that we don’t pander to the far-right or other sorts enough, the people who need to be our audiences. That instead we write plays for theatregoers, which means liberal female lawyers of Swedish descent or some nonsense, according to that author. He said we need to get away from our morality and instead explore the “Fox News” side of things, because that will be like eating our vegetables. So, to draw in audiences, should I then make kitschy plays easily marketable for schools, with as much substance as sitcoms, which sell? Do I need to tone down the truth in my plays, and throw in dashes of false morality to attract certain portions of the overly-conservative, Tea Party, religious extremist crowd, since they are of the sort who need healing the most? Do I need to cut out the meat and throw in something about the creaminess of the milk? Like the Kardashians and our coworkers do? Should I turn away from real music that I’ve spent time and care with, and go instead for increasing homogeneity, record sales, and fame, like Gaga?

I would sooner die than sell my soul in that manner- and oh, I have sold it in other, more acceptable ways! But I could never compromise my art to that extent. We all do, let’s face it. I cut out some slide-shows, cut out scenes- you have to kill your babies, after all. That sort of thing makes the show better. But I just don’t think becoming more like Katy Perry or Jersey Shore would be anything I could stomach. I shall always strive for art.

None of us should be afraid to try.

Hey- do you know what brings a crowd together spontaneously? Young and old, rich and poor, straight and gay, Jew and Gentile alike? I have seen it happen. I have seen them come together and cheer wildly. They were tourists, with maybe the odd local thrown in, cheering Jersey Shore cast members who were being interviewed on Mario Lopez’ show Extra. I have seen this with my own eyes.

I don’t have the answer, and I’m not going to pretend that I do just to get an attention-grabbing article claiming it knows why theatre hasn’t yet saved the world. My play explored that too, but I gave no answer. I gave no real conclusion. Maybe that’s one reason a few people didn’t like my piece. It didn’t have a story digestible enough for their palate. But I know many more who loved it for that reason. Some, despite that reason. I drew in those who don’t like “experimental” plays (almost all my reviewers called it “experimental”, oy, now there’s a label I’d not wanted much to do with) and they loved it.

Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus), by Salvador Dalí. Jesus was the first hero mentioned by the children in A Wrinkle in Time as being one of Earth’s great heroes to fight The Black Thing. Here Dalí depicts him on a hypercube, a representation of a tesseract, that is, a wrinkle in time, working with the fifth dimension. “And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” – Mrs. Who quoting John 1:5.

So I’ll just keep working toward that Kingdom. Even while I argue with God. I’ll keep trying to save the world with my theatre, and I’ll be ha satan, the accuser, for others’ theatre- reviewing, and pointing out flaws, so that we can make improvements. I will also point out what works so we can all make use of it if we want. I do it now, writing, at another lovely café on Sunset, as the sun sets upon me and the western edge of civilization. I’ll just keep going. It’s not like there’s much other choice when we’re eternal, anyhow. LULZ I AM TEH OPTIMIZM. When I found Eternity, was it meant to cheer me up, I wonder?

“To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.” – William Blake, Auguries of Innocence.

The children tessering in Wrinkle at Oregon Children’s Theatre, 1111 SW Broadway in Portland; photo by Owen Carey.

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Fringe Process and Recovery (And I reveal my secret identity! :O!)

•August 9, 2012 • Leave a Comment

It may be obvious that play production consumed my life, leaving little time for anything else since last November. As time passed, I lived and breathed my play, sleeping as little as possible. There were nights I got no sleep. I hardly wrote down anything but dreams, saving myself, my words, and my thinking only for CATAMITUS, only for Ganymede.

Ganymed, by Christian Wilhelm Allers

Even when I went out with friends, they were professional friends- I often feel my life is one which will only allow friends aligned with my professional and spiritual interests- my vocation, I suppose. I see that I am also fated to have no close friends who are not very aligned with my quest, though I have many, many friends. It’s in my stars too. And while my friends and I were out drinking, close or professional or both, even then we’d discuss our work and technical issues, and I’d be wrangling actors with mass-thumb-e-mailing on my phone.

I did still make time for a few special events with my special someone. As I’ve mentioned in this diary, after parting with Luken, it was time to deal with my polyamory. Or, as my lead (Will, the man who played my version of Ganymede) and I decided to call it- polyeroticism. He told me it didn’t make sense to put Latin and Greek roots together, and so asked me what would be a better root to use. I can’t believe Will schooled me on grammar like that! Anyhow, after Luken, I saw no reason not to love whomever I wanted, physically, at least, and so I did, and it was just fine, despite the false mores which have been so ingrained in the egoic minds of so many. I follow the Law of Love, despite what others may think. And I do take sex seriously, as do many others like me, such as Will. Sex is perhaps the most holy experience, such union being a microcosm of the macrocosm of the everlasting union of the self-loving, self-birthing Universe. Yet, while I was not looking for deep neurological bonds, just loving, positive relationships- yes, I developed a special someone. I’ll call him Iakov.

Polyeroticon, by The Polygonist

Iakov and I were just looking for fun love. I told him straight from the beginning that I’d just got out of a bad relationship and wasn’t looking for anything serious- I was just going wherever my whims took me and following my heart and my body. I had no desire for a relationship, only my quest. He found this pleasing, coming from a very similar situation- he’d finally acknowledged he was done with a very bad relationship, and had moved on to happy fun with other partners as well. He didn’t want anyone that was looking for a relationship either. Yet one night turned into night after night after night, date after date after date, and we realized that we had so much in common, and our quests were so similar, and our pansexual, polyerotic, adventurous natures were so compatible, and we could talk to each other about anything. We were more naked and vulnerable with each other than we had ever been with anyone. We care for each other deeply now, and have been together for more than a year- since Fringe 2011- and we support each other through everything. Our lives keep us apart in some ways, but our souls are always together. I am glad he was there to share my company in my quest, and I with him for his, and that we will continue to do so as our quests move forward and take new forms.

After Fringe 2011, while I was enjoying love freely (but responsibly mind you), I took time to breathe for a while. I enjoyed the little things. Life slowed to a crawl while the world went on around me. I meditated, performed my asanas, and experienced further Yoga, further Union, in many ways with Ganymede, God, the Universe, the Divine. I argued with Him a lot, as I used to do- still do. I’m better about it now. I view the relationship as one I would have with someone more anthropomorphic, to whom I would take care speaking words, and mind that I should be more loving, more forgiving. I felt betrayed often, and angry most of the time, but I was happier than I had ever been as I began to develop such a close relationship with God. One I would not have previously thought possible.

Buddha, by Lakandiwa

Then came November. I’d looked at the world around me. I’d looked at the world within me. I’d looked at the worlds beyond and between worlds. I was being called to my quest. It was difficult for me to drag myself up out of my asceticism- it still is. It was time for me to do something. It was time for me to realize the destiny that had been set before me, of which so many people and signs had reminded me. It was time to transform the illusions of reality. Given what I knew, what I had been told, the signs I had seen, it seemed obvious to begin with theatre. Theatre will save the world, I was told. Though it had fallen through in 2011 with Luken, I knew that I would have to produce a play in 2012, and I would do it myself, though I started from nothing.

I started with nothing, but I booked my venue, wrote my play, found a director, found actors, rehearsed, stage managed, helped to make props and costumes and slide-shows, and so much more. And, being theatre, the beautiful collaborative art that it is, the more people I found, the more people I found to help me. As I focused more on my play and indeed began to live and breathe it, I had no time for frivolities that were not connected with my show, and had no time for people who were not helping me along my quest. I dropped most all of my relationships I’d been enjoying in my polyeroticism, keeping only Iakov.


I started with nothing and somehow pulled off something amazing. Yesterday I tutored someone on Fringe, so to speak, telling him about most of its aspects and my personal experience. He was worried to book a venue without all these things I’ve described. I told him I’d had nothing to start with, but I’d made it happen. Sometimes you have to take risks. And, somehow, I paid for it all. There were times I felt worried about money, pulling things off on time, everyone getting their lines on time, everyone getting choreography in on time, even getting in and out of the space on time. But I had faith in God, in Ganymede, and I told him so many times. And it all worked out, of course.

Now I have successfully produced my first play here in 2012, and I knew that I had to do something, as my director knew- we know that Now is the time to make things happen. Now is the time to change the world, and to change our worlds.

So, you may have noticed that I am no longer anonymous. It is difficult to promote oneself in my field anonymously. Years ago when I began this blog as a diary of magic so esoteric even I didn’t understand it- I began to understand it as I wrote it down- I did not expect anyone to read it, nor did I know where it would take me. It was only something to get myself doing something besides existing. I wrote vaguely and hid all my truths in metaphors easily discernible in their innate truth. I rarely gave specifics. I wanted to be as free from labels, identifications, and identity as possible. I did not want to draw attention to my identity at all. That’s one reason I like the name Kora Kaos- as I’ve mentioned, it simply means “Girl in the Void.”  It was as devoid of identification as I could manage. I also didn’t want to reveal myself for the reason that I was being so brutally honest about important things in life. Then, as time went on, slowly I realized that I would have to put in details here and there to proceed in my story and my magic. So, I mentioned that I lived in Los Angeles. I mentioned that I attend theatre (big surprise considering I’d mentioned Dionysos so often). I mentioned this or that about my quest. I made a cartoon picture of myself at Pride. And, though I remained anonymous as long as possible, it was time to take off my mask. As enjoyable as it was, and is. I will continue to use the identity of Kora, here. It is still my wizard name, after all!

On Twitter I combine my identities. Here’s my “Twitpic”.

First, I connected my Twitter with my blog- which is very telling. Then, I began to promote my show, CATAMITUS: Love Slave to God. It used to be a secret I would only tell friends in theatre. Now I will pretend no longer that I am not Brynn Sillyman, that girl you see around in theatre, with so many labels but none of them fully accurate. Actor, Writer, Producer, Yogi, Wizard, Cleric of Ganymede- all these things describe me in a way, but ultimately mean nothing. There! You have this superhero’s secret identity.

I had read other bloggers’ reasons for keeping their identities secret, and they were good. They didn’t want to be ostracized or put their careers in jeopardy. I do not think my career is in jeopardy, nor will I be ostracized. Some are worried that calling themselves labels like witches and wizards and druids will garner them a little discrimination. Most everyone I know says it’s “cool” to my face, and they accept it and are very curious. There are those who are minorly afraid- but I never really talked to them anyway. People might call me “insane”, but if they do, they’re generally the sort who recognize that we are all quite insane, and they certainly don’t mind. Once a former lover said, “I like you and I think you’re a nice girl; I don’t care what they say about you,” which makes me wonder what “they” say about me. But I don’t care. Like Aslan says, we shouldn’t care what others think about us, because it doesn’t really mean anything. And that former lover was probably only trying to get a little jab in- I mean, really, who says that? There’s a reason we only dated for so long; our energy was not compatible.

At least he told me that my Ganymede, my water-bearing God, my Guardian Angel, my Aquarius, came to him as an alien Kachina dancer from Sirius; which was an interesting conversation.  Searching for a visual representation I found this as the single result on DA for “Kachina” and “Sirius”:

Blue Star Bearer, by CorpusCallosum. Artist description: The Aquarian Hopi Priestess bears the water of blue starfire. The appearance of the Blue Star Kachina (Sirius) is the final harbinger and brings the dawn of the New Age.

There is one more thing. Pagans sometimes fear for their safety, and that is why they do not come out of the pagan closet or use their real identities online. I once read a Pagan- a Druid, I think, though he knew as well as I that labels are meaningless- say that he would no longer follow that practice, because we must have the courage to stand up for our faith and our truths. Indeed we must all stand up for them like the Christian martyrs if we must (though, mind you, never be a martyr unnecessarily; there are battles to choose and your soul to protect). He was right. Though I was never “in the closet” in my “real life”, because I just can’t shut myself off and am completely open and completely Me, I will no longer hide online.

I once had a dream that I was at a theatre party, with many of my theatre friends present. We were happy and celebrating. I looked at a man who had come before me. “Stop acting like Jesus!” he shouted at me, before raising a gun to shoot me in the head. I fell backwards into the arms of my Priest of Hermes, and he wept while I died. I felt my spirit release into the entire Universe, and I became It. Death was not so frightening then as it has been during the NDEs of my life, though I was sorry for my priest friend’s pain. As I died great disasters befell the Earth.

So for that reason, too, I have occasionally been afraid to be Me. Assassination and all that. But we cannot be afraid.

The Assassination, by Vynnx

That is not the only time someone told me to stop acting like Jesus. My mother once told me the same. I didn’t understand. She was the one who raised me in Catholicism; is not being Christ-ian being Like-Christ? But she couldn’t understand the person I’d become. She’d tried to have me exorcised.

The other occasion such occurred, I was leading a young man upon a shamanic journey. He’d heard I could do it and was very excited to try. Four of us had been hanging out at a theatre and so we all went to try. I laid down a Tree of Life as I usually do, explaining the steps and the chakras along the way in colorful, metaphoric language, leading my new traveler through the process a bit like it were Church.

At this point, Luken began to interrupt. We were still together back then. His best friend and roommate was with him- the same man who had interrupted me while I was reciting the Hebrew prayers for lighting my candles at Hanukkah with much the same sorts of pronouncements. I am not usually one to call anything blasphemy- lawl I mean look at me- but Luken interrupted my service with such pronunciations as, “What’s the point? Why are you using this language? It means nothing. Why are you saying all this?” He interrupted my religious ritual, basically. He was just being rude. I became very frustrated with this interruptions and finally gave up, stalking off.

The Tree of Life, by blackalben, in which he associates the Sephirot with corresponding Thoth Tarot cards and such.

My new traveler became upset. “No, let her finish!” he said. I went off to cry somewhere, but because I could hear him arguing that he’d wanted to finish, I wiped away my tears and came back. We induced traveling. My new traveler described it in euphoric terms, saying it had been like when he’d gone on a meditation retreat. He felt peaceful and at One with everything. He told me months later that the experience changed his life, that he still thinks about it, that he is glad I took him with me.

Luken and the roommate experienced it as, “Oh, well, that’s odd,” for all I could tell, in words saying they’d experienced something, but not being changed for it.

I experienced it with some difficulty as usual. I was the last to come back. I was arguing with the spirits. The roommate thought I was arguing with him. He said, “It’ll be alright.” I waved him away. But he insisted, so I said fine, bid the spirits goodbye, and came back. By this time I had fallen down into the arms of said roommate. And Luken became incensed upon seeing me there, in the arms of another man, though perfectly platonic. He’d been drinking and became belligerent. He said, “What, who do you think you are? Stop acting like Jesus! Have you lived 145 times?” Because he has, apparently? Then he ran off, left the building, and down a couple of streets, before falling down to roll around in a be-littered, gasoline-spotted gutter by a 24-hour doughnut shop.  The rest of us chased after him and removed him with some difficulty, giving him the attention he so clearly wanted, because we felt we had to do so rather than leave him there.

I have no idea why I induce this kind of ire in others for trying to further Christ’s work. Life. Man.

At any rate, I move beyond all such things. Here I am. I’m Kora Kaos. I’m Brynn Sillyman. Here I am naked and vulnerable before you. See where I have been, if you choose- I expose the dark and light parts of myself, life, and God.  In reading my goetic diary, witness my transformation from an abusing and abused arrogant youth full of ennui to a slightly-less-arrogant, peaceful, independent artist out to change the world, if you choose. I have a mission to transform the illusions of reality. I’ve started on my way with my play CATAMITUS. Praise Ganymede.

Ganymede, by Roslyn Rose

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Theatre Review: Ex(it) Wounds

•August 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Once upon a time, in the faraway land of Chicago, Ms. Sabrina Lloyd and Molly Neyland created a play about exes called Ex(it) Wounds. It has now gone through many incarnations and is produced by Lauren McCarthy.

I originally came to this play for the first time some months ago at the Comedy Central stage at UCB to see if Sabrina would be a good director for my show. Indeed she proved herself, and I saw such professionalism and talent expressed in Ex(it) Wounds.

The cast cycles in and out, and for this reason and more, one may see a different show every night one attends.  As the premise, the cast recites letters from exes, real letters, only minorly adapted for performance, with names changed.  One choice I just adored was how they read the letters, often being so specific about how poorly written so many were, even sounding out the punctuation- “Exclamation point!  Exclamation point!  One!  Tilde!”

They switch out letters, bits, and such here and there from show to show, because they always have access to so much great material.  They get new letters at every performance- they keep the new letters in a big heart and utilize them in a performance toward the end of the show with another neat element- the draw of a celebrity guest.

Other things I enjoyed were, for instance, the use of movement, which when used properly to further action or a more artistic expression is extremely effective in theatre and emotionally stirring for the audience. This show had some pretty good and aesthetically pleasing examples of that.

I also enjoyed the angry singing from a female’s letter accompanied by a soprano ukulele. It was at once very feminine and very hardcore.

I enjoyed the part with the use of masks. It reminded me of ancient Greece, of course, although the style was more Viewpoints meets Suzuki.  It was highly dramatic with aforementioned representative movement and speaking.  It was creepy and powerful while at the same time amusing because of the material.

(Not them but I thought it was pretty.)

Finally, my favorite part of the show was their use of puppets.  It was just hilarious to watch those scenes.

I recommend seeing this show for a fun night out, and I recommend Sabrina- she’s available for acting lessons, too.  I’ll certainly be snatching her up again for another show.

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FPI Review: Strawberry

•July 7, 2012 • 1 Comment

I was recently invited to go see a reading of a play, Strawberry, by a friend of mine who is associated with the Los Angeles Female Playwrights Initiative- I now associate myself with this group as well. Said friend was Sabrina Lloyd, the director of my show.  This reading  of Strawberry was a part of the FPI’s Tactical Reads, which pairs female playwrights with female directors, with an eye on future production.

Strawberry was written by Paula Cizmar and directed by Sabina Ptaznik. It was at the Atwater Crossing, by the kitchen and wine bar. I jumped on the opportunity, since I always want to meet like-minded individuals.

Firstly let me discuss the theatre space: I’d never been to Atwater Crossing, or any of its “creative spaces”, and so it was a bit of an adventure getting there. As an Aries I am always up for great adventures- yet it was very hard to find with cut-off streets due to trains and- some shifty-looking things, and as I wandered the neighborhood for a good twenty minutes, I knew that returning to a bus stop would be very shady, so I arranged a ride home with my friend.

The reading was not held in an actual theatre so much as a sort of cabaret stage by the cafeteria, which was charming enough. It was great because there was food and drink of alcoholic or sober variety, and it had a nice vibe, but there were two big downsides: One, as mentioned, the neighborhood, and two, every once in a while during the play a train would pass literally RIGHT by the stage, just on the other side of the wall. I like trains, but, it’s certainly something to note.

I enjoyed the little schmoozing beforehand with a cold beer, which the bartenders were kind enough to give me on the house after the first beer I bought proved to be too warm. We females discussed what makes a good play for a female- one idea was that old Bechdel Test- that there must be a scene with at least two females alone together, with no males present, and they can’t be talking about men or sex. I think it’s great that my favorite Disney movie, Sleeping Beauty, passes the test, as do other favorites such as Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella, but it seems as though those Disney movies which do not pass the test outnumber those that do. It’s a sad state of affairs that most movies and roles in general are so male-heavy, and how Western culture is so wired against giving women near to equal say- it is a reality often bemoaned by the actress.  Read this interesting article for more about this issue that we women face in plays and movies and Hollywood: http://thehathorlegacy.com/why-film-schools-teach-screenwriters-not-to-pass-the-bechdel-test/

Well- that also made me think about my own play. My play failed in that criteria, at least in one regard, because almost all the characters were male, transgender, or intersex, and there was a lot of talk about sex (mostly between men or transgender men, although not all; the main character was a polyamorous male), but on the other hand my play did not fail, as the casting was gender-blind and it didn’t really much matter whether a character was male or female.

I considered such things and got to know the other ladies present in such conversations. Making contacts is always fun.

Now on to the actual play. There was a talkback afterward where we got to review a bit in person, talking with the director and playwright. I had little to say, but a lot to listen to. There was a lot of back and forth as to whether this would make a better play or a screenplay. To be honest, I had also envisioned it as a screenplay- but as the conversation wore on I began to see how it could be done as a play, and the conventions that would be necessary to pull that off. And, as my friend Sabrina mentioned, it could be a mixed media play, which I thought might also be wonderful- I’d be for that. It really all depends upon the budget, as was also discussed. It could be done with amazing effects- and I would truly love to see them. I’d love to see the plants and the wind laid out before me on a screen or some other medium. Otherwise, it would all have to be done with description.

California desert plant life.

Which brings me to one of the things I most noticed about this play: The descriptions. It was so detailed that you really did feel as though you were there. There were descriptions of the plant life in the town the characters were in that were so specific, and so full of imagery. And the specificity of plants were so integral to the story I was sure the playwright must have some good knowledge of botany herself, or at least good research skills. The intentions of the main character were very clear in the writing, even if she was a mystery that unfolded as the play went on. It was always clear what the characters were up to, and what the scenery might look like. It didn’t matter that this was a reading, that these were just four humans reading off scripts laid upon music stands and speaking into microphones, on a bare stage with only a tribal rug, and stage lights that never changed. It was such good story that I could see the whole thing before me in my mind. It was as enjoyable as the best of nights sitting around a fire, listening as the elders tell their stories, when stories are all you have, and there is no television. The story was real and present, and for the most part engaging.

There were a few parts that did drag on, but of course it’s only a reading, and playwrights do kill their babies in the end. Personally I thought a bit of the waiting and waiting and waiting for character Ofelia, played by Mariel Martinez, to take the main character, Anabel, played by Meredith Wheeler, to the grove of strawberries could have been made faster. I saw little reason for it to take so long, although a bit of a reason was given by the end. It was just that I felt it made the audience feel a sense of “waiting” unduly when we could have driven the story forward. I know some other women disagreed with me, but that was how I felt. At least- perhaps there could have been less scenes with the “active waiting”, with Anabel waiting in Ofelia’s company for Ofelia to show her the way.

Another favorite part was the relationship between the Anabel and the police officer, Ray, played by Chuma Gault. So, too, then, did I like the beginning of the play. The play started out with a bang (well, it shied short of a bang considering the action involved!) and it drew me in right away, wondering what these two characters would do in such an extreme situation. It had me wondering what I would do, and how one would ever get into such a situation, and how one would courageously walk into that- and what for? That scene had excellent and engaging dialogue. I enjoyed, later, watching their relationship progress. Yes, even though this was a “Female Playwright” play, there was still romance, and a real man interpreted in a real way, and I enjoyed it. So too did I enjoy all the characters’ realism, and I understood them, in their situations.

What I did comment upon when I spoke was that I enjoyed the symbolism and the character of the play and Ofelia. Some had commented that Ofelia seemed like a ghost, perhaps not even there, or perhaps the ghost of the main character’s mother, while I then vocally supposed that she might even have been the Mother of God, thanks to the excellent writing. A couple of the plants in the play that the young lady mentioned and encouraged were, of course, plants which are sacred to Mary- strawberries and sage. I noticed that definitely- those of us who have had a special relationship with sage will feel that as striking when it arises, and I enjoyed that Paula used that in her play.

All in all, it was an enjoyable experience, and a fun night, and a fun play.  I’d love to do it again.

Sage, also known as Salvia, of which there are several varieties. I remember that when I was very little, I once accompanied my mother to buy specific shades of ink, and I discovered the shade that matched my eyes was “Salvia Blue”.

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