I’ve read OpticusWrangler’s essay “Opti and I” a couple times now and I see some interesting ramifications that I think might be good for further discussion. Anyone who enjoyed the other piece probably won’t mind if I go non-linear.
I used to be a dog musher. Let me start by describing the kind of dog I like: The kind you can’t quite tame. Not the type that acquiesces completely, but rather, the kind you have to come to an understanding with. The kind that holds some of herself back and doesn’t just give away everything. Dogs I like retain something of the wolf in them. Husky dogs that basically say “Yeah, we’re buds but I’m not going to come running every time you call me, WTF? Is everything about you? There is other interesting stuff going on sometimes believe it or not!”
That said, I love dogs, but I still retain a firm belief in my superiority over them. Sure they can teach me things, but they also eat poop and wrap their leads around and around on a pole until their face is against it, and can’t figure out that going around and around the other way, will give them more lead again. These are basic facts.
By the same token, As a fellow hypernaut, I don’t have have any illusions that I am the biggest bad ass in the Universe and that I will never encounter any being superior to myself, in age, wisdom, or power etc.
That would be crazy and narcissistic. But still, man, I have to at least be as tough as my favorite sled dogs, don’t I? Can’t I be my own boss? A sovereign individual? I better be able to be, because otherwise that’s a deal breaker. I’m going to be my own boss or nothing at all. In life sometimes you often have to go along to get along. But I’m only giving so much of myself and no more. Ultimately I’m here, piloting my own ship.
It wasn’t always this way. I tried being a slave. It ain’t worth it. So then when I met Buddha on the road, I killed him after giving him a piece of my mind. Some people have a theory: If Yahweh asks you to kill your only son and you agree to do it, you actually failed the test. What Abraham got from that test may have only been the consolation prize.
This viewpoint isn’t unique to me: This is a lesson from mythology. There are tricksters out there. When encountering hyperdimensional beings, you have to be cagey. If you find yourself talking to dragons, take a lesson from Bilbo: keep your feet under you and your eye on the exit door. If an elf gives you something and tells you to drink it, ask yourself: Where have I heard this before? Do I want to wake up 20 years from now with a bad hangover and a long white beard? Should I trust genies? How did it turn out for the other guys? Did their wishes come true in the end?
I agree with the author: lots of other people know Opti and that Herm isn’t imagining it. I am not saying that there aren’t elves out there in hyperspace or dragons or Greeks, even, bearing gifts. My point is beware: Guard your soul, and to thine own self be true.
So who else may know Opti besides the Wrangler and the Great High Glisters? A commenter, Kowality Jesus quoted Carlos Castaneda talking about the “flyers”:
“They [the sorcerers of ancient Mexico]discovered that we have a companion for life. We have a predator that came from the depths of the cosmos and took over the rule of our lives….
The predators give us their mind, which becomes our mind. The predators’ mind is baroque, contradictory, morose, filled with the fear of being discovered any minute now… Through the mind, which, after all, is their mind, the predators inject into the lives of human beings whatever is convenient for them. And they ensure, in this manner, a degree of security to act as a buffer against their fear….
The grand trick of those sorcerers of ancient times, was to burden the flyers’ mind with discipline. They found out that if they taxed the flyers’ mind with inner silence, the foreign installation would flee, giving to any one of the practitioners involved in this maneuver the total certainty of the mind’s foreign origin. The foreign installation comes back, I assure you, but not as strong, and a process begins in which the fleeing of the flyers’ mind becomes routine, until one day it flees permanently. A sad day indeed! That’s the day when you have to rely on your own devices, which are nearly zero. There’s no one to tell you what to do. There’s no mind of foreign origin to dictate the imbecilities you’re accustomed to.
Another commenter, Calypso_1, pointed out that there are indeed many parallels to Castaneda’s description of “Flyers” and Herm’s description of Opticus; that critters like Opticus are hardly universal, though they may purport themselves to be . I would go one further and say that they are universal and that Herm and Castaneda are describing the same entity. I would also agree with Castaneda and Herm that this entity long ago insinuated itself into human consciousness.
This entity gave us its mind, also known as the ego mind. The discipline Don Juan Speaks of is the same discipline called for by Zen masters and modern day writers such as Eckhart Tolle alike: The discipline of meditation and the cultivation of inner silence; the quieting of inner dialogue and the practice of connecting with eternity through being in the present moment.
From experience, I know that by cultivating inner silence – being in the present moment, – you really do come to recognize the inner dialogue of the ego as a “foreign installation”.
At some point in the life of an esoteric practitioner there comes a parting of the ways: You can choose to be sovereign or you can agree, basically, to be eaten by Opticus, enter the covenant he speaks of, and join with it in the consuming of other consciousnesses. (This is possibly a choice not open to the vast majority of people bound to ordinary consciousness, and who remain “food for the moon“.)
The currency of these cosmic pirates is consciousness, itself. Opti is a soul-eater. After having his consciousness consumed by Opti, Herm goes on to consume other souls:
“I felt horrified at the scope of the raider’s consumption, and I wanted no more of their life, attractive and elegant as it is. We ate lives, and stole lineages, consisting of huge information structures, condensed into tiny portable packets of infinite value that can be opened up and decoded. They continue to give me skeins of code when I see them, but for a long time I tried to refuse them. They are quick and unsympathetic, and they insist upon sharing with me; they claim iyam as of them. Eventually, I acknowledged to myself that everyone eats, and I feel a little better about absorbing the awareness of other sentient beings, but I no longer visit the pirate mantids in their golden city.”
Esoteric author Michael Topper observed that Whitley Strieber came to love the Greys who he described as torturing him in his alien abduction memoir Communion. There appears to be a Stockholm syndrome that people can fall prey to when they become enthralled to this entity. Streiber originally described the Greys as “Stinking insects the size of tigers”. The feeling of revulsion is normal and must be bypassed, through delicate maneuvers Topper describes as “Stalking”.
The “beings” engineered circumstances so as to bombard him with dire implications. One evening he is visited by a malevolent presence which he himself – as always – describes best: “…monstrously ugly, so filthy and dark and sinister. Of course they were demons. They had to be.” Again: “…the sense of being infested was powerful and awful. It was as if the whole house was full of filthy, stinking insects the size of tigers.” The entity, rising up beside his bed like a “huge, predatory spider”, places something at his forehead and, with an electric tingle, he is “transported” to a dungeon-like place where his attention is fixed upon a scene of excruciating torture. The victim, a normal looking though quite naked man, is being whipped to shreds amidst agonized screams by a cowled figure. His “entity” explains to him that “he failed to get you to obey him and now he must bear the consequences.” This disclosure is followed by a very interesting and significant “assurance” that “…it isn’t real, Whitty, it isn’t real.”
The purpose of soothing Strieber with such assurance as to the ultimate unreality of the convincing scene he has experienced should be familiar to anyone who’s heard of the torture tactics employed in any good Banana Republic: Specifically, those in which the victim is subjected to excruciating pain on the one hand while being simultaneously stroked and reassured on the other, often by the same party). The object is to elicit the full cooperation of the victim under duress, by making him instinctively gravitate toward the implicit salvation extended through the “motherly” touch demonstrated in that schizoid grasp.
Indeed, Strieber proves himself the compliant guinea pig: Even having been told that it’s all a thought form, his compassion for the unsuccessful “bidder” persists so that finally he collapses into repentant love for the very roaches that bedevil him:
“Again, though, I felt love. Despite all the ugliness and the terrible things that had been done, I found myself longing for them, missing them! How was this possible?…I regretted the contempt I had shown for its needs and its laws and felt a desperate desire to make amends. I had felt a pain greater than the pain of punishment: It was the pain of their love. I had the sense that they had on my behalf turned away from perfect love, and that they had done this to help me. I suspect that the ugliness I had seen last night was not them, but me. I was so ashamed of myself that I almost retched.”
Was OpticusWrangler stalked? He admits to allowing Opti in during a “bout of self-destruction.” He keeps asserting that his relationship with Opti will eventually kill him and that he is writing under threat of death, more or less. He says he has trust issues because Opti likes to toy with the idea of destroying him. He admits to being terrified.
In the astral realm, things appear more straightforward than in ordinary reality. Appearance actually doesn’t deceive, instead it seems to reveal a deeper reality.
One fine morning during an outer-body experience, I encountered my boss – a beautiful woman, and former model – who was later to become my nemesis. In the archetypal realm, she was covered with weeping sores; a view of her appearance completely contradicted in ordinary reality.
Cockroaches aren’t cute. Even though Opti is described as cute, Herm also describes him as a giant cockroach with a demeanor of a friendly St. Bernard puppy. I find that description horrifyingly revolting. Whitley Strieber’s most recent descriptions continue to be horrifying and revolting as well:
“And they were hanging over the bed. They were absolutely enormous. Horrible. Ten times the size of the largest spider you’ve ever seen. And not only that, the one that was over Anne was scrabbling against the ceiling and having trouble hanging on. This thing had a great black abdomen covered with yellow stripes. It looked like an insectoid tiger. It was horrible. I leaped out of bed and by that time I was fully awake and I thought, Oh, God, what a nightmare. Then I looked and they were still there. I was horrified, because by that time I had had so many close encounter experiences and so many other people at the cabin had had them, I wasn’t in the least surprised. Anything could have happened and I would have believed it implicitly. So I no longer thought this was a dream.
I wanted to run like hell. Then I saw her lying there under that thing. It was struggling to stay where it was. It would fall on her. And her preciousness to me filled me completely. I went around there and I leaned over very carefully to gently wake her up and get her out from under that thing without her seeing it. Because I knew if she saw it, that would be it. She’d be totally panicked. I was waking her up and she made a very pleasant sound like she was being held in the night and enjoying that. Then I realized the spiders were gone. So I did hold her. I cuddled with her for the rest of the night.
And after that, the relationship with the man went on. It was as if he had to be sure that I was really, truly true to my honor and my love before he would come into any deeper contact with me.”
The parallels I see between OpticusWrangler’s and Topper’s work (the consumption of others as units of consciousness, and the love their victims came to feel for these entities) is instructive: It is indicative of a bond of enslavement.
“The higher density negative entities are “light eaters.” Love is light is knowledge. When they induce belief against what is objectively true, they have “eaten” the light-knowledge of the person who has chosen blind belief over fact! When you believe a lie, you have allowed the eating of your energy of awareness! When you do not take the time and trouble to check things out for yourself, to do the research, to compare, to network, to get a consensus, you have given away your power. You have failed in the creative act of learning…
…There is an immediate psychic bond produced by belief. There is an instantaneous linkage and interpenetration with the individual who has chosen to believe a lie. The higher-dimensional beings have subtle, vertical filamental axes fixed on human beings. Those subtle nerve-networks process radiant-energy values, drawn in through the etheric “chakras” of the higher-dimensional systems, represented by the pineal/pituitary glands…”
This mirrors the account of Herm:
“Our awareness is its food. To be fully consumed by the organism involves experiences of other lives and worlds. It is tantric union with the dragon. The hyperdimensional portal is a paradoxical creature that exists as a dispersed hive organism within symbolic numinous structures. It is dispersed Osirus. The hidden eggs of the Easter bunny, as well as the cultured sexiness of Dracula, and the prophetic nightmare of The Terminator, are all the camouflaged spoor of the hyperdaemion”
“Tantric union with the Dragon”, may be the act of jumping from the cosmic frying pan and into the Fire. Instead of offering your thoughts as food I leave you with some food for thought:
The sorcerers’ revolution is that they refuse to honor agreements in which they did not participate. Nobody ever asked me if I would consent to be eaten by beings of a different kind of awareness. My parents just brought me into this world to be food, like themselves, and that’s the end of the story….The flyers are an essential part of the universe and they must be taken as what they really are; awesome, monstrous. They are the means by which the universe tests us….We are energetic probes created by the universe, and it’s because we are possessors of energy that has awareness that we are the means by which the universe becomes aware of itself. The flyers are the implacable challengers. They cannot be taken as anything else. If we succeed in doing that, the universe allows us to continue….When you can see from inner silence, the predator may appear as a gigantic shadow, leaping in the air and then landing with a silent thud. They are really heavy. Don’t be frightened. Keep your inner silence and it will move away….The predator is not something benevolent. It is enormously heavy, gross, indifferent. You can feel its disregard for us. Doubtless, it has crushed us ages ago, making us weak, vulnerable, and docile. You have your unbending intent, not to let them eat you.”
-The Active Side of Infinity, Carlos Castaneda
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