Turn back, children of Hamelin.
The chords denote a prison.
As Light descends from high–just then
the Dark Age has arisen.
–Notes from an Unsung Stranger
Straddling the Ides of March, one of the most portentous dates on the Roman calendar, we find ourselves greeted by two salutations, both appropriately garbed, both careful studied gestures: right hand, white; black hand, left. As time quickens, no errant snapshots are allowed. Careless accident has no province in the kairos. From hereon, nothing that strikes the eye can safely be deemed an aberration.
The Black Pope, in white papal vestments, has been installed. The Jesuit Order (The Society of Jesus) has completed its ascension. The internecine squabble of centuries has been settled. Mind has conquered soul. St. Malachy’s Final Pope is here, the Prophet who points Falsely to the skies—the seedbed of all lightning. Famous seers, ostensibly strange bedfellows, have been roused from sleep to announce this crucial moment. Some have been pulled from retirement reluctantly. Really, what choice do they have in these the twilit hours when all are called forth to honor unequivocally their patronage and affiliation? The Age of Prevarication has ended.
The double lightning strike on St. Peter’s Basilica announces the Luciferian age. The parallelism is apt. Two Papal mandates comport within one body; on the surface, the essence of duplicity perhaps, except one has been decisively unseated for the remainder of time. The Light and Dark are one, which is to say the Light has been vanquished for this age. Jung prepared the ground well.
The enduring Galileon trope of the Church as a backwards institution forever hostile to Science persists against all the present evidence. Let the Baptists have their 6,000-year-old universe. How will they bury the dinosaurs? As I understand the Bible Belt rendition, God dropped out of the 8th-grade, leaving allegory forever beyond His ken. Literalists speak too slowly to evolve a forked tongue. Strange as it may seem, this will probably serve them well. Towering intellect faces the same challenge negotiating the Eye of the Needle as does ungodly wealth. Greed, hubris, a Janus coin. It cannot be stressed enough: be like children.
On the other end of the hubristic scale, it will surprise many to discover that the Church is at ‘the forefront of the back of the universe crowd’ and awaits Disclosure atop an Arizona mountain with a hijacked Christian doctrine. The tortuous acronym L.U.C.I.F.E.R. (Large Binocular Telescope Near-infrared Utility with Camera and Integral Field Unit for Extragalactic Research) speaks to the necessity of the namesake:
Christians will not immediately need to renounce their faith in God “simply on the basis of the reception of [this] new, unexpected information of a religious character from extraterrestrial civilizations.” However, once the “religious content” originating from outside the earth “has been verified” they will have to conduct “a re-reading [of the Gospel] inclusive of the new data…” – Vatican Astronomer, Eminent Theologian and Full Professor of Fundamental Theology at the Pontificia Università della Santa Croce in Rome [Connected With Opus Dei], Father Giuseppe Tanzella-Nitti
We have here no New Age ‘we are all one’ Kumbaya seminar jockey. This is the Vatican Astronomer himself preparing the ground for a sea-level doctrinal shift instigated on the wings of high-altitude revelation. We are on the precipice of the seventh Antediluvian Apostasy, as British theologian G. H. Pember so presciently outlined in his 1876 book, Earth’s Earliest Ages:
7. The appearance upon earth of beings from the Principality of the Air, and their unlawful intercourse with the human race.
Forget the subterranean depths of Hell. Satan is the Prince of the Authority of the Air (Ephesians 2:2). He swirls above and around with the ubiquity of carbon monoxide. The real Andromeda Strain is the bulge that strains all young pairs of pants. Even the universe, it turns out, is sex-obsessed. Endow a creature with diaphanous wings and all it can think about is (not) getting laid. As in the days of Noah, these ‘beings from another sphere’ want our hottest babes. (As if it isn’t hard enough getting a date with Jessica Biel without some Little Gray Pecker beaming to the head of the line!) Verily, there is far more at stake here than just a series of lonely Saturday nights. The recent upsurge in trans-human research is another preparatory movement aimed at inter-special normalization. Today, genetically, we lie down with swine. Yes, pigs are among our closest cousins. We are on the verge of harvesting hearts from them! Pearls then for Miss Piggy. As for Ned Beatty, there but for the grace of God squeal I. How much easier it will be now to foment miscegenation with magnificent astral beings! Someone prepare the ark and while you’re at it, have the comeliest pork-belly bathed and brought to my tent.
You see, our Rare Earth quality is highly coveted. Thus flatter yourselves for a moment, fellow humans, before briskly re-battening the spiritual hatches. Angels cannot reproduce. They are devoid of DNA. Yet, replication is a palpable need that compels all fallen angels. Indeed it represents the ultimate fruit of rebellion. Yes, the seed is the father of the fruit. Is that a banana in your pocket Mammon or is your Moloch just happy to see my sister Kate?
For in the resurrection they [men with no children] neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven. –Matthew, 22:30
Lock your daughters away People of Earth else what issues forth from their loins becomes a trans-human abomination. The Devil wants our seed and his tactical seduction will unfold ruthlessly and on manifold fronts—intellectual, spiritual and sexual—in order to obtain it. The crescendo will arrive as an armada of descending lights in the sky. Think of them as celestial cigar-shaped penises from another realm if you like. This new Copernican upheaval will steal the finest lambs from the midst of the Only Shepherd. True Pisceans are elected to navigate the waters of persecution. The ‘hardships of the curse’ as Pember called it, are a sacred birthright. The path is either arduous or it is wrong-directed. Hardship is our compass. Deceptive entreaties are our lot. Always regard with deep suspicion the spiritual lassitude that invariably attends dull comfort. Banish the notion of ‘spare time’ from your spiritual vocabulary (idle hands and all that rot). ‘Escapist entertainment’ is a mad dash into perdition. Pember’s second Antediluvian Apostasy:
2. A rapid progress in the mechanical arts, and the consequent invention of many devices whereby the hardships of the curse were mitigated, and life was rendered more easy and indulgent. Also a proficiency in the fine arts, which captivated the minds of men, and helped to induce an entire oblivion of God.
How true. Art divorced from the Church forges an artful oblivion. Paints spews forth in parodies of blood. Ochre halos produce halo effects, never halos. There are always dreadfully clever men who overeach their cleverness. Lucifer’s cleverness lies orders of magnitude beyond the sharpest human tacks in our midst. Faustian striving, as viewed from many quarters of Heaven and Hell, is little more than the occasional precocious cow tripping a paddock gate. Woopee! By all means a smattering of applause for this latest stupid pet trick. But we have no less a cow. All clever boys to the front of the slaughterhouse line! We can outfuck angels. But we cannot outflank them. Beware all strivers with stigmatic aspirations.
The Jesuits, those great Preparers, supply a crucial secular humanist bridge, really the Socratic cancer-within that dines on the Body of Christ. They are the institutionalized ‘tear in the fabric’ through which the climactic emptying of the Church’s residual sacred content will complete itself. Think of a chalice-in-reverse, a goblet that spills forth interminable thirst (often touted as intellectual quest). Grace was withdrawn (never to return until the End) with the unheeded warning of Fatima’s Third Secret. After this, Vatican II became an ornamental magic dance conducted atop a fait accompli. The final deception will come from the skies (the Principalities of Air) where all great deceptions are mounted. Interestingly, Bowie’s 1974 recounting of the Ziggy Stardust backdrop-story speaks of arriving ‘infinites’ bent on cross-breeding. Their motives are similarly misconstrued. There’s a Starman waiting in the sky alright—and he has infernal designs on you:
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. –Ephesians 6:12 (God’s italics via King James)
Here is the rub that will forever differentiate the souls of men. How will you read the valence of these approaching Starmen for which the world has been so assiduously prepared? Answer carefully as your soul will be adjudged by how your heart receives them! The sky is the prison warden’s locus of emanation. The warden boasts a plenitude of ambassadors. Seduction is the key that delivers all cellmates to their brimstone abode.
Full-throttled evil is not the enemy. Confusion and obfuscation are. Or should we say evil insinuates itself best via well-considered deception? This is the very definition of New Age and occult shenaningans: the propagation of False Good.
The Temptor is devious: he does not push us towards evil directly, but towards a false good, making us believe that the real things that matter are power and whatever satisfies our primary needs. (Pope Benedict XVI)
Everyone wants to believe in magic. How would the trick succeed otherwise? Its potency can be a compelling diversion. Magic is a parlor trick that pretends at sacred content. Magic is a manipulation of the unguarded eye. Prestidigitation is grounded in deception. Magic is also a given. Is anyone disputing the power of lesser entities? Is the verifiability of power alone an indicator of good intent? Pulease!
And I saw one of his heads as if it had been mortally wounded, and his deadly wound was healed. And all the world marveled and followed the beast. Rev 13:13
Many wonderments will spring forth from the Starmen. The lame shall walk. The blind shall see. Church (Jesuit) dogma will do it’s part, embracing the new visitors as Righteous Brothers within God’s galactic family. “They can work with Satan while they dress like the saints.” The Son of Man will suffer anew—in the inevitable comparison. Prodigious light shows versus the worn-out sandals of Galilee? No contest!
True Pisceans, those scattered few, will recognize these new visitors as the Fallen Angels come to wreak a final havoc. The Church will offer its ‘new heretics’ no comfort in a final great betrayal foreshadowed by the willful and calculated despoilment of the prayerful’s very children. (Time to reacquaint with the labyrinthine catacombs, oh fellow crypto-Christians!) Lucifer will consummate his final seduction on the Whore of Babylon. Flowers and chocolates are a needless expense as she will succumb with shameful abandon. After all, she has been constructed for the cigar-shaped obelisk of cosmic interpenetration (to which the Masons have nursed a permanent woody for millennia). Her reservoir awaits, open-legged.
There are never merely songs. There are no errant pastimes. All things that stir the soul are momentous entreaties: “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit.” (Whether or not you ask for Him, God is present.)* This has never been more true than during this Quickening phase. There has only ever been two paths. We cannot simply tear ourselves down the middle between the Light and Dark like equivocating paper dolls. That is a Jungian deception. We must choose. Our souls must go one of two ways. May decisiveness borne of trepidation light your path.
* Update: With four lost years of Latin to my name, I hadn’t really pondered this phrase for decades. Yet it seemed apropos. For those who argue ‘it’s only pop music’, I suggest God does not vacate our empty leisure hours just because we choose to award ourselves a ‘nihilistic intermission’ or because we relinquish our spare time to mindless escape. (“It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters.) Again, there is no spare time in the kairos. Nor can the soul escape, even for a moment, the nefarious designs certain interests have on it.
What’s more, how very odd that ‘Rebel Yell’ at the Bowie Wonderworld discussion board proffered this exact phrase almost simultaneous with my use of it here. He pointed out our astonishing synchronicity after reading this essay, adding that the phrase appears above his own garden (he included a picture) as well as above the doorway of Jung’s home! I honestly had no idea. Strange times indeed.
NOTES and ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I should say that fellow Bowie prognosticators Tanja Stark and the author of the blog The Mask of God (who prefers anonymity) arrived at ‘papal epiphanies’ from varying directions and with an eerie simultaneity. The most intuitive in our midst find themselves increasingly entangled within Einstein’s ‘spooky actions at a distance’, especially now as the distance draws nigh. The impetus for this inquiry owes much to them. I would direct interested readers to this March 17 blog entry ‘China Girl (A New Pope)’ here:
My fellow blogger identifies Bowie as the Hierophant (interchangeably referred to in Tarot as ‘the Pope’), that is, one who leads others to sacred content. In short, he advances a more esoteric realm of inquiry that intersects theosophy with Campbell’s comparative religion studies and Jewish kabbala. This worldview is steeped in the primacy of archetypes where the symbol IS the reality with ‘real life’ bringing up the rear like an eternally recurring ‘poor relation’ or crude reflection. It occurs to me one could easily get lost in this frenetic tagging of bases, especially as time is so precious and short. Perhaps something wishes to detain us forever in labyrinthian inquiries. After all, nowhere, least of all in the Bible, is the existence of supernatural forces a matter of dispute. Thus for me, this sort of worldview seems inexhaustible and open-ended. So each day is a hologram that re-enacts the eternal. Then what? Why, the next day, and the next, and another day. With all due respect to this blogger, I want purpose, meaning and culmination, not an infernal and eternal loop! When can we start taking names?
Thus in this essay particularly, I feel I am weaving disparate threads together at least as much as I am advancing fresh thought. Indeed it was Tanja who first noted the odd similarity of Bowie’s salutation with that of the Pope’s (in the recent ‘balcony’ picture, above) and the left-hand salute (of course Bowie is left-handed and it all may be as simple as that, unless of course one inhabits a Jungian world where coincidences are not allowed!)
I can only say it became a crystallizing insight for me, to which the following essay owes Tanja no small debt. Tanja also pointed out the similarities of Bowie’s hand gesture to the Sign of the Cross. I recall as well a raging debate on Bowie Wonderworld about the significance of the gesture. As with all things, I leave it to the reader to separate to his own satisfaction meaning from over-determination. I should add though that she takes particular exception to the subsequent ‘Christian dispensationalist’ trajectory exhibited here. So for her sake, I wanted to make clear that she and I part company decisively beyond her initial insights. Jung qua Liar or Jung qua Seer–who’s to say for sure? The question’s a deeply personal one, the stakes immeasurably high. I dare not venture answers for another. Unless of course the shepherd’s staff is taken up. False prophets are fair game. I’ll leave it to Tanja to elaborate her own thoughts if and as she chooses.
I’m finding the tempo of synchronicities ramping up feverishly in my own life. I hear the same from others. More evidence of a Quickening?
Further attribution is due authors Tom Horn and Cris Putnam whose books Exo Vaticana and Petrus Romanus cover much of this ground in a more overt Christian apologetics frame. Through them too, I became aware of the uncanny 19th century theologian G. H. Pember. Another instrumental book for me was Malachi Martin’s The Jesuits. Do I risk a lightning bolt to suggest the late Father Martin (former Jesuit) was a bit of a blarney-man? Perhaps. Nonetheless his decades-long access to the Vatican combined with his broad and startling intellect and personal acquaintance with popes is not something easily dismissed.
On the shoulders of giants as they say.