…and you’ve lost a little more of the Light.

We chose you for your infinite malleability. You, above all of the other creatures, knew the wisdom of giving up a routine or habit when it wasn’t achieving results. You, above all of the other creatures sought the wisdom and guidance of a Master Trainer, when you went out into the wilderness to secure food for your family. That was then.

Now, we are beginning to wonder if we would have been better off infusing the dog with our pneuma of the logos. Your own family dog is more compassionate and ready to turn the other cheek. She takes heaps of abuse before breaking and turning mean for good. She needs above all the affection of her own master, and his loving attention. You on the other hand have turned your back on your Master and sought many other masters.

You wake up in the morning full of a grim fatalistic outlook on life. You are prone to accepting that what must be, will be. But, it only takes a cup of coffee and memories of your dreams to make yourself something better, and you are suddenly achieving a nigh godlike status in your mind. You exult yourself above all others, thinking that the paltry computer skills you’ve obtained are like wizardry.

All it takes is one image to set you off and send you down the path of being a beast. You see the picture of a woman in the news with her hair pulled up a certain way, or her hemline running along her legs, or her ankle turned by a heel, and you are like a young buck again, filled with the fury of sex lust, and an appetite that craves more than just sex.

You go around for days and days with a song stuck in your head. You can’t seem to get it out, and so you sing it, whistle it, and otherwise make it at home. You can’t spend five minutes meditating without needing to get up and rush back to the computer or a tablet to check your email and check the news to make sure that the apocalypse hasn’t started yet.

You were trained by the great masters, and your heritage is divine. But, don’t start preening your feathers and strutting about as if you were designed to lord yourself over other human beings. They were all trained by the great masters, and their heritage is divine, too.

If but for once in your life you became intensely focused on yourself, and putting one foot in front of another, one word after another in your head, then you would go more places in a day than you’ve traveled your entire life.

You first need to reclaim your birthright from other men and the evil forces that abound on this plane. You need to stop letting everything distract you. If there ever was a person that you envisioned yourself to be, but always found yourself getting caught up in reacting to contingencies and drama and being someone that you knew you were not–well, now is the time to be the person that you envisioned yourself to be. Not starting with the next New Year’s Day, or starting with your next birthday, or some other auspicious day full of signs and portents.

And, let’s talk about that. You waiting around for a sign from someone or something to give you a clue as to what you should do next. You, letting yourself be guided by others, and taking common, random strangers and exulting them to be the mouthpiece of angels come to instruct you by saying commonplace banalities that you know are choked with double and triple meaning.

The only sign that you’re going to get is the one you decide to make next when you put the next foot forward and the next word after this one. You aren’t going to get a vision of your mother beseeching you to abandon all worldly things and join a monastery, or one of a great world leader or saint now dead who singles you out to explain to you the great mysteries of your existence through all of Time itself.

You are an old man, and you are not dreaming dreams of any signficance. The dreams are as dodgy and open to many different kinds of misinterpretation as they’ve always been. Occasionally, you’ll have a dream like that one where the “Sons of Isis” appeared waving black flags and riding horses, and you looked up Isis, and only saw the god who’s paired with Osiris. But then, a few months later, you saw a different ISIS everywhere in the news. You certainly had some kind of prophetic dream, but of what good did it do? Would acting on it more fervently have changed anything about the world?

You have reached the age where the tendency is one of trying to categorize everything. You want to make sense of the past twenty years. You want to clump things together in meaningful ways and yield new insights from you data. You want to write a weighty, comprehensive tome that covers the entire history of the universe and the entire history of you in an intricate, meaningful way that yields the proof that you are destined for greatness, if not in this life then in the next or in a higher plane of being. You want to pass along something made of weighty stone that cannot go corrupt with moth and rust and age. Some kind of tablet, etched with the great secrets from beyond the veil of time.

You feel a kindred connection with the men and women who hunted and gathered and scavenged before the invention of iron tools. You are desirous of returning to a time when there were no guns to bring to knife fights, and men only had their hands and crude weaponry and tools to defend themselves and make their livings on this earth. You are a brute whose usefulness came and went over thirty centuries ago. You love Abstract Expressionist art not beause it is such a modern break from the past, but because it is a return to a primitivity that few artists since have been able to accomplish.

The best tools are simple tools that have withstood the test of time, and have been used by men for many things without changing their basic shape. A flathead screwdriver will always be superior to any Phillips head screwdriver. The best sports are the sports with few rules and simple strategies. Soccer is superior to American football, and wrestling superior to soccer, and running is superior to wrestling.

The worst part of being a man is the part where you are expected to know and love complicated things. The ways in which simple games have been turned into complicated battles of playbook strategies and statistics that can be manipulated in fantasy leagues, and the infinite minutiae of sports talk show fodder whose participants never seem able to exhaust. While you might accost the average man on the street and ask him if he’s complicated (and he’d reply, “no, but women are”), you know better. If he isn’t interested in knowing sports in a complicated way, he’s bound to have some passion or life work that has a complicated set of rules and terminology that only he among his friends and family can decipher–be it programming, day trading, or some random, goofy interest like fantasy role-playing or creative anachronism.

You wish that you could be like those men on some days of the week. How comforting it would be to take up an interest in wine or beer or Scotch, and know all of the finer things about the different kinds of a given beverage–how impressed would your friends be (that is to say, if you had friends, but you WOULD have a lot of friends if you took the time to learn some arcane body of knowledge and SPECIALIZE in it). Of course, you’d have to learn something that is cool for a bro–sports, poker, whiskey, cars– those are cool things. Knowing your 16th century Italian masters, or your different kinds of wildflowers–that is not cool.

Your brain was not made to be a modern brain, no matter how hard you try to make it so. You are an imposter–a Neanderthal in a 21st century man’s clothes. Your approach to learning computers is not that different from your approach to learning to stalk and kill a bird or beast in the wild–it’s purely for survival, and has nothing to do with being something you intensely identify with. You learn enough to get by, do your job, and learn just a little more to prevent others from coming along and stealing your job. But, at the end of the day, you’d rather be loafing around the campfire or taking a quiet walk in the woods that serves no other purpose, than be out hunting and killing to bring home things to feed your family.

These are the dark times when you must learn to make your own light. The Light of the Universe is going out as more people choose to rely solely on the lights of this world. As more people find material prosperity, more of them will reject the Light. They won’t know the Light. Those who know the Light won’t come back, because they will go to live with the Light. Those who knew the Light and forgot it will come back with those who never knew the Light. Together, they will carry out what must take place in the last days.

If you are speaking from the Light and you get caught up in arguing with a person who only knows the worldly light, you will inevitably extinguish your Light as you try to use a kind of light unfamiliar to you to fight that very same light. You will lose. You do not fight the light with the Light by letting the light get the better of you and make you come down to its own terms.

You fight the light with the Light by praying that God will place a stumbling block in the path of the one who is walking in the opposite direction from the Light, that they might be disrupted enough to turn around.

The death of our civilization began with the electric light. This symbolically made Man feel superior to the earth for the first time. In prior millenia, being able to work with fire did not create the same kind of hubris, because Man knew that the fire was still part of the earth. There were places in the cracks of the earth that brought forth fire, and occasionally the sky would drop fire down upon the earth. Man knew that fire was not earth or water, and it was to be held in a different sort of regard, but his use of it did not make him feel superior to the gods, only the animals.

But, when man invented the electric light, this changed. He now could make the night as day with the flick of a switch, and possess control over the gods as well. With this, he reasoned that if he controlled the gods, they must have always been inside the heads of crazy men who were held up in high regard by frightened chieftains. On those rare nights when all of the electric lights go out, man feels terrified that perhaps the gods will get the better of him yet.

You need to regard the light with indifference. And, of course, we mean both the man-made electric light, and the light that comes from men’s souls but from no place deeper. Men who would take it upon themselves to manufacture their own light without any input from the Light, are men who inevitably can’t hold up such a terrifying responsibility, and drop their light, cascading into darkness.

And then, all of the people stop to briefly stare, and shake their heads and turn and walk away. Oh well, we guess that he wasn’t the great man he made himself out to be, after all.

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