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Imagine yourself in a most tricky line of work. Your job is to administer snake poison. The aim of this ministry of an exquisitely subtle stimulant is at the same time to kill and to cure.
You know this. Every time you go to work, you know that this is the kind of business you’re in, and that your employer enjoys to see you in the act. What you don’t know is how the interplay of these two seemingly disparate effects of the same pharmaceutical remedy will fall out in any particular case.
Quite often, it’s like flipping a coin. Or more precisely, it’s like flipping a card to see where on the multifaceted spectrum between mortification and invigoration this particular injection. Cause, obviously, there’s not two options. There never is.
The really fun part is when the card trick is performed partly blindfolded. This is the case when you’re dealing the medicine to multiple patients at the same time, and loose track of the individual patterns of reaction.
Part of this is the experiential knowledge that there are not just those that will be sickened by the appointed dosage and those that will be curiously uplifted, but also those that will be non-responders. That’s simply something to expect and accept.
Now, let me tell you something about snake poison and how to pass it on. The trick is that you have to be full of it yourself – and that you get full of it yourself.
I’ll flesh that out a bit more. But I’ll do it without explaining all too much, cause it really is a matter of experience, and quite a lot better to talk about in the open than writing freaky online texts about. After all: These are new times. We can talk about this face to face.
But yeah, here we are. This is a text, and I can’t see you. I don’t know who you are. But I know what this is. It is an invitation. An invitation to get real real with all of this.
Having stated my intent, I’ll get back in line, and follow the indicated flow. I wanted to tell you something more about what it means that you have to be full of snake poison to help someone else ingest it – and that you will become full of snake poison by giving it to others.
What I mean is that in this tricky line of work there is no such thing as faking it until you make it, and no such thing as coming from up high as a luminous beacon for the horde of entrapped souls to have signpost to climb for and navigate by. There really only is one way to go, and that is the continual practice of dual exposure. You give and you receive, always at the same time.
It really is quite simple: If you didn’t do the drug yourself, you wouldn’t know what it was, and you would have no mandate to push it around.
So you yourself get invigorated, and you yourself get poisoned. Again and again. As time goes by, and practice makes a master, tolerance builds up. This is where you start raising the dose, and thus also where you might get confused how much to pass along to other recipients.
At this point there is no longer a choice. You can’t quit. The boss is 4 real, and wouldn’t be happy with you. Neither would you. You couldn’t imagine anything more fun and fulfilling than this.
So you have to start doing something that you haven’t done for a rather long stretch of time. You have to be pragmatic. You have to know the time and place, and you have to handle your tools skilfully enough to always dare suitably massive self-injection, without imagining that the same kind of amount would be appropriate for your subject.
The worst thing is when you choose a to high voltage and are faced with too many non-responders. That’s where you really get fried.
Oh, he just shifted the metaphor from poison to electricity. Yes he did. That’s exactly the kind of sh*t this dealers do. It’s part of the art to help everything turn into everything else by gradually – and rapidly – moving through images and tonalities that are, at the same time, divided and united.
And electricity – that really is the thing. You see: We’re just like electro-magnetism, and the game of electro-magnetism is exactly the sport we’re into. We like to watch a restfully vibrating current stretch out between the poles of so-called opposites.
Sometimes we call it the passive and the active, other times the receptive and the creative, or the feminine and the masculine. It’s not really important what terms to apply. Of importance is only the curiosity to experience the flow itself.
As indicated: The trick is to do to seemingly contradictory things at the same time. To act and to sit, we might say. The implication of this is rather straightforward: To get into this funky business we must, at the same time, vigorously act out or own will and be radically affirmative to the fact that something else is acting itself out – on us.
In the end, just as in the beginning, it’s all about the balance. The key is to practice. Magick is just like sex. You’ll never get good at it without experience, and you need the virtue of patience just as much as the lust for adventure to arrive at a point where you seize to think and start to flow.
Why am I telling all of this? I don’t know. I guess it’s just because I felt like it. Is it useful to you? I don’t know. Will it keep me awake to wonder whether my words fall in receptive soil. You don’t know.
All I know is that dealing snake poison sure is a tricky line of Work – and that it really is a great, though quite surprising experience, to see all of your existential speculations evaporate in the face of a task that is as practical as they get, and a joy so sweet to taste that nothing else matters.
You work for me, he says. You are my bride, he adds – and shows his special smile. Just play your part, and do remember that a solid night of sleep might be just the choice you wanna make when you’ are full of poison – and liquified by the embrace.
And that’s about it.
Please keep in mind: Our nectar is for free. Only your own boss will charge you – if you decide to receive.
