Thursday, December 18, 2014
Dr. Ardy Sixkiller Clarke, author of Encounters With Star People, vowed as a teenager to follow in the footsteps of two 19th-century explorers, John L. Stephens and Frederick Catherwood, who brought the ancient Maya cities to the world's attention. Dr. Clarke set out on a seven-year adventure (from 2003 through 2010) through Belize, Honduras, Guatemala, and Mexico, collecting stories of encounters, sky gods, giants, little people and aliens among the indigenous people. She drove more than 12,000 miles, visiting 89 archaeological sites (Stephens and Catherwood visited only 44) and conducted nearly 100 individual interviews.
The result is an enthralling series of unique, original, true stories of encounters with space travelers, giants, little people, and UFOs. Sky People: Untold Stories of Alien Encounters in MesoAmerica may very well change the way you perceive and experience the world.
This excerpt comes from Chapter 4.
There is a legend that when the man/god Quetzalcoatl left Tula, he walked to a mountain and entered it, and it closed behind him. There are various accounts throughout the indigenous world of Star Men who meld into solid structures including mountains. In Peru, there are stories of gods who were able to walk through walls to enter another dimension.
In this chapter, you will meet a witness who reports that Star Men often come from space and visit the ancient temples. They have the ability to walk through the solid walls of the temples and disappear inside mountains.
Alexandro Jean was the manager of the small, boutique hotel where I stayed in Belize City. He was a short, stout man with a bucktooth smile and curly black hair that always appeared as though he had been caught in a wind storm. He wore a silver concho belt over his tight, black polyester pants, a cowboy hat, and a long-sleeved, starched white shirt that appeared out of place in the humid weather.
“I hear that you like stories,” Alexandro declared as I entered the small hotel lobby on my way to the restaurant. I nodded and he motioned me to the desk. “I have a personal story I can tell you about UFOs,” he said in a stage whisper as he glanced around the room as though watching for eavesdroppers. “I work day and night at the desk, but in the early morning hours, there is no one around. Perhaps if you stop by, I can tell you my story.”
“How did you know I collect UFO stories?” I asked.
“Nothing escapes me, Doctor. It’s my business to know about our guests. Our security guard overheard you talking to your driver. He was curious that you were interested in UFOs. We don’t meet too many people with such interest, mostly white men who have no respect. He told one of the housekeepers who was his wife, about what you were doing, and she told my wife, and that is how it got back to me. Words have feet in a small hotel. We like to know all about our guests. I live many lives behind this desk and travel the world without ever leaving through the lives of my guests. Doctor, your life makes me very curious.”
“Why are you so curious?” I asked.
“A woman alone. Traveling through Belize looking for UFOs. That is curious.”
“I’m not looking for UFOs, although I must admit, I would be happy to see one,” I said. “I am collecting stories about UFOs. I am retracing, as much as possible, the footsteps of Stephens and Catherwood, and along the way, I collect stories from indigenous people about their encounters with UFOs. That’s my story.”
“I see. Stephens and Catherwood, eh? I know them. They are dead dudes. Why would you follow two dead dudes?”
“It’s a teenage promise from a long time ago,” I said, offering him more information than I had planned.
“I see. You underestimate yourself, dear lady. You are very curious. Few men have tried to follow Stephens and Catherwood. Occasionally I see someone looking for stories about UFOs, but they do not possess the methods needed to get the local people to talk. You, on the other hand, seem to be able to touch people’s hearts and souls. I see how everybody talks to you from the child on the street, the housekeeper, the waiter, the beggar. I’ve observed you. People are curious about you, too. If you run out of people to talk to, come see me.” He paused and handed a letter to a guest before continuing. “If you want a true story, from an indigenous man—me—I will tell you a true one that I experienced when I was a young man.”
When Buddy dropped me off shortly after midnight the next evening, I made my way to the front desk. Alexandro Jean was sitting behind the counter watching a small TV. He stood when I approached.
“I’ve stopped by to hear your story,” I announced.
Alexandro smiled and showed me to two chairs near a large window that faced the street. “Could I get you some coffee, tea, or a soft drink?” he asked as I pulled out my notebook.
“No. I really don’t need anything. I just want to hear your story.”
“You are all business, Doctor. So I will keep to business.” He sat down, pulled a coffee table closer, and propped up his feet. “I hope you do not mind,” he said, pointing to his feet. I shook my head and he began.
“I will start at the beginning. I did not always live in Belize City, but in a rural village about 60 miles from here. I left for Belize City when I was about 20. My encounter occurred the summer I was 18. There were four of us, my friends and me. We grew up together. Albert was with me. He was my cousin. There was my best friend, Javier, and his brother, Jean. There was an abandoned Maya city near our village. It was small and the government never restored it. I think there have been archaeologists working there the last couple of years, but when I was a boy, it was deserted. We often left the village and went there with our alcohol. We could get drunk and no one would stop us. Our mothers and grandmothers did not like us to drink. If they caught us with alcohol, they would beat us.” He paused and laughed about his remembrance.
“Are you telling me you were drunk when you had your encounter?” I asked.
“No. I was not drunk. We went there to drink, but we had not had anything to drink when we saw the space men.”
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“The first thing I remember was the smell. When we approached the site, there was a strange, unfamiliar odor. Jean pointed it out immediately and we all agreed he was right. It was a strange smell. Nothing familiar to us, and as we were discussing what it might be, we came out of the tree canopy into the plaza. That’s when we saw the craft. It was setting in the middle of the plaza.”
“Can you describe it?” I asked.
“It was a long, dull, dark metallic craft. It looked like a tank and at first, we thought it was a tank, but then we saw the space men. They were dressed in gray suits that matched the craft. They were tall and thin and had light hair. They did not wear headgear like modern astronauts. That’s what confused us at first. To tell you the truth, my first thought was that they were Americans and we had stumbled upon some secret operation by the American military. When you live in this part of the world, we always hear rumors about American soldiers carrying out secret missions. I don’t know how much is truth or fiction or a combination of the two.” He paused when the phone rang and excused himself. I heard him call for security, who appeared almost immediately. He directed him to take ice to the lady who had rented the penthouse on the top floor.
“Sorry for the interruption,” he said as he returned to the chair next to me. “We have guests who never sleep.”
“You were saying that when you first saw the space men, you thought they were U.S. military,” I said, reminding him of his stopping-off point.
“Yes. Part of it was the color of their hair and part was the uniforms. They wore very strange uniforms. They were two-piece. The shirt was like a tunic that came down over the waistband of the pants. The pants were tucked into boots. The strangest part about their uniforms was that when they moved about, the colors changed to match their environment. When they were close to their craft, the uniforms were dark gray to match the craft. If they were near trees, their uniforms became green and blended into the jungle. When they climbed the temple, they were the color of the stone. My cousin, Albert, said it was a military secret, and they wore uniforms to make them invisible to the enemy. We decided that only U.S. soldiers would know how to do that, so we all agreed that this explanation sounded logical.”
Alexandro paused as two inebriated men entered the hotel. They had their arms around each other to steady themselves. When they saw us, they called out to Alexandro and offered him a drink. Immediately, Alexandro moved to the desk and called security. When a short, muscular man dressed in a navy blue uniform with an insignia on the shoulder and a policeman-style hat appeared, the two doubled over in laughter, steadied themselves, and saluted him. The security officer moved forward, took their room key, and ushered them toward the hallway. “Jack will take care of them. They’re harmless. They have been with us for two weeks. They are opening a hamburger franchise here in Belize, and every night they go out and get drunk. And every night, I call Jack and he puts them to bed.” I heard him give directions to Jack in Kriol, a dialect that is spoken throughout the country, and then turn to me again.
“So when did you decide that the men you were observing at the ancient site were not from the USA?” I asked.
“The four of us remained hidden and watched the scene unfolding before us. Alberto suggested we should leave and go get the village men, but Javier thought we should stay and watch. Jean agreed. I did, too, so we stayed. At first, they seemed to be checking their craft. They walked around it, occasionally stopping and recording something in a glowing tablet they carried. After a few minutes they walked toward the temple, but they did not climb the stairs; they walked through the stairs. We were all struck speechless. We could not believe what we had seen. We knew that underneath the temple was a cave. The four of us had found the entrance when we were boys, but we couldn’t walk through the stairs. They were solid stone, but they walked through them like they were not there.” He paused momentarily, got up, and returned with two bottles of Coca-Cola. Just as he started to sit down, two men leaned against the large hotel window in front of where we were sitting. He walked to the window and pounded on the glass. The unsuspecting men jumped as though they had been shot out of a cannon. They turned and looked at Alexandro, and let out a volley of curse words in English and Kriol before they moved on. “Sorry, Doctor. That is the reason I must work all night. I must protect the hotel from drunks. I sleep in the mornings and begin again at noon.”
“So tell me, what did you do when the strange men disappeared inside the stairs?” I asked.
“We decided to go to our secret entrance and sneak into the cave. We wanted to see what they were doing. We had never told anyone about the cave and for some reason it felt like they were invading our private property. Javier was particularly upset. There were artifacts in the cave and he was afraid they would steal them. So we crept toward the entrance, staying hidden by the foliage until we could conceal ourselves behind some scattered remains of other buildings. That’s when they reappeared. We heard them talking but their language was unfamiliar. It was not English. We speak English like the Americans.”
“Did they have any of the artifacts?” I asked.
“No, but it seemed to us that they were looking for something.”
“How many men entered the temple walls?”
“There were four.”
“Were you closer to them at this point?”
“Yes. We could see their faces. They looked normal except they had unusually high foreheads. I think it was because they were going bald because their hair set back on their head and was thin. We knew these men were not from the USA. They were foreigners. I think it was Alberto who suggested they came from the stars. These were no ordinary humans. As we were coming to that conclusion, they moved to the west. We decided to follow. Behind the main plaza temple, there is a small mountain. It was actually another temple but it was totally overgrown with trees and grass. We watched as they walked through the mountain. We were totally shocked. At this point, Javier decided he was going aboard the craft that was setting in the plaza. He ran toward the craft. We followed. But just as we entered the edge of the plaza, the strange men reappeared out of nowhere. Like a puff of smoke.”
“Do you mean they had the ability to appear and disappear?”
“They must have. They just appeared.”
“Did they see you?”
“At this point, yes.”
“Did they attempt to communicate with you?”
“No. They disappeared again and it was less than a minute when the craft moved upward and within seconds it was gone. We watched it climb above the trees. It stopped briefly overhead as though examining us, and then they were gone. Zip, zip, zip. Gone.” He made a zigzag motion with his hand illustrating the craft’s movement.
“You said you felt as though they were examining you? Were there windows or anything distinctive about the craft?”
“No windows. We saw no lights, but it was the late afternoon. The sun was still bright. It was just a feeling. They hovered above us. I assumed they were watching us.”
“Did you stay at the site for your drinking party?”
“Jean said it was a sign. We should give up drinking.”
“What kind of a sign?”
“A sign from God. He said they could be angels.”
“Did you agree?”
“No. They came from the stars and they returned to the stars. I think we scared them as much as they scared us.”
“Have you had any other experiences with Star Men?” I asked.
“I have seen UFOs several times. I saw the one last night. Did you see it?” I nodded. “But I have never seen anything like we saw that day.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the experience?”
“It was so powerful that we never went back there again. We never found a different drinking place, either. In fact, we never had a drinking party after that. Maybe they were angels,” he said laughing. “They sure made us give up our drinking ways.”
A day later, I checked out of Alexandro’s hotel and moved to Belmopan. As I was leaving, he stopped me in the lobby. “Be careful in your travels. It is a dangerous world out there, and don’t let anyone ever say that you are not a curious woman. You are very curious.” He reached out and embraced me, kissing me on my cheek. “Come back anytime, Doctor. We can spend another night together. The next time, I give you the penthouse suite at no extra charge.”
“What was that all about?” Buddy asked as I joined him in the van.
“It was about men who walk through mountains,” I replied.
The next time I returned to Belize, I stopped at the hotel and inquired about Alexandro Jean. He had moved to Belmopan. The hours at the hotel had taken a toll on his family life and his wife had given him an ultimatum: Either he leave, or she leaves. The clerk did not have a forwarding address, so I was never able to reconnect with Alexandro. But I have not forgotten the man who told me about men from the stars who walked through mountains and made him and his friends give up their drinking ways.
Dr. ArdySixkiller Clarke brings to the field of Ufology degrees in history, English, psychology and educational leadership and a background as a teacher, university professor, administrator, licensed therapist and psychologist, and social science researcher. As a professor emeritus at Montana State University and director of the Center for Bilingual/Multicultural Education, Dr. Clarke has focused on working with indigenous people. Her first book was the best-seller Encounters With Star People. She lives in a mountain cabin at Big Sky, Montana.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Toddler Donates Hair
Shelter Dog Finds Love
Man Feeds People In Need with Pasta Pass
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
We live in an environment permeated by both natural and artificial sources of electromagnetic energy, while we ourselves are electromagnetic beings. As we continue to pollute and thereby alter our electromagnetic environment, we are also altering ourselves. In particular, these changes infringe on the psychic side of our being.
This exciting and controversial new title shows how all things, from the mundane to the mysterious, are tied together by a vast—and largely invisible—electromagnetic web. It examines ESP, poltergeist disturbances, psychokinesis, UFOs, spontaneous human combustion and other paranormal phenomena from an electromagnetic perspective. It also reveals how the artificial, alien energies we’ve been introducing into our environment shape the way we experience the paranormal.
Please tune in for an interview with author Louis Proud.
Louis Proud is a writer and researcher specializing in anomalous phenomena. His articles have appeared in New Dawn, Paranormal, FATE, and Nexus magazines and he has been interviewed on such programs as VERITAS Radio, Paranormal Realms, and Whitley Strieber’s Dreamland. The author of Dark Intrusions and The Secret Influence of the Moon, he lives in Darwin, Australia.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Desperation, and its cousin desolation, are close kindred when it comes to vernacular in the Appalachian Mountains. Each word denotes a singular loneliness renowned for causing men to do terrible things; they gamble, and sometimes desert their families. Some have even killed as a result of the fear and suffocation that isolation can bring. Still others have escaped away into the hollows, remaining hidden away for decades, perhaps, finding new life and rejuvenation in the echoes of solitude that only nature can provide.
There are other things in those hills, some will tell you—though to say it this way evokes more nostalgia and pure camp than any sense of foreboding. Charles Pierce’s narration comes to mind, perhaps, in his drive-in campfire story-come-to-life that became The Legend of Boggy Creek. In it, a beast that is equally disturbed, as it was disturbing, terrorizes the simple folk of Fouke, Arkansas.
A monster, they called it.
And yet, this monster walked on two legs. How better to present difficulty in drawing clear distinctions between the creatures of myth and shadow, and the monsters purported to exist around the corner, perhaps in the very most remote and isolated areas of the modern world. What are we to make of a monster that, in truth, is more human than it is animal? Where are such distinctions successfully drawn, assuming that such a “beast” does indeed exist… somewhere?
Even before his tour serving in Vietnam, William Smith had no doubt wondered about this too. He returned from a foreign war with a new idea about what monsters were… he had fought among them, and perhaps, lived among them too. And yet, all along there had been something else that occasionally caused him to wonder; something that caused him to question where we, as humans, fit into all this.
He had been only thirteen years old at the time, and heading off to visit his cousins for the weekend, a long afternoon had already been spent outside playing under the hot sun in the fields off near the lumberyard where his uncle worked. The scent of sawdust and poplar sap had been strong in the air, and their clothes smelled of it as they came in from the day, and began washing in advance of a Friday evening meal.
“Don’t wash just yet,” William’s aunt Clara could be heard calling. “I need you boys to go up to the chicken house and fetch me eggs for the biscuits I’m making.”
“How many?” William’s cousin Ernest shot back at her.
“Several,” she said. “And any more mouth out of you, and I’ll have ya out there to sleep with ‘em too.”
William and Ernest wandered down the hallway toward the back porch, badly in need of repair, that leveled off into the grass at the base of the hill in the back yard. The chicken coop rested at the top of the broad hill, which sloped upward and entered a thick band of birch trees that stood at the edge of the forest. The boys walked along, when suddenly, Ernest took off running back toward the house.
“Where are you headed?” William called to him.
“I forgot the damned basket, how the hell are we gonna carry any eggs if we don’t have it? Be right back.”
William kicked his foot around in the dirt between two thick tufts of grass while he waited. It was just after sundown, and as the sky wilted into pale strands of blue and pink, he felt a chill come over him while he watched the soil turn under the toe of his shoe. The wind, he thought, without really thinking much.
There had been no wind, however, only that incessant knocking from up the hill. The chickens could be heard parading around in their coop, although the knocking seemed to be coming from something else. William looked up the hill, shifting his right foot away from the depression he had made in the upturned earth, and as his first step landed, he froze.
The animal—it must have been a bear—was already halfway into the coop, the door torn partly off its hinges. He could see the thing moving back and forth, as it pawed at the eggs, and the chickens, within the narrow wire box.
“Hey!” came the sound of Ernest’s voice. “Make some noise, Bill! Or that damned thing will have all our eggs!” William didn’t hesitate as he started shouting at the beast, hoping to scare it away. It was large, but it couldn’t be a full-grown black bear; while the color was right, it’s shape was far too thin.
Suddenly, as the sounds of the boys’ shouting wafted up the hill, the creature sprang out of the coop, and standing up straight, somehow rose head and shoulders above it. The boys, maybe twenty yards away by now, stopped in their tracks as the animal stood glaring at them, which lasted only seconds before it ran off into the forest, dropping eggs as it went.
William would tell his story occasionally to family and friends, describing for them what he had called “the sloth.” It would be several decades before I ever learned of what he had seen, and arranged to meet him one afternoon, to talk about the animal that went after his aunt’s eggs that evening.
“It was just after sundown,” William remembered. “Ernest and I had gotten about halfway up the hill before we saw it. The thing had been bent over inside the coop, reaching around so that we couldn’t see it.
“I thought for sure it was a bear,” William told me. “We started making noise, and then the thing stood straight up. If that chicken coop was about six feet tall, I’d guess, this thing probably stood another foot and a half above it. Then, it took off running, and we watched, but it never dropped to all fours. It ran away on two legs.”
The creature had appeared covered in black hair or short fur, while the face and hands were light colored, and clearly bare.
“I’ll never forget its hands,” William told me. “They looked crooked, or disjointed.” I asked him to describe these crooked hands again, or to elaborate. “They just looked so odd, and they were turned inward, with these long fingers, that it was holding those eggs with as it turned to run off.”
“Did you see a Bigfoot?” I asked him. William paused, and I watched his eyebrows as they lowered for just a moment, then raised again.
“I don’t know what it was,” he finally said. “For all I know it was some crazy old man.”
Madison County is the area of Western North Carolina where William saw the thing, whatever it was, for what would be the first, and the last time. There are local legends around the nearby Sunburst community that tell of the “Boojum,” borrowing its name from the writing of Lewis Carroll. Similar tales extend back further among the Cherokee Indians, who spoke of savage men of the mountains they called the Kecleh-Kudleh. Though seldom reported, similar beings are still seen in the more remote parts of the Appalachian Mountains even today, representing an animal that is one half beast, and one half something else, if not a man.
There are occasional whispers that arise from time to time, of things that should not exist like this, but seem to be persistent enough in our imaginations that it causes us to wonder. Perhaps they are not imaginary at all… but if real, what are they? Are they man, or are they beast? Or, could they be something else entirely, which challenges our every conception of the separation we presume to exist between civilized mankind, and the beasts that haunt the shadows of the wooded hills and hollows?
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
In Sex, Sorcery, and Spirit, Jason Miller draws upon his training in Eastern and Western mystery schools to produce a frank, comprehensive exploration of sexual sorcery and spirituality. In clear language he will show you how to take your magic to the next level. Today we start with a story from the east.
Spiritual stories are important. Stories and myths have an ability to convey meaning on multiple levels at once, as well as place sometimes odd beliefs and practices into a useful context within our particular culture and the world at large. Before we delve into the factual history, theory, and practice of sex magic I want to share two stories that illustrate the role and importance of erotic magic. One story is from the East and another one is from the West, and each has had a deep impact on the mystery traditions of its respective hemisphere. (Part 2)
A Story from the West
Chances are that unless you are entirely new to the concept of sex magic, you know that Aleister Crowley practiced it as part of his religious and philosophical system known as Thelema—a Greek word meaning “will and desire.” Crowley was inspired by Francois Rabelais, who wrote about an Abbey of Thelema in his book Gargantua and Pantagruel nearly 400 years before Crowley established his own version of such an abbey in Cefalu, Sicily, in 1920. What fewer people know is that Rabelais’s use of the term was most likely inspired by a chapter within one of the most enigmatic books of Western literature: The Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, which translates as “Polifilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream.”1 This book was printed anonymously in Venice in 1499 and uses a very difficult linguistic style that is a combination of Italian, Greek, and Latin. It is attributed to Francesco Colonna because the first letter of each chapter spells out POLIAM FRATER FRANCISCVS COLVMNA PERAMAVIT, which translates as “Brother Francesco Colonna has dearly loved Polia.”
The book recounts the tale of a man named Poliphilo, which can loosely be translated as “lover of all things,” and his search for his true love, Polia, or “all things.” The quest takes him through ancient temples, secret lakes and alcoves, enchanted forests, and mysterious portals. All through the book he marvels and waxes poetic about the beauty he finds not only in the many women and nymphs he meets, but also in the architecture, landscape, and sculptures he encounters. Truly a love of all things. At one point he encounters the Queen Eleuterylida (loosely translated as “free will”), who instructs him to choose between three portals to continue his quest. To lead him to these portals, the queen assigns two nymphs: Logistica (reason or logic) and Thelemia (will or desire). A long journey ensues, during which Logistica offers lots of explanation and advice to Poliphilo, while Thelemia says little by comparison. Eventually they arrive at an impenetrable pass where three brazen portals are carved into the side of the living rock. Each portal is marked with an inscription in Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.
The first portal is marked with the words Gloria Dei in Latin, Theodoxia in Greek, Tif’eret ha-El in Hebrew, and Jal Allah in Arabic. These all translate to “Glory of God.” The three travelers knock on the portal and a shriveled old matron dressed in rags comes out to greet them. The road through this portal is stony and covered in thorns and brambles. Logistica, seeing that Poliphilo was not interested in this portal, tried to encourage him to take it, saying, “This path is not known until the end is reached.” Thelemia, however, advised him, “O Poliphilo, the love of this laborious woman is not yet for you.”
They knock on the second portal, which is marked with the words Gloria Mundi in Latin, Cosmodoxia in Greek, Tif’ret ha-Olam in Hebrew, and Jal Ad-Dinya in Arabic. These all translate to “Glory of the World.” They are again greeted by a matron, but this time she is strong, with powerful arms, and holds a golden sword with a crown and palm branch suspended from it. She and her maiden attendants radiate the strength that is only developed after prevailing in combat and trial. Logistica begins to sing a song in praise of this path: “ O Poliphilo, do not shrink from the manly combat of this place, for when the labour is past, the reward remains.” Her song is so vehement that Poliphilo is ready to walk through this portal and face whatever trial awaits. Thelemia caresses him and gently reminds him, “It seems sensible, Poliphilo my pet, that before you stay here you should at least look at the third portal.”
The third portal is marked with the words Mater Amoris in Latin, Erototrophos in Greek, Gidul ha-Ahava in Hebrew, and Um el-Mujaba in Arabic. The meaning of these is “Mother of Love” or “Nurturer of Love.” Once in the portal they are met by a joyful young woman whose wanton gaze captures the attention of Poliphilo immediately. The path behind her is a voluptuous garden overflowing with abundant beauty, food, drink, and of course nymphs. Logistica warns Poliphilo not to be sucked in by “a feigned and cosmetic beauty, deceitful, insipid, and vain.” She warns that there will be heartbreak and pain and death and all manner of disappointment and poison if he takes this path. Logistica goes on and on like this for some time, but Thelemia simply glances at him and makes a gesture that he should not listen to Logistica. Logistica gets angry, throws down her Lyre, and runs off. Thelemia assures Poliphilo, “This is the place, Poliphilo, where it will surely not be long before you find the thing you love most, the thing that is yours, the one thing in the world which your obstinate heart unceasingly thinks about and hopes for.”
So Poliphilo, led by the coquettish women, passes through this portal, where, after a short rest, he resumes his quest. Eventually he finds Polia, who rebukes him, causing him to die. Polia is then encouraged by the Goddess Venus herself to love Poliphilo, so she returns and kisses him, which returns him to life. She and Poliphilo resolve to devote themselves to love and the works of love. They embrace, Polia disappears, and Poliphilo wakes up from his dream.
This story represents the first use of the term Thelema to indicate a path that represents the personal will, as opposed to the will of an external god as a spiritual path.2 It specifically rejects the idea that one needs to choose between a life of renouncing passion and pleasure to know god, represented by the Theodoxia gate, or a purely material life driven by success, power, and conquest, represented by the Cosmodoxia gate. Instead one can embrace passion and pleasure and eventually come to know Polia—All Things.
These two stories represent a subtle teaching on the philosophy behind sexual magic, and the place it holds in the greater scheme of spirituality. Both stories represent a path that can lead to realization faster than paths of renunciation and asceticism. They also represent paths that can be hazardous: Logistica was not wrong about the dangers of the third gate, and there is a reason that the Buddha was not teaching the Guhyasamāja Tantra widely in India, or even to the 500 Arhats that accompanied him.
Despite the dangers, though, in Indrabhuti the Buddha saw a sovereign who could handle the teaching and really could attain enlightenment in no other way. Thelemia saw the same in Poliphilo. There are many who feel that the old ways of religious asceticism are no longer the most appropriate method of spiritual expression for our planet. Simple materialism has also failed us, and seems to bring us further and further from real fulfillment and realization as a species. The first and second gates have failed. Perhaps it is time to walk through the third.
Jason Miller (Inominandum) has devoted the last 23 years to traveling the globe and studying practical magic in its many forms. He is the author of Protection and Reversal Magick, The Sorcerer's Secrets, and Financial Sorcery. He also runs the Strategic Sorcery Training Course and Strategic Sorcery Blog. He lives with his wife and children in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, where he practices and teaches magic. His popular blog can be found at www.inominandum.com/blog.