…was an ancestor of mine, apparently. And now I’ve recently discovered she was quite a prolific occult author and surrealist painter. And I was just talking about creating a Tarot deck–not for public consumption, of course, but to help me memorize the Tree of Life and its correspondences to the Tarot, the planets, and the archetypal keys of all hidden knowledge.
Particularly noteworthy is Colquhoun’s mention of an oral tradition regarding sexuality within the original HOGD as well as in the Alpha et Omega. Colquhoun also mentions that, in her opinion, the sexual aspects should appear in the highest grades of any occult fraternity, including the projected Third Order of the original Golden Dawn, as is presently the case in the Third Order of Mathers’ Alpha et Omega.
Colquhoun further discusses actual rituals pertaining to sexual polarity performed by early members of the Golden Dawn. In particular, she discusses at length the unpublished “Lilith” ritual of A.E. Waite that she found at the Warburg Institute. Finally, Colquhoun also discusses issues pertaining to Golden Dawn ritual and tantra groups regarding sexual polarity and the role of women in both tantra groups as well as in the original Golden Dawn.
Hey kids,
Delphi here, lettin’ ya’ll know that I’m going to be startig a radio talk show on The Global Reality Network on Saturdays at 4-5pm. This coming Saturday, January 16th, is the first episode.
SO LISTEN UP!!
I’ll be mostly examining esoteric literature and poetry, ancient civilizations, and mythology, but in doing so I’d like YOUR HELP on topics that YOU want to learn about. I will also take emails with dreams or other experiences that you would like me to help you interpret or comprehend better. Emails can be sent to: thedelphireport@gmail.com
Thank you in advance for any feedback you might take time out to give. Reading suggestions, music suggestions, and topic suggestions are all up for grabs, guys, so take advantage of this! Let’s start a revolution of the mind, body, and soul!
For nearly a century, archeologists have routinely used aerial photographs as a key tool for discoveries and investigations. In western Europe, the discovery through aerial reconnaissance of tens of thousands of previously unknown sites has transformed the way the past is interpreted and explained. In discussions of archeology, aerial views are often far more informative than ground photographs because the aerial views show the whole site within its geographical and environmental context, and they often show patterns too subtle or confusing to be recognizable on the ground.
Amid the patchwork of Google Earth’s satellite imagery, 15 to 20 percent of the Arabian Peninsula is covered at resolutions high enough to show archeological structures.
Above: Amid the patchwork of Google Earth’s satellite imagery, 15 to 20 percent of the Arabian Peninsula is covered at resolutions high enough to show archeological structures. Below: Google Earth’s ability to tilt the viewing angle provides oblique views like those from an aircraft. The dark lines are the remains of stone walls barely visible on the ground (bottom). Animals may have been driven into this “barbed arrow” structure; the rounded “hides” at the points may have given cover to hunters.
Animals may have been driven into this “barbed arrow” structure; the rounded “hides” at the points may have given cover to hunters.
In the Middle East as a whole, there is a growing awareness of the value of this technique, particularly given the volume and complexity of remains and the need to balance preservation with rapid industrial development. Jordan has instituted and supports a program of aerial archeology, to which I have contributed. Recently, however, archeologists have begun to use the satellite imagery publicly available since the launch
“But like the solar system is going through a change soon and it’s going to affect the Earth in about 30 years, you know, I am talking about the Earth itself.”
The connection between Music and the mysteries of the Universe has always been an intrinsic one. This video lead me to hunt down some articles on artists who have had UFO encounters. Probably the weirdest would be the Jimi Hendrix story related below.
Knight told Beckley a remarkable story about Hendrix, an event that happened a few years before Hendrix became the legendary and much beloved guitar hero.
“It was during the wintertime,” Beckley said, “and they were playing a small gig in upstate New York, near Woodstock. This was before the Woodstock Festival, so it has nothing to do with that, except as a point of location. It was not very far from Pinebush, where there’s been a lot of UFO activity in the last few decades.
“Anyway, as I understand it from Curtis,” Beckley continued, “there was a very snowy blizzard and the boys in the band were trying to get back to Manhattan. They got snowed in. It was so cold outside that they couldn’t even open a window. The windows had frozen. They had the engine still running, and the carbon monoxide filled the car. A couple of the other guys passed out in the backseat, but Jimi was still able to breathe apparently, and he claimed that a cone-shaped object landed on the road not far from their vehicle. A door opened on the side of the craft and a being came out. He described it as kind of like a cross between a feathered creature, maybe like Mothman, and an angel.
“This thing drew its wings out and walked around the vehicle, and where it walked, the snow melted. So they were able to get out of the blizzard and get back to New York. Jimi always told Curtis that if it wasn’t for this being coming from the ship, he was sure that they would have all died in that car that night.”
1983 (A Merman I Should Turn To Be)
Hooray, I awake from yesterday
Alive, but the war is here to stay
So my love, Catherina and me,
decide to take our last walk
through the noise to the sea
Not to die but to reborn,
away from lands so battered and torn
Forever, forever
Oh say, can you see
it’s really such a mess
Every inch of Earth is a fighting nest
Giant pencil and lipstick
tube shaped things,
Continue to rain
and cause screaming pain
And the arctic stains from silver blue
to bloody red
as our feet find the sand, and the sea
is straight ahead, straight up ahead
Well it’s too bad THAT our friends,
can’t be with us today
Well it’s too bad
The machine, THAT we built, would never save us, that’s what they say
(That’s why they ain’t coming with us today)
And they also said “it’s impossible for a man to live and breathe under water, forever,”
was their main complaint. And they also threw this in my face, they said:
“Anyway, you know good and well it would be beyond the will of God, and the grace of the King”
(grace of the King … Yeah, yeah)
So my darling and I make love in the sand, to salute the last moment ever on dry land
Our machine, it has done its work, played its part well.
Without a scratch on our bodies and we bid it farewell
Starfish and giant foams greet us with a smile
Before our heads go under we take a last look at the killing noise
Of the out of style, the out of style, out of style (oooh)…
“Right this way,” smiles a mermaid — I can hear Atlantis full of cheer.
I’m not a fan of the Zahi…wonder if he took him under the Sphinx, into a dark lair where nine extra-dimensional “men” stood around a black monolith, chanting as the monolith projected a holographic video of the Kennedy assassination from an angle NO ONE has ever seen before…
(thank you Bill Hicks)
I started thinking about why I love to travel. It’s not easy to pick up and go somewhere new and adapt and learn the customs and still try and maintain your own way of life while simultaneously opening your head to other interpretations of conscious reality. But there is something that happens when you get to feel the energy of a specific place. It sticks with you longer than any photograph or souvenir, if you’re sensitive to it.
I first read about Rosslyn Chapel in 1999, when I was sixteen, in The Highlander, a magazine for people with Scottish ancestry. The article didn’t do much more than point out the pre-Columbus corn and cactus symbolism alongside Greenmen and the enigmatic Apprentice’s Pillar. It was a relatively shallow article. At that time, my mind had already decided that Christianity was pretty much a stolen pagan sun worshiping cult, but I just felt there was something weird at Rosslyn, and knew I had to go there. When I went to Scotland in 2004, I snuck away to Rosslyn and descended into the “secret” ritual chamber below…you know, the one where they keep Jesus’s blood or something (thank you Dan Brown. Right, cause the Holy Grail is treasure, a cup, or even an heir. Yes, Jesus had heirs, but the question you should be asking is whose heir was Jesus?)
This was my experience:
As I walked down the 13 steps into the chamber, I felt myself become extremely lightheaded, as tho I’d just knocked about five shots of good Scotch back. I leaned up against the wall to steady myself. The pit felt like death, the crypt where the body is kept, resting next to the Knight Templar carved out of stone. On the wall there were several carvings that made my head spin further; they were not the modern works of graffiti artists, but carved into the wet concrete when the St. Claires built the chapel to begin with. Not surprisingly, we see another Orion/Sirius connection:
On a wall of Rosslyn Chapel’s underground crypt, the oldest and holiest structure in the building, is what’s been called a “working Masonic drawing.” It is shaped more like an obelisk than a pyramid, and yet it sang a siren song to me. The central line of the drawing passes through three pyramids—as viewed from above.
From my experience, it all comes down to energy. Being a musician, I tend to make metaphors to music because it is the easiest association for me. Music is energy, and in a sense, placing sacred sites along a path of energy is like creating a fretboard for a song you want to hear over and over and over again. Awesome if the song is bringing joy and enlightenment to all who hear it, but not so much if the song says “You are under control by us, submit and do not question.”
What if the Masonic “G” is a key in which these songs are played? What if we tune our ears to B flat, the hum of the supermassive black hole at the center of our galaxy, instead? What does that do to our heads? What does this do to our minds, our bodies? I know from experience that stone structures strategically located can make you feel completely…out of your skull. To what ends?
In conclusion, my love of traveling has to do with tracking this vibrational energy that has been tapped so loudly by so many occult societies throughout time. The more I see, the more I feel that the truths I’ve unearthed over the years are stranger than I ever thought. Also, thank you to The Atlantean Conspiracy for this insightful article on the ley line connection.
Oh locked into all this destruction
Someday I’m gonna learn that I am not suffering
My life turned into some kind of fiction
like a passage I read, straight out of Sitchin
And there’s blood in my cup
and Wine on my lips
looks like we’re gonna see
This Apocalypse
Hold my hand, I can’t take
One more kiss
without love
The planets are breaking their pact with the stars
as down here on earth we live behind neon bars
and up in the sky they’re spraying stuff worse than the cars
breathing air that’s not fit for the living
But there’s books in my head
that cannot be burned
And songs from the dead
that everyone should learn
Hold onto this last piece of sacred urn
as we remember
If they take my brothers I am gonna scream
And kick open wide the television screen
spewing lies and false flag American Dreams
Cause every war they wage is against invisible things
And I know as I stand, a day is gonna come
when the gods in my head and in this country come undone
Hold my hand, I’m gonna move fast when I run
And I my heart shoots straighter than their FUCKING GUNS
And there’s blood in my cup
and Wine on my lips
looks like we’re gonna see
This Apocalypse
Hold my hand, I can’t take
One more kiss
without love
Tonight the sky swirls
with vultures
cloud-seeding grids over Dallas
like slender silver-backed fish
diving through ebony
leaving long, white, wakes.
Last night the rain came hard
woke my dog, asleep at my feet.
Had to close the windows.
I’d been dreaming of this place,
all dark reds, Enochian on the walls,
like some gothic junkie Crowlean wanna-be,
but firmly a part of the Dreaming.
A man in a bowler hat read his poetry:
“The Mage commands that U.S. operatives
give no mind to the coming Apocalypse”
He is a lunatic
and ex-Intelligence
so I don’t disbelieve him.
Some bird-haired lady kept asking me
“Do you know who’s side you’re on?”
And I looked in my bag for some kind of initiation
but my hand sprouted this garden
and I blinked;
opium poppies in a hashishim harem
Hassan I Sabbah looked up at me
with one red eye.
