Okay, well, if I had any questions whether I was on the right track with the last post’s experimentation, I don’t anymore. It has been a useful few days of vigorous communication, the sort where I am struggling to keep up with what is being relayed as I am trying to formulate some kind of response to ti. This morning’s dreams pushed me up early and writing, clarifying what the facial configuration meant, and then dropped something into my lap that, well, I’m not quite sure what to do with yet. The proverbial one to grow on, I imagine.
Tonight is one of those nights where my attention spins like a vulture over the city of my mind, its broad arcs carrying it past disparate neighborhoods. This isn’t the sort of night for deep thinking, so I’ll share some snapshots of this slow gyre.
There is this article on narrowing down what animates the placebo effect, suggesting a better term for it as the ‘contextual effect’ to remove it from the fetish of a magical object, the placebo. There is, too, some research suggesting that there is a genetic basis for how strongly someone responds to this contextual effect. Makes me think about Seligman and her study of trance mediums.
In the pope is catholic sort of news, Peter Carroll is Peter Carroll. It’s sort of a return of the magi to the necromancer strikes back dominating a lot of the occult bandwidth these days. It is another data point on the magi-goes diasporas, though. I find Carroll’s scientism a little dry for my tastes (especially since it feels like the scientism of the previous century), but I’m not entirely unsympathetic (not exactly sympathetic, either). One or two tangents might be worth addressing at some point. Oh, yeah, and of course there is his focus on the stars.
While these fraught exchanges over the role of beauty under empire are very timely, very contemporary, they also flash more deeply into the human condition. Like the color line, they aren’t something we can just ignore as of the world and beneath us.
Have a good night.
This morning I woke from dream with a bit of a headache, the sort I have come to associate with dreams that are just a little too big for the ole’ noggin. In the dream, Adam West’s Batman was explaining to me the principle of substitution while burning blue spheres of light spun slowly behind him, suggesting the tree of life.
The message was simple, that each sphere or sefirot was defined by the way in which it substituted one thing for another. Each sefirot had a basic substance which it used to represent to itself the message it received from other sefirot. There wasn’t a clear sense that this followed any easy pattern of descent or ascent, and there was a sense that the message retained some part of its original constitution. Over the course of being passed between several sefirot, a message would end up being a hodge podge of substances, of feeling and thought, matter and spirit.
There was a clear sense that this paralleled the way in which language operated. In the same way that language takes sounds and modulates them into meaning, so too does each sefirot modulate what it receives. Like language, the original medium (sound) remains and occasionally causes problems and resistance.