AN OPEN(ED) LETTER TO A FRIEND
This was written some years ago, just some short years ago. It was intended for PGP - Encrypting. Living in a hostile society as we do, that indeed seemed prudent. The encrypted letter was in fact never sent. I found the content to strong even for my taste, to even express in secret. I did publish it all just a few months after it was written. This change in just a few months. Itís been a long time since I was afraid to go public with anything at all, since I hid myself, so with this publication, too, Iím only acting true to my nature.
THE ragged LIFE
0: Iíve given our conversation some thought and Iíve tried something that, to me, is an exceptional effort: Iíve attempted to be systematic.
1: My enjoyment of life is one of the main reasons Iím so opposed to accept living in The Gray Fog, The Stone Desert, this dreary swamp.
2: Tell me... have you ever heard about the ragged dressed bunch, who burned down churches and dug up corpses in the graveyard and was accused of being satanists?
- NO, NO, NO, they protested fiercely.- We were looking for food. There was a lot of it and in our wild anticipation we couldnít wait to turn up the heat in the stove.
I claim sole credit for this one. Nobody has told it to me and Iíve not read it anywhere...
3: On a related topic: Iíve heard that it take ten times longer for a corpse to rot today, compared to the pre - industrial era, because of the lifetime we spend on ingesting chemicals. No big deal really... to the corpse, but itís a brilliant illustration concerning the wrongness of modern society. What it does to us while weíre still alive (sort of). That is self destructive.
4: Chemicals destroy our bodies and also our mind. Far worse, in several ways, is what society does to our spirit. When we, The Children of The Midnight Fire, ęmake our medicineĽ, we show other people in their coffins and their satin, that the human spirit is still alive. To us, itís a confirmation that we live, that weíre alive, instead of being a walking corpse.
5: Making medicine can be done in several ways. My suggestion and experience says it doesnít have to be done with violence, but it must be violent. And not the least be done with imagination.
6: I agree totally with those who says thereís no use in fighting for one ęisolatedĽ case. Everything and everyone affects everything and everyone. We donít live in a vacuum, the way the more socially accepted ęenvironmentalistsĽ claim.
7: Many ways, but all of those that really ęmatterĽ are very risky, put the person or persons involved at risk. That is quite simply because once weíve started, really started, on the road to Freedom, there can be no more compromises.
8: We return to this once again: Life is valuable. Not one life, not many, but life itself. At least life as it should be. We hope again and again, hope against hope, that it shall be given to us. That, of course, will never happen. Life must be taken, it can never be given. We can have some modicum, some semblance, of it inside the system, but that will ever be just a pale reflection of what it can or should be.
9: So it comes down to two choices really...
Live and let live.
Live and let die.
Both are equally mutually exclusive.
Both are not equally mutually exclusive.
The play is done with words, sidetracking us from what must be done. Society has many ways of incarcerate you. ęTheyĽ should quite simply not be allowed a single one.
10: I guess Iím attempting to convince you Iím not self destructive here. As stated, Itís not at all how I perceive myself. However, everything is dependent on viewpoint. Isnít the really self - destructive persons those who walk around in this world without a single independent action in their head or their life? I donít believe death is the worst that may befall a person. I really donít and Iíve thought about it a lot. I donít seek it and I hope against hope that it will never come. I would be absolutely delighted to discover that I was immortal, that I would never grow old and never die.
But the fact is; everybody do. Even if it so happens that I should be immortal, I realize willingly that it only would be an postponement of the unavoidable. We all have short lives compared to the span of the universe. To quote an ancient proverb: "Itís not important how you die, but how you live your life".
Then again, I would prefer to die with my boots on, in blazes of glory.
11: As I wrote Iíve written a whole book, a novel, on this all compassing subject. A guide to, if you will, an advanced study in rebellion and execution, for the advanced and thoroughly disgusted rebel. It may take some time before itís available to you, but it will be. The novel is me, in all the myriad of incarnations. Like itís not the whole of me or every single action or thought are me. Each person is potentially many, but this is close to my core. Words can of course only take you that far. All ęartĽ, all life, is worthless without action, without experience.
12: A meeting of two persons, eye to eye or on the net. A chain of coincidences? A twist of fate? You saw my homepage and it stirred something within you. I saw yours and it stirred up a storm. I seek other seekers. Thatís something Iíll always do. Until the end of time and beyond.
The Children of The Midnight Fire are not an uniformed group. Nor would we want to be. We call ourselves jokingly ęa company of strangersĽ. The reason is, I believe, that we were all strangers to each other before the first Witchnight we met. And of course all are strangers in the society of our birth. Itís been a long time since I wanted to ęfit inĽ, in any way. And it is GREAT! To me, to be flippant, thereís no contradiction between having a great time and opposing tyranny.
Itís the one and the same.
13: First and foremost, I think, Iíve discovered Iím a storyteller, a warrior poet. An ambitious claim Iím sure somebody feel, but I donít see it that way at all. Itís just the way I see it. See life and myself, in a mirror not so distorted.
Thereís no more place for a ętrueĽ Storyteller in our society, than it is for all the ęIísĽ there are. And there are very few and small parts of me that enjoy living in a chemical laboratory where everything is measured and digested. I enjoy pubs, cinema and books, but I can do without it. There will always be the gathering around the fire... and The Storyteller.
15: There is the fire, and the people gathered around it. And then there is the darkness. And thatís all you can see. You can be anywhere, anywhen. Itís like a wall, but thereís no wall there. Nothing like that. Walls are an invention of civilization. It is civilization. A thin, thin line so easy, so hard, to cross. Once weíve crossed over, thereís no way back. Once youíve discovered, chosen Magic, you enter another world so foreign, so familiar. One you can never leave. Thereís no return to the ęsafeĽ and the ęcozyĽ. After youíve crossed over you realize that youíve never been on the other side, that it and all its works were just imaginary, an illusion. But of course, as I often am sorry to remind myself, this fucking illusion has a firm grip on the world.
Maybe this reminding is what i do wrong. What the world need more than anything is a wake up call. One so devastating, so terrible, that we will fall asleep never more.
16: Iíve got a lot of different approaches to our quandary. Theyíre all wrong and all right, all of them. But their common denominator is their complete lack of respect of the notion that itís possible to solve any lasting problem from witin the system. Most people attack the symptoms of the decease, not the decease itself. Society is not ill. Society is the illness, the decease. You cannot build on a rotten fundament. Everybody knows this. And do it anyway.
Yes, the world of our birth is falling apart, both physically and sociologically. Still, it doesnít hurt to speed upp the process a little. Who knows, we might even be able to enjoy the fruits of our labor?
Every sleeping vulcano have the potential to become a full fledged violent eruption. Every ęundergroundĽ movement should bear that in mind.
17: The road is whatís important, not the goal, because weíll never reach it. Thereís no Utopia, there never will be. Humanity has created a hell of their own making in the belief that a treasure awaits at the end of the rainbow.
18: Among other places of interests in the last decade, I was in London during the ęTen days that shook the worldĽ anarchist conference in October 1994. I had twelve great days and nights (the conference started two days early). But the world was not shocked and the whole thing lasted even fewer days than the banner promised. Only the first week was there any real feel of rebellion. As a happening it was great. A feeling of belonging is important. That is the value of big rallies, but there got to be more.
Children of the Midnight Fire is belonging in a world where that word, that feeling, is compromised on, devalued again and again. It has the potential to be more. Names may be important in Magic, but taken names matter more. Itís a sign of independence, a token of free will, a willingness to act alone. Look beyond the illusions and they lose their hold on you. Than you may do whatever you want. Nothing or no one can hold you back anymore.
19 - Postscript: Witchnight does at least that for us. It tears away the veil of illusion and let us see ourselves and the world in the colored light shadow of both passion and understanding. It may fade in the gray fog of day, but it never leaves us.
Iíve yet to experience a witchnight where several masks have not fallen. :)
We hope to be a tribe. This in spite of or rather because of, our fierce independence. A tribe from all tribes... until the end of time.