Fucking summer just passed! It’s changed me, that’s for sure. I died, descended to hell, ascended to heaven, coma, delirium, three days I ramble, resurrected, good gods what a summer! As if they had reminded me to them, then changed their mind, they would have sent me back into my body. Me or another? Will know! I’m not the same anymore.
It’s your destiny
No memory of my stay ad patres, too bad. First-hand information on this mystery subject, what a godsend for a storyteller! Too bad. I know what they told me. I piss them off. I horrify them. But they need people like me. That’s why they’re saving me. Giving giving. They need me almost as much as I need them. And God knows if I need the gods!
Gods or those to whom I owe existence. The Fates, masters of destiny. If he took their fancy to do without me, at the very moment when this terrible thought crossed their minds, I died. Wiped off the credit card. More than dead, even: cancelled. Everything that comes from me disappears. It’s like I never existed.
How is the 12-year-old Swiss girl who memorized my texts to say them in front of the TV? With feeling and passion? She must go on her twenties now… I wish I had heard it! Will all the memories of Eden Saga disappear too? Possible. Learn everything by heart, you never know.
With destiny we must expect everything. One little annoys him. Let us remain in our place. Small, tiny, and humble in proportion.
This summer was not wasted. I gained a stronger, radiant energy. I feel rejuvenated by several decades and yet I have regained my age with great pleasure. After long months stuck in an age that was no longer mine, the disease set the record straight.
I am 73 years old again, I am very happy. My 73 years add up, multiplying my discoveries and my progress, 73 years with the strength that goes with it. I’m blessed — but I don’t really care. Never take gifts as due. Detachment.
Humility. It will grow as we progress. Do not surprise yourself, do not take pride in our achievements, thank the living, the atom and the multiverse. Thank. Give ceaselessly. What comes out of me is an energy that heals, I boost what I touch. I protect myself by offering this powerful gift.
Humility in the face of operative magic. Only a sincere and permanent humility prevents its vapors from ascending to your head. The magic that works, that acts, that works, is a intoxicating alcohol for which never worked on itself. Who has accidentally received awakening is a potential victim of madness. His ego takes credit for all the successes. The heavenly gifts he received are taken at face value. He did not try to channel the dark Ones. They are rooted in him, they work non-stop and dictate to him their filthy law. He strays into the egotistical meanderings of self-worship. Protect yourself, sorcerer. Do not let this primary state extinguish your light.
Solutions are given to us. Magic works and surprises us. Healings become simple, quick, definitive. Who am I to heal so easily? An artist. A watchman on his lonely tower. A ecstatic. A fan of cosmic perfection. A servant of beauty.
I am an ancient storyteller and if I marvel at everything, I am not surprised. I’ve changed, yes, but don’t think I’ve become a little saint — an unhealthy fake ass. Nor a guru — these people smell like knees. They preach purity to hide debauchery. They seduce and enslave you. I do exactly the opposite: I give back to everyone the freedom stolen by the school, by the temple, the church and other places of perdition. Sacred by vocation, these places do the opposite. Impurity is buried there.
Neither one is suitable for me. A legend-teller, I invent the myths of an unborn world.
All that is pure is undrinkable. (Paul Claudel)
Oh I’m not the only one! We’re a whole battalion spread over five continents. Six with Antarctica — that would be pretty incontinent. There are many people in this beautiful desert of ice. Warriors of light, we act without knowing each other. But we know who we are.
We have only one goal: to lubricate. To put oil in the seized gears. To facilitate the passage of this world into another. This old world, worn to the bone, in the image of the late Queen of the British. A kind and fragile appearance, an iron fist for business. Including family matters.
Will the new world I call my vows resemble Charles II? Guindé, red-faced and old from a young age? No, the new world will be what you will make of it, you who come after me. After the openers, will come the discoverers.
Do you see the pioneers who are already everywhere, working in the open? The news is spinning backwards. The old world is looking elsewhere. He has something to occupy the minds with the bursts of his agony. No doubt he is already dead, even if he still gets hard. At the age he is! That’s an old man saying that.
Double job, pioneer firefighters, we put out fires. This pioneer saves a desperate man. It allows him to prolong his despair a few years later. Better roast on the grill before the big departure. Who will come sooner or later.
Die who wants to die. Our future wants to live. I’ve done my time for a long time. For ten years, I’ve been enjoying additional time. Free bonuses. I can do with it what I want, free access, free practice. There are many paths but the Way is unique. I am a student. I pursue my dream.
Seers, clairvoyants, smugglers, healers, we all work. We open. After us, other scouts will come. More concrete. More connected to each other. With the danger of ideology. Let’s empty our heads of these old moons, sexism, racism. Back to back feminism and machismo. Both are excessive and do not reflect the multiple colors of people. Multiple tastes, multiple choices, multiple fragrances.
A world that changes so much does not deserve to wear rags. These old clothes worn to the weft. Too worn by a dead world. The god Silver will hold long. Mercury or quicksilver. Hermetic Hermes. The communicating god. Talkative of the former gods. Each of them feeding a vulture in his heart. Bitterness and resentment. The gods will also have to change their world. Reverse the meaning of the round. Banish filth. Give fruitful joy. Calm the fear that growls. Face the sling. Bless. Cherish. Smile.
It is mythology that will survive to science ifever science disappears. (Roland Lehoucq)
But what a summer I had! How I want to celebrate autumn! It surprises me. I am cheerful and spicy as before spring. What is the weather like? The seasons play leapfrog. And it’s not the sheep that are missing at equinox tides. A crazy summer that looks like nothing. Death, death all over again. I’m tired of it. My last days are short. I play in the yard. I’m eight years old. I’m always happy. Evil has not come. Hope is naked.
The little boy kisses you.