Apopheniaphilia

I have an odd habit of questioning things I do, believe or see. Or hear. Or taste. It’s a sense of wonderment that most children have and many of them who never let go of this turn into scientists, historians or magicians. I have a bad habit of relying on my ‘gut instinct’ to figure if something feels odd or doesn’t make sense. But I’ve come to realize very early that such things as “common sense” aren’t really common in any sense (read: Not Always Right and it will grate your gears).

Common sense is dictated by education, experience, beliefs and expectation of things and what may seem common sense to me is not so for someone else. But more importantly, we view and analyze things based on one’s Ego.

I have been told plainly that reading too many books have made me ignorant. I fail to see the truth – whether religious or conspiracy related - because I just need to “research” it more. But it is flawed and biased research (unscholarly) to justify the developed Ego, the worldly Self. I discovered that not only do they live in a world ignorant of simple fallacies to their arguments, but is driven by Apophenia.

To my delight, Chris at the Infinite and the Beyond podcast interviewed the fantastic Lon Milo DuQuette on this very subject. My Ego tells me a Socratic quote over and over – The only thing you know is that you know nothing at all. My fear when I was younger was to be ignorant – to not know – and this is why I want to enter the field of Library Science. The more I read, research the more I discover how little I understand of the world, or the myriad of cultures - of their customs and symbology that I am unaware of. To claim to know the inner workings of a secret world or universe with concrete assurance when some can barely solve calculus or complete basic tax forms seems hubristic. Seems very human.

We are beings that love order; structure. We love finding clues and hints that give in to our preconceived notions of things, to prove to us that we are right - in the right path - whichever that may be. We associate with others that hold the same view and reinforce it – whether political or even music-wise (“The new Burzum album is for fags.”) Scientists use these clues in a very strict methodology, while in occult and pagan areas, we have our own version. This is true for those in conspiracy circles or right-winged religious zealots (like my apocalyptic grandmother). When the earthquake hit Haiti everyone began putting attention to the amount of seismic activity happening – therefore the end of the world was nigh, again. Confirmation bias, in essence. Ignoring the fact that tectonic movement happens daily, every minute... they didn’t want to hear it, because it reaffirms their belief; it matches up to their Ego. To be wrong is anathema to their existence: it discredits who they think they Are. I hold a strong sense of wonder and skepticality in my life, which has affected all areas of my life. However when the universe throws at you some sign, how can I differentiate it from something my Ego wants in order to keep appearances? My own biases have sullied certain paths I could have taken earlier, to my chagrin.

So I shed, I remove. Analyzing the subjective from the objective. Years ago I would view certain situations in my life with different colored glasses – I would sit down and switch my brain within specific belief systems I had studied or been part of, and the decisions, meaning and vibrations of it would change. Now it’s relearning that while it is well for it to serve as a method of understanding, it is not a method of being. Shedding it – clear lenses to not have a myopic view on what is before me. Not saying that this will be easy, especially when dealing with the Thoth and Liber 777, but I’m giving it a try.

Unknown Father Unknown Soldier

June 18th, Friday. A day I always celebrate in a dismal sort of way. It falls five days before my birthday - it is the day my father died. This year, it also happened that the day before I finally met my sister, from his side, for the first time. We went to Rose Hills Cemetery and we tended our father's, grandfather's and grandmother's graves by cleaning them up and putting flowers. We sat there and talked, took photos and offered a libation of beer to them (well the bottle kept tipping over dad's grave so he got what was left). Because of this new found and incredibly powerful relationship I have found, I want to share the little of what I have. I gave my sister copies of the pictures I had of my father along with copies of his birth and death certificate.
I look forward to obtaining copies of the investigation that was done years after his death for both us. Copies of my grandfather's WWII military record.

This time of year I keep my ancestors, and my father particularly, close in my thoughts and heart. I don't carry any memories of him even though I carry pictures and I always wondered of his character. Of that which others say. I wonder what influence he had in me, indirectly. I wonder of the influence my ancestors have within my family, and what of it still lingers on in the blood, in the daily interactions with each other and what sort of luck or fortune has been passed through the lineage. The Norse called this Hamingja.

I've never been one to directly experience the dead. My mom is, however. Now it seems, she sees them on constant basis in her new home. She even saw my father on the day he died while she was overseas, in her house - and she knew. No, I have never felt my father, or my grandfathers, or great-great grandfather nearby even though I honor and think of them. Makes me feel lonely during these times.

On Wednesday - a day before I would meet my sister - I was walking home listening to my podcasts, when I came upon a section of this one episode. It's an an old episode of This American Life, to which I have filled my iPod with. It is moving, heartbreaking and in such a peculiar moment of my life that it hurt - What was the last thing he saw?



Unknown Solider

[...]
So give my eyes to the eye bank,
give my blood to the blood bank.
Make my hair into switches,
put my teeth into rattles,
sell my heart to the junkman.
Give my spleen to the mayor.
Hook my lungs to an engine.
Stretch my guts down the avenue.
Stick my head on a pike,
plug my spine to the third rail,
throw my liver and lights to the winner.
Grind my nails up with sage and camphor
and sell it under the counter.
Set my hands in the window as a reminder.
Take my name from me and make it a verb.
Think of me when you run out of money.
Remember me when you fall on the sidewalk.
Mention me when they ask you what happened.
I am everywhere under your feet.

-Luc Santé

Happy Father's day, Dad.

Reflections on the goat-legged divine

When Guillermo del Toro was creating his creature for the movie Pan’s Labyrinth, he decided he would use a faun instead of the movie’s namesake being, Pan. He said that having Pan on screen would’ve been too dark and dangerous from what he wanted the character to be. The moment I saw the trailer for the film I was ecstatic. When the Faun appeared on screen I was mesmerized – he was so beautiful, haunting and strong. When I was a child and the figure of Darkness appeared on screen from the film Legend, I was also mesmerized. His legs! His horns! “He is beautiful and misunderstood” I thought long through my teens. I thought to myself “Clearly, you’re a weirdo.” However as I grew up I understood where the image of Darkness had come from, and how it had been distorted. Perhaps I thought, deep down it had struck an instinctual chord for that reason. Fauns, satyrs and Pan himself have always had some attraction for me, stirring sometimes some weird sexual energy I’ve had trouble explaining, or even bringing up. I used to be perplexed by this – they have animal features – along with the usual cultural indoctrination of the Christian idea of the personification of Evil, as shown in the movie Legend with the characterization of the Light vs. Darkness. What is the allure?


Pan is known as a god of the wild. His nature so intrinsic in his divinity, appearance he is half-human. His name is the root for the word panic. Satyrs are extremely sexual creatures who cannot be satiated, unless of course he is taken by nymphets, as the multiple paintings throughout the century have depicted them.

In Rome, fauns are spirits of place (genius) and were considered the Greek counterpart of the hyper-sexualized satyrs. However the Greek Satyr is much more sexualized, and did not have goat legs – only later did the mixing of the two happened since they became to be regarded as one and the same. Guillermo del Toro does well to distinguish them in the movie. The game company White Wolf also used the hyper-sexualization of the satyr into their game characters for the role-playing Changeling: the Dreaming; the satyrs being the lovers, the sensual and sexual creatures of the Fae-folk.

Pan is the wild, the uninhibited. The idea of being alone in the forest, in the dark and being stricken with fear and panic. Of the wild rushing up at you, enveloping you in raging emotions, ecstatic fear - even wanton abandon. It is his domain after all. Perhaps it is no surprise that this divine force has been trans-mutated into the evil that brings out the worst, particularly in women, making them frolic naked in the dark woods while leaving all cares behind in want of the phallic wild divinity. Satyrs were smaller manifestations of this and were followers of Dionysus, known for his festivities in which imbibing on his gift of wine to rejoice in freedom would unshackled our inhibitions: social, mental, emotional and sexual. Perhaps this whole amalgamation of what satyrs and Pan is, has been muddled in my head and their attraction is more than an emotional or even physical level - but an instinctual one. Curious of course, that Pan being a god of the rustic, of hunting and the wild is perceived as half-animal, something that is rare in the Greek pantheon. While there are deities that have their animal equivalents as representations they inevitably are shown to us humans as best as we interpret them: like ourselves.


The images of a Horned God, phallic and fertile that brings forth life with aid of his Goddess in Wicca seems the same, sometimes attributed as Cernnunos. Horns are known in nature as a sign of virility – the larger and more intricate, the stronger the offspring and the chances of survival not only reproductively but in safety and longevity of the species, and in the aspect of the God, it is the same.

Pan is also the only god that was proclaimed by Plutarch to be dead. In our modern age and with our technology it is rare that people venture out to the wild alone, in the dark. Few places are left, that haven’t been paved over and lit with harsh bright lights. I live in a city that the few places of nature are man-made and have been rigorously planned out. Even the bodies of water are man-made, with no soul. In my city at least, Plutarch’s words stands as true.

Time as sacrifice

Sacrifice, for most pagans and polytheists, means something different when compared to what most people define it as. During the season of Lent, many of my Catholic coworkers let go of something during this time as required by their faith - most of them decided to give up things that were bad for them, like Diet Coke or coffee. I found that to be odd personally, for sacrifice means to "make holy, or sacred." I really don't view Coca Cola to be particularly spiritual, nor do I offer it as a libation, unless I discover that Hermes has a weird particular taste for it.

I have had to curb some habits in my life due to some large changes I had to do, and in regards to ritual and daily practice, I found myself doing less and less due to the lack of time, or just lack of convenience. Convenience being the key [bad] word. Looking in my life I found that I needed to learn to better manage the time I did have: saying I was tired, or I had no time meant I was more than likely spending it doing unimportant things with it when it didn't pertain to work or school. So I reformed myself. I sold my car a year ago in order to save for future out-of-state tuition and living costs for next year, so I've been taking public transportation or walking, to get to work, school and home. Living in southern California made this something to get used to, and it also meant that the hours became something I could not waste - they became invaluable. If I need to do something simple like go to the pharmacy or the bookstore, it meant rerouting my entire commute and scheduling ahead of time to avoid missing a bus. With the current financial crisis in California, many of the routes have been cut or removed. While I find time for work, school, volunteer work, leisure and exercise, I needed to make daily practice higher up in the scale regardless of how late or how early it was.

Today, as I walked home from the market with my green reusable bag full of peaches, bread, soup and Merlot wine, I couldn't help but think that this long walk back to my home was in part, not only preparation for my libation to Hermes, but in essence part of it. It is perhaps no different than those that would peregrinate, with offerings and prayers, to the temple of Hermes in Samos. Every step, every drop of perspiration and each thought full of love and anticipation.

We give much of our time, effort, intellect and sweat in order to reap rewards in the form of monetary currency, to obtain things that support and provide enjoyment in our lives. In the same vein, I find that using my time, effort, intellect and sweat in preparation, service and ritual to my gods to be itself another sacrifice to harvest the joys of life.

My Universalism

Among a few Reconstructionist circles this term has been used with a darker tinge to slap those who do not follow the more conventional road. It 's almost as meant to be a synonym for another that could be in its place: eclectic. While I do not and never have claimed to be a Recon I admire their application since I find scholarly work to be tantamount to truth. I have naturally added attributes of reconstructionism into my studies since by my own nature I am fanatic about history. I sedulously devour many books and tidbits from various themes in various subjects, and yet this is where my crux lies - I am all over the place, and could never just sit and nest myself among one area or culture.

While it is never fair to judge a whole group based a few sole words by some members, I find when they attempt to represent the larger community as a whole to steer and enlighten on the workings and discussions of said growing group, I rather not belong. Certain concepts make me feel like the previous questions others have had in regard to the community seem to border among fundamentalism might hold some truth and eventually people automatically take sides. Example, if I do not acquire - to what I find to be xenophobic ideas - I am seen as someone who is too preoccupied with foreign curiosities and therefore does not understand said culture's view of Divinity as being the most perfect one. Therefore, I am a Universalist.

Then again, I don't find that disparaging the more I think about it. I love science, and astronomy, cosmology and quantum physics. Though my understanding is poor compared to actual people in the field, and I being a casual observer, I tend to view the world in large abstracts of nature and forces of energy - that of dark matter, of exploding stars and cosmic sombreros. Our galaxy containing a large black hole in the center could only be perceived as just a humorous joke being played out by Loki. The marriage consummation between siblings Zeus and Hera does not elicit revulsion because divinity is not biological - never mind our image of Uatu or Galactus in his violet and blue armor. We see them in the only way our finite minds could interpret.

Galactus perceived by other sentient beings

When I think of God the creator I think of a Force too outside of our reach to care of a small, single-stared solar system hovering over the tip of our spiraling Milky Way galaxy - which at this point probably defines me as a pandeist. Geology and biological archeology provides glimpses on how I can understand my polytheism, and better understand this miniscule rock. The more I mingle with the Homo species, the more I feel attracted to the inanimate objects whose age spans millions of years.

Sombrero Galaxy M104, taken with Hubble.