jktarot.com Editorial#5
Spigots of Light—
the Doctor EBA's
of Mysteria

"In a dark world, he who controls the spigot of light, controls the world."
—P. D. Mortimer, "The Abyss of Intelligence"

Also:

"He who controls the spice controls the Universe."
—Frank Herbert, "Dune"

When hope itself becomes a commodity; when fear of mediocrity, or simply of dying too soon to get one's Constitutionally-guaranteed fifteen minutes of fame, rules the measure of self-esteem; and when of course mediocrity is by definition the vast niche most people will occupy; then those who sell promises of a special dispensation, a pass beyond the veil to the light of nobility (that is of being notable), become masters of Mysteria and gatekeepers of self-worth for the masses. Because their appeal is mass and not elitist (though it is of course, oddly, an appeal built upon the questionable notion that every customer is elite), the ideas these Mysterians peddle, though costumed in ornaments of Mysteria's jargon, are intended to be easy to access. If it were not so, if instead the Mysterian message was challenging and impervious to swinish supplications (like the better, deeper, parts of occultism), it would automatically fail as a mass offering. It has occurred to me that the Mysterians wish to be thought of as something I am calling Spigots of Light—that is, supposedly reliable conveyors of a literally life-affirming resource: hope and self-esteem. The customer comes to think of the Mysterian as the local source of his share of the elevating light, and depends upon the dealer, if for nothing else, to tell the customer everything will be alright.

The other day when I was thinking about this idea of the Spigots of Light, when I had just at that moment thought about how so many people are searching not for any truth, but instead merely to be told that they are OK and that everything will be alright, I heard on the radio the following lyrics (literally a couple of seconds after I thought about this):

So when u call up that shrink in Beverly Hills
U know the one—Dr Everything'll Be Alright
Instead of asking him how much of your time is left
Ask him how much of your mind, baby

'Cuz in this life
Things are much harder than in the afterworld
In this life
You're on your own

And I immediately thought—"That's what I'm talking about!"—but the lyrics were unfamiliar to me, as the singer was talking or rather preaching the words at that point. However, just then the familiar music of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" kicked in, and I suddenly had a great deal more interest in the song than I ever had before. All I had recalled of this song was the refrain "Let's Go Crazy", which I took to be some adolescent exhortation to do drugs and have lots of sex. All the people I have ever known who liked Prince's music were young women who, fortunately, favored forays into those and other iniquities. So, I looked up the lyrics and realized the song was actually about the dangers of putting your trust in the Spigots of Light—or as Prince says the Dr Everything'll Be Alright's of the world. I did the gematria on EBA (8) and realized it was the inversion of a Hebrew word ABE—"to will, desire"—in other words EBA was the opposite or reversal of these ideas, and implied weakness of will and a lack of intention or desire, or worse—a desire reduced to its most infantile expression. Indeed, one actual Hebrew word spelled EBA is a form of a word meaning "Give me!", demanding something as would a child. And this is the very essence of the moral characters of people sucking on the Spigots of Light.

This is not to say the suckers are necessarily bad people, nor that their desire, infantile though it may be, is entirely without justification, or at least an explanation. Given what their experience has been outside the temple of the of Spigots, in the real world of Professor Everything Sure As Hell Ain't Gonna Be Alright (ESAHAGBA—gem.= 78, a Tarotic emblem of initiation), what most people encounter in life is an endless stream of negativity. This is partly because of the unrestrictedly competitive nature of our existence, where nobody can really afford to be too affirming of anybody else, because the other might get ahead of you on your own recommendation (and how stupid is that?). Let's face it, life boils down to there's no Santa Claus AND you're going to die! To most people that seems to pretty much suck. Which of course is not to say the stream of negativity is necessarily unjustified or inaccurate, but just that it may be the only refreshment most people know, and it makes for a world where most people allow others to shape their opinions of themselves, to determine what is possible for them, and to in a sense dictate their reality for them. That people who allow others to do this to them are obviously weak-willed dweebs may seem obvious. But think for a moment. If everyone were TRULY self-defined and articulated, and truly didn't give a damn about what other people thought or said about them, our whole economy might collapse. Because much of what it supplies to people are products of coping—coping with the often deeply depressing reality of their mediocre lives. After being encouraged (by friends, family, bosses, paychecks) to lower their expectations to the levels that others deem acceptable, people then get to drown their consternation about this in the abyss of consumer products designed to distract them from the fact 99.9% of the population are superfluous, entirely expendable, matrix-muck. A century ago, these dregs would have simply gotten drunk a lot to put a barrier of indolence between themselves and their abysmal existences. These days, that kind of hopeless self-destructiveness is neither socially acceptable (remember most people aim to PLEASE the blind stupid herd by not voting for the suicide or homicide party), nor is it nearly as entertaining as buying lots of stuff, especially if you can get into lots of debt doing it. But at some point, one realizes that he cannot ever buy a sufficient amount of stuff to make himself feel special. The temporary glow of purchases always wanes, and one realizes that money truly cannot buy happiness nor self esteem nor any of the interior structures of worth, which are naturally occurring or naturally built upon the wisdom-instilling foundation of (non-commercial) experience. Of course few people recognize the latter, ever, and yet they still feel the need for the understanding (of some meaning of their life) it supplies. That need is supposedly addressed by the Spigots of Light.

Now, one of the things we should consider is that this process of suckering up to the Spigots is not merely relevant to occultism, or to its popular manifestations (such as the mindless novelty of Madonna-Kabbalism, recently satirized on "Will and Grace"), but is actually a rather deadly attraction in the political theater as well. In politics, people also are striving not to hear the truth, which is the main reason politicians so religiously avoid it. Of course you yourself are probably blurting—"But I'm not like that, I DO want to hear the truth!"—and you may have a point, after all you are reading me, aren't you? But most people really do not want to hear the truth; they want to be told by their politicians—everything'll be alright. How else can you possibly explain, in late September 2004 (when this is being written), that polls show George Bush actually ahead in the US Presidential campaign? Admittedly, the options are, as they usually are, unsettling. You have yet another wordy, wooden Democrat (Gore II?) who has about as much in common with most voters as they do with people living in Afghanistan, running against an arrogantly ignorant, blustering fool (that would be Bush). The latter of course is as American a character as apple pie, at least in terms of its familiarity, and so people naturally find solace in the boldly banal simplicity of Bush's appeal and message. Or, as a number of people have put it:, it's easy to imagine having a beer with George Bush (well, if you don't give a damn who you drink with), and that really isn't the case with John Kerry. So, in other words, it's just a lot easier for most Americans to vote for beer buddy than for President. No wonder a demonstrably shaky (and supposedly ex-) alcoholic is the people's choice. That in the last election Bush was only the Supreme Court's choice just goes to show how the general distaste for truth has increased in the last four years, and considering that the 2000 election was a referendum on the Clintonian version of honesty, that is really saying something. Of course, as has been pointed out, lying about sex is hardly comparable to lying about the reasons thousands of people had to die in some stupid fucking war of personal vengeance (which is all the Iraq war is about). But in that comparison as well, the truth is something most people shy away from, since that kind of critique begins to sound a lot like someone saying the 1000-plus US troops sacrificed (so far) in Bushwar2 died for nothing. Well, nothing except advancing the interests of the bloodthirsty pack of robber barons who presently run the United States. Clearly, the political brand of Spigot-sucking can be a lot more obviously destructive and dangerous than the kind we're mainly focusing on here—that is, the occult or Mysterian version—but we should not lose sight of the fact that the process of truth-avoidance people fanatically pursue in politics is precisely the same one they engage in when they go in search of pleasing and affirming punches to a "higher floor".

_______________________

"Pills and thrills and daffodils"

In Prince's song the reason people are encouraged to "go crazy" is because they are faced with the choice of coping "sanely" (or soberly) with the empty reality of mortal existence—nobody gets out of here alive—OR they can go to Dr. Everything'll Be Alright, who will prescribe, in Prince's terms, "pills and thrills and daffodils", in other words chemical, theatrical, and aesthetic distractions from the brutally harsh reality of the process of living and dying (and killing to do both things). But Prince tells us that in spite of the Dr's best hopedope fixes, ultimately he "will make everything go wrong" and his drugs "will kill". The only solution Prince offers in contradistinction to these regrettable choices is to live life for today (for tomorrow "the grim reaper [may] come knocking on your door") and, if things get too depressing, then "go crazy". Exactly what he means by going crazy, Prince is obviously not obliged to explain to us in a pop song or any other kind of indicible expression. Maybe it is nothing more or less than a Dionysian appeal to obtain to divine madness. Maybe it is just a call to howl at the moon, no matter the divine prospects for that activity. Indeed, Prince suggests the process itself is its own reward, that it is a higher and maybe more honest (and sane) way of living in this mad world.

No doubt Aleister Crowley would have agreed with Prince's sentiments, but going crazy is simply not something most people want to seriously contemplate. Most people clearly and dearly gobble all the blue pills (of comfort) they can get their hands on, while assiduously avoiding the red pills (of truth) which inevitably, it seems, contain Towerizing terrors and painful lessons.

The Cosmic Choice Between Truth-Geburah (red pill) and Comfort-Chokmah (blue pill)

So, is it possible that the metaphor of the blue pill, popularized in the Matrix movies, is the best drug that Dr. Everything'll Be Alright peddles? Ignorance is bliss and indolence is a virtue in that blue-pill world. Movies such as the original Matrix and Fight Club, both released in 1999, had a truly subversive (Geburahan) subtext, arguing that terrorism was a solution, not an obstacle (or an enemy). But in a world where one is coerced into choosing sides in endless conflicts both macro- and micro-cosmic, voicing such positive views about that other "T"-word, despite the fact that the Tarot Tower card teaches, in part, a dogma of the virtues of terroristic destruction, is a risky exercise, to say the least. As the red pill teaches us, freedom is dangerous, and maybe not all that free, especially if you're dead. But is risk sufficient cause to turn our backs on freedom, and the truth?

Long before 9/11, the people in charge of the Spigots of (Tarotic) Light well understood the implications, the dynamics and especially the potential economics of these questions of risk, and they worked hard for many years to strip Tarot of all its challenging, and potentially dangerous, subtext and in some cases the maintexts as well. The Tarotic supertext wasn't even discussed since few, if any, of the Spigots had any clue about what that was. One of the best examples of this daffodilling of Tarot is the way in which the whole subject of Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot has been handled by the Spigots and the marketers of Tarot. These days we live in a Tarotic environment where forum questions about the "best place to start" learning Thoth Tarot often involve (and invite) NO discussion of Aleister Crowley's "The Book of Thoth", the mention of which is religiously avoided in favor of Spigoty slop like Lon Milo DuQuette's "Authoritative" brainfart or Angeles Arrien's DOA Dummies Drone. And that is nothing new. In the old days, on alt.tarot, much of my time was taken up in defending Thoth and Crowley from inane comments about how his deck was evil or "too dark" or "too disturbing" or it had "too many notes". Long before I was accused by Thelemites of being a Crowley-hater, or "critic", I was accused by Spigot-suckers of being a Crowley acolyte or wannabe or sometimes even just Satan himself.

_______________________

Your work is ingenious. It's quality work.

And there are simply too many notes, that's all.

Just cut a few and it will be perfect.
_______________________

Interestingly, it wasn't enough for people to just ignore Crowley and what he wrote, and also what he made (in Thoth Tarot), but they set about inventing whole new, sometimes absurd, layers of meaning, to falsely sell as the real Crowleyan thing, or, as in Arrien's case, as something promised to be even better than that horrible darkness of Aleister. It was as if, in Harry Potter, Voldemort's ideas were illustrated in Tarot cards and then people like Professor Trelawny, or Gilderoy Lockhart, sought to "cut a few" bits of the evil out to make it perfect, in other words sufficiently bowdlerized to peddle to the masses. This industrial veiling has gotten to the point where (C)OTO's own version of Lockhart, Lon Milo DuQuette, last year released the virtually noteless "authoritative examination" of Thoth Tarot, an attempt to install a more mass-friendly Spigot at ye olde shoppe of silliness. DuQuette's book is full of smarmy peddlings of Spigotine splendors: "The 'Good News' of the Aeon of Horus."!!, combined with hopelessly dimwitted comments about Thoth Tarot: "All the aces, twos, and threes are happy!" If Crowley manages, à la Voldemort, to resurrect himself, there is one Thelemite (OK, a LOT more than one) who had definitely better NOT answer the call of the Dark Mark.

Daffodilling Tarot has proven profitable for the Spigots of Light, whose interests are often mainly commercial instead of spiritual. Tarotic maintexts such as Crowley's highly esoteric Thoth Tarot have suffered much abusive distortion, or have simply been ignored altogether, as a result.
Of course, Tarot has always had too many notes for the masses, even the relatively tiny mass that enthusiastically grazes on its boxtops. Tarot bashes people in the head with its complexities and its nuanced delivery, or rather they bash themselves in the head trying to coerce the veil to open to their piggy snouts and snuffles. The Spigots KNOW where the bacon is located however, and to bring it home they definitely have to cater to the trough. Into that dreary manger they pour equal parts of Hysteria and Mysteria, combine sufficient Oprahtine affirmations to sweeten the already aspartamed slop of blue-pill blarney, and garnish it with the killing daffodil. If you saw the Republican National Convention, produced in the spirit (if not the art) of Leni Riefenstahl, or if you have seen THIS!!, then you should know what I'm talking about. Just as the "starched white shirt" piggies at the RNC sprayed the crowd with "patriotic" yellow liquid (of some sort), so their counterparts in Tarotmania ejaculate their offerings into the moaning mouths of the adoring congregations. Talk about choking on Chokmah. Or can we live by daffodils alone? And is that living?

_______________________

Devil of Details

Thousands of Nazis sucking on Spigots of Light at Nuremburg, 1936. Bad things followed.
In 1936, a pack (actually a big fucking wad) of Nazis gathered at Nuremburg to celebrate being witless Spigot-suckers. To emphasize this point, Albert Speer, the Third Reich's architect and designer, constructed what was called a "Cathedral of Lights", which shot up to the night sky, much in the same fashion (and for the same purpose—to mimic a real building) as the now famous "Towers of Light", which represent ethereal standins for the fallen Twin Towers. Speer's lights illuminated a mass of patriotic, loyal, and deeply, fanatically devoted followers of Adoph Hitler. After the faithful took an oath pledging their lives to Germany and (mainly) to Hitler, the Führer affirmed their faith: "The miracle of our coming together moves us all. Not all of you can see me, and I cannot see all of you. But I feel you, and you feel me! The belief in the greatness of our people has made us small people large, it has made us poor people rich, it has made wavering, cowardly, anxious men brave and courageous, the blind to see. It has brought us together!" Coming together into a great unity was an important theme for the Nazis, as was the idea that dissent of any sort was inimical to what it meant to be a "good German". Hitler stresses the importance of unquestioning unity of thought: "It is splendid to know that we are gathered here as representatives of the German nation. Everyone knows: These 140,000 have but one thought and their heart, one longing, they all think the same. That is the source of our movement's strength...". Clearly, what Hitler was offering to these followers was, in great part, spiritual in nature. It was a literal (and very occult-looking) showering upon them of affirming, identity-endowing, light. Their very individual beings were destroyed, and beneficially so (note the similarity to Christianity here), in the great sea of light, which bound all together as one people and one nation in devotion to one man. Or as the Germans liked to put it: Ein Folk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer! At the very least, what a thoughtful person should take from this is that the supposed promise and benefits of unity and community can very easily be forged to create the individual-annihilating abyss of the Spigot-suckers—all looking for the one answer, the one group of like-minded ones who will stand with them in the Light, the one man or woman who has not only THE one answer but everyone's one answer. They just want to be told, as Hitler told his own Spigot-suckers in 1936, that everything'll be alright. Just so you know, everything wasn't alright. The people in that picture up there went on to start World War II, and ten years later, after Germany and most of Europe were wrecked, some of the Spigots of (Nazi) Light were back in Nuremburg being tried for war crimes—crimes like killing about six million Jews in industrialized murder camps. But such can be the costs of being of one mind about things. Try to remember that next time George Bush says dissent against the war is unpatriotic, or when some Tarot Spigot tells you it's more important to support a community of feelings ("But I feel you, and you feel me!") than to sell your soul to the Devil of details.

J. Karlin 9/25/2004
©2004 by J. Karlin, all rights reserved