The Mysteries, or, Know Thyself and the Last Great Kegger
Music: My Friend the Chocolate Cake: Brood WHAT ALBERT PIKE HAS WROUGHT
For Freudians the closest approximation of the abstractions of symbolic existence is, of course, the dream world, a non-place and certainly a non-time in which the regular rules of the natural world hold no sway. Freud's understanding of the alternately horrible and joyful delights of the preconscious playground, as well as his method of dream interpretation, are our modern equivalent to the Mysteries, schools of thought in the time of the ancients that believed in a series of non-material, parallel spheres of existence that worked harmoniously with the visible world. As with the Western occult tradition, one learned about the Mysteries in "grades" or "degrees," a series of teachings thick with ambiguous and deliberately vague symbolism. For the rhetorician, the magic of the Mysteries is enthymematic: one is drawn to them because she makes the symbolism her own. And for the rhetorician, the Mysteries are contained in the mystical teachings of Plato (dialectic, you see, is an occult practice of apprehending the universal forms—immaterial thing-a-ma-bobs that represent transcendent truths).
This past weekend I learned about the Scottish Rite and received the dense wisdom of its degrees, organized into a series of (imaginary) chapters and lodges. For the non-Masonic reader, let me say that taking the degrees (they terminate at 32) was absolutely fascinating, and I daresay most folks these days have no idea what is occurring under their noses in lodges across the country. Obviously, secrecy creates wild speculation, but these speculations are wrong for the most part (would I lie to you, gentle reader?) I admit given my studies in the occult tradition these past many years, I was not very surprised at what I learned. I was surprised, however, by the number of masons who know and understand the degree work, but who are able to distance themselves from the occult tradition. Insofar as I have taken a number of obligations not to reveal the secrets of the Scottish Rite, I cannot say too much here, but I can safely say that study of the Kabbalah and the Hermetic tradition are part of the Scottish Rite degrees (and no, this has nothing to do with the devil). I can also safely say that the teachings of the Scottish Rite are widely available elsewhere in the great literature on occultism from the nineteenth century (twentieth century literature has been perverted by the mass media, about which more some other day). In a sense, Masonry is a system of organized occult knowledge, and degrees are but "lesson plans" for increasing comprehension.
I've been invited to give a talk based on my book to the High Twelve Club of Baton Rouge on Friday. I will speak on the role of the mass media in the decline of the occult tradition in the twentieth century.
SUTHERN AIRE
While I was doing my degree work with the Scottish Rite, the Southern States Communication Association was meeting in the Holiday Inn off of College Drive. I delivered two papers, both of which I've posted here (one is on Robo-Huey, and the other, on disembodied speech). Apparently the panel on Sunday pissed a lot of panel-goers off: for our "disembodied speech" panel, each of the participants recorded our paper onto a compact disk, which was then played by the chair (Rog). We did not plan for our panel to be during the last slot on the last day of the conference, but it was, and apparently panel-goers interpreted it as a snot-nosed snub (as if we were saying, "no one will come to this panel anyway, so why should we?"). So the conceptual apparatus was lost, unfortunately. Nevertheless, the other panelists papers are also available to hear online: Michael LeVan's audio essay is quite astounding; Marcy Chvasta's essay is hot as hell; and Mindy Fenske's gives the project of mediation a sound beating.
It was good to see and hang out with Tom, my favorite guru from Arkansas.
APRIL FOOLS
Saturday night was also my and Steve's last party hosting together, the "April Fool's Party." Some people came dressed like fools, others simply acted like one. I have tons of photos, but I regret I've run out of web-space for uploading them. If you know of some free web-space, drop me a line (rosechron@cox.net). Anyhoo, it was a great time with dancing, drinking, and eatin'. As to be expected, the late-night-and-everyone-else-has-gone-home posse consisted of myself, Shappy, Jen, Rog, and Paul-baby. Thanks for the Johnny Walker, Zac, it came in handy . . . .
THE MYSTIC SPIRAL, OR, THE ROXBURY BOYS QUESTION
Finally, perhaps to tease David and Kate, I get up each morning thinking about her. She's planning a visit in June; I wait anxiously. I'm planning a visit in July. There's nothing like the Romantic Apocalyptic, my handy label for love-in-waiting.