The Weighing of The Heart
Blowing minds and winning hearts
Okay. A whole bunch of my prior plans have now changed. I am re-posting this because it really needs to be accessible from some of the other posts I’ve made recently. I am also doing things in a different order than I had previously done them or planned to do them, because I’d had it all twisted up and backwards before. However, I’m going to leave the former introduction to this post, which I had previously published on Hermekate, because it has important little details and context.
With the publication of the previous post, Song of Hermekate, and with this being the 42nd post on the blog (corresponding with the 42 Negative Confessions that are said to take place in the Hall of Judgement upon death in ancient Egyptian myth, but which did not occur here), the time has come to retell the tale of an experience that my partner and I had in 2020. The "download" or "upgrade" that I received on that night is where the concepts that eventually coalesced into the idea of the "Song" came from. I know that a lot of people look with skepticism upon supposedly "spiritual" experiences that occur under the influence of psychedelics, largely because some people take what they experienced far too literally. In light of developments that have occurred since these events, I'm beginning to think I didn't take it seriously enough and thus, this retelling includes information not contained the last time I shared this.
The Rose Moon
It was the night of the Strawberry Moon Eclipse on June 5th, 2020 (also known as "The Rose Moon," a name I prefer for reasons that are better explained in the post When They Talk Back.
Times were tough for the world that night. As the eclipse approached, many of my friends were discussing what kind of magic(k)al work they were thinking of doing. My first inclination was to do some kind of working to aid the antifa protesters, but things didn't go according to plan. My partner and I decided we'd like to trip on psilocybin together. I had—and continue to retain—a feeling that it probably worked out both ways on some higher level.
We took our dosages in the form of tea, a method I prefer now because it produces a more potent trip that is yet shorter in duration. To me, this is a perfect adjustment to just eating them. For the first time ever, I took just around 5g in my tea. That, as they say, is often "the magic number" for an ego death experience. It is the dosage Terence McKenna recommended, but I had never taken that much before.
As we sipped our tea, we put an episode of Midnight Gospel on Netflix—Blinded By My End featuring Trudy Goodman. For some fun synchronistic "easter eggs," do give it a watch if you can. I find the themes...almost too relevant.
At about the point of the episode where the potion-brewing witch sticks her head out the door and says "Yeeeeeessss???", my partner stood up, said "Okay, this is too much, I need to go lay down," which she did. I said goodnight and gave her a kiss as she departed for the bedroom.
I tried to stay up for a while longer, but as my dose began to kick in, it was more intense than I had ever felt before. My heart began to race and I swallowed as I began to realize: "Iiit's gonna happen this time...I...should probably get to bed myself," which I did, pronto.
(Random side note: Earlier in the day, we had also watched the episode of American Gods in which Laura Moon dies and meets Anubis).
This was such. A strange. And somber. Experience. Knowing full well what was coming (and yet, having never experienced it before, not knowing shit about it), I took off my clothes, got in bed in the dark next to my partner, said goodnight, closed my eyes, and waited to die.
I had assumed it would happen alone; this was it, just you and death, kiddo. Nope.
Pretty soon, I was in a "room" made of swirling patterns that reminded me of Mola artwork. I knew what a "room" often meant; it's a pattern on higher-dose trips, from the reports I've read: You find yourself in a "room," and pretty soon that "room" is going to fill up.
Well. Some of the walls of that room soon shaped themselves into a profile very closely resembling some well-known icons of Anubis. I knew it was him.
And since this was Anubis, I knew what was probably coming next. And, although none of them were anywhere near as distinct as the presence of Anubis, I felt other Presences there. I could tell They did not want to be Known, but knowing what I know, I can make some guesses as to who was in attendance.
There were no words, just thoughts; but Anubis revealed to me that this "weighing of the heart" was going to work a bit differently than the ones I had read about. This one was going to be a "contest;" I was going to be "attacked" at the level of Self, and if I stood up to it, that meant my heart was light enough. So instead of removing my heart and putting it on a scale, then doing these 42 negative confessions, then finding out the verdict, it was more like, "The Devourer Ammut is just gonna try to eat you, and if there's nothing there to eat, you're all good."
The battle commenced as I shed a tear and smiled. The battle was not about "winning" or "resisting;" nor was it about "giving in." It was about being still in the midst of the storm, which I did, even as all of my memories were stripped away from me; first, biographical memories. Next, emotional nostalgias. Next, symbols and signs. Next, ideas. Then? Just me. Only me. No environment. No other. No parts. Only. I.
I was informed that I had "passed," and I thought this was going to be over, but next, Anubis "cut me open," "got inside me," and performed what I can only call "psychic surgery" on me. Since my heart had been found pure and I had stood the test, I was "worked upon." It was uncomfortable in many aspects, reminding me a lot of a "soul-level root canal." But I knew it was good for me, so I remained still.
When it was all over, what happened next was shocking; that is, first, I energetically feel something like the sudden "WHOOSH!" when a bay door is opened on a cold day, or when a semi truck rushes by; then, in almost the same instant, my partner sits up suddenly with a gasp, gets up, approaches the window, pulls open the blinds, and says, "Do you fucking see that? Look!"
I get up and look out the window with her, and I know exactly what she's talking about: Several planets are lined up in the sky outside (I don't remember which, but I remember Jupiter was one of them). Both of us being from Chicago, the way they are lined up looks very familiar: It reminds us of the lines of planes coming in for landings at O'Hare.
Those planets had been there for a while, of course; but at the same moment, my partner and I both "felt" and "realized" their configuration as an "Approach of the Gods."
The tone was, "Oh shit....here they come. They're coming." We were nude before the window, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, fearing judgement. We marveled at it for a while, then got back into bed, and something came over me.
I felt "tapped in" to Those Who Approached, and I proceeded to spend the next couple of hours speaking in spontaneous, poetic—really, prophetic—words about societies, civilization, their purpose and meaning, their uses and misuses, the nature of power, the nature of tyrants, the nature of corruption; there was quite a bit about Trump; how and why civilizations fall, the problems they continually face and how we can overcome them; and why? for what? because while we fight each other and work so hard to destroy this planet, there are Societies of Gods out there, watching, and waiting to see if we are even halfway worthy to join them. This download came to me via a vast, androgyne, gold-and-jeweled entity taller than the planet Earth who, it seemed to me, was Hermekate.
Then? Nevermind the Gods. I feel the sudden emergence of immense Leviathans, living Titans, floating around our little blue gem.
Watching.
Making certain decisions.
And then, I knew what I had to do: Commit my knowledge and understanding of Hermekate to writing, after having incorporated the civic themes revolving around power dynamics and ethics that I just got done expounding. It was a very tall order and I was quite intimidated by the prospect.
Stand Up And Fight
The next day, I tried to begin writing down what I needed to communicate, but it was so big, so immense, that I didn't even know where to begin. I was so intimidated by it that I drank over it instead. I remember the next morning, sitting on the sofa, hung over. My phone was sitting on the arm rest a few feet away from me, and I had no apps running in the background; nevertheless, music suddenly began playing on it. I picked up the phone and unlocked it to find the song Stand Up And Fight by the band Turisas playing on Spotify.
This was, in retrospect, the first strange event that led into what I have come to understand as an experience called "passing through Chapel Perilous," that would carry on for about two years.
One of the main results of these experiences is that I began to take an interest in learning about civilizations of the past, to see real-life examples of what has gone wrong in civilizations, looking for patterns. I found a channel on YouTube called Fall of Civilizations and quickly became a fan.
Recently—its gonna sound weird, but this actually occurred on the night of 2022's Rose Moon—I made a new friend online who just happened to ask me if I like the Fall of Civilizations podcast. "DO I? Yes!!!" I answered, and asked him what his favorite episode was.
He told me his favorite episode was the Easter Island episode and when I went to look it up, I was stunned to note two things:
The narrative of what happened to the people of Easter Island when Europeans first landed had some weird formal similarities to the event; there's a description of how, probably, the island's bravest man was chosen to approach these gargantuan ships that were unlike anything any of them had ever seen before, and it reminded me a lot of my encounter with Hermekate and Their message to me about civilizations.
The video was uploaded to the channel on the same night we had this experience: That of the Rose Moon eclipse. You can check for yourself:
The story of Easter Island has a great deal to do with Hermekate and the concept of the Song; as we learn in this video, there have been a lot of misconceptions regarding what happened to the civilization of the Rapa Nui people, and it turns out that most of them are the result of Western arrogance and hubris in our intellectual knowledge. To me, this relates a lot to the concept of the "Word" in Western esotericism and the way it is viewed in a hierarchic sense as a sort of "pinnacle" of occult achievement (perhaps not undeservedly so).
The Rapa Nui preserved their history in song, passed on orally down the generations. However, as we learn, the Rapa Nui had just begun to develop writing as well when the Europeans first landed; soon after—evidence indicates—the Rapa Nui suddenly and inexplicably lost interest in whatever it was they had written down (we can't decipher the writing), stopped doing so, and apparently treated the writings they did have like garbage soon after they had forgotten their own writing.
I personally think this was the result of the highly deleterious effects of contact between the Rapa Nui and the Europeans; prior to the meeting, the Rapa Nui did not make weapons or engage in warfare, but in the wake of violent events that unfolded once the Europeans came, all of that changed.
With the decline of the Rapa Nui civilization, the world lost one of its most intriguing civilizations, and one from which we could have learned something important and profound....I just know it. I feel it in my gut, and in my heart.