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“We are a species with amnesia”

-Graham Hancock

There is a mountain, far away from the lands in which we dwell. Deep into the imprisoned lands of Tibet. It is a place that is said to be ‘busy’ at certain times of the day. Busy is an interesting word choice. It is often chosen by those observers of this esoteric site. It has been described as a rush of energy, and an ethereal surge of life. Some people even claim it has cured them of their ailments, and that they saw it turn gold in some lights. Regardless of what it is, it is clear to understand through our fellow humans that it simply is.

Rare is it that contemporary man uses such few words. More often you will find many trying to claim what they thought or felt through a torrent of words and rationale in which their listeners or readers might understand. Communication in this sense is brought to its knees and forced to bargain with what the soul has felt. 

It is often a discussion we have within the ranks of those associated with the Halithaz that it is our highest goal to describe the indescribable; to poetically immortalize within the sigils of man the sublime discoveries. From the various streams of the cosmic and earthly ichors in which we sip from along our paths towards the next gateway. 

 Mount Kailash can be understood to mean ‘The Crystal Mountain’ and is considered utmostly sacred to many. Much like the abyssal demons in which Nietzche once described, it is to my understanding that it is not a privilege of the darkness to possess eyes and senses. 

I am at the point with this collective now that I will outright ask anyone who follows us why they do so if they have not completed at least two of the following:

If you recognize this to be rather silly, you are correct, if you cannot understand the silly then you are not mad enough, my friend. Silly is only silly to the silliest of us. And the silliest of us are those who cannot understand the dance of the mad. Most men will stare at the babbling schizophrenic and ask ‘what a tragedy that he does not understand’ and yet the question for us should always be ‘what am I missing?’

How foolish that we believe our five senses to be the only senses possessed in the entirety of this cosmic petri dish. That’s the equivalent of a dog thinking kibble to be the only food. Yet much like the pilgrim who might be fed a dorito, or a medieval king a sour patch kid, it is perhaps not meant to be indulged. Those of us who press this far into the understanding that the Gods exist upon the wind and within the milk of a mothers breast, etc… are standing examples of those men who first mounted Everest in tweed suits. Should we? Probably not. Are we able to? Not really.

But if your answer isn’t ‘FUCK IT’, I have nothing in common with you, and you are a life sapping, void dwelling clam of a human being who should have been born a mussel of the Irish Sea. We die, and so we must engorge ourselves on the soma of pain and ecstasy while we are here. If I’m not terrifying my loved ones with every action, then I’m a poor example of a hero’s ember. And you are too.

It is our duty to the first philosopher ape who ate the fungus that grew from the shit to constantly lunge into the poisons of life, and to drown in the seas of madness so that one day our sons and daughters might sail.

I had just finished ravaging my woman before I walked barefoot into the woods and made a small fire alone; there I sat in silence. It was there that I had first found the image of the Halithaz. The logo should be considered TABLET 0. The hero whose head has been entirely swallowed by the glorious wheel of the sun, his erect cock and sword pointing upward towards the heavens. This was more than a God, it was all of us and all of our potential in every second and in every breath we use to push away death for a mere second more. 

Above is the first tablet I have discovered within the dream worlds. THE SERENE MOUNTAIN. As the darkness might gaze at us, so to can all other aspects of our electric state of consciousness. It is no wonder that the crystal mountain can be seen in a glittering state of splendor solis. It has always been so. The mountain has eyes, and he stares back at ye who dare look onward in total understanding. The words carve the meaning and they state “I ERILAZ THE HOLY MOUNTAIN”. Not in one language of man, but two. Behind him rises the sun to glitter and gleam for those who see his crown’s magnanimity, and he remains calm and unbothered in or out of our senses. The clouds forever shroud and yet reveal him, much like a spiritual lingerie. 

It is time you grab life by the balls and travel to the mountains ten times more often than you do right now. It is no coincidence that the Mongols believed it to be the dwelling place of the god known as Tengri (who was a wolf and also a swan). As is the case for the highest point known to the Germanics, Romans, Greeks, etc. I say again, if you have never fucked on a mountain, then I suppose you must read this. But as Halithaz attempts to describe the indescribable, I imagine it to be a lot like watching porn. It’s the thing, but really, really isn’t the thing. The world is your experimental ground, and you have your whole life to figure out in what ways you are a mystic or of use to your friends, family and other loved ones… if not all of us. Please for the sake of us all, do not rot for another second within the same place you were born into. 

You must travel to Nepal

You must swim with dolphins 

You must bathe nude with the fae of Albion

You must eat plants no others would dare to

You must pray to unknown Gods that know you better than you know yourself 

You must try new foods

You must forgive those who are horrible

You must love those who are fantastic 

You must do more than what you do now, for we are never complete until we all are attempting to complete that which has no end.

This is a shining example of a God or concept. They exist in the millions and move forth into each of our singular realities, we need only tune in to the madness more often. These Gods whisper ideas that grant us riches and boons, curses and vices. In what state do you wish to be found and by what? What do you do to offer yourself as a shining example to each of them? Are you so flaccid that you cannot hear the call of terrible and wondrous nonsense? Are you absolutely sure you can tell me pharmaceuticals are not incantations condensed into pills in order to suppress this? Are you unrelentingly positive that microchips are not embedded cyber sigils that were not whispered to our brethren? 

I for sure am not. And thus, we need all the help we can get. Luckily, there is nothing stopping you or I from finding communion with all things hidden. 

Furthermore there is a distinct potency to any symbols that might dip into both myths of the Occident and the Orient. Those sigils and powerful points of interest for the greatest among all of our cultures are symbols and signs for greatness that move beyond language. It is something felt by the heroic, and unseen by the swarths of empty husks who have yet to find their potential greatness and Gods. No Odin is the same, nor is Jesus the same man he is to each of us.

The serene mountain is within us all, and I wish for you all to travel there the next time you have an hour or two to spare for intense meditation. I wish to know what you see and what you find. Do you understand that there is nothing to prove within the realms of science that this is not a nightmare, and that within our dreams we might return to the tablets that guide us back towards our home beyond the north wind? This mountain with eyes who found me between worlds understood this, and I now ask you to wander towards this deity, perhaps you find him or perhaps to find some other splendor, all you might hope for is to wander at all, and to use your flesh to teach others of your wanderings before your fingers no longer type, and your tongue no longer wags. 


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