Chapter:

The Heaven of Mars

The fifth labor of Heracles, the solar hero, was the hunting and killing of the anthropophagus tenebrous birds that inhabited the Stygian lakes in Arcadia and were killing men with their bronzed feathers, which were thrown against their indefensible victims in the form of deadly arrows.

Clearly, this labor is found intimately related with the constellation of Pisces, house of Neptune, the lord of practical magic.

Unquestionably, those anthropophagus birds are the cruel harpies cited by Virgil, the poet of Mantua...

For the good of the great cause, which we, all of the brothers and sisters of the Gnostic movement, are fighting for, I am now going to transcribe some paragraphs from The Aeneid...

Safe now from the stormwave,
I took shelter first on the Strophadës—
For so the Greek name goes—islands that lie
In the broad Ionian sea. There nest the vile
Celaeno and her harpy sisterhood
[horrifying witches, black Jinns],
Shut out, now, from the house of Phineus,
As they were frightened from old banquets there.
No gloomier monster, no more savage pest
And scourge sent by the gods’ wrath ever mounted
From the black Stygian water — flying things
With young girls’ faces, but foul ooze below,
Talons for hands, pale famished nightmare mouths.
When we pulled in to port, what met our eyes
But sleek herds in the meadows everywhere
And flocks of goats, no one attending them.
Setting upon them with our swords, we sent up
Shouts to the gods, to Jove himself, to share
The windfall with us; then on the curving beach
We set out couches for a savory feast.
But instantly, grotesquely whirring down,
The harpies [witches] were upon us from the hills
With deafening beat of wings. They trounced our meat,
Defiling everything they touched with filth,
And gave an obscene squawk amid the stench.
We tried again. In a secluded gorge
Under a cliffside, in thick shade of trees,
We set our tables up, relit our altars.
But the loud horde [those anthropophagus birds]
again, from another quarter,
Came out of hiding, swooped down on the prey
With hooked feet, hunched to feed, and spoiled our feast.
I then gave orders to resort to arms
And make war on the vicious flock. My men
Did as commanded, laid their swords nearby,
Hidden in grass, and kept shields out of sight.
Now when the birds flew down along the cove
Once more with their infernal din, Misenus
From a high lookout sounded the alarm
On his brass horn. Into their midst my men
Attacked and tried a strange new form of battle,
To cut the indecent seabird down in blood.
But they received no impact on their feathers,
Took on their backs no wounding cut: too quick,
They soared away into the upper air,
Leaving the prey half eaten and befouled.
Only Celaeno, perched on a high crag,
A ghastly witch, brought words out, croaking down:
‘So war is all you give in recompense
for slaughter of bulls and bullocks, can it be,
Heirs of Laömedan? You’d arm for war
To drive the innocent harpies from their country?
Then put your mind on what I prophesy: a thing
Foretold to Phoebus by the almighty father
And by Apollo then to me; now I,
First of the Furies, will disclose it to you.
Italy is the land you look for; well,
The winds will blow, you’ll find your Italy,
You’ll be allowed to enter port;
But you may never wall your destined city
Till deathly famine, for the bloodshed here,
Has made you grind your tables with your teeth!’
On this she took wing back into the forest.
But our men of a sudden felt their blood
Run cold, and lost all heart. Not with arms now
But prayers and vows they begged me to make peace,
Whether these foes were goddesses or birds,
Obscene and dire. My father, facing seaward,
Hands held out, invoked the heavenly powers
And pledged the rituals due them. ‘Gods’, he said,
‘Turn back this thing foreboded! Gods, avert
Disaster of that kind! Cherish your faithful!’
- Book III, lines 209-265

Here ends this unusual occult and esoteric poetic quotation. Let us continue now with the explanations.

Many of these abysmal harpies have been captured in the very act by surprise, with certain procedures.

Some ancient traditions say: “If we place on the floor a pair of steel scissors, opened in the form of a cross, and if we spread black mustard seeds around this metallic instrument, then any witch can be trapped.”

It has caused astonishment that some illustrious occultists ignore that these witches can avoid the law of universal gravity! Even though this news appears unusual, we solemnly asseverate that this is possible by placing the body of flesh and bones within the fourth dimension.

It is not strange in any manner that these calchonas (witches) and their idlers can levitate and travel in just a few seconds, to any place in the world, while having their physical body within the fourth dimension (hyperspace).

It is clear that they have secret formulas for “physically” escaping from this three-dimensional world of Euclid.

In strictly occult terms, we can classify these leftist and tenebrous harpies with the title of black Jinns, in order to radically differentiate them from the white Jinns.

The human organism, while being within the fourth dimension—in spite of all that official science states—can assume any figure, can change shape...

Remember, beloved readers, the abominable Celaeno and her filthy harpies, horrifying fowls of the Strophadës Islands, of the Ionian Sea...

On one given afternoon (the date, day, and hour do not matter), while seated at the foot of the bars inside of an old dungeon, I was studying an esoteric book...

The sun was hidden within the burning red of its setting, and the evening light was slowly vanishing...

Suddenly, something unusual happened: I heard next to me a thunderous, sarcastic, mocking guffaw that was distinctly feminine...

She was one of these anthropophagus fowls who inhabited the Stygian lakes. She was a calchona, a witch of ill omen, a woman of a leftist Witches’ Sabbath...

This perverse one fled and hid herself within the frightful darkness of the infernal worlds...

Thus, this is how my intrepid descent into the living inner most parts of the submerged Martian mineral kingdoms was initiated.

Before ascending, it is indispensable to descend. This is the law. A frightful and terrible humiliation always precedes every exaltation.

To annihilate from within myself these inhuman witching elements, those fowls of evil omen, was certainly my labor in the tenebrous Tartarus.

Even if this seems incredible—because of such an unusual assertion—it is urgent to know that all human beings, without any exception, carry various bewitching elements in their unconscious depths.

This signifies that in the world there are many people who, without knowing, are unconsciously practicing black magic.

Unquestionably, even the very saints from all religions suffer the undescribable when they discover themselves. They then verify for themselves the crude reality of those inhuman elements that, clearly, they have the obligation to eliminate from their psyche.

Any adept, mystic, or saint is more or less black while still not having radically died in all and each one of the forty-nine departments of the subconsciousness.

Lo and behold one of the great reasons for not having the right to condemn anybody. “He that is without a sin among you, let him first cast a stone.”

I was incessantly attacked in a pitiless way by the sinister fowls that inhabited the Stygian Lakes in that epoch of my life.

Inside the Martian infernos, within the “Mandingoes” halls of those tenebrous Witches’ Sabbaths, I discovered with astonishment many brothers and sisters of the rocky path...

The fact of the matter is that they have “bewitching aggregates” that their human personalities clearly ignore.

When concluding my works within the mineral abyss of Mars, I ascended victoriously into the fifth heaven, the world of Atman, the radiant abode of the Virtues.

Thus, this is how I returned into the heaven of Mars. I then re-conquered my place among those sublime beings, a divine position that in a foregone time I had lost...

The objective of my works within the Martian infernos was achieved. My consciousness was free after having eliminated the inhuman elements from my psyche...

The intellectual shackles had been annihilated, and my liberated consciousness, already out of the horrifying dungeon of the mind—from where it had dwelled as a prisoner for a long time—had achieved the fusion, the intermixture with Atman the Ineffable One, my real Being.

Ah! If people could comprehend what the dungeon of the intellect is... If they could understand that they live as prisoners inside the jail of their mind...

While in complete bliss as “Spirit-Man” within the Martian heaven, far away from the body and the affections and the mind, I consciously wandered as a resplendent bird of light, a radical antithesis of those sinister fowls of the Stygian Lakes...

Then, while in those moments of exquisite blessings, I passed by many symbolic pieces of work that were structured with pure iron...

This is the region of Atman the Ineffable One, the world of the most crude reality, the dimension of mathematics.

In this three-dimensional world we never perceive solids in an integral and unitotal form. Here we only see in a subjective form: angles, surfaces, etc.

However, within the luminous region of Atman, we not only perceive solids in an integral form, but moreover, we perceive hyper-solids, including the exact quantity of atoms, which in their conjunction constitute the totality of any given body.

Unquestionably, in the heaven of Mars, we truly enjoy the most complete objective perception.

How happy I felt while in that region of infinite joys! However, everything in life is not always a festivity; sufferings also exist, you now this...

The headquarters of heavenly judgment, where “objective justice” is administrated, always intervenes.

One given day, while happily being in the world of Atman, a judge of the law of Katancia (superior karma) came to me.

He sat before a table and I, with a lot of respect and veneration, then had to answer to some accusations:

“You have criticized many people in your books,” said the hierarch.

“I am combative by nature,” I answered in an emphatic way.

“You are condemned to seven days in prison.” Such was the sentence.

Frankly and plainly speaking, I have to confess that when I heard the sentence I was a little cynical. It appeared to me that this matter was a foolish case for the police, like when as a boy, one fights with another of his own age, then one is placed for a few hours in jail...

Nonetheless, when I had already fully accomplished this sentence, I felt that this punishment was terribly painful.

Seven days within this horrible dungeon of the mind, and after having emancipated myself from it...

Seven symbolic days of bitterness inside of this frightful jail of the intellect...

Woe! Woe! Woe!...


This is the path of the Bodhisattva: a secret path entered by very few, and the only way to the highest potentials of the human being.

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