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The Pause That Refreshes

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I’m always reading something, and of course some of that is about magic, mysticism, and so on. Currently it’s a mixture of Taoism, history, creativity, and Depressing Real World Stuff. As of late, I’ve added something else to my cycle – “philosophy refreshers.”

I have a large collection of Tao Te Ching translations (well over 20 and recently expanded). Though some are better than others, I find a reading of the Tao Te Ching is a good refresher to getting me in a healthy “Tao-oriented” mentality. As long as the translation is half-decent it helps me think of my life, the big picture, and what’s good for me and everyone.

So what I’ve decided to do? Every book or two I read, I then read a copy of the Tao Te Ching before reading something else. As it’s not a long book – sort of the Compact Car of religion and philosophy – I can do it in as short as an evening.

I got this idea after reading about a Taoist hermit who was obsessed with the Tao Te Ching. He was said to reread it constantly, and was considered a kind of holy or wise man. I’m not prone to reread something that much, but it did make me think “maybe reviewing this book that means so much to me is a good idea.”

I’ve found this has a number of benefits I’d like to share.

First, it’s a pause in whatever thing I’m currently focused on. I tend to go down rabbit holes now and then so it provides a break. This break is often relaxing, thought-provoking and even funny is even better.

Secondly, the Tao Te Ching for all its Deep Subject Matter, has a beautifully light feel to it. That means it’s also a great moment of rest from whatever Heavy Stuff my mind is on. A lot of Taoist stuff is like that – light yet deep.

Third, rereading something that is foundational to my ways of thinking keeps me grounded and refreshes me. Every week or two I get re-centered on who I am, how I think, how I’ve grown. I also get a good dose of translator notes and thought-provoking moments.

Also it gives me an excuse to buy even more translations. Taoist retail therapy, as it were, but I won’t count that in the list.

I’ve found this to be a real positive to my studies and readings and ruminations. As you can guess, I feel better, feel more grounded, fee more thoughtful, have more insights. I’m glad I gave this a try – and will continue to do it.

I invite you to consider “refreshers” like this in your own studies and readings. Reread a particular book, or a few chapters of a longer one so you complete it over time. Do something that helps you soak in the lessons important to you and take a break.

Let me know how that goes!

– Xenofact

The Most Dangerous Occult Book In The World

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So many tales and conspiracy theories have “the most dangerous occult book.”  It’s enough the late Sir Terry Pratchett parodied it with the “Necrotelenomicon” a book by Achmed the Mad (who preferred to be called Achmed I Just Get These Headaches).  But how is such a book portrayed in fiction?

Inevitably it’s some rare and creaky tome, thick with horrific pages, and challenging or dangerous to read.  It drives readers mad, it crawls with brain-twisting truths, it twists reality  To read it is to feel something else is watching over your shoulder and it has its own plans.

However, what would a truly dangerous occult book be?  Not some kind of Anti-Personnel Grimoire (a term The Necronomicon Files by John Wisdom Gonce II used delightfully).  A book that is a threat to the world isn’t that much of a threat if it drives most readers mad.  So what would such a book truly be like, a book that delivers real power and isn’t a trap?

Well first, it wouldn’t damn well drive you nuts.  A Dangerous Occult Book – let us call it a DOB – would probably not make people insane by reading it or even being in one’s possession.  Such things tend to be noticed, and such owners tend to have painfully short relations with stakes and kindling if they stay reasonably sane.

Secondly, A DOB would not be particularly hard to use.  It may crackle with power, but if that power takes too much effort to use, it’s simply not worth the time.  It would be streamlined, simple, clear, and give you useful abilities.  If a DOB takes too long to use and is too hard you’re better off using a fist, a lawsuit, or just doing something else.

A DOB would allow you to have an effect and it wouldn’t necessarily be what’s expected.  Do you need to summon demons – or just manipulate minds?  Is it worth turning lead into gold when precognition can let you make money more subtly?  Must you be able to throw obvious lightning, or would subtle curses be more you route.  It’d would work, but it might not be obvious to our expectations.

A DOB might contain a lot of useful information that changes one sense of place in the universe.  Simply and effectively, it would change you and empower you by helping you see yourself differently.  It would keep you from being trapped by existing religions and traditions, freeing you to use that power in its pages.

Finally, a DOB would be easy to transmit, spreading power among those in the no.  It might not be overly long, it would be clear, it could be copied.  Replication would make it even more dangerous as it could be spread about, extra copies hidden, etc.

A truly Dangerous Occult Book wouldn’t be some hernia-producing grimoire.  It would be a manual.

Of course, if we’re all looking for big thick grimoires filled with incomprehensible diagrams and fonts off of a heavy metal album?  Then maybe we’d miss the simpler but more powerful books under our nose . . .

Or someone could be writing it right now.

– Xenofact

And So Words Become Part of Us

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I have many copies of the Tao Te Ching in my library.  I found joy in reading different translations because I found new insights each time and learned about the different translators.  One copy could provide lessons no other could, and together they were more powerful.

Regretfully, I had not read any of my copies in a while.  When I remediated this, I found something interesting happening after reading two or three translations – I felt the words in the book as much as I read them.  This feeling helped me gain insights and even led to some well-needed behavior and personal changes to deal with certain challenges.

(Specifically, this happened while reading the Red Pine translation, an excellent one, but one to read after you’ve gone through some easier translations)

In my younger years, I would read philosophical and meditative writings and then be frustrated at how hard it was to “change myself.”  With study and time, I found that personal growth or exploring mental and mystical spaces took work.  Mental and mystical journeys are oft one foot in front of another, and trying to jump ahead risks frustration or delusion.

Words inspire, guide, and inform but they are not a destination.  Now I saw they were also their own form of meditation.

I realized my reading of the Tao Te Ching had been a kind of exercise or meditation.  Anyone familiar with the book knows the small chapters, well-translated, can be very evocative.  I had soaked these in by reading and rereading nearly two dozen different copies, and now reading them brought forth lessons old and new.  The words had become part of me.

Reading words and trying to bash our thoughts into place to follow them is too easy to do and usually fails.  These experiences are a reminder that reading and rereading (or hearing and rehearing) wise words and transformative thoughts is a meditation.  We have to give words time to work their way into our minds, to be analyzed, felt, and understood.

I’m sure we’ve all heard stories of sages, holy men, hermits, and mystics who would read and reread a certain book.  Now I understand their efforts much more.

– Xenofact