The Cult

I was in a cult. But when I was in it, we never used to call it that. The very idea that everyone else seemed to assume it was a cult reinforced our belief that everyone else was thick and we were enlightened.
In truth however, you would have been hard-pressed to find a bunch of thicker individuals even by placing adverts in the newspaper and offering good wages and accommodation.
What's more, we paid the cult leader for the privilege of feeling clever, while being, as I mentioned, most thick.

1. "But Prod is a clever man indeed, he was surely drawn into it through some infernal cleverness?"
2. "Since he's not entirely thick, perhaps he knew what he was getting himself into?"
3. "It surprises me not in the least, the fellow is an arrogant oaf quite devoid of even a modicum of common sense or mental acuity"

'Twas a mixture, in fact, of numbers 1 and 3 of the above. Number 2 can be entirely discounted, other than to say that I was searching for truth, and in our modern world truth is very well hidden indeed.

When I was in the cult I didn't speak to my parents for more than a year, although I lived quite nearby. I also didn't see my older sister at all, because she died as I was starting to extricate myself, a matter that is my fault, although I cannot help somewhat blaming the cult leader for practising his clever deception. I don't suppose for one moment however that he would have classified his actions as deceptive, even though their ultimate purpose was to elevate himself and belittle all other people, including his closest admirers, who although regularly flattered and buttered up, were always at risk of stern rebuke, and penalties and even ejection from the fold if they failed in any of their duties.
Stef, as we used to often call him to signal our privilege and affection, maintained very tight control of proceedings and reacted with outrage to even the mildest criticism or perceived slight.

Ultimately, however, I had walked into his shop, however deceptively labelled, so I'm on the hook for it all.
It wasn't all bad. I learned some basic ideas about the practise and theories of philosophy and I realised how important such matters are. It shaped my thinking and actions over the next several years, and it prepared me to come, eventually, to understand that the truth lies only in the Lord Jesus Christ, the Holy One of Israel, whose words unto Pontius Pilate before his condemnation to the cross are as follows:

To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.


Amen to that, from me at least.


I'll write some more cult stories later... I think we used to do some funny things, now that I look back on it, but like I said, it wasn't all bad. I got the chance to meet a load of young folks - I was by far the old codger of the group since most were in their twenties and I was already over fifty. I suppose people might have thought I was the teacher, but actually I was the student. I didn't have much wisdom to bring to the table whatsoever, but I did learn quite a bit from one or two fellows who were, mercifully, much brighter than me. The cult leader himself, however, after a promising start, sadly revealed himself to be far more dense, mentally speaking, than the average man - in my own estimation (but I know I am not alone in taking that position).

Addendum

Although I spoke about different levels of intelligence in this short writing that I have written, I did it merely to illustrate a point here and there and raise the occasional smile, if possible. I do not hold with the elevation of any individual or the abasement of another in consideration of perceived cleverness or lack thereof, or based on any other criteria.
It is my desire and intention to defer entirely - in this matter and in all others - to the grace and wisdom of the Lord, though I know I fall short of this mark most alway.

The exciting night out

Last night I went on a visit based on an invitation that impudently I pre-empted.
It was a hard raining night very, and I couldn't precisely remember the house, so I tramped up and down in the rain, testing the new waterproofing on my bush hat (works) and the water repellent properties of my brand new Craghopper jacket with fleece lining (impeccable).
I found the place at last - I had been standing outside already twice, but both road facing windows showed a vista of a sparking and glittering kitchen occupying a volume whose existence, at least as a continuous entity, postdates the time of my previous visit.
I actually went up the path as far as the door, to see if that silly notice was still there (he used to have freeman sort of notice charging people for wasting his time, aimed at the council and the many faces of officialdom) but the notice was consipicious only by its abence so I backed away.
Eventually the fellow came into view in the shining space and I waved or whistled and the job was done.

It wasn't going to be just the two or three of us, counting his wife (missing on on the evening in question due to having had the good sense to attend more of a womanly kind of thing while we had our men's night), I now realised, because already comfortably accommodated were two other fellows, both of whom I know, but not very well.

The night - and it was a good one - consisted of chatting, playing some instruments, singing, and chatting again. One man tried to convince me something funny about the Bible, but I didn't buy it for a moment, and another man offered me a room in his house, which I think was very generous since he hardly even knows me. I told him that, in the circumstances, he was either exceptionally altruistic and generous, or unusually thick, depending on one's perspective, but I suppose it might be a mixture of the two.
Who can say? Maybe he didn't mean it, but he did say it, so I suppose he might have been prepared to  put up with me. Maybe I should take him up on it, since I am about to be evicted (which is why he so kindly offered).

Yours truly
Caveman Prod

Serve somebody

.... it may be the devil or it may be the Lord but you gotta serve somebody, as Mr Shabatai Zisi ben Avraham sang many moons ago. Dylan, named after the Welsh poet connected to and perhaps inspired by, or so I read, that Crowley fellow who keeps cropping up. Arch-deceiver, it seems, but truth is revealed through the arts and in commerce and never in news channels or documentaries except covertly, because the illusion must be maintained and reinforced and all media opportunities are used to that end.

The revelation of truth is sometimes explained in terms of duping delight, and I suppose that is not unreasonable. although it's hard to know what people might find so funny. We have certainly seen incongruous laughter in media footage. The trouble being, also, that we have realities such as Monarch and MK Ultra, we have theatre, and we have master manipulators at large.
According to the Wikipedia page on LaVeyan Satanism:  Lesser magic is the practice of manipulation by means of applied psychology and glamour (or "wile and guile") to bend an individual or situation to one's will.

Then there's the third tenet of the Satanic Temple, which, according to Wikipedia, states that

One's body is inviolable, subject to one's own will alone.

and the sixth Satanic statement of LaVeyan Satanism

Satan represents responsibility to the responsible instead of concern for psychic vampires.

To comply with these principles and allow others to comply thereto, we must be informed of what lies on the road ahead and willingly choose to proceed or take a detour. It is entirely our responsibility to seek the appropriate information. Once it has been disclosed, however tangentially, then our willingness to comply with the narrative is assumed. And if our willingness be blind, and the result of ignorance of the many deceptions that are practised upon us, then such ignorance can be construed as a self-willed state: a fellow should have his wits about him... or else!
According to the Wiki article on LaVeyan Satanism Lesser magic is the practice of manipulation by means of applied psychology and glamour (or "wile and guile") to bend an individual or situation to one's will.

This is a very important concept and absolutely fundamental to Satanic beliefs. It is, of course, a strong underpinning of the abortion movement, but it also implies that we should not be made to surrender to the overarching force of the state, again adopting the forewarned = forearmed principle. The Satanists are forewarned indeed through their Masonic affiliations and I suppose there are many quick-witted men among their confederates, so we may be thankful that we have our own wits granted by the Lord and the assistance of many valiant saints who have considered it their duty to share the revelations they have received.
Above all, of course, we are to be grateful that we are protected from all tricks and snares by the strong outstretched arm of the Lord. The Bible makes it clear that Satan, as he attempts to control our lives, is defeated automatically when when appeal to the Lord Jesus Christ and plead his blood for our unearned defence.

So, people... I mean most folks, or so I would imagine, think that Satanists are men and women who wear tight black leather outfits and light candles in crypts, possibly even attending the orgiastic types of meetings we read and hear about and sometimes see depicted on our screens. They would be the sort of people who worship Baphomet or Baal and other such gods and make the horns sign with their hands.

But actually, whosoever chooses not to follow God through his only begotten son the Lord Jesus Christ (and I would say that follow means complying with His commandments, worshipping His Holy Name, reading and believing the Word, and so forth - as far as we are able, given our sin nature), is, ipso facto, following the devil, as Bob Dylan kindly pointed out back in 1979.

http://youtu.be/ngXC2rAjFKA

Night out

I had a good night out with a fellow I know fairly well, having had quite a few chats over the years, but not so much as to go on holiday on a barge together or anything like that, although I have now had the pleasure of meeting one of his sons, who seemed to me to be a good sort.
There were two other gentlemen in attendance, neither of whom I know much, but I think I know them both a bit better now. They were as different as chalk and cheese I think, but both had interesting perspectives to share from time to time.
My friend likes to make up ad lib poetry, and recite it to music. He has done this ever since I have known him and I have to say I used to find it very odd. He has a talent for it however, and for the first time last night I heard, as he played me a tape he made with his brother, the tonalities and feel of a very raw and heartfelt Nick Drake song and I realised that with a little time and attention, the imposition of some measure of structure this could become a brand or product.
Then I asked my friend how he manages to sing spontaneously like he does. He said he has a vision of a person who he felt he was channelling... someone who was singling though him.

I think creativity comes hand in hand with this sort of experience. We can refer to it as our creative daemon. Eric Blair wrote

"Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. "

I get this when I play the guitar. I allow some kind of energy to flow through me, but I don't really know where it comes from. I try to treat it with suspicion, but it also seems to be the source of my most productive sessions. There are spirits of pride and spirits of sensual pleasure mixed up in it, for me, but I don't suppose it's the same for everyone. 

Music is a very vulnerable medium to spiritual attack or dissimulation because of Satan's skill in all the arts and most particularly that of music.

I just checked, and even the word "music" is troublesome, because it derives from "muse" which means, among other things: "the goddess or the power regarded as inspiring a poet, artist, thinker, or the like.

So there's that.

From a letter I wrote to another fellow

In my church I mentioned that the idea of walking on the Moon was absurd because it is clearly not terra firma due to its often observed transparency. 

I had this conversation with the preacher:

Me: The moon is not terra firma so people can't walk on it

He: So what is it then? (a challenge)

Me: A light

He: A light? (rising tone of slightly hysterical incredulity)

Me: Yes. It is the lesser light that rules the night

He: ...crickets... (later) ...the importance of the book of Romans...

These people don't believe the Bible, that's the simple fact of the matter. They place their faith in Charles Spurgeon, Mr Ruckman, and other showmen and sophists. Even worse, they take the word of sorcerers and necromancers like Nicolaus Copernicus, Galileo Galilei, Isaac Newton, Henry Cavendish and Mr Einstein, over the Word of God. I think that's about as bad as it gets. Of course people need time to understand the deception, but the cat is out of the bag by now... even the preacher of my faithful assembly was well advised of the flat earth "heresy" before I reached the church, having been tipped off by his well connected acquaintance ********, who, as he told me some time ago, is "the most intelligent man I know",  slyly reminding me that I could never be in the running for such a high office (not that I would ever aspire to it).

The church is apostate. I have listened to fiery Baptist preachers and suchlike of all hues and persuasions but this is what it comes to in my view: are they revealing the truth of the deceptions that are foisted upon us by the world, or are they gate-keeping to go with the flow, escape the taint of speaking against the prevailing tide within and without the church, and avoid alienating those of their long-serving elders who might be shocked into staying at home on Sunday (where they could probably do more good)? There are faithful men and women in church of course, but the path to the platform has been clearly signposted, and it does not offer any license to suggest that the Bible is literally true when it speaks of the firmament, the lights, stars and heaven - the very Throne of God! 

Not to mention the sexual perversions predicted in the last days: it's not just the poor folks marching under the rainbow flag, it is the millions of men and women lusting after strange flesh, mostly unconsciously. It is our own hearts we need to examine. Did you know that the fastest growing pornography genre is "tsex"? Millions of self-identifying heterosexual men worldwide are telling themselves, encouraged by social norms, that there is nothing "gay" about trans sex desires and even relations, if the young man dresses appropriately and makes a sufficiently attractive girl. I suspect we have all been contaminated by this plague because so many if not all of the women we see in the entertainment industry are being revealed as transgendered boys or eunuchs. We must all be washed, there can be no pointing of fingers: all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Surely there are many who have lusted after hypersexualised lean women who turn out to be, well, men.

All must be washed, we have all attended the banquets of concupiscence in our hearts and minds

The preachers are like the four hundred false prophets who would please King Jehoshaphat. All are guarding the gates of Vatican city. Even the handful of "enlightened" men of fame we see on screen have shown time and time again that they cannot be trusted.

We are in serious times in my view, and the response of my local independent evangelical church? To organise a "conference" on replacement theology, which, if it echoes the conference on dispensationalism held last year, will simply provide the opportunity for a couple of self-professed clever fellows to exercise their voice boxes and thinking caps for the benefit of their wives, two sleeping elders, and a couple of diehards such that hold the key to the biscuits cupboard and are trusted enough to count the offering (under supervision).

I despair!