This chapter outlines the psychological, esoteric, and character profile of the ideal aspirant within the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe—a solitary, highly disciplined, and unhuman individual predestined for antinomian action. Operating through absolute individualism, mimicry, and total independence from organized structures, the aspirant is called to transcend collective morality, embrace his own sovereign truth, and align his consciousness with the ultimate force governing life and death.
In this section, we will discuss certain traits that, in my view, should characterize an aspirant of the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe. These traits outline the character structure of a revolutionary, which also remains open to unique personal qualities. Accession to the revolutionary core is not a matter of desire, conviction, or enthusiasm, but of predestination. Someone is predestined for it, someone is not—by fate, genetics, or whatever it may be. The majority are not. However, that is not all. Even among those who are predestined for revolutionary action, among the majority of the predestined, the revolutionary mentality, lifestyle, way of thinking, and acting are unacceptable, primarily because it implies a renunciation of humanity. It is indeed a heavy requirement—to be non-human. We see that, at least theoretically, the number of potential revolutionaries is very small, which suggests that the movement of the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe is elitistically and individualistically grounded. This movement is characterized by the absence of any organization, collectivity, or alignment on a visible level. A passion for subversion and conspiracy forms the foundation of revolutionary orientation and action. Nevertheless, this does not mean there is no room in the projection of the revolution for sympathizers, as well as for those who wish to derive some benefit from it. In certain forms of revolutionary activity, their engagement is possible, desirable, and sometimes even necessary.
Here I will elaborate on the profile of the lower aspirant of the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe—that is, the one who strives to enter that part of its magical chain which I have designated as Ruah. I emphasize that these are by no means fixed rules; rather, I am presenting a view of an ideal candidate. Naturally, all kinds of deviations are possible. First, the revolutionary is male—not in the sense of a macho type, but of the male sex, specifically of unquestionable masculinity, with prevailing masculine traits in his character and anatomy: he is not effeminate in speech, movements, or manner of thinking, nor does he possess feminine traces in his physical build. And what is also important, he is very young, perhaps an older teenager or a young adult. Sexual orientation is irrelevant, because sexuality, like everything else in the revolutionary, is subject to the will. What is an orientation today can become a tool tomorrow. Thus, the revolutionary is not a slave to his impulses, but their master.
Second, our aspirant feels that he is somehow special, set apart, different, even superior to other people in his environment, sensing that his true nature is constrained and for some reason prevented from coming to expression. He is conscious of the symptoms of his giftedness and exceptionality, which manifest primarily in the breadth and depth of his interests and abilities. Being constantly preoccupied with himself and his interests (centered on self-analysis and the analysis of the objects of his interest), he is also pervaded by a feeling that he is predestined, called, or ideal for some great human, cosmic, historical, divine, or demonic life mission to which he would entirely devote himself, yet he lacks a clear vision of what that mission actually is and what he should specifically do. In other words, he should suffer from an incubating messianic frustration, if I may put it that way. He knows he ought to dedicate his entire being to something, but he does not know exactly what that is.
Third, our aspirant is in a constant identity crisis. He has no reference in his social environment with which he could fully identify. He feels no essential belonging to any social group, or any ideological and political identity. Nor does he find himself within general epistemological-developmental, esoteric, or occult frameworks. In everything, he might find something he could agree with, but to a greater extent, repulsion toward such classifications prevails within him. Hence, he feels he belongs nowhere. Even toward the designation "human," he feels nothing particularly close, given the frustrating inadequacies of that form. Even his own name sometimes strikes him as laughable, grotesque, imposed, or inappropriate (especially when uttered by others). He would rather be called something else, certainly in alignment with what he deeply feels as his true nature, which somehow fails to come to light given his lack of self-knowledge on a foundational level.
It follows from the preceding that he is prone to convertism. Very early on, he began searching, wandering, and asking fatal and essential questions to which he received unsatisfactory answers, or no answers at all. He frequently changed his ideological, religious, and political convictions, warming up to and cooling off from various political-ideological, philosophical, cultural, religious, magical, or mystical movements, schools, and systems. All of them are approximately equal parts attractive and repulsive in their limitations. It seems to him that none of them is complete. Thus, over time, he acquired a certain indifference toward the seductiveness of human statements, toward every school of thought or spirituality. None of those schools helped him to finally achieve completeness in his striving and action. They all gave a little, and what they gave—given their mutual contradictions or incompatibility—causes more harm than benefit. On that basis, he could not finally define, reorganize, realize, and direct himself in a way that he would feel with his entire being as correct. More precisely, none of those schools provided him with that life privilege of peacefully following his own path of the heart within a clear direction. For that path, he sincerely longs. In the meantime, he believes in nothing.
Since he found himself nowhere—that is, none of all the possible teachings, ideologies, and worldviews that reached him matched what he senses as his true path—he could not accept any particular ethical-moral system that those worldviews carry. Consequently, he longs to embrace an ethical code that would correspond to what he deeply, yet vaguely, feels. Having no navigational point for identification, it is normal that he has no morality either, even though he truly misses it. He would prefer to build his own moral code because his moral emptiness weighs heavily on him, but he lacks a guiding idea, though he would certainly have the strength. He has no clear role model from which to derive an autonomous and original morality. External morality seems shallow, primitive, or unreachable to him, while he lacks his own, yet strives to have it.
Sixth, he possesses an enviable education. Regarding everything he has touched or learned in any way—from literature, in relationships with others, or otherwise—he has thought deeply and drawn specific conclusions. His broad education (mostly self-taught) is the fruit of his interests and the effort invested toward researching and mastering certain fields. He is passionately interested in history, religion, art, the works of famous and alternative thinkers and philosophers, mystics and poets, mythology, occultism, politics, psychology, and natural sciences. He seeks answers to fundamental questions. He engages, or attempts to engage, in some form of art—writing, painting, and the like—since he feels a strong creative urge.
As a seventh point, we can call him, to a certain extent, a misanthrope. For the most part, he does not find people who match his interests, with whom he could share thoughts, experiences, or undertake joint actions. Usually, their scope of interests, thinking, and action is significantly narrower or more focused than his, which frustrates and inhibits him from opening up to those people or being honest, as he usually, sooner or later, hits a wall of incomprehension. Often people cannot keep up with him, let alone lead in that game, which prompts him to be withdrawn, even though he is inherently very communicative, articulate, and often charismatic. For these reasons, he feels a slight contempt for people and a disgust toward human limitations. Phrases like "killing time" or "boredom" evoke utter disgust in him, and people who are always bored unless they have company, or who aimlessly waste time, are inferior to him. Unlike them, he is always active. He deeply feels the passage of time and, in a way, regrets that the day is so short. Also, his longing for company stems not from boredom, but from a desire to share his intellectual or other achievements with others. He wants to teach, but he also wants to be taught.
During his self-directed education, he acquired great discipline, realizing the full significance of self-control, thereby building an enviable level of work ethic. He knows how to create a list of priorities. He is dedicated to his intentions, research, and learning. He is conscious of and takes responsibility for his actions. He absolutely rejects anyone's interference in his life, which he considers to be exclusively under his jurisdiction and responsibility, for which he is ready to bear the consequences. On top of that, he is adorned with so-called nerves of steel, great patience, ambition, and the ability to pursue abstract goals. Whatever he engaged in, he poured his whole self into it. If he finds himself in the ideas of the Revolution, there is no doubt he will make a good soldier, if not a commander.
The advantage of the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe over other conspiratorial, rebellious, and revolutionary actions is reflected primarily in an entirely individual mode of action. Its routes are determined by each individual revolutionary in accordance with his own will. The specific nature of the "inner revolutionary core" mode is the absence of any form of organization. Revolutionaries are scattered like stars. They do not even know each other, and if they do know each other, they do not recognize one another—not because they are incapable of recognizing each other as members of the same mission, but because they do not wish to. Each of them strives to direct revolutionary flows in his own way and, toward that end, at a certain moment, may initiate someone—a future aspirant whom he will teach—which does not mean that this junior will not one day cast aside his teacher's instruction should he see fit. On the other hand, he will not seek out his revolutionary comrades because they play other roles. He might find them, but they will be divided by insurmountable obstacles and differences.
For the aspirant of the Revolution, "spiritual solitude is a heavenly gift," as an anonymous spiritual teacher once said, followed by many mediocrities who wanted to sound profound. Yet, as in many other things, they were right this time too, just not in the way they thought. This means that the aspirant acts exclusively independently, dedicatedly, patiently, and with utmost discretion, even if he happens to be a well-known public figure. As a personality, he holds no importance in this; rather, anonymity applies to his revolutionary orientation and action. The revolutionary is like a spy or an operative leading a double life. He must be prepared to make and respect his own decisions, for his decisions are simultaneously guidelines for revolutionary action. Once he chooses the Revolution as a comprehensive path, from that moment on he will be unable to live otherwise than in accordance with his decisions. This means that the revolutionary initiate has a free hand to direct the Revolution as he sees fit, because whatever he does will not be in essential contradiction with the actions of another revolutionary. A free hand is an expression of his sovereignty, individuality, and uniqueness.
The revolutionary acts on the basis of his personal code, established as soon as it is recognized and accepted by the inner circle. He feels a repulsion toward organized and group forms of action in the name of an ideal or deity, though for the sake of mimicry he may join them, or even become their leader or founder, if he deems it necessary. Certainly, he will one day feel the unbearable anguish of solitude, and that is a crucial moment, for out of that solitude arises a need that cannot be interpreted otherwise than that Order must exist—a revolutionary Order whose continuity is forged on a one-on-one basis. In that sense, the revolutionary becomes a frater superior to the revolutionary neophyte, becoming his teacher, while the latter becomes his student. There is only one teacher and only one student. There is no lateral branching, nor higher structures and hierarchies. If that happens, the Revolution comes to nothing. Tradition proceeds on a one-on-one basis, exceptionally one-on-two.
As a tenth point, we emphasize his inclination toward mimicry, in the sense of pretending and acting to achieve his intentions. He can act contrary to his convictions, passionately and logically advocating a stance that clashes with his own. He is even capable, if he deems it necessary, of going against his own feelings. In forms of behavior and speech, he is infinitely inventive.
In line with the preceding, the initiate of the revolution is also emotionally "untouchable." This does not mean he is devoid of feelings. He empathizes, knows how to love, to be devoted, to feel disgust, to be sad, angry, or to yearn, but he does not surrender to those feelings. He does not succumb to them. He knows how to channel them to a functional degree. Because of this, he essentially cannot be emotionally hurt, offended, or shaken by events around him, which does not mean he is fearless or a coward. Nevertheless, he can be a true friend, a loyal enemy, a faithful husband, or a good father, yet without blinking, he can abandon everything—including the Revolution, and ultimately himself—if he so decides.
In a way, he is a fatalist. He is conscious of the constant and near-immediate proximity of infinity, fate, and death. He feels that his soul is very old, which renders him essentially disinterested in his own fate as well as the fate of all those he knows, is close to, or with whom he stands in a hostile or indifferent relationship. Hence, he is indifferent to concepts such as success, failure, and the like.
However, let no one be deceived. This profile is not a praise, but should rather be taken as a warning. These traits, in and of themselves, do not make a revolutionary, but rather make him a candidate. But as is the nature of things, many candidates fail, because what is not described here, yet remains crucial, is the readiness for total destruction—not for risk, not for adventure, but for total and irreversible renunciation of one's own humanity. That is what separates a true aspirant from one who merely dreams about it.
Much more could be added to the profile of a hypothetical revolutionary. What I consider important on this occasion is that this doctrinal theory be neither rejected nor fully accepted in the mind of the reader. What matters is that someone, somewhere, someday, adopts the mode of thinking presented in this book—not my premises, executions, conclusions, interpretations, or goals, but merely the mode of thinking. That step alone is a revolutionary act. That will certainly give birth, through other people, to new doctrines in theoretical and practical aspects. However, doctrines are not important, nor are the actions taken or not taken by their creators and followers—what matters is spreading the mode of thinking. If you must die, do so with your own truth in your heart and mind, not with the truths of others. Whether that was a wise choice or a worthwhile effort will be revealed to you alone. In the light of others' truths, nothing will be revealed to you. Think, even if it be in vain. Your truth, and yours alone, is the only wealth you can truly possess, which is truly yours and which no one can take from you. Everything else is irrelevant. At the moment of your death, your truth has two choices: either to die with you, or to continue its life. That depends exclusively on you.
As individuals, we are unique and unrepeatable. Our life is unique and unrepeatable. The purpose of human life is to feed, with oneself and the content of one's consciousness, the force that stands behind life and death. Our goal as revolutionaries is to identify with that force. That force is both personal and impersonal, individual and collective, conceivable and inconceivable, existing and non-existing. With its aid, we can fulfill our mission; we can die in the body while remaining seemingly alive. And when we physically pass away, we can exist undying, because as such we became during life.
Related articles:
Baphomithras: Introduction to the Doctrine of the Divine Revolution of Catastrophe
Baphomithras: Awakening from the Matrix: Free Will, Systemic Control, and Revolution
NOTE:
Originally published in Serbian. This English version is an AI-assisted translation of the original text.
No comments:
Post a Comment