Christ in the Lap of Truth, 1805 Painting by William Blake
I ended my previous blog by asserting that Christian religionism for Blake had carried over the worshipping of the demiurge from the followers of Jehovah, which made it, essentially, Devil Worship. Again, by further implication, this makes of materialism the totalising Devil Worship of our times.
What did I mean by totalising?
Totalising in the sense that what William Blake saw as an idolatrous doctrine, a profane doctrine, has become the globalist doctrine, the shared attitude.
Blake would say that we are now all followers of Urizen; we are all in the ‘Synogogue of Satan’. Karl Marx said as much.
Diversity is dead All is as One And 1=0
What stops us short of the precipice, just short of a return to Chaos, the realm of Ananke who almost holds sway?
A Saviour transgressor:
Like doctrinal religion, profane societies need laws, rules, contracts and institutions: they are those laws which, growing old as man progresses, constitute the force of the Pharisees of every age and the reason for the ideal struggle of the few who in each age attempt to renew them, whilst complying with them.
The error of believing that the existing society is true must not be committed, as only that which is created and still has to be created can be true.
The transgressor is Saviour.
It is the violation and penetration of Ananke by Love, and Love is God, not the imposter Urizen.
And Love is in the beginning - always.
And Love is incarnated.
And Love is murdered by the Pharisees of all times, the totalisers.
The idolaters would have us know God as something presupposed, an aged and vengeful curmudgeon who has been around forever, wholly apart.
In their totalising way they set everything up as something over there, to be understood as something apart, which is arguably the position of our own contemporaries. From religious idolatry to materialism is a short step.
The Incarnation overturns such idols.
Love suddenly stands before us, love becomes the medium in which we exist.
Love is not something objectively valid and over there, something to be explained:
In Love we are in the presence of a mystery, a reality rooted far beyond the domain of the problematical and the day-to-day challenges of just getting by. And this is no fanciful reminiscence, for in the chance encounter’s awakening of consciousness, with its ‘implications for eternity’, we cut right to the heart of religious mystery. For what is Love? Love is God. (Child of Encounter)
In love I was suddenly conscious of my every breath, Love was the medium of my existence.
…he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. (1 John 4:16)
Not all dwell in Love:
Urizen called together the Synagogue of Satan in dire Sanhedrim To judge the Lamb of God to death as a murderer and a robber. (Blake’s Jerusalem)
Urizen and his followers are the anti-Love. Love is not a vengeful curmudgeon, Love is a helpless newborn babe.
William Blake’s Urizen: craftsman, but no creator.
Totalising Devil Worship
In describing a Urizen, William Blake was, of course, not describing a thing, he was describing the state of mind in which his contemporaries lived.
They worshipped a graven image, they made of God a graven idol. They set an idol up before which to kneel. An image sculptured by the mind is no less an idol than one of stone.
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image Exodus 20:4
But going beyond this, such a mindset makes of everything an idol. It sets everything up as something over there, to be understood as something apart, which is arguably the position of our own contemporaries. From religious idolatry to materialism is a short step.
Such an attitude makes it easy to move on the the next step, which is to countenance the existence of a world, or cosmos, without the mind of man, whereas before the mind of man there existed only one amorphous mass the ancient Greeks called Chaos; in my Mythology it is the realm of Ananke, the One, the forever, the undisturbed, the inevitable.
Thecosmos cannot be without man. In an infinite Cosmos without man, there would be no ‘that is’, there would be no ‘be’ing. Where there is no being, there is void, no-thing; there is 0. Without man, 1=0.
What Blake is grappling with here is an irony, i.e. that worshippers have themselves sculptured in the mind an object of worship, which they go onto believe is an entity wholly apart from them, i.e. an all-knowing God which controls the affairs of man from across a divide. Such a distanced entity Blake described rather as Urizen, the demiurge, a 'self-deluded and anxious' shaper of pre-existent matter, i.e. not the Creator of something from nothing.
By implication, this made of the Bible's Jehovah a Satan, the puppeteer pulling the strings of mankind, an over-bearing father, a failed architect, and the ‘Accuser of the World' who unfairly condemned Adam and Eve when he was the one at fault.
Christian religionism for Blake had carried over the worshipping of the demiurge from the followers of Jehovah, which made it, essentially, Devil Worship. Again, by further implication, this makes of materialism the totalising Devil Worship of our times.
Chaos c.1875–82 by George Frederic Watts 1817–1904
Into the chaos*
The nauseating refrain “I just want to be happy” rises from the moony world of Beulah, where the debt-ensnared seek the relief doled out by the followers of Urizen, not seeing that what is handed out is what they themselves handed in.
A sadistic light show casts fleeting shadows in a cave of contentment,
And the dumb innocents snatch out mindlessly,
And love is lost in the chase,
And all the dumb innocents are lost in the same activity until the day is done.
All is indistinguishable, man from man, race from race, man from animal,
And the light available to the demonic is limitless,
Whereas man has held only shadows from birth.
Know this, screams Eros/Zarathustra into the chaos,
The violator, now conscious, was the violated party.
But is not the unremitting cycle to be consciously broken?
Yes consciousness is the goal.
Yes that was the hope of Zarathustra/Eros upon his return to Beulah from the mountain top.
But in most of the dumb innocents the birth of consciousness is thwarted by the children of Ananke, the followers of Urizen.
Ensnared in debt from birth, the dumb innocents of Beulah are happy to find relief in any distraction, and the followers of Urizen are there to provide it.
Beulah is a place in which the do-nothing dumb masses might find contentment. “I just want to be happy” is the nauseating refrain.
I quote Gottfried Leibniz in a letter to Christian Wolff of 21st February 1705:
Ido not think that there can be a blessedness in creatures that would be the satisfaction of every sort of desire, but rather that the true blessedness of a created mind consists in the unimpeded progress to greater goods. It is not enough to enjoy a contented and tranquil mind, for that also belongs to those in a stupor.
The point is made.
Whose benefit is served by holding the innocents in stupor?
….the holders of the chains of debt .…the holders of the chains of knowledge
Yes- there are specific agencies involved, but they all share the same Spinozist, Marxist, Kabbalistic, Freemasonic and Derridian underpinnings. They are the children of Ananke, followers of Urizen, the anti-Love, the murderers of Love, driving the world on to undifferentiated Oneness and entropic death.
The violator violated comes to consciousness. There is incarnation …he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. (1 John 4:16). There is resurrection and new life.
I quote from Child of Encounter:
So,to look at this negatively, a life devoid of the experience of Love is devoid of God. But we cannot just choose to love can we? Surely a real experience of Love comes through the chance encounter. As such, some are elected and others are not one might say.
And Eros/Zarathustra came down from the mountain and urged the Elect to tear down the flags of imperialism and lead the dumb innocents out of Beulah under the banner of the vivifying sun.
My commentary is almost ready to support a short video of a motorcycle ride along an historical stretch of the Great North Road, at Eaton Socon.
I made the journey on my 500cc single cyclinder Royal Enfield, a motorcycle designed to deal with exactly this sort of road, redolent of the motoring eras just before and after the Second World War.
Please accept that the commentary is written out as the spoken word, with the consequent informalities.
I’m on the Great North Road at Eaton Socon - in south-west Cambridgeshire.
This old and historic road at this point was by-passed by the A1 in 1971. Eaton Socon’s coaching inns once provided food, lodgings and a change of horses to travellers on the stage coaches between London and York and all points in between. Similar hospitality was offered to cyclists and motorists with the revival of road transport at the end of the nineteenth century.
I’m starting off, just next to the The Crown, an old coaching inn. I’m sorry, I should have turned to get it into camera shot.
This old road was once the Biggleswade to Alconbury Turnpike of 1725 until the 1880s, one of the earliest turnpikes. It was later designated in the1920s as the A1, the foremost road of the realm.
Another coaching inn, The Bell, once stood where the KFC in this new development on the left now stands.
That timber framed building on the left was a Tea House in some 1939 film footage I’ve seen. I’d like to bet that earlier it was an old coaching inn. It’s now an Indian Restaurant.
Here we get to the Ye Olde White Horse Inn on the left
The inn has provided hospitality since the 1200s, which id mind-boggling, and says much too about the historical importance of this old road.
Here is a wonderful photograph taken in the late 1800s, looking back at the route I have just followed. Ye Olde White Horse is on the right.
I am interested in what I have coined as the transition era, i.e. when these roads and inns fell into decline due to the rise of the steam railway network, and when they began to revive again, prompted by the return of traffic to the roads, firstly in the form of cyclists, and then as motorists.
The road is not yet tarmacked, harking back still to the turnpike era that ended only 15 years before.
I’ve blown up part of the photograph to show the signs for “Vacuum Motor Car Oils”, “Shell Motor Spirit” and “Pratt’s Spirit” hung from the hotel wall. Presumably these were sold from cans, there being no pumps to be seen.
The White Horse promotion to cyclists and motorists captures the era in which the roads were beginning to recover from the doldrums after steam railways had killed off the old coaching trade.
Cyclists come before motorists in this promotion, suggesting that the greater volume of business came from the pedalling travellers. This must place this photograph very early in the motoring era, say around 1901-5.
Here are a couple of photos from the 1920s. Its hard to tell whether the road is tarmacked or not, I think not.
The road scene beside Ye Olde White Horse becomes more recognisably modern in this photo from the 1960s, taken not long before this stretch of the A1 was eventually by-passed by a dual carriageway in 1971. Imagine the amount of heavy traffic thundering through here and, whist no longer selling petrol, the old inn remained to provide motorists with rest, food and accommodation.
The old inn is still serving ale and foodto this day, but its role of providing hospitality to passers-by on the busy A1 is a distant memory.
That white painted building on the left is the former Wheatsheaf public house, now a residential property.
The Old Sun follows on the left, the Waggon and Horses on the right, its name redolent of the trade it served in days gone by.
What an evocative stretch of old road this is. What stories it could tell about historical journeys undertaken along its length. The stage coach era, the first cyclists and early motoring era, all are evoked by this stretch of the Great North Road, the old A1. So many inns to serve the travellers, many no doubt lost, some perhaps I’ve overlooked.
And there on the left, to end my ride along this ancient highway, is another coaching inn, the George and Dragon, as I take the fork right towards the bridge across the Great Ouse at St. Neots, and then on to Cambridge.