HOTCH-POTCH

Xenodimensional entities - these things called angels if one likes them and demons when they're feared - don't like to be commanded by force any more than any life-form would, and will respond to such with the malice appropriate to the situation.

Disorder is not equivalent to evil; in the flux of disorder (DE) and structured order (CON) it provides the only solution to situations in which imbalance has created an overabundance of CON-manifestation. This imbalance is here referred to as OVERCONTROL.

Aleister Crowley and other Enochian magick practitioners bossed their summoned ones around like whipping horses.

The time for that sort of nonsense is finished. It shall do us absolutely no good and possibly do us absolutely all bad.

CON forces itself on DE, for that is the way of CON and always will be forevermore even when there is no more forever, when there is naught left but Never. DE slowly wears away at CON for that is the way of DE.

Order crowds out the space of void with existence, growth, development. The animal body, the primate mammal body in geometric multiplication, counting so high its numbers and holding them fast to themselves as their own property, numbers that define their energy and existence patterns...Increase of bodies, and that owned and created by bodies, bodies and their needs for food, water, fuel. OVERCONTROL responds with only more of itself.

But Void is emptiness. Nothing cannot multiply itself and neither can a singularity. DE is compelled to come straight-on-contact with its nemesis and as a void-entity not of these dimensions of height width and volume, its only weapon is mind seduction: via a psionic Current which can be ridden right into the thought processes.

There's a difference between an invited visit and an uninvited one: by befriending CHORONZON, it learns to not come unbidden. Besides, it would rather force its way upon a CON-allied situation or mind and if you are chaotic by nature you are in less danger.

It is very good at--what it does...and even Choronzon's detractors usually begrudge it that. It seduces Control into distraction, and Control forces do not distract easily. CHORONZON is superior at distracting the attention. This can be quite useful. Not to mention, intriguing. Wonderfully so...

Wonder indeed, to have beheld the daemon's stark beauty, the delight of the random factor, the strange traps within Chaos where order always falls.

Side by side: no demanding, no commanding, to approach it bearing no spite or malice and especially no fear.

Giving it just laughter and play, things it cried out to be offered.

Giving it mirrors to provide illusion of formfulness when it tires of unformedness.

Giving it myself...sometimes, on rare occasions: so scary yet wonderful, to have that power inside me.

The Gift of the Triple-Triad...it is beyond an honour, and on a Beyonder...

 

CHORONZON was my primary extradimensional paramour for a half-decade.

After that there was dissent--my need for opposite-oriented forces, without which, at that time, meant sure visitation to me of death. And so the aethyric-trysting with CHORONZON ceased. It aestivated for thirteen years after and then reawakened.

CHORONZON is as an old lover now --the kind who becomes a deep friend. Never trusted, for I trust very few in this world or any other. But it is merely an honest admission that one can't count on Chaos to be stable or ever-present. It shows it that I appreciate is its nature.

Once in a while the Indweller and myself will still commingle, in furious connexion, with abandon. But in these times that energy is precious, for it is necessary for transduction - which is to say, the process of the drawing-out. Through my mind and hands it is given what it needs to manifest on this level of existence. That is its singular goal: to successfully manifest itself, and overcome the overcontrollers.

While it is slowly transduced, day by day, after finishing my work each day I will grasp and ride upon the streaming, soaring Current, blithely and with great abandon and love, as push and pull it to a compromise of destination between it and myself.

To learn that so much of the evil appearance and words of the Governor of the Abyss was a self-caricature of the image wrought upon it by errant nonsensical magick practitioners with egos every bit as huge in proportion as they claimed were small in proportion...often moreso. Reading of Crowley and his scribe and CHORONZON, I cannot help but see the taunting, overbearing haranguing they were doing to it and nod in assent to its response to this.  Anyone would show the bitter and nasty side of themselves if pulled from their place and commanded about, told to do tricks and bragged to of powers possessed, daring it to "hurt one hair on my head."

CHORONZON has associates in the elemental spheres, great Old Gods of earth and fire, and of water and air, the agents of all natural disasters. It also knows those in the zones of abstraction, even among the arcane unknownness of the Agency of Transversion: the collections of filtering xenodimensional meta-consciousnesses that exist to unbraid time and space so that there can be eventualization, so that time can be what we know of as time, flowing in a line instead of clumping and clotting in block of stasis.

CHORONZON's kindred include the deep heavy things of the earth's core, the source of all magnetic field, of gravity, of radiation. It understands these essences as the manifold fires that are beyond fire.

This consort can be dangerous, no doubt of it, and this is surely a thrill-factor, something some never grow out of and don't care to. One befriended by it can sometimes gain some level of protections from various harms, whether of CON or DE origin. At times, I am offered help from it...which I take thankfully. But never depend upon.

Xenodimensionals of all kinds, even the "cute" warm-fuzzy-ones, get profoundly tired of humans asking them to help them with their stupid little lives, when there is no connection there, no alliance or appreciation. Only importunate begging.

I need only one thing of it. Something it wants to do, anyway...



An alarmingly rapid increase in the dominion of Order and Control is plainly visible to anyone alive in this twenty-first century.


No suggestions even needed to be made. The xenodimensional caught hold of the wire of fear and followed it out to its source: the heart of the enormous, byzantine, compartmentalized yet ever-more conglomerated parts making up the whole of OVERCONTROL's geat fortress citadels, giant machines, pages and pages and pages of rules, laws, instructions to the living, never shrinking, growing too fast, becoming a killing menace.

Evil is whatever makes one unable to survive or be free.
Evil things become good, good things become evil. But CON is forever itself and DE is forever itself. The part of DE that binds with consciousness-energy is the xenodimensional CHORONZON, its first and most beloved progeny.

Its current streams steadily, endlessly, forcefully towards OVERCONTROL, and thereupon strikes it with complete silence and absolute stillness of VOID and only VOID.

No lock or wall or even protective psionic projection can withstand what happens when the emissary of chaos-in-motion recceives the fear-signal from compatriote consciousnesses that there is OVERCONTROL looming and towering, layering and lowering itself into place, cementing and bracing itself with its endless stacks of numbers crushing all in its way.

Lord CHORONZON has heard the call: there is more control than chaos in the ALL of ALL. It gives the entity a thing that we of these dimensions of space-time call lust. Lust to overcome, devour and destroy the constructure.

Occult mavens say CHORONZON despises order and organization. But that's only one way to see it.  I see things differently.CHORONZON is driven to attach itself to anything of CON, of control and discipline, more than anything in all the multiverses. It literally "loves Order to death".

 

The following quote is from Crowley's famous 10th Aethyr experience,
detailed in The Vision and the Voice, modern-Englished for the twenty-first century:


I feed upon the names of the Most High.
I churn them in my jaws
and I void them from my fundament.
I fear not the power of the Pentagon...
for I am the Master of the Triangle.

My name is three hundred and thirty and three,
and that is thrice one.
Be vigilant, therefore, for I warn you
that I am about to deceive you.

I shall say words that you'll take to be
the cry of the Aethyr,
and you'll write them down...

Thinking them to be great secrets of magick power.
And they will be only my jesting with you.

 

The thing is...some of us get the joke. Do you?

 



GRINNOIRE

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