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[heathenstorm]

We stand on the shoulders of giants. Privileged and empowered by the sacrosanct dogma of dead men. Words to restrict reality - contrived by those of older eras, and crumbling like weathered stone under the needs of the now. . This is not the age of coked-up conjurers and debaucherous débutantes. Tiresome pretenders lost in laudanum fancies, who see foundation as pinnacle and rise no further. . This is not the age of pseudo-historical make-believe. LARP-ers learning their legacy through media machination, heritage long usurped to turn a coin. . This is the age of information. Of hyperconnected knowledge and plain-sight secrets. No longer must gatekeepers or hierachies be tolerated. Those safe little cliques of backbiting and exploitation have no purpose here. . All are equal in the accountability of self-actualisation, and all culpable to the consequence of choice. These are the terrifying birthpains of the macrosociety, and a different paradigm must ascend. . We may stand on the shoulders of giants, but we must also shit on them and burn down the idolatry of the past. Not to erase that which has come before, but to distill it. Discard that which must be lost to the prejudicial excess of time, and extract the fragments of absolute truth within. Concepts still relevant to the moment and the essential, unyielding nature of humanity. . Become the iconoclast. That inconvenient splinter in the authoritarian eye. Question all and attain the answers. Write new words without fear, and spread them far. Secure a strong voice in the cacophany of irrelevance, and look past the fire to the stars beyond. . For the future will judge us as we judge the past. . [Photo taken Neudegg Alm, Summer Solstice 2015. A different age in itself.] . #solstice #summersolstice #fire #standingontheshouldersofgiants #iconoclasm #neudeggalm https://www.instagram.com/p/CQX8ubhpf26/?utm_medium=tumblr

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Invocation Summoning.

Media Synthesis as a form of sigil magick. A rendering layer for Servitor.

The process begins with an abstract concept. (In this case the phrase “Invocation Summoning” - with apologies to Hexvessel.) This phrase is then used as the input to Big Sleep, a combination of adverserial Neural Networks specialising in image generation.

Over multiple iterations, Big Sleep 'imagines' an image which best represents the supplied concept. This image has no basis in reality, and exists purely in the 'Mind Palace' of the process. The first attempt is a rough sketch, but further details develop as the process persists - delivering a workable outcome in minutes.

The end result is not perfect. It is neither sharp nor well-defined. But it is evocative, and invites the viewer to fill in the gaps with their own imagination. Investing their conscious mind and the underlying archetypes of the subconscious to individually interpret the presented patterns. Thus embedding the concept into their psyche.

Originally prototyped on Google's Colaboratory. Now developed locally for speed of synthesis.

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Servitor - Statement of Intent

[Auto-written and subsequently edited on the 23rd day of 2021, anchoring a thought process which began on the Winter Solstice. Initially provided to interested parties to solicit and secure invested support. Shared as-is (grammar mistakes and all) to complement the public announcement, even as further inspiration evolves the concept.]

Over a century ago; The Great Beast, Aleister Crowley, once declared:

“Every Man and every Woman is a Star” (The Book of the Law, 1904.)

Yet every person is more than a single star. We are a vast multitude - a galaxy of stars. A thousand points of light, each representing a different aspect of presence and potential, wilfully or subconsciously cast into the void. In our online activity we create new light, data points which radiate in their own indecipherable luminance. Chaos.

The ancients once stared into the heavens and projected stories into the swirling firmament. A contrivance of imagination, embodying aspects of the psyche in the form of constellations, to model and comprehend the complexity of existence.

In the modern age, we are no less creative. We draw lines of association between the aspects of ourselves that we know, in order to understand the unknown. Inferring what ought to be from the limitation of what is.

We do not exist in static. We are influenced by countless cycles through time and space; visible and invisible. Our place in the cosmos is delimited by day and night, the weather, and more obliquely the realms of planetary movement.

Each of our constellations project into an interconnected, complex, yet opaque mechanism; and new meaning is often impossible to derive.

But the interactions of cycle and metaphorical star can be plotted, analysed and acted upon. We just need better tools to map the complexity of being. The Servitor is this tool.

With consent, the Servitor will apply Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning to analyse social media posts, favourite music, and many other aspects. A custom ‘Apophenia Engine’ will infer connections between these disparate points of data. To aid self-understanding and define areas which may be acted and improved upon. To set one’s course in life.

The Servitor will achieve this through regular reports of behaviour patterns. Demonstrating and revealing surprise interactions between the different aspects of our online presence, and how they may be affected by external cycles.

A scrollable ‘timeline’ will show how these different cycles interact with each other, explaining how they can influence our actions, moods and emotions. Revealing new connections and constellations we may not have been aware of.

These constellations will be visualised, to inform and describe your unique, individual complexity.

Fluid, Mercurial, Capricious. The Servitor will learn who you are, constantly updating and revising itself to be the best reflection of the best of you.

Let the Servitor into your life - Because there’s a little Magick in all of us.

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The culmination of a life-long passion for Connectivity, Correspondence, and Chaos: Servitor has entered closed alpha.

A cloud-hosted application combining Artificial Intelligence with more than a little multidisciplinary Magick; this first stage will skulk at the periphery of social media. Analysing posting patterns, parallels, probability, psychology, and planetary influence to derive a working model for future projection.

Fluid of form and distributed globally as an orchestration of loosely-coupled components, the architecture will scale to the needs of the moment. Starting slowly with limited roll-out to a handful of trusted folk, testing and development will continue as more are brought into the fold. Further proclamations, revelations and confessions shall inevitably follow in the long trek toward public release.

Immeasurable gratitude to those who have endured my witching-hour rants on tensors and technomancy, of invocation and inference, and for offering to ratify the results. Many thanks to @the.cosmic.coven for creating a framework to structure these thoughts to fruition, and especially to @jinxdawsonofcoven for her exemplary sigil work. Granting visual embodiment to this ephemeral beast wrought from code.

The machine is learning.

Servitor will arise.

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Happy Birthday Apophenia!

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Swimming in an ever-shifting sea of symbolism, anchors are forged from the chaining of concepts. Ideas relate to ideas, and thoughtforms coalesce from abstraction. Each individual nurtures their unique interpretation of the universe from experience and education. The restraining whims and mores of society imposing structure to the unfettered chaos of possibility.

In the auspicious year of 1666, Gottfried Liebniz completed his early metaphysical paper: "De Arte Combinatoria". A Dissertation on the Art of Combinations. As was the fashion of the time, the book opens with a most logical proof of the existence of God, but then offers something very interesting and relevant to the modern age.

Firmly placing Descartes before discourse, Liebniz develops the concept of a 'Characteristica Universalis' - a logical, efficient Alphabet of Thought. Within this structured ontology, the ephemeral complexity of existence could be mapped to combinations of simpler concepts. All truths, abstract and evident, could then be philosophised, rationalised, and quantified by calculus.

Considering connexions in music, law, and classic elemental physics, subsequent centuries saw these principles applied to many disciplines. A cornerstone of both Computer Science and Chaos Magick, the legacy of 17th century Rationalism is a fundamental foundation of present-day thought.

But we are not rational beings, and the Age of Reason diminishes under the new paradigm of Post-Truth. Logos cannot provide every answer, and in uncertain times we return to Mythos and the emotive projections of creative contradiction. Propogated by the incendiary speed of Social Media.

How then can we find our anchors, as the symbolic sea boils?

What new alchemy may be derived from the conflagration of the past? What may we sift from the albedo ashes of that which was? What "Chymical Wedding" of Reason and Intuition awaits?

[heathenstorm]

Ascending an evergreen hope. . As lockdown loosens momentarily, the chance to wander further afield must be taken. These restrictions have been harsh for many, with reason somewhat lost under the rising tide of opportunistic authoritarianism. . But distant from the harsh streets of transient fear, nature reigns. Cycles of growth and endurance which inspire, even as the propaganda of progress erodes the periphery. . These moments are worth living for. Freedom waits beneath the sky, for those brave enough to claim it. . #yorkshire #ripon #swintonestate #nature #trees #woodland #forest #sky #freedom (at Leighton Reservoir) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNFiBs1JuKy/?igshid=9oq72nbirkr0

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Steadfast and resolute in the face of an uncertain future.

Discovering the work within the wood will make an interesting complement to my other projects.

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A statement of intent.

Those who know, will know what will manifest in the months to come.

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A Throwback Thursday from I know-not-when. Unearthed from the archives while clearing down my photo gallery. I was presumably having a ‘Wardruna moment’.

Much love and gratitude to @darkorchid2708 for gifting me the horn, a lifetime ago.

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Reflecting on a quieter Christmas, Yule, Saturnalia, or however one may interpret the Solstice.

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A much-required consignment of festive libation from Scotland’s @blackmetalbrewery

Back when we were out in the world, and especially at Ivory Blacks, quaffing such quality ale oft-compelled acts of gross public indecency.

It will be… interesting to discover what transpires in more domestic surrounds.

Occult triptych by the amazing @hesterasplandart

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A beautiful piece from @fuil.arsa.art now taking pride of place on my wall.

Although circumstances conspired against our return to the mountain these past months, the spirit of inspiration and creativity still burns strong.

May we share the flame once more!

[heathenstorm]

Overgrown and vandalised, a neglected monument to a time that was.

Once, the people thrived. A sense of place and purpose borne through toil as generation to generation hewed sustenance from the deep earth. Ebon rock to fuel the engine of progress, painstakingly carved out and delivered to the nation. Men were born, grew and died by the pithead, travelling across the region where required. Needing little but the security of their work and the camaderie of their kind.

Then came threats of closure, and the bitter brinkmanship of industrial dispute. Split between the searing division of picket and scab, provoked by the cruelty of divisive figureheads and a dismissive government, desperate fathers strived to put food on the table. The social consequences of strikebreaking were harsh, and families fell apart as charity failed to feed the starving.

The strike ended after twelve terrible months, but the schism remained. In subsequent years the machines came silent, the collieries closed, and eventually the land reclaimed for public use. The pitwheel now symbolic of a livelihood gone forever.

Yet the scars remain, far deeper than any pit. The soul of the community has never fully recovered, and decades later curtains still twitch in distrust as prideful quarrels fester. Not all could adapt - with many good people lost to despair and poverty - as all scrabble for a better existence in a different, indifferent world.

Successive generations look beyond this time of conflict for meaning their forebearers cannot provide, knowing little of the legacy that brought them here. Of the dangerous, dirty struggle rendered void by avarice. Of those fallen by the coalface so others may continue. A distant time now, but one that still informs the present. People have faced strife before and people will face strife again, even as their greatest endeavours must return to ruin.

Some wheels grind to a halt. Others turn with new opportunity.

And the only constant is change.

[heathenstorm]

Noc k zapamatování… . #music #livemusic #metal #gig #poster #czechbig3 #debustrol #törr #root #czech #prague #retromusichall (at Retro Music Hall) https://www.instagram.com/p/CH4-kcAJM_H/?igshid=1pv7f1dtiy06a

[heathenstorm]

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." - Hunter S. Thompson.

I don't speak much about my career in software development, preferring to keep a strict buffer between work and play. If there's one lesson these past months have taught, however, it's that one must augment all their aspects to make it through.

Although more fortunate than many to sustain this role despite the times, I cannot merely rest upon the requirements of the job. Time away from social circles has granted opportunity to further my skills, and grind away at long-planned personal projects.

These projects bring with them other professional opportunities, and the need to (occasionally) present an austere aura. With hair slicked back and more than a dash of filtering, I may yet pretend to scrub up well.

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In pursuit of autumn’s carpet.

As weary weeks melt into months, I realise just how distant I have fallen from that which inspires most. Routine has compelled a singular focus, with enthusiasm to do little more than merely exist.

I have missed the comforting chill of an autumn breeze. I have missed the shuffle of damp leaves at my feet. And as winter encroaches I take comfort in the simple splendour of nature’s surrounds.

The sun may set and nights get colder, but life will prevail.