The Power of Myth, its Pledge and its Symbol, corporate & incorporated 7 comments

20 Apr 2013 @ 03:12, by Max Sandor "The power of a myth, its force and influence, seems paramount to human life. One could say, it wouldn't be worth living without it, and, in fact, no human existence seems thinkable without it, be it a tragic or a heroic one, its only challenge being it to become forgotten, buried under randomities or the multitude of myth deemed to be of major importances. Not knowing one's myth is like sailing in unknown waters and without a flag, drifting along and running in circles. But even a rolling stone has its myth, and not a small one, threfore - can a human truly live without it, isn't a myth that what makes us different from the inanimate, if there is such a thing at all, but, hey, could it even the inanimate EXIST without a myth? Therefore, modern man, having forgotten its own myth, hurries to swim with others who appear to live mythfully - buying, borrowing, or stealing their symbols and tokens, their brands and their markings. He and She are sacrificing their own myth - partaking in the glory of others yield and wield more powers than He or She could ever imagine for themselves. Purpose and motivation of myth, once forgotten, become substituted by its symbols, by their colors and shapes, from a simple cross, or an arc, to intricate patterns of geometry deemed sacred, as if one particular structure would be more sacred than any other. Deeply hidden underneath the blinding brilliance, within the fog of myth, rests that what makes a myth a myth, what gives it its power, without it it would be nothing, void, as if it never had existed: a pledge, a solemn promise, a declaration, an agreement - but with whom? With the Universe, its powers, its God or Gods, its archons and devils and angels. And, for isn't yet bathing in the glory of other people's symbol, and paying for it, the more the better, there is still the match at night, watching young men, in the absence of anything other useful to do, running after a ball in the floodlight of a stadium, modern gladiators, televised, its heroic movements analyzed in slow motion, over and over, creating mini-myths, whether good or bad, that's not the point. Modern man and woman finds itself embedded in the myths created by others. For their sake, or so they say. Humanity's elite, or what is visible thereof, has lost itself in symbolism, secret and ancient, never emancipated itself beyond the world of symbols, deeply confused yet confident that they, and only they, would understand them. Yet, again, what are the pledges that the symbols are shielding, what are its final destinations, its ultimate purposes? Is it here where humanity has lost its vision? Or is it coming to transcend its course of history, merging into a vision greater than its parts? Corporations, in this world of inversions, confusions, and illusions, do not have a body as such. When they seemingly incorporate into human bodies, they do so with the raw power of myth and its unstoppable force, as an idea, burning their corṕorate symbal as mark into the minds of the willing cattle that is galloping to sacrifice itself for something it doesn't have neither time nor incentive to ever understand. Created by acts of sheer magic, out of thin air, vested by the power of symbols, and cloaked by them, the corporations of our times have substituted the vast array of ancient local Gods in a culture touting monotheism every day more. They have created their followers, they make them bow and pay. At the same time, the human being, in its individual existence, finds itself EXACTLY In the situation it created by itself and for itself. Saying anything else is delusion, denial of responsibilty, forfeiting its own cause and source. Whether it has lost its own meaning or not, the human being is bound by its own pledges of the past and recent present. Without recovering one's own pledge, one cannot be but be but fodder for another one, whether this other one is a real person, or just an idea, a brand, a club, or a nation. Without finding one's own agreements with oneself, with others, and with the universe and its architects and engineers, the triad of myth, pledge, and symbol remains unbreakable, one's own life degraded to insignificance like a drop of oil burning in a lamp that shines its light on someone else." (excerpt from 'Letters from Rome', by Frater Otto Propertius, recovered, compiled, and translated by Maximilian J. Sandor.)

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