By Jack Heart & Orage
Those who read us are aware that reality no longer exists, timelines shift and meld together at a faster and faster tempo. Call it the Mandela Effect if you need to trivialize it and get on with your left right paradigm, there’s no room for you here. We are going to play this tune to a crescendo that would make even Beethoven blush. Like the sand in an hourglass Time itself runs out, believe whatever you will. It will make no difference in the end, and for most the end is nigh.
Before she sealed her own fate, my utukku in residence told me many things and she was never wrong, never wrong except once, the big one; that I would die by a car bomb as very old man. Wishful thinking, that’s not going to happen, I don’t have that kind of time left, neither does she and neither do you.
Forget those ancient ruins. They will forever remain an enigma, bleached out bones that will tell no tales. Our story, whether you are Black, White, Red or Yellow, the present epoch, the story we are in, begins in Europe and in Europe it will end… – Jack Heart
The story of the Black Sun begins in 1220, when a group of Knights Templar under Komtur Hubertus Koch witnessed an apparition of the Goddess just outside the city of Nineveh. The ancient city, located on the outskirts of Mosul in modern-day northern Iraq, is now known to be dedicated to her since Akkadian times. During the tumultuous upheaval in Western Europe known as the Albigensian Crusade, a euphemism for the genocidal elimination of the Roman Catholic pope’s Cathar competition in southern France and northern Italy, the Goddess would appear to this same group of Knights repeatedly. It is said the latter visitations took place at the Untersberg Mountain in the northernmost part of the Berchtesgaden Alps, which straddle the border between Germany and Austria.
She instructed them in certain Magickal practices that would restore Man to his rightful place as the godlike traveler along the ridges of worlds and told them the material world is but a trap for their souls and their rightful place was in the Green World. This is the Age of Darkness, ruled over by a dark and malevolent god, the god to which the pope professed to represent and this sun is a perverted inversion of the true sun; the Black Sun, which would be revealed in the coming Aquarian Age. She gave them a stone; a Black Stone, which would be pivotal when the time came to bringing about the transmutation of this world. Some say the stone is Garil as in Holy Garil, one of two versions of the Holy Grail…
This original contingent of knights, all of them from the Holy Roman Empire under theHouse of Hohenstaufen, would be entrusted with the task of guarding the stone for the final battle between darkness and light. The order was shrouded in shadows even to other Knights Templar. It was to come to be known as Die Herren vom Schwarzen Stein or The Lords of the Black Stone. The SS of WW II, so dreaded by the international banking cartel and their idiot minions from every corner of this dark world, is an abbreviated acronym for the very same order…
|The Altar of the Black Sun at the SS stronghold in the Wewelsburg Castle|
As Causa Nostra
lore would have it, the Ordo Bucintoro, a secret society that arose to prominence in Venice in the early fifteenth century by way of its founder Antonia Contenta and her blood ties to Geoffroy de Saint-Omer one of the nine founding members of the Knights Templar, is the heir to those secrets. The Order was dedicated to the fruition of a “Roman-German Empire” that would sweep away the unbalanced patriarchy and insane avarice of the church and replace it with a utopian world based on spiritualism and equality between the sexes. They claimed to have the power of “walking through the times” to achieve their goal in the “twenty-first century.” Toward that end, Emperor Rudolph II was instructed to stymie the Inquisition and the SS organized among the Germans and Italians to move the Orders artifacts from Germany to keep them from being discovered by the Allies “between mid-1946 and in 1947…” (1
As esoteric tradition within occult secret societies would have it, the doctrines taught to the Templar’s by the Goddess were sexual in nature and in practice. It was after his publication of a chapter in the Book of Lies that dealt explicitly with sexual rites that Aleister Crowley was approached by “the O.H.O. (Outer Head of the O.T.O.).” Crowley goes on to say “(At that time I did not realise that there was anything in the O.T.O. beyond a convenient compendium of the more important truths of Free Masonry.) He said that since I was acquainted with the supreme secret of the Order, I must be allowed the IX° and obligated in regard to it.” (2
What Crowley didn’t know at the time was the OTO had ruled the Holy Roman Empire through Synarchy since the time of Rudolph II and the Thirty Years War that followed. And that ninth degree bestowed upon him made him the titular head of it…
Hypnerotomachia Poliphili or Poliphilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream was first published in 1499 in Venice by Aldus Manutius, lifelong close friend of Giovanni Pico della Mirandola; famed Renaissance apostle of Hermeticism and Qabalism. The text has been attributed to an obscure renegade monk named Francesco Colonna, but no one knows who really wrote it and scholars have expended whole tanker loads of ink endlessly postulating as to its authors identity.
Although now considered one of the most exquisite examples of early printing the text is almost unintelligible, being a mixture of Latin, Italian, Greek, Arabic and Hebrew with a smattering of Egyptian Hieroglyphics thrown in for good measure. Its one hundred and seventy two woodcuttings tell the real story, and deeply influenced C G Jung’s interpretation of Rosarium Philosophorum. Their origin is even more dubious than the name of its author but a few scholars have hazarded a guess that it was renowned Paduan miniaturist Benedetto Bordon.
Within twenty years of its first publication, Poliphilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream, outside of the bible itself, would become the preeminent book in Europe. It would turn out to be the “most celebrated book design of the Renaissance, but one of the most important and yet utterly bizarre and inscrutable books ever published…” (3
In his sleep, the protagonist of the book Poliphio quests for the love of the recalcitrant Polia through a fantastic dreamscape reminiscent of ancient Germanic tales of the Mountain of Venus; made famous by Wagner in Tannhauser. Naked nymphs and satyrs abound, ruled over by Venus and Cupid. In what is said to be “perhaps the most censored woodcut of the Renaissance”(4) a bull is sacrificed to Priapus, the god of fertility who presides over the festival displaying his trademark oversized permanent erection. There are no less than five triumphal processions celebrating the love between Poliphio and Polia.
They are taken to the island of Cythera, the Mediterranean island sacred to Aphrodite or Venus, in a barge piloted by Cupid. Bucintoro, from the Ordo Bucintoro, is the Venetian pronunciation of bucentauror or barge. From the eleventh century till 1798 when Napoleon ordered it destroyed, the ruler of Venice or Doge was taken out to sea in a lavishly ornamented barge on Ascension Day. There a ceremony was performed that married Venice, a city dedicated to the Goddess since the days of the Veneti, to the sea and its great God Poseidon, for whom the Christian devil’s trident is modeled after…
Even after all this, Polia still spurns Poliphilo’s love and he faints dead away in front of the altar as she reads to him from some awful book. She is shown a vision of two naked maidens who have defied Cupid and are now forced to draw his chariot through the forest as he whips them. He slays them both in a clearing and hacks them in pieces which he feeds to a lion, a dragon, a griffin and a wolf.
She must reconsider and revives Poliphilo with a kiss and they are forced through a door by Venus and her nymphs who threaten them with clubs. On the other side they kneel before Venus now wearing a crown in her court filled with nymphs and she sanctions their union as they share a kiss. They both awake alone in their rooms accompanied only by their dogs. But in the end they are reunited in the celestial realm where they are already married before the Queen of Heaven…
“Over the years the book has been the subject of thousands of analyses, commentaries, interpretations and appreciations, as well as hundreds of reprints, facsimiles and critical editions. It remains one of the most influential, yet enigmatic books ever written.” (5)
Fifty years after the Poliphilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream was first published, The Rosary of the Philosophers or Rosarium philosophorum sive pretiosissimum donum Dei would be published in Frankfurt. Not surprisingly, C G Jung is the only academic who has ever made the connection. Poliphilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream is so obviously Pagan that not even the Vatican could ever spin it any other way, but countless hours of mental masturbation have been wasted, some even by Jung himself, trying to Christianize Rosarium philosophorum. More still has been wasted in trying to interpret it as a strictly alchemical work, only morons and fools believe they can transmute gold…
Alchemy itself is symbolic of the soul. There is only one correct interpretation of Rosarium philosophorum and that is ours in Aleister Crowley, Loki’s Brood & the Fury of Hell,
Ours is correct because I have lived it and continue to do so, that goes even more so Poliphilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream…
The order of the Knights Templar to which the Ordo Bucintoro traced their pedigree was last known to be active on a narrow alleyway known as Blutgasse or Blood Alley in the shadow of Stephansdom in Vienna. I had been in Vienna to take pictures of Stephansdom, the great gothic cathedral which Vienna is built around and I had already taken many very strange ones indeed, things that just did not belong to the Christian religion. I sat pondering this over a cup of cappuccino at a table by a curbside café in front of Resselpark on my way to take pictures of Blutgasse and I happened to glance up at the building to my right. A giant stone owl flanked by nine smaller ones stared back down at me…
In Vienna everything is closed on Sunday but the tourist traps. I had to go to Wien Hauptbahnhof, Vienna’s main train station, just to buy cigarettes. I was alone “in a country where they turn back time.” I felt just like the character in Al Stewarts classic Year of the Cat as I walked down Kärntner Strasse “strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorie contemplating a crime…” I made a right down Weihburggasse and turned left at Liliengasse. It struck me that the owl is sacred to Lilith. I turned onto Singerstrasse and quickly came to Blutgasse.
I went through the archway down the ancient cobblestone street past its only business; a café called the Chameleon where two elderly women flirted with the elderly owner. It was closed. Next to it was the “Peace Museum.” Across from it was a window adorned with a modern art piece that looked like splattered blood. At the other end of Blutgasse was the Mozart Museum which was the only thing open in the vicinity…
Certain internet crackpots, who no doubt learned about the Ordo Bucintoro from our original piece Black Sun Rising Part 6,
have tried to make the case that “Mozart was another priest of Isis who communicated Isis mysteries through his music and was initiated into the mysteries through a certain Templar society with strong connections with Ordo Bucintoro in Untersberg near Salzburg.” (6
) I strolled down to the museum, uninterested I made a right and was shocked to see a bookstore named 777. It was of course closed, but I resolved to come back the next day.
When I went back the next day a gentleman of about seventy sat outside underneath the 777 sign reading a book, legs crossed in European fashion. I began our conversation by asking him if the store was named after Aleister Crowley’s famed Qabalistic work 777. In halting English, he told me it most certainly was. In fact it was somewhat of a museum dedicated to Crowley and originally founded by his German translator. I said that was prestigious considering it was right next to the Mozart museum. He looked over at the museum and scoffed…
I asked him if he had any books by Søren Kierkegaard, intending to purchase one for Orage’s mother, who was celebrating her eighty-eighth birthday and still able to recite Longfellow verbatim even though she speaks little English, he seemed amused. He told me they didn’t carry anything like that. I wanted to buy something from him so I resolved to get Orage a copy of 777 in German. Not knowing how much English he really understood, I explained to him the Kierkegaard book was a gift idea for someone else and just like Crowley, Nietzsche was the only philosopher I really approved of. I’d never even read a word of Kierkegaard but I’d read everything I could by Crowley. He smiled and looked at me saying “you’re better off…”
He confirmed what Orage had already told me about Blutgasse being the last known base of Templar operation in Europe. I asked him why it was called Blood Ally and he told me there are four different stories but no one really knows why. Not thinking, I asked him to sign the book and he said he couldn’t he was not Crowley. He instead gave me a little placard saying I had purchased it there. Crowley’s books must be treated with the same reverence as the Bible or Quran, in fact far more so. We said our goodbyes and he posed outside for a few pictures. When I told him I was going to write about the place he just smiled…
I made my way back down Blutgasse with the strange sensation hanging over me that that man had been waiting for me all along. He knew I was coming. The Chameleon was now open. I ordered myself a tall one and had one of those cigarettes I’d walked over a mile out of my way to get the day before. Two Nordic men were sitting at the table next to me speaking to each other in heavily accented English. Vienna is a city filled with people from the furthest corners of Asia to the far reaches of Norway and Italy. Everyone spoke to each other using whatever English they knew; it was the one cultural constant. They were looking at a map trying to find where the treasury for Stephansdom was.
I interrupted them saying jokingly “I couldn’t help but notice you guys are speaking English. If you’re looking for the treasury it’s closed until next year. At least that’s what the monks told me.” Orage and I had already examined and heavily photographed the one in Köln, where the other great gothic catheral in Europe is located. It was the first thing I had wanted to see in Vienna myself so I had asked the monks. The younger man looked devastated…
I went inside and took some pictures of the interior noticing the artwork for sale. On my way out I saw what I had not seen on the way in. The first painting offered for sale as one walked through the door was a black and white cat their backs to each other siting under a tree, the white one in darkness and the black one in light, in The Year of the Cat
Originally appeared on http://jackheart2014.blogspot.com. Please be advised we will not be able to reply to your comments on other sites.
Illustrations & quotes for educational purposes. © Jack Heart 2019
4 – Ibid.
5 – Ibid.