When the Spirits Speak – A preliminary introduction to The Cult | D. Metcalfe

“We exist in a Quantum entanglement with the Ambient Dead.”

– spirit transmission received by Craig Williams during the cultivation of his upcoming book, The Cult of Golgotha

Tradition in its truest form is an organic silence – within this fruitful and empty womb innumerable children gestate, awaiting their time of birth.

Rigid orthodoxies, weaponized fundamentalisms, cancerous heresies exude from this silent aetheric nothing – enfeebled ectoplasm, vacuous vapours, still born children dripping like infectious yellow slime from an incomplete union between mind and form.

It is only within The Cult that the individual finds embodied that which sustains  union within a multiverse sprung from a shining vacancy – without The Cult the seeker spins infinite in digression and fantasy. Ultimately the fibrous and fragile identity is left devoured by hungry intelligences and operative forces – they wait, in patience they wait beyond the thin, damaged wall of consensus reality which you accept as your home.

To ask what is or where one can find a true tradition or to proclaim that a conceptual corpse is the true tradition itself breaks the sacred silence of dead lovers – a horrible act, punished immediately – exile from the salvation of no thing.

The Cult exists in silence – an invisible and intangible cosmos whose orbits and radiations are felt by those already prepared in the dry and poisonous climate of the Desert Cell.

The Cult needs no introduction to those whom it embraces.

The Cult needs no one to embrace it – for it is the embodiment of the abyss, its skin the unspeaking whispers of an infinite field comprised of what Craig William’s has transmitted as ‘the ambient dead’ – the spirits ensouled by the vibration of silence.

Be warned – your ideas as to this are incomplete – you think that the family of the dead entails only forgotten flesh – how much more incomprehensible are the dead among the stars, shattered planets, gaseous revenants of stellar intelligences, wandering ghosts of universes who have passed beyond projection.

Be patient – “the skies are haunted by that which it were madness to know; and strange abominations pass evermore between earth and moon and athwart the galaxies. Unnamable things have come to us in alien horror and will come again. And the evil of stars is not as the evil of earth.”(1)

We speak not of the Dead in some self-centered delusion or some born star which recognizes only the familiar face – The Cult exists behind screams of a messiah whose authority sacrifices the embrace of emptiness – alone with the alone a voice:


Who is the Lord?

Who is the Forsaken?

Wrong questions wrongly asked.

“Awake, O’ Sleeper, Rise from the Dead” – Ephesians 5:14

From the ambient dead arise – flesh cast off – arise within aetheric intimacy – within potentiality untethered – from the ambient dead arise.

Arise and…”go falling forevermore, a phantom among phantoms, sere and purposeless as a blown autumnal leaf, through the windy eternal night of bygone things.”* And think no more of past or power, of I or Me or They or We – for who can think within the cacophonic harmonies of limitless creation, the heart of the ambient dead now flushes fresh gnosemic blood through cold and sterile veins.

Awake, O’ Sleeper – rise from the Dead – rise and know that you have found The Cult, or fall back into the dreams which keep your unquiet mind enslaved to worse terrors than those which We embrace, we who have seen the sign of the cross upon the skull and slipped sideways through time and space to spheres which the living shall never see and to a silence that bears no mention.

Arise, awake – and sleeper – prepare for future transmissions…

(1) Clark Ashton Smith
(2) Clark Ashton Smith, The Peril That Lurks Among Ruins

One Comment Add yours

  1. Mimi Winetroub says:

    A tasty, teasing snack of future truths planted aeons ago, deep within….the perfect compliment to 3-day Steiner study of the Mystery of Golgotha. Cheers- toasting you now w a glass of Merlot awaiting air transport home.

    Sent from my iPhone


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