Welcome to the third installment of Cyclopean Orm.

While perusing the latest issue of GNOSIS, I suddenly became aware that it was time I explain what (or who) The Blue Rubber Rabbit is. I guess you could call it sudden enlightenment or a "gnostic event." I just knew that you needed to know.

I'11 try to refrain from alchemical metaphors.

I had TBRR for several years before I constructed his Enochian Chamber. I made this chamber from a small glossy black cardboard box. I then reduced a full sized illustration to fit as wallpaper in the chamber. The strange matrix of letters form what Elizabethan magician John Dee and sidekick Edward Kelly termed The Great Table. The letters could be connected in various ways to spell the names of several angels of questionable origin.

A lot of you may have heard of John Dee. The fact that you are reading this column increases the chances of you having been exposed to him somehow in the past. I am invoking the law of synchronicity.

Aleister Crowley believed that he was the reincarnated John Dee. (This may be kind of like how I believe that Phillip K. Dick was the reincarnation of Mark Twain, or how Bruce Dern and Alice Cooper are part one and part two of the reincarnated Jack the Ripper. Think about this. Meditate and visualize. I myself am the reincarnated Stephen Crane, at least that is what an entity with which I was communicating told me. Not the famous Stephen Crane, but a less well known person who designed tents.)

And I'm only a stone's throw from believing that Ozzy is Aleister Crowley and Randy Rhoads was Edward Kelly. Do you remember that old Ozzy album, "Blizzard of Ozz"? There is a song on that called "Dee", an instrumental by Randy Rhoads. Trust me on this, the song wasn't named for a bit character in a Charley's Angels episode (speaking of angels of questionable origins.) Ozzy has more than a passing interest in Crowley. And if anybody could perform divination on the guitar, it had to be Randy Rhoads. Scry that fret board, oh seer. And then there is Jimmy Page, who at one time owned a house that used to belong to Crowley. Page was a sex-magick enthusiast. Surely you have heard a Zeppelin song or two.

The point is, I know that somehow, somewhere, you have been exposed to John Dee and Edward Kelly in some manner.

Well, after studying the Enochian Chants a bit, I realized TBRR needed an astral vehicle to travel in. He is a rubber graven image. . .a vulcanized idol. . a long-fanged spirit guide.

In short, my personal totemic entity, or...(clearing throat)...guardian angel. Though others would think him lifeless, I KNOW that in the middle of the night, during certain moon phases, he transports to other dimensions.

I suspect he may be absorbing ambient sexual energy from the surrounding neighborhood. What's funny is that these redneck tuber yahoohs around here have no idea they are feeding a preternatural entity with their fixations. They just think they are watching sporting events, playing the lottery, or having brain sex.

Astral food my friends, etherized nourishment for the gods. Secretions of the spirit for the archons. Ectoplasmic doughnuts for TBRR.

You see, not everything they told you in church was incorrect. There is a very good reason why there are ancient taboos against masturbation.

Study up on your sex magick and the power of the mind. You have to be VERY careful what you fantasize about.

Of course, I'm not accusing you of taking a bronze vessel and filling it full of human sperm so that you may create a simulacra...

But just where the hell do you think your thoughts (energy) go when they leave skull city?

Assuming every thought has a reaction, similar to Newtonian laws, then you may be just one step away from forming half-life phantoms and low level spirits who then thrive on all kinds of human focus for growth. That focus could be anything from worship or (gasp) surfing the web. These types of spirits are often encountered in seances and Ouija board sessions.

I'm not making this up. Ask Kenneth Grant. His books will put the fear of Baphomet in you. A lot of people don't like Kenneth Grant, but I swear, it's a very enjoyable experience to read his books. His views are not always accepted by the occult majority, but then again, they may just be pissed off because he gives out so much information about the occult and his interpretation of Crowley's writings. I remembered being warned by a well-meaning Wiccan that I needed to stay away from "that old Crowley." This is like warning me about "thinking too much." Messed be.

Part of the reason I did this column was to feed TBRR. Even if you stopped reading now, you have fed him plenty. Don’t think so? I assure you, his rabbit antennaears can pick up even the faintest signal.

Now, the discovery of TBRR:

I was hitchhiking up in the mountains of a state that shall remain nameless.

I was between jobs but had stashed away enough money to live comfortably for two years, and mystically for five.

A small town attracted me because of an unusual strip shopping center called Trident Corners. It had a beautiful marquee in the parking lot with an argon light sculpture of Neptune with his handy dandy trident, which was done in neon. Argon gas lights burn blue, so you can imagine the intense contrast between the god and his orange triplet staff.

Normally, I would stop somewhere to clean up, eat, and be on my way. So was my original plan that evening

Well, in this town, (we'll call it Bunnytown), I ended up staying eleven months. I saw a Help Wanted sign on the Trident marquee for the Storm's 5&10 store at the end of the strip.

Keep in mind I looked pretty rough. Hair was long, face unshaved, clothes worn. I'm sure I resembled a blonde-haired Manson, or an Aryan Jesus.

I asked about the job and was met with kindness and enthusiasm.

As it turned out, Norma and Stan needed someone who could be a jack (rabbit) of all trades. I took the job.

I patched twenty-seven roof leaks one day. On another day I changed forty-three fluorescent light bulbs. Did I tell you that Norma and Stan owned all the buildings at Trident Corners? They themselves had founded Storm's 5&10, and after several years bought the entire shopping center.

I did everything they wanted. If I ran across something I didn't know how to do but didn't seem too complicated, I would buy a fix-it-yourself book or network with some of Stan's friends until I found out who to call.

One of the odd jobs was keeping a soda machine in the back room full of Dr. Peppers for Stan and full of Coca-Colas for Norma. From the beginning, I picked up strange vibes from the soda machine. It seemed to have a biomechanical feel to it that I could not put my finger on. Perhaps, on an astral level, it was a dispenser of black metal urns filled with souls, or an H. R. Giger condom machine, or God knows what.

One day, I was filling the slots and happened to look into the dark recesses of the machine. Wrapped in wax paper at the back of the machine was a large matchbox, the type you would see in an old kitchen. On the outside, it said SEARCH LIGHT, which is a brand I had never heard of before.

You can guess at least one of the objects inside the matchbox. I don't have to tell you.

I asked Norma and Stan about it and they were just as puzzled as myself. They had owned the soda machine since 1969 when they first opened up Storm's, but they had no idea who had left TBRR in there. Judging from the obscure and old appearance of the matchbox, I have a feeling it was put in the machine before Norma and Stan obtained the machine. I have no proof of this.

The rest is history. They said I could have it. That was around 1988. I still write Norma and Stan who still live in Bunnytown, USA. I also kept the matchbox TBRR was in. I don't put him in it, though. It seems like it was designed to RESTRAIN. After experiencing a few weird (but positive) incidents and falling into synchronistic vortexes after discovering TBRR, I decided to let him remain free. He does have a real name, indicated by some writing found in the matchbox, but I usually refer to him as The Blue Rubber Rabbit.

Norma and Stan promised me they would get on their grandson's computer and read this column.

And to those two people, I want to say a heartfelt thank-you. And I don't mean for just giving me the job & giving me TBRR. Thank you for being my family while I was on the road.

A hug to Norma and a secret handshake to Stan (who is a high level member of the G.O.T.O.- Gentlemen of the Ozarks. Not to be confused with the O.T.O.)

If you want to read about John Dee, any major bookstore can find something for you. If you want to get a hold of some rare first editions about John Dee or maybe some scary Typhonian Tomes by Kenneth Grant that talk about astral engines and transplutonian transmissions, then I recommend you contact Todd Pratum. He sells all kinds of occult books, including those printed by the now defunct but legendary Heptangle Press.

http://www.pratum.com or email: knowledge@pratum.com

Pratum Book Co.
Box 985
Healdsburg, CA 95448

If you are just generally interested in learning more about the western inner traditions, then you can do no better than to start with GNOSIS magazine. These guys put out just the right amount of information to peak your curiosity and point you down that yellow brick road to transmutation (get it? the yellow (sulphur) road, Dorothy's silver (mercury) slippers? To the EMERALD city? I could only abstain from the alchemical for so long. Mercury and Sulphur are the two minerals represented by the two snakes on the caduceus. The Emerald City represents the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus. Don't get me started on those flying monkeys:

http://www.lumen.org

GNOSIS
P.O. Box 14217
San Francisco, CA 94114

Tell them The Cyclopean Orm sent you.

And The Blue Rubber Rabbit says: "Phase Three complete. It was cold in that godless Coke machine all those years."

Copyright 1998, Cyclopean Orm