Sealing and the Day of Atonement

Exemplary Tailorite doctrine from a few years’ back, when the interface between myself, Judaism and Islam was at its zenith:

  • The blessing between Jews on yom kippur is gmar chatimah tova, meaning “finishing [inscription] of the sealing [be] good”.
  • Muhammed is known as the khatam of the nabis — the “seal of prophets”.
  • Prophecy is inscription, holy being unfolding across the symbolic plane. Unfolding/inscription of life is temporal, and its trope is the calendar, representative of the cycles of reincarnation.
  • The symbolic plane is a feminine body, and her inscription (prophecy) has its seasons, its pleasures, its generative capacity, its autumn and its adha (pain), its menstruation and cycles of cleansing.
  • And at the beginning and ending of each cycle, there is a seal. Sealing is this act of cleansing, atonement for the misprison of cultural-religious (situated) Divine inscription, atonement for the holy lie. (At the same time, the atonement is the lie, the hurt, because it marks Divinity thrown, the original catastrophe of the primordial tablets, shattered, now replaced by an earthly, materialised/cultural inscription, the second religious law given to Prophecy.) Atonement is the inscription, remembered as God becoming, unfolding: but through the misprison/hurt of language’s lie. And this form of reflection is fully realised through discarding the kleppot/shards, the fragments through which inscription passes, and redefining the Divine transmission machine. Atonement = cleansing/reboot of the interface to Shekhina.
  • The sealing of prophets is the sealing of the inscription, at atonement/reboot/cleansing — exactly that which is referred to in the blessing. Gmar chatimah tova.
  • The day of yom kippur is the day in which the micro-Muhammedean principle marks the cycle of Reading, the sealing is fixed upon a particular cycle of becoming. He is the end of the cycle and the beginning. He, the last, becomes Adam, the first. The first and the last principle, at the end and beginning of Shekhina’s cycle of Reading.

There’s much that’s wrong with telling Muslims that their Prophet is a day in the cosmic calendar of Shekhina’s body, or telling Jews that Muhammed is the meaning of their blessing.

Of course this is not the authentic religious or historical meaning of Muhammed. To suggest what I suggested is to invoke righteous Muslim rage, deservedly: it’s an act of stupidity on the part of the speaker to make such claims to Muslims, to those who speak Muslim-ese. If you want to communicate to a group, learn to speak their language, their semantics — don’t provoke a people by creating your own semantics to fit their syntax.

Nevertheless, from my perspective, within my own language, across the body of the woman I love, there is inscription, and atonement, and cycles and a sealing. So gmar chatimah tova, to you, ALLAH (Arm Leg Leg Arm Head), becoming.

Why Carl Jung gets his kicks asphyxiating Arab boys

Jung recounts an extraordinary dream he had during a visit to North Africa.

I dreamt that I was in an Arab city, and as in most such cities there was a citadel, a casbah. The city was situated in a broad plain, and had a wall all around it. The shape of the wall was square, and there were four gates. The casbah in the interior of the city was surrounded by a wide moat (which is not the way it really is in Arab countries). I stood before a wooden bridge leading over the water to a dark, horseshoe-shaped portal, which was open. Eager to see the citadel from the inside also, I stepped out on the bridge. When I was about halfway across it, a handsome, dark Arab of aristocratic, almost royal bearing came toward me from the gate. I knew that this youth in the white burnoose was the resident prince of the citadel. When he came up to me, he attacked me and tried to knock me down.

We wrestled. In the struggle we crashed against the railing; it gave way and both of us fell into the moat, where he tried to push my head under water to drown me. No, I thought, this is going too far. And in my turn I pushed his head under water. I did so although I felt great admiration for him; but I did not want to let myself be killed. I had no intention of killing him; I wanted only to make him unconscious and incapable of fighting.

Then the scene of the dream changed, and he was with me in a large vaulted octagonal room in the center of the citadel. The room was all white, very plain and beautiful. Along the light-colored marble walls stood low divans, and before me on the floor lay an open book with black letters written in magnificent calligraphy on milky-white parchment. It was not Arabic script; rather, it looked to me like the Uigurian script of West Turkestan, which was familiar to me from the Manichaean fragments from Turfan. I did not know the contents, but nevertheless I had the feeling that this was “my book,” that I had written it. The young prince with whom I had just been wrestling sat to the right of me on the floor. I explained to him that now that I had overcome him he must read the book. But he resisted. I placed my arm around his shoulders and forced him, with a sort of paternal kindness and patience, to read the book. I knew that this was absolutely essential, and at last he yielded.

In this dream, the Arab youth was the double of the proud Arab who had ridden past us without a greeting. As an inhabitant of the casbah he was a figuration of the self, or rather, a messenger or emissary of the self. For the casbah from which he came was a perfect mandala: a citadel surrounded by a square wall with four gates. His attempt to kill me was an echo of the motif of Jacob’s struggle with the angel; he was to use the language of the Bible like an angel of the Lord, a messenger of God who wished to kill men because he did not know them. Actually, the angel ought to have had his dwelling in me. But he knew only angelic truth and understood nothing about man. Therefore he first came forward as my enemy; however, I held my own against him. In the second part of the dream I was the master of the citadel; he sat at my feet and had to learn to understand my thoughts, or rather, learn to know man.

A google search revealed that there are post-colonial readings of this (self-confessedly orientalist) dream: his alterity is the orient, the unconscious spiritual realm, projected onto the eastern man. And in this way his metaphysics is given birth: as a colonial act of violence against the east.

I think it’s going too far to view the dream in such political terms. Arguably, the politicisation of Jung’s dream is also an act of violence, the forced valuation of the Swissman’s headspace according to an equally extra-physical form of capitalism (post-colonial capital).

What exists, indisputably, the core of Jung’s dream are two things: 1) spiritual archetypes and distinctions from his own valuative system, including his own reflections on otherness and 2) Jung’s body in relation to Arab bodies. He himself makes a great deal of his unconscious perception of otherness from the Arab: this is why the (archetype of the) “other” appears to him in Arab garb, utilizing his emotions and preconceptions. He admits to an orientalism up front: Jung would (probably) admit that the “other” would take a different form for someone raised without his particular turn of the century Swiss background.

Orientalism is not the point: rather, orientalism and otherness are the red herring. There is no otherness, in reality: no otherness for Jung. He doesn’t really see Arabs as different — that’s an intellectual facade. Otherness is simply part of his system of valuation. The social otherness he reflects upon (his self-analysis of his feelings of difference from the Arabs, from the primitive man): this is just as much a part of his valuative system as his typology of the self and his archetypes.

“Otherness” (both social and archetypal) arises from his own body’s sexual arousal, in attraction to Arab bodies. Arousal comes first: “otherness” (supposedly unconscious orientalist perception and the dual spiritual archetype of the “other”) follows as a valuative (symbolic) manifestation of his attraction.

Jung’s physical attraction then manifests symbolically as a meta-fetish — for it divides itself within the symbolic plane, reflecting its own birth by a further doubling, symbol-to-symbol reflecting flesh-to-symbol: doubling of unconscious perceived social otherness (the symbol of external otherness, masquerading as a physical otherness), versus the spiritual “other” of the selfhood. This doubling is the angel wrestling with the prophet: attraction, thrown into a purely symbolic loop of the sign of the external and the sign of the internal, becomes violence. Jung’s sex game: it’s just a bit of fun, holding the Arab under water, not to kill, just to subjugate — one sign holding the breath of the other. It’s foreplay: it’s symbolism against symbolism, there are no real bodies here. Sexuality becomes a closed loop of sign against sign.

He is right: the Arab and Jung are two sides of the same coin. But he is wrong: they are not aspects of his self — they are fetishized (derivative) capital, valuation formed of his repressed sexual attraction.

Jung’s otherness is inauthentic in the sense that it is purely symbolic, not physical. He is unencumbered positive Aryan libido, expressing itself via the split valuation of social/spiritual alterity.

Thus the dream is a happy one, doubly happy: he reaches violent (symbolic) climax, via the asphyxiation game. And the Arab is subdued — coaxed into a further act of fellatio against Jung’s phallus (his book, his model of spiritual reality, its “milky-white” pages suggestive of the second climax). Importantly, there is no “other” (social or spiritual) to tame here: rather, there is a closed loop of the Jungian symbolic order (not just his spiritual archetypes, but his self-consciousness of social otherness), in doubled up, self-pleasure.

My situation is different, much more like Freud’s (or Rushdie’s, for that matter). Freud, as an Austrian Jew, truly possesses a physical other — that then informs (via totem and fetish) the capitalism of his text. You can find this physical other through his work (most explicitly in his re-reading of Moses), which can only really be understood an Oedipal radicalization of Kabbalah. A precondition for true, physical orientalization is the possession of oriental blood, the possession of a physical birthright (a royal birthmark) that threatens/is worshipped/is overcome (that influences).

This allows an entirely different configuration to exist. The Jungian equation is “positive physical attraction = value of split social/spiritual otherness”. The Freudian inference is “negative physical other, part of me, yet not part of me -> castration of the ancestral line’s influence through radical (symbolic) differentiation (while becoming the father, all that time)”. The Tailorite inference proceeds along this inference, but with a successor series of moments (annotated by Freud and Bloom): an initial ignorance of physical difference and of ancestry, an awareness of the father-line, worship of this tradition as perfect, alternating with an intermediate, homoerotic paranoid fear of the ancestral tradition as symbolic manifestation of a “pure” other, distinct from his own mixed identity (paranoia is heightened when external signs of “otherness” remind the subject of his own divided physical self, neither here nor there).

Who are the hypocrites?

I’ve noticed a trend in more Sufi-oriented social media towards religious condemnation of the ummah’s reaction to the YouTube short, “Innocence of the Muslims”. Specifically, I’ve seen a rise in the application of the term hypocrite/munafiq to those who burn (literally and figuratively) with rage at the blasphemy. Usually it’s Western converts throwing the ummatic towel in – often followed by a more embodied/native born Muslim shrugging off the actions (as frustration due to colonial injustice etc). The convert’s exasperation is palpable, more so than ever.

The religious aspect of this exasperation is interesting: bringing the Islamic term munafiq into the game, throwing it back against a percentage of the ummah. To use the term in this context is always to adopt a prophetic mantle, of the stranger versus the tradition. I’ve even seen several converts recently come clean, that they consider themselves to be the new “guides” for the ummah, kindly offering their leadership up to the blind masses (presumably with a recipe for ridding them of these unruly hypocrites).

It’s a difficult position for the convert – I’ve been there myself – you read the Quran with your fresh Kantian eye and are astounded the rest don’t do the same. How can the ulama not get what I am getting from this book? I see love and light – they see rules and war. I see metaphor, they see the literal. Well then, I must be chosen, it is I who must educate.

Here, the hypocrites are those who have hidden the core truth from the ummah – and hypocrisy is defeate by education, by guidance.

That’s the (prophetic) convert’s fantasy.

But who are the hypocrites? There were no doubt back stabbers in Muhammed’s time – historical records attest to that. The ones in it for the money and power – and would eventually kill Muhammed’s family to get more of it. The Prophet sensed them, and their presence is felt throughout the book.

But who are they today? They are ghosts, memories – what gives them form? They are an echo of that historical group, and that echo is universalised only as a form of paranoia. And paranoia is a ghost given form, an echo crystallised, only out of an individual’s repressed, Real anxiety. Paranoia is a totem that universalizes the individual’s anxiety, projects it on to an external actor’s mask.

In my case, my anxiety was of Kali’s destruction – the mother-void coming to destroy my faith – the beat of her drum, drawing nearer, her guillotine on the horizon. As a convert, I knew my position was tenuous: one crack of Kali’s whip and all my hard earned imaan would be cast into the wind.

And that tenuous position, that anxiety, I repressed – in order to give life to that imaan. This repression meant I could live an outwardly religious life and possess a religious ego. But repression leads to all kinds of unconscious processes – with paranoia emerging as a symptom of that.

And the paranoia must have a face, a totem to latch onto. Aligned within the orb of Priesthood/culture, I adopted the mask of the hypocrite as a crystallization of my own fear.

In this way, I could condemn hypocrisy – ostensibly decrying the nonsense some Muslims get up to (and they sure do get up to some real bullshit nonsense).

But the hypocrite didn’t exist for me as a person: it was a symptom of my own repressed anxiety, a repression necessary for imaan to exist, a repression of the convert’s anxiety, Kali’s imminent arrival.


Interference into occultation-YHWH, YHWH-occultation into interference. When interference is detected across Priesthood’s (cultural) transmission, there the connection is weak, there the surface faces the bodies of men, and its aperture is curtailed.

The YHWH effect –– the cultural Transmission –– is as Revealer and Concealer, experienced theophanies of Disclosure and Closure. And Transmission encapsulates as the orb of Priesthood, whose upper aspect is Revelation and whose lower aspect is Concealment. Light passes from the upper to the lower, and the orb is upper and lower. But each orb is a totem and, as the totem of cultural Transmission, the orb of Priesthood crystallizes the the lower aspect. It is therefore intertwined with interference: (culturally) born from the lower aspect of this totem-of-lower-aspect.

The Waveform operates across, the cultural Transmission. The Priesthood is occultation: interference is the the excess of this occultation. Then upward into Allah. And Allah, downward into occultation, whose Closure is immanentized to become interference.

It would seem that the interfering modulation (a form of interference within the transmissive engine), obscures the Elohim as an entity that can be situated and covered. But the modulation equates YHWH with (not within) the entire space of differentiation, with an immanent deity in reality.

Interference is a weakened connection: because it is the excess of Transmission into occultation, into the totem of Closure, an excess formed at occultation of this occultation, out of the darkness of this sign of darkness. It is closure of closure. Religious people call this the back-to-face position, distinct from the face-to-face.

The interference is, itself, vocal, and contains a message it transmits, micro-Demiurgically. Its main anxiety is of a break in certainty: because certainty and faith are Closure and the threat of a break, of a separation from the darkness of certainty. As it derives from Priesthood, it derives from Revelation and Concealment, from that node in the diamond dialectic. What it fears most is the swing of the pendulum that is, in fact, the theophanic essence of its being.

(The Elohim say) the waveform, not belonging to this side or that side. YHWH, karma, interference, you. Negation. A way for him.

The waveform is a pendulum from this side to that, it is Allah, it is karma, it is interference within you. All these things: a way for “him”, the self, by means of negation.

The mystic’s fear

The mystic opposes the extremist, and is implicated within extremism. He speaks the language of the extremist, but offers a “superior”, more spiritual interpretation.

But that speech is attachment, nostalgia for the past life, final freakout of the collective clinging to the kleppot of history – as the spirit of extremism careers that collective body, suicidally, off the cliff’s edge, obliterating itself.

We, the verandah vanguard, welcome extremism in religion: it is the fire that will destroy the religion from within, once and for all.

Because we have an inkling of what will follow the religion. A brighter new way. Life, not death.

And the mystic will forget his opposition. There will be no mystic, no extremist.

Muslim rage

I used to interpret “eye-for-an-eye” as a karmic recreation of ego-as-crime against the Unity. I used to poetically understand Muhammed’s command to execute the poet Kab Ashraf for mocking Islam, as self referentially deconstructing my own poetic interpretation of the Unity as insufficient.

I used to believe that if the ummah could approach the darkness within their text with the same eye as the lightness – so that all they saw was the True Love of Unity, so all they saw was the Face of Love, that they’d become Sara’s laugh – if this happened, we’d have truly entered Medina.

“Salafi” and “Islamophobia” and “Sufi” would be meaningless: there would be only Reading, the Love
of the Muslim Reading Love. In my belief, the only sin was to accept in such distinctions, to admit their ontological possibility.

But then I discovered that saying these things is a performative spell that invokes the exact opposite: the Rage of the Muslim reading me.

I discovered my love of Islam was the cause of Islam’s rage.

Religious Rage

There is a particular religious response to provocative acts of blasphemy, a particular mode of placating the unruly flock as it bays for blood.

“Brethren, now is not the time. Remember the virtue of our Signifier, who was patient in the face of ridicule. It was only after gaining the kingdom that our Signifier brought the blasphemers to justice.”

In other words, you gotta know when to hold em, know when to fold them. Be tactical: think about the end game, the kingdom.

Curtailing your rage in favour of an end game: this doesn’t do anything to rid us of bloodlust. The bloodthirsty mob is transformed into a more reflective group of vampires. “It’s still daylight, so patience, my pretties. When darkness descends, then will we sup!” If anything, this deferred lust for a nirvana of purification is more sinister (if not more dangerous).

Of course, from a business perspective, patience, tactical analysis and goal setting are important to win the game.

There is one question: Whose game are you playing? And God help you if you don’t understand the question!