Cassiel C. MacAvity

. . . .and their verdict was delivered, and their gavel came down. . . . .


      Presumably as the verdict is delivered I get thanks for my assistance in documenting and confirming and double checking this whole screw up . . . or I don't get thanks . . . but at least I'm not one of the losers I had to document. As the verdict gets handed down, however, I Am still in the evident bottle, Still being targeted, Still looking for the road to Nirvana that I started fishing for at a Greyhaven New Year's party.


      And then what?


      January, 2000,
around the middle of the month, where no one I've talked to has noted any particular significance. In My case, I was subscribed to a daily newsletter from, which would have assorted news headlines, random new sections added to the website, and often a set of links to totally random tutorials, overviews of things, and so forth.

      The list of stuff that day looked basically interesting, and I followed the links along to find sites on a group that I had heard of before, but not heard of in detail, and Oh, My didn't a lot of it look Very Familiar.

      The website described a free form, fairly individualist study group with a great interest in self improvement and an awareness that things don't exactly progress in a mundane linear fashion, where everyone feeds their discoveries back into everyone else so that all can find out what everyone else is working on and can learn from each other. Furthermore, an emphasis is the particular, you will not just stand up not just for yourself, you will deliver and form ideas which will also be able to stand up for themselves, and in that, what you do in such will thus support you and also support those around you doing the same. In short, this group was looking Very much like what I had been looking for through the previous five years, and was the absolute antithesis of the "Do Not expect me to practice what I claim to preach" paganoids that I had been having to babysit . . . .

      As I put it, group looked rather like a practice of hardcore, hands on Zen Tibetan Buddhism of and by white folk . . . . err . . . people of a Western cultural background and experience totally regardless of personal ancestry. In turn, as a filtering mechanism to weed out the lightweights, there is a requirement of a detailed application letter and a quantity of money up front. If you are accepted, the money becomes your first year's dues. If you are rejected, the money is refunded, thank you for your interest, but you are Not for us.

      Sooo, the clear decision was going to be to apply, as soon as I could afford to---at that point, money wasn't being a problem, but Oh, My were the bills piled up and really taking a lot of precedence. After rent, food and the phone, of course . . . even if all that is dialed is low cost local calls, one Must have one's internet access.

      February 2000
A friend of mine is also a sudden talent, wherein there is no interest in the posing BS of Oh, I hear just So many more voices than you do, where just minding one's own business wasn't allowed, awareness of Just Other Things was tossed in along with everything else.

      My friend was told of a working vision of me on a very small island behind a moat, with no way past the moat, and the reaction was that we should work together to get me across the moat, and then we would go actively hunting the malevolent slimebags I had been having to deal with all along. I did point out that this approach Did have an unbroken history of failure, granted that most of the previous reasons for wanting to try this by others was that if the impossible is attempted, failure can be declared to be a victory, or someone else's fault, following which, growth, learning, responsibility, and most importantly, reality can continue to be avoided at all costs.

      We worked together for a session of seeing each other's visions, seeing each other in each other's visions, and so forth, and after awhile, got absolutely Nowhere. I was not surprised, but did consider the session a sort of success, as I had never before had someone to work with at a level of such obvious feedback.

      Sometime about then, I finally got around to doing my taxes. A friend states that the result was Probably a matter of a change of jobs, but for the first time ever, the State of California owed me about twenty bucks more than the application fee for the study group.

      Sometime after the first attempt, my friend and I got together for another session. This time I suggested that as I seemed to be, so to speak, stuck in a well corked bottle, then what if my friend, so to speak, tucked me into a pocket and took me along while hunting down whatever was Out thataway that was continuing to bother me. If nothing else, as such a procedure had the advantages of actually doing something ethical and capable, not to mention actually Doing something, this approach Did have the advantage of having never before been tried by anyone except my first teacher . . . who was not combat oriented, as she'd never needed to be.

      Among the visions, we saw stars, one of which was brighter than the others, so we went towards it. In that light, we found a fairly standard Star Trek Borg, a being infested with wires and gadgets that lead off to a control center off thataway, and by means of the wires and such, this creature was utterly radiating all out rage and hatred, all focused on me. Well, as usual with such , the handiest way to disable such a monster was to pull out all the wires and cables, at which point I saw the Borg disappear, and my friend suddenly announced "I now see a very small boy. He looks A Lot like You." . . . . . . . . . the thought that very definitely Did filter in either then, or definitely after awhile was of fragmentation and what could be done with such . . . . . Several times, I have been dealing with the concept of fragments of me that have split off as a result of trauma, and my recollection of standard pyschiatry is that this is a the basis of multiple personality disorder.

      After a bit of work and coaching from my friend, I was able to get to where I could see the child, and basically reabsorbed him back into me. In the meantime, as a working theory, what better way to cut someone off and prevent any shielding etc, than taking a fragment of someone, wiring it up for hatred and abuse, and feeding it right back to the rest of that fragment's source . . . . . of course, to achieve that, one would have to be a totally malevolent and sociopathic slimebag with very distinct psychic capabilities, but by that point, I Had already documented a number of those, so there was no surprise there.

      We went on to do other things at that time, and correcting great imbalances was one thing I remember, along with running into a pair of total neophytes who had clearly been left out as tripwires by someone with more manipulativeness than care . . . the neophytes we just ripped portions out of, leaving them to realize that they were Very Very lucky as they would then hopefully go on with their lives, without returning to the shits who had been lying to them . . . . and after a time, we wrapped things up and compared notes, and I wandered on home . . . . .

      And from that point on of rescuing and resolving the child, I was out of the bottle, free, able, and Very capable of full shielding---once I could actually Learn something reliable---finally able to smash back at things and making a real impact happen at Any distance.

      May, 2000
There is a local weekend medieval recreation event that occurs around the beginning of May, which I have attended and help out with to a small extent. I decided to attend this year, 'cause I hadn't been making it to a lot of such events, and also wondered why I seemed to be getting a lot of flak in the week leading up to the event.

      At the event, I was helping out with the medieval heraldry consultation, which I tend to do, and a pair of sisters popped up to get some research done. And then it turned out that they had been doing the medieval stuff for years but not only did one of the sisters have Her own set of voices that she had talking to her, to put things simply, but hse had suddenly gotten a demand that she go consult with the heralds, Now, when there had been no concern before.

      We compared notes. The sister stated that she had no idea of how to combat the shit I have been facing, but a friend of hers might, and email was sent off. The friend announced that she herself had been told to expect a major test of Her own magical ability and knowledge, and the timing was such that yes, it looked that the fuckup I had been monitoring was to be that test. The sister and she and I compare more notes, and the sisiter and I figured that we would all meet up at another event, and the friend could make some decisions based on scanning me in person.

      In the meantime, one recurring vision that had been turning up since about a year after Emily's murder was that of a submarine. There was never any explanation of Why I was seeing a submarine in various situations and locations, but based on some feedback, the sub was a boomer, a nuclear missile launching submarine.

      About mid May, one Monday as I was getting totally hammered by Something, I commented on that in email, and about a half hour later, everything went totally quiet. About a half hour after that, email came in from the friend of "Thank you! That was delicious, D'ye have any more?" She had started her test. I don't remember if I was picking up anything on My end, but that evening or so I noticed that for the first time ever, there was a missile hatch open on the submarine, with an empty silo underneath it.

      By Thursday, her emails were telling of wave after wave after wave of attack. On my end, I was seeing missile after missile disappearing from the submarine. Sunday night, I got a call from the sister; the friend was now claiming to have no memory of anything non mundane dating back over a year. The overall diagnosis was that she had jumped the gun, and in doing so, had failed her test . . . .

      At that next event that we were all to meet at, I and the sister compared more note with another friend of the sister. What came out at that point was that the other friend's dead grandfather had a history of checking in from the other world, and had a Lot of US Navy combat experience, and had I said submarine??!!! A few days after that I got a very clear vision of a double row of nuclear missiles, with someone with an ear to ear grin, dressed in a pair of mechanic's overalls, perched on the nosecone of one of the lead missiles. The Very clear accompanying commentary was "Oh, No, don't worry about the missiles that have been fired, there's Lot's more where They came from . . . . .

      Finally, it would seem, I wasn't just out of the bottle, I finally had some teeth with which to work . . . .

      June 2000
I finally got to the application letter to the study group, stating that I was trying to study, that my background was of rather eclectic Buddhism, and that what I read of a group that matched what I was looking for was Very interesting . . .

      July 2000
I received an email request from an officer of the study group, requesting an interview so that we can meet face to face, get some direct feedback, etc. At the meeting, once we get settled into our seats, one of the first comments from the officer is "But, we're not Buddhist . . ." I commented that I had read that nominally, the study group is indeed not Buddhist, but also that where Buddhism Does involve this, that, the other, I had been noting that the group's websites were commenting on interest in This, That, The Other . . . . After a bit more discussion of Stuff, the officer shook my hand, informed me that my intro paperwork would be in the mail, and welcomed me aboard . . .

      August 2000 and later
The paperwork arrived . . . . There are masses of backlogs that I need to get to, such as spending almost all of Thanksgiving weekend buried in a reading pile through to 2 AM Monday morning . . . but soon enough and too many years after I had asked some questions at Greyhaven, while the wars of stupid infants continue, the study begins . . . .


Cassiel C. MacAvity