A Writers Guide
To The Library Oracle & Its Angel By
Justin Patrick Moore
For Robert Moss, who builds Imaginal
Libraries within the House of Time.
“A big library really has the gift of
tongues & vast potencies of telepathic communication.”
-Northrop Frye(1)
I. Theory
As a writer and reader the library can
be both a beneficial and a detrimental place to work. On the one hand
it is a garden of endless literary delights and cerebral pleasure, with
seductive enticements on shelf after shelf, offering more texts than
can easily be read in a lifetime and promises great strain to eyes that
pore libidinously over dozens of opened volumes. On the other hand the
library encourages that day and night be spent in flirtatious escapades
with its otherworldly treasures. It is all too easy, when firmly
ensconced within its whispering walls, to be swept into maelstroms of
the imagination, be oversaturated by enumerations of scientific
exploits, and cogitate on intellectual critiques of reason written by
scribbling madmen. The library is a rebus of reality itself, a
labyrinth of rhetoric wherein one can become lost for countless
incarnations.
I have known souls trapped in dusty
archive boxes. I have been witness to the call of ancestors who speak
from genealogical cemetery records. I have seen old men hunched over
the Poetic Edda with a magnifying glass in one hand and a raven perched
on each shoulder.
With its café
on the mezzanine serving coffee and rice, its staff lounge with
refrigerators full of bagged lunches, its vending machines serving junk
food to the scholarly, it is not necessary to ever leave the library.
In those sad moments when it closes and I am forced leave I find myself
grateful that at least pieces of it can be taken with me. In my own
tiny library at home I have a shelf reserved for books from the one
where I work. In this way I allow my books to mix and mingle among
those I bring home in the hopes that they will reproduce. Given that
the library books are only leant out for a predetermined and limited
amount of time, the biblioteca ensures the eternal return of its
patrons, securing the benefits of mutual aid between all parties.
As a writer though,
the library can be damaging to self-esteem, to the bit of necessary
egoism, which dictates that the writing should be continued, the quill
picked up again, and arthritic fingers once again tap out lines on a
board of keys. This damage is especially pervasive if the books by the
yet-to-be published writer are not counted and cataloged among the holy
chosen. When faced with a whole shelf of Balzac the miniature tidbits
my pen manages to eke in a given day seem feeble, insipid, and
uninspired. When standing in the D section looking at books by Dick,
Philip K., and Delany, Samuel R., it is not uncommon for me to wonder
out of mind, lonely as cloud, hostage to thoughts that I shall be
forever doomed to merely comment upon and critique the works of others.
When I find the rare
gem by a belated author whom no one else has heard of, that the
librarians (who are supposedly keepers of natural order) have slated
for the discard bin in order to make room for more novels by the likes
of James Patterson, it is easy to give in to pessimistic thinking,
contemplating an ultimate fate where ones life’s work is casually
thrown out and replaced by drivel. It is natural for a writer to feel
small when faced with the enormity of the library. Even if published,
the work could be relegated to the stacks, where mishaps by uncaring
shelvers (who blasting angry pop music into their skulls with tinnitus
inducing headphones instead of meditating within the austerity of the
cloistered silence), easily and frequently push books into the gaps
between shelves. Stuck in that netherworld it could lurk for untold
decades company only to silverfish and spiders as the dry dust of
rheumatic cobwebs settle across pages whose memory remains unopened. In
as much as these fears take hold, the library will remain an
unassailable fortress, and the writer who works there a prisoner to
whom the pencil and typewriter have become foreign objects, a mere
servant who works only at preserving and ordering what others have
written.
There is however
another way.
The tutelary spirits who reside their
can be of assistance, chief among them being the Library Angel. I first
heard of this being in the work of Robert Moss(2), who in turn borrowed
the term from Arthur Koestler. Though I have only known this term for a
few years at the time of this writing, I have no doubts that I have
been brushing up against this divine messenger since my first trips to
the libraries with my Mother when I was wee lad in the single digit age
group. She was also known to the ancient Sheppard poets and Cabalists
who called him Herachiel, one of the seventy-two names of the
Shemhamphorae. There are several variations of the name, including the
one I originally learned from Robert Moss’ blog, Harahel(3). Others are
Herochiel, and Herachael all of these being transliterations of the
original Hebrew spelling: Heh, Resh, Cheth, Aleph, Lamed(4). The
Sheppard poets of Judaism thought of her as being in charge of
libraries, archives, schools and universities. She has the ability to
open minds to new information and new ideas. The word “angel” does mean
messenger after all.
The
being works through coincidence and synchronicity. The library is its
oracle, delivering with a book or magazine article divine revelations
and flashes of mythopoetic illumination. Arthur Koestler describes this
being as “in charge of providing cross-references”(5) thus she is of
particular importance to researchers and writers. Working at libraries
for over a decade I have had the pleasure of tracking the many ways
Herochiel acts as an interlocutor between the ideas contained in ones
head and the feelings in ones heart, and what is continually being
scanned back into the computer system of the library as I process
recent returns. The field of reference within this ever circulating
domain is one of fractal chaos. Yet Herochiel delivers in outward
reality, via the titles of books, movies, albums, and other materials
vital messages corresponding to the burning questions of mind and soul.
It is like bibliomancy on a vast scale practiced amongst the two
million books and 160,000 plus audio-visual items in the collection at
the Main library alone, not counting all those from the satellite
branches that nonetheless pass through my hands.
It never ceases to
amaze me how when thinking about a subject or talking about one
heatedly with my coworkers, something about the subject, or by the
author being discussed, will turn up amongst all the possibilities. Of
course we are a privileged bunch working in the center of an
intertextual cyclone, and as with all oracles, the one of the library
can be fickle and obtuse. It often speaks in riddles, and the required
actions to bring about alignment of the soul may not always be exactly
clear. One standard for knowing intuitive truths to actually be true is
the Aha moment when shivers of heat or chills rush up the spine to mix
and mingle with psychic insight. It should be no surprise to the open
minded that a library can work in this supernormal fashion. Inscribed
in the wall above its shelves in the famous library of Alexandria were
the words “the place of the cure of the soul.”(6) The Alexandrian
library was but one part of the Museion, or Institution of the Muses,
from which the modern word museum is derived(7). Our modern libraries
are thus very fitting places to go for those seeking the kind of
amusement that only Muse provides.
II. Experiences
The following are a few illustrations
of how the Library Angel works, mostly taken from my own personal
stories.
The most striking and numinous example
happened in relation to a dream I had on December 14th, 2009 that I
titled “Dreams: A Survival Research Laboratory”: I am at a museum of
contemporary arts. I go into a gallery where various sound oriented
multimedia installations are on display. I overhear a curator talking
to an artist, “I’d like to put out a music CD of yours as part of a
current series we are running. It will be in a limited edition of
thirty copies.” Then I see some things on the wall, a circuit-bent(7)
sculpture with attached earbud headphones for listening. I go around
the corner and see something that reminds me of the work of the West
Coast artists collective Survival Research Labs(8). It is a mechanoid
robot that has a taxidermied dog/duck head attached to it, and it is
coming after me. I am quite taken aback though not scared exactly,
though the spectacle is grisly.
Later that day in my blog(9) I wrote
about my thoughts on how art and the magick of the imagination have a
role to play in the survival of the human species. I still hadn’t
penetrated the image of the dog/duck though, and what it might mean to
me. I was aware that the real life artist group Survival Research Labs
often did employ taxidermied animals and roadkill into their mechanical
sculptures, but I didn’t feel any resonance in pursuing that particular
lead. Later, back on the clock, I looked down at a book I was holding
in my hand, as I was about to put it away on a cart. It was by a
biologist named Glen Chilton, titled “The Curse of the Labrador Duck:
My Obsessive Quest to the Edge of Extinction”(10). In seeing those
words I had a key to my dream, the Labrador being a type of dog, but
also a specific, and now extinct, type of duck. In reading some of this
book I learned that Chilton is the world’s foremost authority on this
species that is no more. I never finished the book because it mostly
detailed Chilton’s manic search to examine every known stuffed specimen
of the extinct bird in the world. The Library Angel gave me exactly
what I needed to understand the image in my dream, and a message from a
species that once shared this planet with us. The conjunction of dream
and synchronicity really brought home to me the stark reality of
extinction, and the sobering thought that humans wanton destruction of
other species might be the downfall of our own. In readings stemming
from other dreams I have researched more concrete information about
what actions humans might take to survive, and of how we can act as a
voice for the earth to protect the other beings here (but that is
another story and shall be told another time).
On the day I began this essay,
returning from a Mediterranean diner where I like to eat with one hand
and write with the other, I decided to do an experiment. Whatever book
I first pulled out of a box to be scanned and checked in I would take
as a personal message from the Library Oracle. The book I got was a
thriller novel by Sharon Sala called “Nine Lives”(11) not my usual
reading fare. I contemplated what it could mean for awhile before
dismissing it from my mind, thinking that not every book I come across
contains a message. I wish I had paid closer attention. The next day my
wife and I went out to have an evening coffee at one of our favorite
spots. One of our Cats ran out the door. Lucyfur is allowed to spend
some time outside, but we prefer to have him in the house when we are
gone. He came back in with us when we got home. It was a few hours
later when I saw some bloody papers on my desk, and Audrey saw drips of
blood on our sheets. Calling the cat, we were horrified to find that it
had been punctured in the stomach, how we do not know. He had to be
rushed to an all night vet clinic, where an emergency surgery was
performed. Luckily no internal organs were damaged, and our cat is
recovering well, but I can’t help but wonder if I could have saved him
some pain, and my family an expensive vet bill, if I had given the
“Nine Lives” message more credence.
The following story is recounted in a
wonderful essay on art and activism by John Jordan and shows how
astonishing the interplays between human and Angel can be:
Last year I was in the British Library,
researching clowns and tricksters and I came upon a book about
synchronicity. I opened it at random and read a story about how the
writer Rebecca West had been researching a specific episode of the
Nuremberg war crimes trials. She had been horrified to find that the
transcripts were catalogued under completely arbitrary headings and
impossible for any researcher to navigate. In frustration she took the
first volume that came to hand, carelessly opened it at random to find
she was not only holding the correct volume, but had opened it at
exactly the right page. I put the book down and gazed over the reading
desk at the person sitting in front of me. He was one of those
characters that seems to dwell permanently in libraries, a large dusty
sedentary bespectacled man, reading “A Train of Powder” by Rebecca
West. The very book that collects her Nuremburg trials writings. Of all
the hundreds upon thousand of volumes in the British library, of all
the hundreds of seats in this reading room, how could it be that I
happened to have sat in front of this person, with this particular book
in his hands.(12)
There are many more
examples from my own life I could cite, as I record many of these book
related synchronicities in my journal. Rather than to continue to talk
about my own experiences further, I would rather instigate and inspire
you to have some of your own.
III. Application
I started off this
essay by looking at the library from my perspective as a writer. Having
discussed how the library operates in an oracular fashion through the
agency of its governing angel, I will now talk about how the aspiring
writer can cooperate with this being to bring greater depth to her or
his projects.
The best writers are
known to be voracious readers. The open text of the library offers
access to the master who will choose you with the help of Herochiel.
Everyone who reads avidly has favorite authors, often trying to foist
books and authors on other people in their zealous enthusiasm for the
written word. It is easy to forgive this breach of personal boundaries
because it is a sin I am notoriously guilty of. Yet we should be
careful what we read, because like music and other types of food we
don’t want to fill up on junk. If we go by the bestseller lists,
literary cannons, and what everyone else tells us we should be reading,
then there looms the danger that what we ingest will be of no personal
relevance to us. When the Library Angel is invoked you can be sure of
discovering those works that will feed the soul. It is important for
writers to keep water in the well, to not to let it run dry. Keeping
the well full isn’t done only through reading, but reading can help
keep it stocked full of big fish(13). And big fish are what you’ll want
to be reeling in with your stories, poems, and essays.
Of course if you
visit the library frequently, or work at one like I do, Herochiel is
liable to send so many books across your path that you will find it
difficult to read all of them. The amassed piles will continue to grow
until, like Babel, they collapse under the weight. You can’t write if
you spend all your time reading, so when your towers of books start
cluttering every available space in your household take it as a sign
that you should clear off your desk and start penning your own.
But what better way to learn then craft
than by being apprenticed to a master?
It may not be so
easy to find a pro that is willing to work with you. In the meantime
twank(14) the authors you love, stand on the shoulders of literary
giants, cop a bit of their style and incorporate it into your own. When
you feel pessimistic, pick up a biography of an artist you admire and
think of their life and struggles, their rejections, their perseverance
in the face of adversity, and the bodies of work they created anyway.
Afterwards, writing will seem doable again. Twanking is a fun exercise
in its own right anyway, whether pro, amateur, or beginner. Copying the
style of a masterful writer improves your skills. Don’t worry about
losing your own voice. What you take from others will be absorbed, and
when fully processed and assimilated, you will find that rather than
merely copying a style or approach, your own style will have been
informed by all that you have read. (The beauty of texts lay in their
relationships to one another.) Learn to be the vehicle of the voice and
it will speak through you on its own accord.
The best way to do
that is by writing every day. Start in the morning with your dreams
when you wake up. You are guaranteed a fresh delivery of material that
way, so no excuses. Your dreams will feed you plots, poems, characters,
and exciting lines of research besides; all personally relevant, but
more often than not relevant to the community as well.
Robert Moss says,
“the most important book on dreams you ever read is your own dream
journal.”(15) I heartily agree. Furthermore the most important library
you visit may be your own. In his book “Dreamgates”(16) Robert gives
instructions for entering and developing a personal Dream Library
within the House of Time. In the imaginal space of your Dream Library
you can look at the books, stories, essays and poems you are yet to
write. It can be used as a gateway for further imaginal journeying, by
stepping into scenes from the books in your library. This is a powerful
tool not only for creativity but for soul remembering.
Outside of research
and keeping your well stocked, the Library Angel can give writers the
next image or sentence they need to break through a block, or navigate
their way through a tricky paragraph or scene. This happened to me
recently. I had set aside work on an ongoing story because I had
reached an impasse. In those times, rather than give up on writing,
I’ll usually journal, pull out or start a shorter piece, and keep my
hands moving if for no other reason than the exercise. I knew in some
ways what the next part of the story would entail, how my character
would react to his new situation, I just didn’t know how to get the
ball rolling on it again. Then somebody dumped into the book-drop an
armload of titles on the Kabbalah. One of them was titled “Dreams of
Being Eaten Alive: The Literary Core of the Kabbalah” by David
Rosenberg(17). In the fine tradition of intertextuality as practice by
the likes of Umberto Eco and Jorge Luis Borges I borrowed the title and
adapted it for my story. When I sat down in front of my notebook with
that phrase in mind the entire next scene flowed out of me unbidden,
and it took me to places I didn’t know were inside me.
I have also been
experimenting with meditating on the Hebrew name of the Library Angel,
by using a method taught by the Western esoteric mystery school, the
Golden Dawn. It consists of visualizing the letters of the Hebrew name
to build up what they termed a Telesmatic Image(18). Those versed in
ceremonial magick should have no problem devising elaborate invocations
of this being. While these practices are no doubt powerful and
effective I do not know if they are necessary. Merely thinking of the
Library Angel seems to keep the press of synchronicity rolling.
It is nice to know her name though, and
it can be used as a mantra, either separately or combined with the
visualization practice above in order to invoke her presence. The next
time you go to a library, try chanting the name a few times before
going in the door, walk to a random shelf, pull of a random book, and
open it to a random page for a personal message. Or just go in with an
open mind to the possibility of her intervention.
Herochiel is said to
not only rule over libraries and archives, but also has an influence on
printing, publishing, and the book industry in general(19). I will not
forget her name, but keep it close to my lips as I set about navigating
the world of editors and agents, big publishers and small presses. By
showing my thankfulness to her in my continued efforts at writing I
hope to stay on her good side.
-Justin Patrick Moore, March 8th, 2010
(Sequestered in the Stacks of Cincinnati’s Main Library)
Notes:
1. Quoted in “The
Library At Night”, by Alberto Manguel, Yale University Press, 2006
2. Mentioned in
Robert’s lively blog (www.mossdreams.blogspot.com)
in a post titled “Shelf elves, Charlotte Bronte, & printers devils”
at the following URL: http://mossdreams.blogspot.com/2010/01/shelf-elf-charlotte-bronte-printers.html
3. “Images as Energy
Carriers” by Robert Moss at http://mossdreams.blogspot.com/2010/02/ability-to-generate-images-and-relate.html
4. “Godwin’s
Cabalistic Encyclopedia” by David Godwin, third edition, Llewellyn
Publications, 1997
5. Quoted in
“In the Footnotes of Library Angels: A Bi(bli)ography of
Insurrectionary Imagination”, by John Jordan, available at http://www.thisisliveart.co.uk/pdf_docs/SRG_Jordan.pdf
6. “The Library At
Night”, by Alberto Manguel, Yale University Press, 2006
7. Circuit bending is
an art form innovated by Cincinnati artist Q. Reed Ghazala (http://www.anti-theory.net)
Reed says, “The circuit-bent instrument, often a re-wired audio toy or
game, is an alien instrument: alien in electronic design, alien in
voice, alien in musician interface. Through this procedure, all around
our planet, a new musical vocabulary is being discovered. A new
instrumentarium is being born.”
8. http://www.srl.org/ : “Survival
Research Laboratories was conceived of and founded by Mark Pauline in
November 1978. Since its inception SRL has operated as an organization
of creative technicians dedicated to re-directing the techniques,
tools, and tenets of industry, science, and the military away from
their typical manifestations in practicality, product or warfare. Since
1979, SRL has staged over 45 mechanized presentations in the United
States and Europe. Each performance consists of a unique set of
ritualized interactions between machines, robots, and special effects
devices, employed in developing themes of socio-political satire.
Humans are present only as audience or operators.”
9. http://www.sothismedias.com
10. “The Curse of the
Labrador Duck: My Obsessive Quest to the Edge of Extinction” by Glen
Chilton, Harper Collins, 2009
11. “Nine Lives” by
Sharon Sala, Mira, 2006
12. John
Jordan, see note five above.
13. “Catching the Big
Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity” by David Lynch,
Tarcher, 2007
14. I borrowed the
term twank from Rudy Rucker. I had a dream about Twanking him on March
7, 2010, and had the thought that I should include the term in this
essay. Twanking is a word he coined to describe the experience of
getting into the mindspace of an author you really like in order to
mimic his or her style, and also to improve your own writing. See “MS
Found In Minidrive” for a short story about this, collected in “Mad
Professor: The Uncollected Short Stories of Rudy Rucker”, Thunders
Mouth Press, 2007
15. “Conscious
Dreaming: A Spiritual Path for Everyday Life” by Robert Moss, Three
Rivers Press, 1996
16. “Dreamgates: An
Explores Guide to the Worlds of Soul, Imagination, and Life Beyond
Death” by Robert Moss, Three Rivers Press 1998. (Look for a new edition
by April 2010 from New World Library.) The Dream Library is also
further elaborated upon in his book “The Secret History of Dreaming”
released from New World Library in 2008 (see the chapter titled “From
the Dream Library”). Further study can be had in an expanded chapter
from “The Dreamers Book of the Dead: A Soul Travelers Guide to Death,
Dying and the Other Side”, Destiny Books 2005, online at: http://mossdreams.com/Design%202009/Archives/essays/2010.03_friend%201.htm
17. “Dreams of Being
Eaten Alive: The Literary Core of the Kabbalah” by David Rosenberg,
Harmony, 2000
18. for more
information on this technique see, “The Golden Dawn: The Original
Account of the Teachings, Rites & Ceremonies of the Hermetic Order”
as revealed by Israel Regardie, Llewellyn Publications, 2002
19. see: http://guideangel.com/59.html
