The Primitive Mind

Vortices
by
MaatRaAh
High Priest of The Goddesses
Update: December 2015

The Primitive Mind has existed from the beginning of life itself, and is primitive in the literal sense. That is, it is self generated. It has no antecedent, and is neither adapted nor developed, nor derived from anything. Rather it originates with whatever individual creature possesses it, be they human, or any species with a brain. Moreover, wherever it exists, the Primitive Mind is not only unique with the individual, but beyond reason, as it has, in some unique way, an ability to perceive what cannot be seen. And, in its most profound way, it holds the potential for transcending the physical, or rather, one cannot transcend the physical without the Primitive Mind.

In the 60's and 70's I raised a pride of lions, starting with, a male cub whose eyes were not yet open. Two weeks later his smaller brother was given to me. They were gentle beasts, and responded quickly to my voice and commands. They would roar when I left for work in the morning, and the larger male would be roaring when I returned at night. During the day they ate and mostly slept. But there was more with my large male. He would begin roaring when I was on my way home as my car left the highway and went onto the country road that led to my ranch three miles away. And it did not matter if it was my car or another car. He always knew when I left the highway.

I was a pilot and owned my own plane, which I would fly over my ranch and call out my lion’s names. They would respond by standing in their large compound, look into the sky and roar until the drone of the plane’s engin faded. Usually their roars would last until my plane was out of sight, then tiring of the sport, or having said all they needed to say, they would lie down and go to sleep.

Late one afternoon my big lion began roaring, and when he had not stopped for nearly an hour, my wife and I went out to be with them. The large male was the only one roaring, and he did not stop when I put my arms around him. His smaller brother would only roar for a few seconds then stop and lie down, watch his brother roar, then get up roar two or three times, then lie down again. We stayed with them for some time as my big lion roared and stared off in the distance. Then as the sun sank in the west, the moon began rising over the eastern horizon, in the direction my big lion was looking. When the moon had risen full, just above the horizon, he stopped roaring, turned, and with his brother following, went into their room and went to sleep. My wife and I were both struck with the same realization that our lion had called the full moon into the sky.

My lion would roar at every full moon, even when I took him with me to some exhibition or event. He was just over three years old when I was given three lion cubs, two females and a male, whose eyes had just opened. I introduce them to my two males who accepted them at first sight. When the new cubs were about a year old, the male would roar with my large male, but never on his own. Female lions do not roar like males, but rather have a grunting that is for them a roar, and one of the females would also roar on her own, to call a full moon into the sky.

I trained a dozen other lions, but none of them roared at the moon, nor would they join in roaring with my big lion. However, when I told this to a friend of mine who had a pride of lions in another country, he observed that one of his lions also roared with the full moon. His lion was in a similar situation as mine. That is, my lions were well fed, lived in a large area, and were part of the family - pride - and would take long walks with me, even enjoying swimming in the creek that ran through my property. In other words, my large lion was comfortable and was at peace with everything around him, something few lions have in today’s world, and that allowed his Primitive Mind to become active.

Somewhere within their Primitive Minds, whether it was gravitational pull, or some psychic ability (ESP), something had awakened within them a realization that the Moon was called at their command. I found that they roared with every full foon, as well as two days before and two days after a full moon, even when it was overcast or stormy. But they did more than that. They would also call the New Moon to rise invisibly into the day sky. It was, to their Primitive Minds, their power over the celestial orbs.

There is no way to know if my lions, or any of the other lions I was around, possessed any other aspects of the Primitive Mind or had some other psychic abilities, such as clairvoyance, distance clairvoyance, precognition, retrocognition, telepathy or some other form of extra sensory perception (ESP). But there are reports of dogs and cats who have been lost and still find their owners who have moved to other states.

The Primitive Mind, the ability to perceive what cannot be seen, existed within the thousands of generations of ape-like creatures that walked upright in Asia 600,000 years ago as they slowly developed rational thinking. But those early humans found little comfort in their ruthless lives. The rigor and brutality of life were welcome distractions from the long dark nights, when primal fears seized their tired and tormented bodies. For it was in the darkness of night that the mind is allowed to reflect on the unknown. Fearing the night, not for the dangers that lurked in the shadows, but for the haunting visions that came with sleep, they tried to keep themselves awake until the break of dawn when they could at last get rest in the presence of a comforting light, for it is when there is either a sense of safety, or a desperation for safety, that the Primitive Mind is active.

Unlike the rational mind, the Primitive Mind has no fear of death or human forces. It functions at the most base level, where consciousness and the subconscious are merged by intuition. Conversely, when conscious rational thought gives in to superstition (fear of the gods), the Primitive Mind is suppressed and irrationally misconstrued as being a form of superior intellect, so that the Primitive Mind can rarely compete in the intellectual world. It is beyond reason, and erratic, which makes it better suited for survival in an environment of savagery, violence and brutality. This makes intellects the very instrument of their own destruction when their fear of death compels them to cling to life in the face of certain death, while the alternative is survival by putting themselves in danger of immediate death.

It is this rejection of the Primitive Mind that allows the victims of Jihadist and other savage mass killers to cling to life and be killed one after another one, rather than rising up en mass to face certain death by a few in order to overtake the killer. On the other hand it is the savage killers who embrace their Primitive Mine without even knowing it.

This was brought home to me when I was sentenced to jail where I was kept in semi isolation, locked in a single cell, where murderers, rapists and the most violent criminals where kept, while the other inmates were allowed to roam the passageway in front of the cells. I was deprived of anything to eat for the first three days of incarceration, and when I was finally given food, it was on a tray that was placed on the floor about two feet from my cell. I had watched the other prisoners reach their arms through the bars to take the food in their hands and bring it back into their cages, just as captive animals would do; and I had also watched cockroaches scurry over the trays and drop to the floor as the prisoners shook them off their food. I refused to lower myself to the status of the guards and was amused as cunning rats ran to my untouched tray and carried off whatever food they could take.

The Los Angeles County jailers claimed that I was being protected from the other inmates; and to "protect" me, when I was allowed in the exercise area, I was the only white prisoner among the ruthless, Crypts black street gang.

My first days were the hardest. Sleep was an illusion, the hard bed, the permeating cold and a nagging hunger made every movement to gain comfort even more comfortless. It took me over a week to calm my mind to a near-void, and just as I was able to block out my surroundings, sometime late at night, somewhere in the distance, an animal howled. Its short staccato yaps rose and fell in rhythmic cadence then trailed off and was answered by another beast which was distinguishable only by its deeper howling. I lay there numbed by fate, as concentration faded, and I was no longer able to sleep. Every moan of the other prisoners, every shuffle, every uttered cry shot through me with piercing annoyance. And behind it all was the constant hauntingly perverse howling. As dawn drew near, the guards began making their rounds, and somewhere in that haze of the movement the howling stopped. Sleep came easier the next night as I gained control over my situation and blocked out the nagging physical pains. Then later that night the howling began again with the same terrorizing rhythmic yaps. But as my ears became accustomed to the pitch and cadence, I could make out not two but half a dozen beasts, each with a distinct resonance, yet each was almost indistinguishable from the other. Again they ceased with the changing of the guards.

The third night the howling began even later and now I could not only distinguish the sounds of the different beast, but somewhere in my imagination, I could almost understand the emotion they conveyed to each other, an emotion of violence, hatred and vicious brutality. The fourth night was filled with an uncomfortable silence. It was peaceful, lying there alone in my cell, isolated from the other prisoners by bars and intellect. As the days and nights passed, I forgot about the howling. Then sometimes after the end of day change of guards, the first howl began, followed by one animal after another raising their voices in continuous rage, as though the night was their enemy, or even more ominous, the cover for their unknowable rage.

As the howls raged, my mind drifted to the roaring of my lions, which had always been comforting, and as I listened to the howls of these beasts, I realized that they, like my lions were being guided by the primal influence of the moon. It was not something they could see, or even understand. It was something they could feel.

It was during another several day lull when there had been no nightly howls that I was transferred to the high profile wing of the jail, where the mother and father murderers, Eric and Lyle Menendez, were in the cells next to me. As I was being escorted to the new cell by one guard, two more guards rushed up to me and took their positions one in front, one behind, and the other to my left with me standing against the wall. Ahead were three Blood gang members, hands shackled to their waists, and ankles with short shackles, as they stood facing the opposite wall. I was moved quickly down the hall, and about thirty feet after passing the Bloods, I heard the hallway erupt in fierce barking howls. I turned to see six guards shuffling four shackled Crypts down the hall behind me as they howled viciously back at the Bloods. The faces of both the Crypts and the Bloods were contorted in anger and a fierce hatred that was expressed in their unintelligible (to me) howls.

The night howling beasts were not beyond the prison walls as I had imagined. They were in the Crypt cell block isolated from the rest of the prisoners. Their beastly howls were not howls at all, but the rhythmic cadence of they yelled from cell to cell to each other, motivated by a primal force they could not comprehend. Yet it was a force that acted on their Primitive Minds, and they reacted without ever realizing they were reacting to the moon. But the sight to Crypts and Bloods as they faced each other needed no primal force to play on their Primitive Minds. It was innate, immediate and furious, murderous hatred, which was exacerbated by their strict confinement, and the feeling of the jail.

The jail is built on one of those places where people feel too uncomfortable to live. It is a vortic force that drives the superstitious away, and is the very force that attracts perverse government officials to inflict the most discomfort on their inmates. It is not the feeling of the bars and windowless walls that bear on the prisoner's minds. Rather it is a primal eerie feeling that plays on the inmates souls and haunts them with fear of man and their gods of darkness.

This primal drive has nothing to do with the race of the Crypts or Bloods. We can hear a similar howling with a different rhythm and cadence among certain Arab tribes, or in the chants of the Bosnians. It is found in every race, hidden in every culture among those sub groups who live by violence or superstition; where social conditions keep intellect at the most primitive level of societal development; where kill and be killed is the norm; where survival depends on a brutality which bears a perverted sense of justice; where the primal mind drives the body, which in turn seeks immediate gratification; where, "give it to me, or I'll take it from you," is a way of life.

So it is that the intellectual mind which is obsessed with thinking, cannot comprehend the spiritual, while the primitive mind, which is without any comprehension of souls, is ruled by the subtle forces of nature and the unseen universe which can lead to the spiritual. For it is the Pimitive Mind that blocks the soul from the brain, and the brain from the soul. Yet it is also the Primitive Mind that can transcend the physical an touch the Soul.

The union of the Primitive Mind and intellectual mind is the key to the spiritual. For primitive really means, "being the first of its kind", and the only part of our "mind" that can recognize the spiritual is that which is closest to the spiritual, our soul, which is also "the first of its kind" and which exists at the most basic level of our subconscious.

Thus, finding the spiritual requires a leap from intellectualism to the primitive or primal experience of our own soul. It is a leap few people ever make because they do not, or cannot, understand the mystical and ths spiritual for them is beyond comprehension.


Copyright 1986, 1990, 1997, 2012, 2015 by Sabrina Aset. All rights reserved.