Billions of Thundering Typhoons ~ LA PENSINE MUTINE (EN)

We're pirates. Not the heart-bleeding Robin Hood types of heroes. We don't do rescues.
Captain Barbossa, Pirates of the Caribbean

Blimey! After a narrow escape from the mouse trap and a close call with a near indigestion from cheese holes last month, I am now sailing below the decks aboard the Hispaniola – or is that the Black Pearl? Either way, there's betrayal on the cards with that bloody five of spades throwing spanners in the works. Acting rather as a warning sign before a critical bend on a curving road or, in this particular case, a coast lined with dangerous reefs. Time for us to slow down, observe, and most importantly, not to trust indiscriminately. Let's not forget that in May, that damned dirty player and contingency expert Uranus is making its final pass over demon star Algol in aggressive Aries. The five of spades also alerts us to the dangers of empathy and attachment, calling us to adopt an individualistic approach.

Hoist the Flag!

The dictionary defines a pirate as “an adventurer who roamed the seas to engage in brigandage, attacking merchant ships”. Nowadays, a pirate is “a person who engages in maritime piracy, a sort of sea robber who plunders other ships and take away their goods, whatever they may be”.

A distinction should be made between outlawed pirates (from the Latin pirata, derived from Greek peirates, meaning “one who attempts fortune, who is enterprising”) and and hired corsairs (from the Latin cursus, “course”), who were privateers, holding letters of marque issued by their government to attack enemy ships during wartime – as well as freebooters or flibusters (from the Dutch vrijbuiter, “one who plunders freely”) who were generally defectors, adventurers or criminals at large who had escaped from their country of origin to avoid justice.

Note that freebooters who operated in the Caribbean Sea were sometimes improperly called buccaneers (after the meat they smoked on a special grill, known as “buccan”) and also that privateers appointed by a particular country were considered to be pirates by enemy countries. Corsairs are therefore pirates from the point of view of third countries.

Know that as far back as ancient times, piracy already existed. Every ancient civilisation with a fleet of ships was familiar with it, from the Phoenicians to the Mycenaeans, including the Romans. And the Vikings. In those days, oceans were regarded as free spaces where the law of the jungle prevailed.

The golden age of piracy was in the 1660s, when the French, English and Dutch would all raid the gold-laden ships of the Spanish Crown. From 1690 onward, new groups began operating in the Indian Ocean. The English Crown would encourage piracy as it brought money to both West Indies and England. However, by 1700 this was no longer the case with trade becoming global. Sometime between 1716 and 1726, a spontaneous pirate movement of several thousand individuals sprang up, but it did not have the support of the ruling classes. The Brits and French cooperated to curb the movement and hung hundreds of pirates.

Oh I’ll tell you a tale of a pirate queen
A she-wolf who reigned the Caribbean Sea
With a pistol-a-ready and a cutlass keen
The villainous, infamous Anne Bonny
Born in Ireland scandalously
Bastard daughter
To a prosperous lawyer
Shunned suitor and society
For the love of a pirate boy
"Anne Bonny", Karliene (2019)

And before some hare-brained port-sided feminists hoist their flag and fire their bullets, let's remind them that among the most famous pirates were three ladies: Maria Lindsey, Mary Read, and Anne Cormac better known as Anne Bonny. Bonny's boarding technique was certainly an inspiration to the screenwriters of Pirates of the Caribbean. With the help of friends, she would turn a stolen old ship into a ghost ship, spraying its sails with fake blood and prominently displaying bloodied dummies on deck. Faced with such ghastly sight, the terrified crews of the merchant ships would flee, abandoning their precious cargo without resistance.

Scuttled Scuttlers

The pirate figure is both fascinating and appealing as it is associated with a quest for absolute freedom. However, from a supraconscious perspective, this archetype is a form of orchestrated rebellion meant to divert the energy of independence-seeking souls into a loop of struggle, loss and failure.

The pirate figure may appear to be opposing the system, yet he is merely re-enacting another version of the same servitude: he is rejecting hierarchy, but is stuck in a constant state of survival; he never questions the rules of the game, he only tries to force his way out; the buried gold is a trivial illusion diverting his attention from the worthier quest of exiting the game.

Like other “likeable rebel” figures (such as Robin Hood, hackers, resistance fighters), the pirate embodies a pointless, alluring yet energy-intensive struggle. The matrix is fond of such patterns as they suck up the energy of souls who want to break free, while ensuring that nothing really changes.

On the other hand, the opposition between pirates and privateers is a perfect illustration of the orchestrated duality, where corsairs are allowed the very thing pirates are hunted down for. States use privateers (who play by the book) and then betray them when they are no longer welcome. This pattern is being repeated everywhere: using pawns and then sacrificing them. The matrix generates artificial conflicts in which each side believes they are the “good guys”, when in reality they are all caught up in the same game.

Dark Heroes of the Astral

Whether clichés make you cringe or smile, they do serve a purpose, for this matrix is based on a contractual programme relying on tacit consent. Hence, any time you accept a thought, a situation, a role or a symbol, it becomes a tacit contract without you even realising it.

So, in the mutilation department, the one-legged pirate is a reminder of the pain and price for breaking out of the system, and conveys the subtle message that rebellion leads to destruction. Just like sacrificed warriors and martyred heroes, pirates can never truly win.

Also, the loss of his creative tool (hand) replaced by a weapon (hook) is a metaphor turning the pirate into a brutal force, devoid of any subtlety - a ‘ doomed warrior’. The rebel figure of the pirate becomes thus a destroyer, but never a builder.

In occult symbolism, many one-eyed or mutilated figures, such as Odin sacrificing his eye, one-eyed Satan, etc., represent partial knowing – a truncated vision of reality. The pirate does not have a complete understanding of the game; his moves are responsive rather than masterly.

There were fifteen of us on the dead man's chest
Yo - ho - ho! and a bottle of rum!
The drink and the devil took the others,
Yo - ho - ho! and a bottle of rum!
Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island

The pervasiveness of rum is by no means trivial. Alcohol (derived from the Arabic al-kuhl, initially meaning “subtle thing” or “essence” with reference to the distilled solution resulting from the magical experiments of Middle Eastern alchemists) alters judgement, drives men away from spirit, and holds them in an impaired state of consciousness. There's a good reason for calling alcohol “spirits” as it astralises and distorts perception. It thus became an infamous instrument for colonisation of indigenous communities all over the world. Chemists use alcohol as an extractive agent to retrieve essences in the production of essential oils or the sterilisation of medical devices. The same applies for the human body where it retrieves the essence of an individual, thus causing fissures in the aura that may be exploited by astral entities.

The faithful parrot perched on the pirate's shoulder represents conditioned memory and mental programming. It mindlessly repeats what it hears in the same way as a human stuck in an unquestioning belief system. He follows the pirate everywhere, thus illustrating the unknowing presence of the automatic patterns governing our decision making. What may pass for wisdom is merely recycling empty words that lack substance. This symbol suggests that even ‘free’ rebels are burdened with unconscious programming that keeps bringing them back into the same loops.

The black flag with the human skull or “death head” (Jolly Roger) is not unlike the symbol of the Skull and Bones secret society associated with power management and control of the masses. In the matrix, death is a programmed illusion to hold souls captive and feed the astral recycling loop. The use of such symbol by pirates may be seen as a hidden knowledge claim or else, as a way to inspire fear and subjugation.

Last but not least, the quest for some buried treasure, which can only be found thanks to a map (often cut into scattered pieces), is a direct metaphor for lost knowing fragmented by the matrix. The buried material wealth is a lure, a diversion from the real quest (vibratory sovereignty). The split map represents the scattered knowing that each individual needs to reconstitute. The pirate is seeking outside what is to be found within, caught up in a never-ending quest. The matrix has fragmented the essence of reality and imposed a series of distractions. The real treasure is not gaining power in the game, but understanding how to stop being a pawn.

Riding the Wave

The pirate archetype is a matrix distraction: a fake sense of freedom redirecting rebellious energies into a pattern of pain and struggle. The matrix loves rebels, as long as they keep on being pawns.

The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude to the problem.
Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean

The authentic player does not engage in head-on attacks on the system for they know it is an illusion. They don't run away either as they realise the playground cannot be changed. They understand the laws of the matrix and use them and are no slaves to the system. They don't engage in pointless struggles; they find strategic paths. They don't strive for illusory freedom, but for genuine vibratory sovereignty. The real treasure is neither gold, nor power or brutal rebellion. The real treasure is about understanding and harnessing the game.

What if true freedom wasn't about breaking our shackles, but rather about understanding why they are there?