Tarot and Medici Solitaire. Stalking Self-Study Guide

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So, what is Stalking?

Life is woven from millions of choices and thousands of roads of experience.

Yet it is also composed of a myriad of mountainous ridges—rules and limitations. Rules and laws weave a labyrinth, a closed circle of Life, from which it is so difficult to break free and enter the world of one’s dreams.

Millions of two-legged predators tear asunder the life of the novice venturing into this world. And they chase him endlessly around the circle of the panopticon they themselves have wrought, like a squirrel in a wheel, through all his Life.[2]

The author concedes a measure of sense in the antisocial viewpoint of 'thieves in Law,' who regard society as a pen for sheep. Yet he denies their Path as the single right and genuine one.

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Fig. Who looks where—do the years gaze into people, or do people gaze into the years?

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Since ancient times amidst the mountains, gray hair and the wisdom of elders were cherished more dearly than gold.

They knew hidden trails and seldom-trodden passes through the highlands. Inaccessible and deadly to all that lives for almost the whole year, sharp as the razor of hatred, with bottomless chasms and gorges.

The wisdom and skill of the elders, their intimate knowledge of the land in troubled times, when calamity or foe descended upon peaceful toilers, were the pledge of their people's survival.

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Fig. The old tree under the sky – still it creaks, it creaks.

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And with reverence they were called the 'aksakals.'

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Fig. Do you see the Hunter? No? And yet he is there!… and ever shall be (author’s note).[3]

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In forested regions, where oftentimes the sun’s rays have never touched the earth. But have only been endlessly reflected from myriads of living souls yearning for them.

The Chaos of life’s wild exuberance can entangle any uninitiated wanderer in its depths. Drawing the traveler—never to return—into its fathomless embrace, until he is utterly spent.

Yet even there, there have always been those who, by signs known only to themselves, confidently find the Path amid life’s tangled web.

They would venture fearlessly into the heart of the taiga or jungle, as if into their own pocket. And returning to the ones who love and await them – bearing their spoils.

And they were proudly called – Hunters. With a capital 'H.'

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Fig. Now we shall feast on fresh meat! Is that not so, master?

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Fig. Did you order a well-roasted traveler? For a false order, the penalty is a three-day mirage with the traveler!

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In the sultry shimmer of the desert, like a mirage, appears the silhouette of a figure striding, as if wound by unseen hands.

And after a span, in which the mind scarcely has time to grasp the truth of it, there stands beside you, blazing with heat, a visitor from the other side.

There, where he came from, even lizards—if they did not perish on their own within two or three years—died of astonishment when they reckoned the odds of such an event.

How did he survive in a place where, for hundreds of versts, there was neither water nor shade?

How did he not lose his mind to the whisper of infinity and the weight of timelessness? Where did he come from, and where does he go—what is it that he seeks?

Whom has he saved, whom will he yet save, and whom will he judge?

And with a mingling of respect and fearful bewilderment, they called him—and later told their children of him as legend—the Ranger.

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Fig. Hear the whisper of endless Eternity.

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Fig. The Path is not always found.

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And so, from the heavens, in sudden leaps of a hundred or a hundred and fifty meters, lightning descends, branching like the Tree of probabilities of all possible futures.

From billions of possible descents, it chooses the truest and the easiest. Those paths that demand the least energy and open the greatest number of ways forward.

And if anyone doubts that the Path of lightning is the most optimal—let them stand beneath its strike. And in the last instant of his life, he will sense that the force of lightning has not been squandered in vain along its path. From the very moment of its birth to the hour of its death. It has been preserved, and oftentimes even multiplied.

The lightning has conveyed its excess power from sky to earth, and once again, equilibrium is restored.

All this reveals that Stalking is not the exclusive dominion of stalkers, but an ancient art of survival and orientation—a way of understanding the world, one’s place within it, and the restoration of balance in existence.

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Fig. Choice determines the outcome.

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Fig. Do you possess a talent for mutually beneficial cooperation? And what if I find one?

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A Stalker is both the lightning of choice, the Hunter of intent, the ranger of Spirit, and the elder of experience.

It is the cosmos itself, striving to gaze into the eyes of the cosmos and behold within them its own reflection and understanding.

If one were to outline the distinguishing features of Stalking, the following points could be named:

1. Stalking is Magic, woven from many thousands of years of history (more than fifty), and stands among the most ancient of techniques.

2. Unlike the many renowned forms of magic—such as hypnosis, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and others—Stalking is less an active outer technique than a passive, inner one.

The essence of Stalking often lies in an inner attunement with the world, or with its individual elements.

This may be accomplished on various levels of consciousness—from the physical to the causal—by diverse methods and means.

Through the techniques of many different Schools and Paths.

3. Stalking is deeply multifaceted and, in truth, embodies the very foundations of magic itself.

Therefore, it was never especially advertised separately, as Science and Practice.

For, in the author's profound conviction, there is no magic except Stalking, in its various types and forms.

All the modern, well-known forms of magic are merely different Schools that have affixed their labels to Stalking.

4. Stalking is, above all, the art of understanding the world—its purposes and challenges—and of cultivating a deep and fruitful dialogue with it.

As a single, unified part with him, directly entering into him and consciously, willingly fulfilling his aims and purposes.

Just so, a cell of the body learns to establish dialogue with the entire organism. And the cell that has mastered this art becomes the nerve cell of the world—a Stalker.

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Fig. Knowledge grants a chance for understanding. Understanding bestows the strength to rise above Ignorance.

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ATTENTION!

This book is written as a self-teaching guide to Stalking.

In particular, it explores the programming of events through the Minor Arcana of the Tarot.

To truly master and internalize the material, down to the very awareness of each cell within the spinal cord, it is essential to complete the homework after reading each chapter.

For more effective learning, it is recommended to record all your answers in a learning journal.

To turn the quantity of understanding into quality, it is wise to periodically revisit your notes.

It is also advised to write your answers with wide margins in your journal, allowing space for later commentary.

It is also recommended to use methods for structuring information within your journal. For example: colored pens, bookmarks, stickers, and so forth…

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ATTENTION!

Writing out your answers to questions is approximately three times more effective than answering them in your mind.

Writing answers to questions in a single journal is roughly three times more effective than simply writing them out separately.

Rereading your journal of answers deepens your understanding by about threefold.

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The choice of how to complete your homework rests with you…

…just as it was before.

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Section Homework № 1.

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Fig. There is an artist who paints with light. You likely know of him. A camera rests in his hands. The shutter clicks—and time stands still…

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0. Begin a journal, a thick notebook, or a folder to record your homework notes.

Squared paper is recommended.

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ATTENTION!

All answers to the questions in this and subsequent homework must be provided in writing. Only in writing.

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1. What does the author consider to be the ‘three whales’ of Stalking? List them. Explain in your own words.[4]

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2. Identify the professions within society that correspond to the first 'pillar' of Stalking. What traits of character are shared by people in this profession?

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3. Imagine, for a moment, removing people of the first 'pillar' profession from society. What would happen?

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4. Identify the professions within society that correspond to the second 'pillar' of Stalking. What traits of character are shared by people in this profession?

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5. Imagine mentally removing people of the second 'pillar' profession from society. What would happen?

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6. Identify the professions within society that correspond to the third 'pillar' of Stalking. What traits of character are shared by people in this profession?

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7. Imagine erasing from society all those whose profession embodies the third 'pillar.' What would happen?

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8. Seek out in society the professions analogous to the fourth 'pillar' of Stalking. What traits of character are shared by people in this profession?

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9. Imagine erasing from society all those whose profession embodies the fourth 'pillar.' What would happen?

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10. What emerges when all three essential qualities of the three 'pillars' of Stalking are united within the character of a single individual? What characteristic signs might be found in the character and behavior of such a person?

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11. What key traits of character distinguish a Stalker from the average person?

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12. Provide examples of renowned historical figures who meet the criteria for a Stalker you have uncovered.

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Fig. 'My photographs burn.' Words and inaccuracies perish. This is our biography, yours and mine. Our tranquil past…'[5]

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Fig. The evolution of the mage, in accelerated rewind.

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As an example, the real path of a mage’s evolution into a stalker is described in a form both playful and true.[6]

Naturally, such evolution spans more than a single year…

And, as a rule, more than one Life…

…nor is it undertaken by all, for not every jest of magic is well digested by the unsteady vessel of a young, self-assured mage…

…but let us not dwell on sorrow…

So then—the mage’s evolution—on fast-forward, of course.

…

As one who has at times cast enchantments—practiced a little, that is—I can declare with certainty this well-tested truth.

Let us take, as an example, the classical case:

You are the mage, she is the princess. She must not be merely a princess, but hopelessly in love with you.

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Fig. To the attack, my cuirassiers!

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1. Now, swiftly and deftly, let us conjure here some true magic—no child's play…

Spells can be cast in any fashion! Or is it more proper to say 'casted'? No matter—let us dance!

All that the old-timers speak of magic is utter nonsense! They understand nothing themselves, and, alas, would keep others in ignorance as well…

Nowwwww… with a cavalry charge, just liiiike—

RRRRRRRАААААААZZZZZZZzzzzzсссссссссссссс

…tfffaaffafffa…

…tffffiiifififi…

…ММММММММMmmmmm…

DamnннннннннннOh, how much that hurts!

What on earth was that?!

How many teeth did I lose, I wonder!..

I wonder—how do princesses, in general, regard those who are snaggle-toothed, or even just a little bit completely toothless?

I must cast an incantation of dazzling charm, enchanting every princess—without exception—of all races, times, and peoples…

Well then, perhaps not quite everyone… and let it be—it's not everywhere, so be it, just that particular princess…

All right, not dazzling, but truly—enchanntiiingеееееее!!!

Still, there are a few teeth left here and there…

Perhaps, before I lose all my teeth, lads—it might be wise to visit a dentist?

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Fig. Swings are not found only in the kindergarten.

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2. Based on the first point, for those who have managed to survive by following step one, it may be gently suggested that it is wise to rhyme one's spells.

So that they surge upon the Object in waves, much like the sea.

By the way, the Law of Rhythm in the Tablets speaks of this as well.

It does not diminish the magical recoil, but renders it more pleasant and familiar.

Thus, the recoil no longer tears you apart, like a smelt, but gently presses and spreads you across the pentacle. Even the pattern of blood splatters upon the walls is far more beautiful than after those who followed the first instruction…

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Ah, that's right—it ought to be in rhymes…

Now these are verses indeed—this is what I call Love…

Even the brazen cat is rubbing up, purring…

Though, for some reason, to everyone in sight…

The princess is smiling… smiling…

But she’s smiling at the wrong one altogether, foolish girl…

She needs a stronger enchantment—like so…

Let it be in five-foot iambs, then she won’t escape…

Exactly so…

Ooooooh—how good this feels…

And what awaits at the end?

The princess?

No—‘princess’ doesn’t rhyme!

Ah, how did I fail to notice at once that 'princess' doesn’t rhyme?

If I do not urgently utter a rhyme now, the magical recoil wааааааааааррррррррill split asunder, tаааааааowards the smelt!!!!!…

Behold, how much magic seethes and coils here…

I must urgently speak a rhyme…

What did I even utter????…

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Upppsss… that was not I!

Noooo—truly, by all that is noble, not I…

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Too late… (Mozart’s 'Requiem' begins to resound, powerful and profound—the standard 'Latch' spell of the SHM has been activated)[7]

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Fig. One does not choose an Egregor; it is the Egregors who choose. What comes first, and what is secondary? These debates endure for eternity…[8]

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3. For those who have tried in practice (as true theorists) both the first and the second point—swearing and reeling—they declared that, truly, someone should have warned them: they no longer make trousers like these, so what is one to wear now?

It may be mentioned, quietly and without insistence, that casting spells by one's own strength is rather wearisome.

And besides—no one does it like that anymore.

Well, perhaps only in battle, when all the wands and magic rods have been spent, and the enemies keep crawling into the crosshairs of sight.

Indeed, such a thing is generally called foul language.

Yet in the shadowed corridors of the Academy of Magic, it is said that true deeds are not accomplished by the one who utters the incantation, but on behalf of their astral 'roof'—or basement, depending on one’s taste in design.

Thus, after scratching your still-smoldering (from steps one and two) head, you urgently turn the pages of the catalog of astral roofs, basements, and quaint little mezzanines.

A suitable shed is chosen in Magonia.[9]

And next time, having rehearsed in advance the shouting of the astral ‘roof’s’ name, and already sensing a vague unease…

…selecting the most unnecessary trousers, and, upon reflection, the slippers too, those still able to stand and to be—move on to the next stage… move on…

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Fig. Make way for the Padishah’s elephants! An ancient fresco, marked with the splattered traces of an unknown hero’s DNA.

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4. Yes, alas, they no longer move on—such journeys are but memories now!нннннннAh, see how it ripples across the pentacle! It flows through all five dimensions at once!

Who claimed in the third verse that magical recoil can crush you down to your very boots—YOUTHFUL ONES!

Beneath the astral vault, when it falls upon you, the pressure is overwhelming—sudden and everlasting,

You realize at once that not only have you understood, but you have also been struck by how truly mistaken you were in the first, the second, and ESPECIALLY the first point!

Have I spoken of this already?

So, what was that point again?

Now you’ll have to count for yourselves, then…

I’m quite content – a meaty, steaming pancake, on a freshly printed, bloody rug upon the wall…

Nonchalantly sparring with the floor, the ceiling, and the asphalt…

…damn, where did the asphalt come from? …they haven’t even invented asphalt yet!

…well, never mind, let the asphalt be damned!

…and after about two or three liters of smeared blood and snot, you begin to vaguely suspect that, well, perhaps something was left unconsidered!

It seems something essential is missing. What might it be?

Yet there is nothing to be done, and you move on to the next item—

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Fig. There you go! And tie it more securely! More securely! With a blowtorch! And don’t forget the paid insurance, as always, in three copies!

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5. …ммммммммMMMMM…

…aaaaАААААААА…

… (indistinct phrases, moaning, sobbing, hysterical mad laughter, and the sound of quick footsteps receding) …

But the body asserts itself; that persistent creature longs to live, and you realize, damn it—never!

Never, honestly—damn it, you’ll never, for real, take the wheel of this vacuum cleaner…

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Or almost never.

And you certainly won’t rise—Land, it seems, strikes back so painfully when you fall flat upon your face…

Well, perhaps you’ll lie down… for instance, in Kremer’s bath…[10]

And truly—why am I always the one who must answer for everyone else?!

Do we even have a fellowship of kindred spirits, or do we not?! Then let them work as well!

Why must I alone, as if accursed, bear the toil for everyone?!

See how many certified idlers are drifting aimlessly!

Now then, gather quickly into a circle for instruction, receive your briefing, sign the journal on Tb, decipher the incantation texts, and scatter to the Kremer baths…[11]

…one, two, threeEEEEE… all together now (refrain from cursing too much – after all, this is an incantation for the ages; imagine how future generations will struggle to translate our oaths in the chronicles!) – AllооооооооliiiiiIIIIIIIVED!!!

Just look at how beautifully they lie there!

They do not stir! True masters of their craft!

Almost as if they were truly alive!

You could paste these photographs straight into a textbook—under the chapter ‘Group Tragedies with Fatal Outcomes,’ subsection ‘Where It’s Weak, It Breaks’…

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Having devised such an approach a dozen times or more—motivated by an all-consuming longing to bewitch a certain charming princess from some forlorn empire.

Everyone desired it (at least while they were still among the living, of course).

You begin to think that, perhaps for the sake of reliability, every element of the system ought to be duplicated. Stabilize the channel—starting, let’s say, with three corpses—no, wait, mages—for the channel.

Or whatever else we have handy, as a real anchor of reality, that happened to turn up…

…………………

HurraaAA—not everyone died when the incantation took effect!

Granted, half the mountain range was swept away and the island now sits a little askew—but that is nothing; the main thing is, the princess is in love!

…Though truth be told, the princess loves everyone all at once (the rascal!), not bothering with particulars, but those are trifles—a minor side effect.

And now one may proceed to the next point…

…indeed, you see, I haven’t forgotten how to count – imagine that!

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Fig. True heroes always follow the ski trail.

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6. In truth, if one truly ponders… for, in the sixth point, one is indeed obliged to think…

…and look, even upon clay tablets they inscribed the same thing… or rather, they carved… carved it…

…two thousand years ago…

…before our era…

…before people, that is…

…dragons…

…those who have endured…

…for they did not study to the end, as one ought, and thus were unable to journey to other worlds…

…ah, I've become utterly, hopelessly entangled…

…in truth, it seems that none of it truly matters after all!

…so the meaning is this – why create an apple yourself? There are already plenty!

The most important thing is to arrive on time, in the right place, at the destined moment…

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Look there, behold – yet another princess (or so she believes) is crossing the road!

Oh, what a graceful turn—the leg twisted on high heels!

Right in front of the speeding KamAZ![12]

And here I am, so dashing, all of myself—on a white dra…

Pah, honestly, what dragons are there nowadays—on a white ho…

Tch, still not right! …white, white… on what white, after all?

…ah—it turns out I'm an orderly, in a white… coat…

No—it's already too late to be an orderly! She is no longer that princess—who would want her now, after all—so battered and broken…