A classic story from Hinduism:
Lord Shiva and his Shakti, the goddess Parvati, are enjoying each other's company. She asks him which of her avatars he prefers, certain he will say it is her present form as Parvati, the most virtuous and peaceful of all mothers. But no! He says he prefers her as Kali, the bloodthirsty black goddess of death, for he prefers her in her most insanely chaotic form, when she tramples all over him and his creation.
Now, remember, Lord Shiva was originally Lord Pashupati of the more ancient Vedic Civilization, "lord of the animals" with legs crossed and gigantic horns on his head, in other words, the Cernunnos of the Celtic people and the Great God Pan of the Ancient Greeks.
Having bled out and been reduced to nothing more than a cold piece of meat for six hours nearly seven years ago, I now KNOW who the Creator of the Universe happens to be up at Chokmah, among the stars and beyond the stars. So let's reinterpret the story above:
The Great God Pan and his Shekinah, the Virgin Mary, are enjoying each other's company. She asks him which of her avatars he prefers, certain he will say it is her present form as the Virgin Mary, the most virtuous and peaceful of all mothers. But no! He says he prefers her as Babylon the Great, the bloodthirsty, filthy whore of Revelations, for he prefers her in her most insanely chaotic form, when she tramples all over him and his creation.
Our creator the Great God Pan is the ultimate rock star among the gods, after all. He drinks, plays terrible music really loud, and he loves his whores. The Apocalypse is just the latest story he's telling to keep himself entertained.
