There’s a real illusion of actual personal intelligence being conveyed when we use words written by somebody else to describe how we feel. Leaning too hard in any one direction: intellectual, emotional, physical can become a crutch to help navigate around weakness as opposed to fully exploring it. The whole of what it means to be Me should not just be relegated to an intellectual regurgitator of ideas. Balance is necessary to understand the totality of the higher Self. Neglect one, and I neglect an integral part of what it means to be Me.

I speak Martian. (Not literally, this is just an example). So the only way I can relate my experience to a non-Martian is to find a way to translate my language into something easier to understand.

Yesterday, I finally got around to giving “The Repairer of Reputations” a good solid read. It’s a disturbing story. Although picturing a cat flying in the face of the person perceived to be Mr. Wilde was really funny. There’s a lot to unpack there, specifically with language. One part in particular points to something that relates to what I’m writing here—when Hildred demands to Louis that he needs to “renounce the crown.” Louis has no idea what he’s talking about.

Question: If I am seeking to peel back layers in an effort to interface with my NeterSelf through Process (which—in my language would be initiation) when does it become detrimental to continue ascribing our own words, language, perceptions of reality into the world around me?

Answer: It doesn’t become detrimental unless I absolutely refuse to acknowledge that there are worlds (both objective and subjective) with their own languages and cultures outside of my own. Maintaining this awareness requires me to engage with the world outside my own while I simultaneously translate external stimuli into a language I can understand up underneath colloquialisms and pleasant superficial conversation. The moment I reject the notion of other worlds, is the moment I embrace total solipsism.


Need an easy way to impress? Figure out a way to get your point across in a language others can understand. In other words, translate your language into something more—digestible. Good comedians excel at this. How do I know? They make me laugh.

The method in which we perceive interfacing with different languages is both troubling and fascinating. Language barriers can cause:

1 Feelings of inadequacy. They think they’re better than I am!

2 Feelings of ignorance. They’re dim-witted.

3 Feelings of insanity. They are crazy.

4 Refusal to recognize difference. I can’t understand this person so I’m not even going to try. Aka “speak English!”

5 All of the above.

I take my initiation seriously. Probably too seriously. And while you and I are vastly different individuals, I’m sure that we all value consistency. You know—upkeep, maintenance. This is the cornerstone of my initiation as a Setian. Who’s responsibility is it to write everyday? To workout even when my body says no? Mine. I am the master. And this is my Temple.

Consistency gives me control over my World. And by association, this carries over into the world outside. As a result of this I feel like I’m moving at lightspeed in a world that exists in slow motion all around me. This happens even among other Setians. I just can’t understand why—other than the fact that we all develop differently.

I get discouraged when so much of what I’m trying to say gets lost in translation as a result of my consistent practice colliding with the horrific and inconsistent outer world. This is actually a good thing, because if I didn’t feel this tension then I’d settle in real nice and stay warm.


Communication problems are arguably Magic problems, seeing that Magic is communication. And part of my communication problem is that I communicate in a literal way.

You say: “tell me about this thing.”

I say: “let’s do it.”

In my world, these two statements are the same. Telling me about a thing only goes so far. I only learn about a thing by doing it mySelf. Failure is always an option to me. It’s been my best teacher.

When I look up to the stars at night and try to hold onto any one detail, I always miss something. The whole picture needs to be looked at in order to be absorbed. When I speak, I speak like a sky full of stars. I kiss the shooting stars in the words I say as they fly away.

Everything that comes with physical life is temporary and therefore not as important to me as apprehending the parts of mySelf that I cannot see. Even so, holding onto something for too long is bad. An extreme example: Euripedes’s characterization of Medea. She’s miserable because she doesn’t understand how to let go.

I want to shift gears a little bit and talk a little about superiority. Humans have been making religious groups, political organizations, bowling teams, corporate think tanks, etc. since forever. Its become much more of thing with the advent of Capitalism in the West.

So why do we make groups? To be better. Better doesn’t mean getting over an ailment. It means becoming superior! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN. Us and Them. All of that PT Barnum “Are you not entertained?” circus maximus malarkey.

Here’s the bottom line: I don’t want to be superior. I want to be Me. I am.

It’s always been intriguing to me that Setians are referred to as Nobles. Set’s Elect. Using those terms to describe oneSelf is akin to waking up in the morning and telling yourSelf “You’re beautiful.” or “I love you.” These expressions make you feel good about yourSelf. Grab a mirror and say it with me: “I am Noble.

Wonderful. This is positive conditioning. But this can also work against you by giving power to words others use to intentionally destroy you.

Language is a magical weapon.

Why am I Noble?

I am Noble because I exhibit qualities I find to be ethically and morally important. The highest good for Nikoletta Winters is found in Honesty, Transparency, and Provocation. Subjectively, if I live within the scope of what I find to be Noble, then I am indeed Noble. The word shouldn’t evoke a sense of false aristocratic superiority. It should evoke a sense of goodness (godliness) that is derived off of what I do as Process. This is just what I think.

There are language differences informed by individual experiences that change the context of words, expressions, and emotional responses. The sheer complexity that makes up the equation of a conscious being is unfathomable when an individual’s abstract subjective culture is combined with their objective socio-economic culture.

Xeper through the Mirror of the Self!


Just Send Me To Hell

Dear Readers,

The biggest lie that you can ever tell yourself is that you are perfect. I remember a time when I was the paragon of perfection. I was perfect in every single way–I could do no wrong. I was the prettiest. The strongest. The absolute Queen of all and everything. This was a product of a self-imposed solipsism–the view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist.

In a vacuum, perhaps all of these things would be true, but as far as I can tell, that isn’t reality.

Reality is communication. Without communication you are nothing. Without it, you will never get anything you want or need. Without communication you don’t exist. Humans are created through communication–through the physical transfer of genetic information. We are brought into this world through information communicated to doctors for years before they’re permitted to deliver babies. We are raised through communication, and eventually we discover our true natures through it.

Xepera Xeper Xeperu.


As a millennial, my struggle is vastly different than my parents, and even moreso than their parents. I have had the displeasure of living through the death of the old world, and adapting to the new. When I was little, there was no Internet. If we wanted to communicate, the most convenient method was through using the telephone. I remember writing a physical letter in the fourth grade to Lynn Reid Banks. And she never answered. I probably sent it to the wrong address.

Communication used to be much more visceral. It also used to be much more veiled and hidden than it is now. I remember the first time I logged into America Online sometime back in 1995. Email excited me, but what really got me going was the ability to instantly search for information. I could search for anything that I could possibly imagine. The only limitation in this respect was my imagination. The best part of this? Is that I could do it with some measure of anonymity, free from the judgement of others and what they might think of me for spending way too much time reading about obscure anime that hadn’t yet hit my local Suncoast video.

The Internet was so groundbreakingly wonderful because it gave me a liminal space in which I could be myself, by myself. After being introduced to this channel of nearly unlimited knowledge and information it was hard to even imagine going back to the way things were before.

As a function of being a millennial, I spend a lot of time by myself cruising the Internet for various reasons. To most of us, the Internet is nothing more than a toy to edify our body’s need for endorphins. The danger in this is that reality becomes warped when we don’t get out of the self-imposed internet bubble. As a function of “living” in a bubble, we become warped from confinement, thus creating various complexes within our identities.

In Setian jargon, these complexes are best represented by the serpent Apep, filling us with delusion. The perfection delusion created by embracing solipsism is one that offers comfort, peace of mind, and confidence–so long as our subjective selves do not directly interface with the subjective bubble of somebody else. With the convenience of indirect communication over the wide wide web, many of us have lost our ability to interface with other people directly. Visceral communication is a rare commodity right now. My generation can’t keep their jobs, relationships, or lives in order because we were brought up with Apep constantly whispering lies into our ears. Lies telling us that “we are all special.” I mean, honestly, in a way, we are all special. Each one of us a unique flower. We shouldn’t let that go to our heads though. It limits our ability to understand who we really are. 


Being perfect is bullshit. Society in the United States has always been framed around the so-called “American dream.” Nowadays that entails being a baller with shitloads of money, women, the perfect body, the perfect life. You know–being comfortable without a worry in the world. I often imagine the Christian ideal of Heaven to embody this type of situation. I’m pretty sure I would get bored after a few months of living like that. Just send me to Hell already.

If I recall correctly, “the American Dream” used to represent something much more meaningful. It used to mean, escaping the country, the situation, or circumstance that held you down from truly becoming an autonomous human being. Becoming autonomous is a messy, uncomfortable process. Of course, that just makes it all the more exciting. It gives us something to look forward to. It allows us to exercise true freedom through our choices, both good and bad. If we could predict everything, many of us would bet the farm at horse races everyday. I know that I would. But how long would that keep us entertained? And at the end of the day, is mere entertainment true delight? Or just a means to murder mother time?

True delight is derived through communicating your needs to the world. Directly. It comes from finding your tribe. From that physical handshake. The smell of farts in your three hour Yoga class. The discomfort of having to wake up at 4am for work. It comes from doing the things you don’t really want to do, in order to be the person you want to be. It’s okay to hide from the world every now and then. We all need alone time. But Xeper can’t be experienced without the vital ingredient so many of us millennials have grown apart from. Human interaction. Be awkward. Be weird. Be aloof. But remember to communicate. This is your reminder for the month of June to communicate. And to smile when you do it. Even if you have a face only a mother can love.

Xeper through Imperfection,

Nikoletta Winters

Just Send Me To Hell