When I scribbled my notes immediately after yesterday’s ritual, the agreement felt like something I had witnessed rather than something I had participated in. Even throughout the day, as I reflected on the actions to see if there was any scene where my memory proved untrustworthy, the agreement remained intact, word for word. It was only when I was finally able to sit down and type up the subtleties of the scene, encasing the event in parsable words for you to read, that the full weight of what I have done pressed on me.
I am terrified.
Not of the spirit, nor of his master.
Not of the godhead, nor of the angels.
I am terrified of myself and what I am becoming as I continue to challenge the fears that were beaten into me and defy the edicts that were supposed to protect me but kept me safely caged instead. Continue reading “Do Magick: Day 19 – Smoke”
The completed wand still left a brush of oil on my hand if I gripped it hard. To be expected, as the grain of the apparently smooth surface of the worked wand lifted once the extra virgin olive oil started to soak in. I remember the same happening to my other wand as the dry wood absorbed the offering. Each day I will have to buff the wand with a shop towel to remove the loose particles and burnish the underlying surface with another layer of oil until it seals itself.
The wand was in my hand as it was too long to fit in the small shoulder bag holding the rest of my ritual gear. The two cumbersome items were the Book of Oberon itself and the large cotton shawl that was my working shroud. I had figured out a way to twist the thin fabric of the shawl into a compact knot but the book refused to bend to anyone’s will.
I stood in line with other would-be magicians. Ahead of me I saw the gilt framed doorway into a large white building and the two people gatekeeping it. They accepted some with only the inspection of paper copy of an identification card and demanded others prove the authenticity of a properly assigned and notarized card. Some they accepted without identification based on the contents of their bags, and others they violently rejected despite the bags being as complete as money could buy. I did not know the criteria by which they judged who was worthy to enter the white building.
As the line grew shorter before me, and I was able to see more of the white building, I questioned why I was in this line in the first place. I tapped the person waiting in front of me on the shoulder and asked a neutral question. “What happens to those who are rejected?”
The person turned their head to speak towards me but never turned to face me. “They are refused. It is their choice if to reapply or not. It is worth entering the club though. Doing so adds legitimacy and power to your work.”
I was able to see a sign above the doors. Large gold letters shone against a black background. “The Inner Sanctum” A smaller sign underneath the club’s title explained the club’s purpose. “A gathering for true magicians.”
Are you fucking kidding me? Continue reading “Do Magick: Day 17 – Midterm”
All night long I dreamt of performing the ritual. Laying out the gear and saying the prayers. Raising the thin brown book and my hand while reciting incantations. Lowering of the amulet and raising the knife.
At first, the scene was properly linear. First this, then that. The book is lifted before it can be lowered. But the scene broke, and thirty days of morning ritual shattered into overlapping snippets that were physically impossible yet completely understandable.
As long as you let go of the idea of time being linear. Continue reading “Do Magick: Day 5 – When Is Here? Where Is Now?”
I knew I was dreaming. A demonic contagion was spreading throughout the world like an epidemic. Everyone infected by it became blind. I spent a few seconds groaning at the recycled tropes from the 80’s before realizing that despite my awareness, I actually had very little power here.
I only happened to be immune.
One of the infected tried to claw my eyes out. They were screaming that it was my fault this plague had descended upon the world. If only I had submitted to Ziegler and allowed him to take my sight, then the demon using him would have been placated. My refusal to be sacrificed has doomed the world.
This was no longer amusing. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-27.01”
All week long I’ve been worried as hell that I’m gonna Fuck It Up something big and have my shame documented for all to see. (There’s a difference between “nothing happened” and “uh-oh”.)
Last night I heard a train of people passing by my closed bedroom door. I attributed it to family members having to reckon with their choice of beverage at inconvenient hours. Until I realized the little girl’s voice who was telling them to keep moving was someone I had heard before.
The train of people stopped. The girl was having a conversation with someone else. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-25.01”
“Cease this at once! Stand down, and no harm will come to you. I will only strike you as you strike me.” The golden lion with something like a sun on his forehead spoke as clear as a man to me from his place on a heavenly cloud.
I attacked him anyway. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-20.02”
The messenger offered me a paper invitation to a private reading of Jung’s The Red Book in an interior room of a private lodge as a perk of membership. I tried to accept it but the paper sprouted thorns from every possible surface, and there was no way for me to accept the invitation without wearing layers of gloves that would make it difficult for me to participate. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-20.01”
“Move or get out the way!” I did both. I did not know they were going to open the doors so soon, or I would have made sure to have been on the other side of the ship. As such, I was caught by the throng of passengers eager to leave the ship, arrive on land, or both. The flow of people was too much for me to pass through and I had no desire to leave the ship, so I pressed myself to the side as best as I could to wait out the stampede of people.
It wasn’t good enough. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-17.01”
Pulled out the Book of Oberon to see if there were any measures in the book that I could undertake in my present circumstances since the [Mud] tells were still increasing. Wound up completely overwhelmed after reading though several entries. Didn’t want to just close the book without doing anything as that felt rude, but I didn’t understand to who or why. (Note to self: Late Night O’clock is not a good time to be reading about spirits when you’re too tired to pay attention to tells.) Wound up reading aloud a modified dedication to the book, for the book. Went to bed immediately after.
“Hi! Yes! Good! This is how you start! Yes!” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-15.01”
Before I was blindfolded, I was made to stretch out my right arm. The blindfold flashed between two colors, seemingly all of one particular color before seemingly all of another particular color and yet it was no color at all. It was as transparent as a vacuum and as dark as a black hole. I stood in position as the cloth was tied around my face. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-13.01”