Spider🕷 Weaving 🕸

I’m not sure I’m in a position to talk about who is and isn’t a peer or who is or isn’t 2nd rate, just that it’s funny when people try to figure your shit out, presumably thinking they can, and then wind up fucked.



Well I doubt one of your peers would be dumb enough. Although there was that case about a year or do ago of the one had the idea to peek in on your practice and got hella bit by a really strong glamour, I heard he was walking around in a daze, snake bit and crazy for atleast a week.

And you know you’ll definitely see some of that…


Sitri, drown me then

September 8, 2023

We both know how close it was to being you, how if you’d let me follow down the trail of stories and nightmares I’d have found looking, I might have run away. It’s been 8 years–in a couple months–since then, has it been long enough do you think? Left to my own devices well before then, learning from the gods, demons, and others alike since. Am I enough of a person now? Hard enough to scare away?

You make me feel like I can walk on water, like even if I am out of my depth and even if the waves are rolling over my head I’ll be okay.

Lust may be your pleasure, but to refuse to acknowledge all other that you are would be traitorous to so much. Torture from your fingertips, pleasure from your tongue, healing from your palms and premonitions from your lips. Gifts laid down on a walk of sin, lies unwound in the depth of night, shadows brightened by torchlight in a cave. Sitri, I have yet to know more of you than this, but I am willing ride through the gates to your kingdom , to see your gleaming eyes as the stars flicker out and as the sun hides away, to feel the touch of darkness from beyond. The word you have given me, I do not yet understand, maybe I’ll find a translation someday soon.

Sitri, drown me. Well or fountain, pool or pond, it doesn’t matter.

I walk before you, Prince Sitri, and ask you to show me the secrets of your kind, reveal the depth of the Shadow, divulge the teachings of your path.

I entrust myself to you, Prince Sitri. Corrupter of souls and author of pain to the tortured, healer of the wise and poisoner of the waters they drink from. Sitri, proud leopard, winged with beauty and disguised behind sharpness, stalker of your prey, born to devastation and raised amidst flames, you are a balm in moments of discord and a fire poker in moments of calm.

What walk we’ve taken before, I ask to take it again. In the first, you welcomed me to the shadow I had seen reflected back at me, yet ever out of reach. In the second, you led me to the darkness. And next, Sitri, I ask to be drown. I know what you teach, and I want to learn. Five hours of silence (alongside your other, obviously taunting request) is little token for entrance. I did not think it would be you to sit me down and “lecture” on the use of meditation and stillness, but I have been avoiding this path too long. I have less and less use for, less and less interest in, lighting candles and demanding favors, more and more interest in, more and more use for, knowing how to tamper with this world myself.

While I am grateful (let me tell you why I can’t stand how ‘grateful’ is spelled, it should be ‘greatful’ because something is ‘great’ or you have ‘great’ appreciation for it, but instead it’s like cheese grater, which is something that belittles and shreds, not amplifies and connotates 'great’ness) for all the gifts, the toys, the lessons, and the requests demanded, the help and kindness given, I have been desperate to learn since before I began. I thought in the beginning you would not have me as a student, or even something much more fleeting; I am happy to be proven wrong in this regard. I am happy, also, that you did not scare me off this road before I had even met my first fork in it.

So, whatever teachings you may have; whatever (nonsense, mocking) requests you may make, I will do my best to adhere. I will do my best to be worthy of this path and to light the way as I walk it. Whether in stillness or in “violence” (which is meant as an opposite to stillness, I don’t condone actual violence; chaos, discord also suffice for meaning), show me how to cultivate the Shadow alongside the light. I want to know how it’s done. They say miracles are gone with the winds of time, but I think those stories written down were meant as inspiration.

Drown me in the depths of the darkest waters I’ve laid eyes on, drown me in the pool of unknowing, drown me in the fountain of revelation and in the well of [it means all, it means understanding, it means before, everything that (does not?) belong]. Walk me there and meet me at the water’s edge, at it’s deepest point, and wait for me where it meets the horizon again. Sitri, no more running.


Book of Bindings & Obsessions!

September 8, 2023

So I decided I want to collect some rituals of a kind together, and honestly I love handwriting, and getting to collect the notebooks and stuff, so…

I plan to have the obvious candidates like human to human, but also obsessions/fixations with certain things (fears, emotions, etc.) in here. Mirror rites, dolls, anything I have a ritual on currently or acquire along the way! Im excited about it.


A magician without light - September 8, 2023

When the
light dims out, I wonder
if it was ever really there

You shone in the night’s dampness
like a torch glowing
from within the hollows of a cave

Yet now I look, and see
but a gray ghost faded by

Just another human, mortal soul
shuffling to the drums
another pied piper
has found to be his tune

Another one —
lost to the depths of daylight
where it is neither dawn nor dusk
neither clouded over or raining,
just the sun’s reflection on a white surface

-~~~ -~~~ ~~~- ~~~-

When I first saw you,
you came in full of melancholy laughter
and played a game so full of life.

Offered kindness like you had
a lake aplenty to take it from,
help like you’d never been helped,
and light like you’d been
the only lamp in a mansion
for years standing on end.

When you got quiet, I figured
When you went still, hollow silence
in your movements, I figured you
were through playing games
and chasing dancing ribbons.

When I got quiet, I wondered,
when that light had flickered
into the sun’s rays on the floor.
So pale in comparison, so scattered
throughout the grounds, so void
of direction, and gone in the dark.

When you walked in like a ghost,
like sunlight, like a shadow,

I have to wonder,

Did you turn out the light?
Or was it never on in the beginning?


I liked this, good stuff

1 Like

not a threat, just pretty words

September 17, 2023

To the shadows crowding round,

I’m excited to meet you at the gates of hell; I am excited to lose you in the maze of the bloodshed and slaughter that came before our world; I am excited to tear your soul from you and watch it be devoured by the flames of those who walk between invisible paths and plunge blades into the wandering lost, singing merrily their creepy, drunken tunes all the while.

If you think you have met torture in your time, as human, plaything, or dream-spirit before, you have been mistaken from then on. If I catch you, your soul will burn for your trespasses again me.

Just because I walk the path of a healer’s student, does not mean I am not taught how to set someone alight as well. And just because the dragon coils around me to sleep, does not mean he is not protective as well.

Watch your step, or soon you’ll be falling.

wait, wait at the gates and watch as the maze grows tall around you and as those who weave in and out consume you


Oh fuck you said… “Maze” that is so horrifying and disorienting.

Now before one of our readers has a defiant moment where they believe their intellect and abilities will save the day for them… they should know that not all mazes are the same. Say you go into a maze from the north you could follow the right wall until you come out the west well or whatever later.

But… but… but… let’s say this maze sprung up around you. You were in the center with no way to know which direction out was. Now the follow the wall trick isn’t as useful is it.

Throw in some traps, a few guards ( like monstrosities that predate the creation of the universe a) and now you’ve got a party.

Well I’m not sure what pitiable fool has earned this fate @Laurel_Spider but I don’t envy them.


Haunted Glamours

How to Let a Robot Breathe for You

September 25, 2023

Not a robot, but a programed glamour. The idea is that you give it rules to follow (like making a parasite, for example) and then it takes over and exists within those rules, even to your detriment. (Super fun when you freak out about it later on!)

I have a tendency for being reckless in regard to my craft, always have and likely always will although I think I rein it in a bit more now. These methods, or this method depending on how it’s interpreted, aren’t the safest, but they’re certainly a path to something! (This is a thinly veiled ‘don’t say I didn’t tell you so.’)

So! treacherous, eat you alive glamours:

Alright, we’re assuming everyone has a baseline understanding of what they are and how to make them. Okay, the scary way though!! & the way I learned, is not the (calm and) standard way as I’ve learned through speaking with others. Today, we discuss the scary way!

(Again, you’re gonna feel possessed and don’t come bitch at me about it, I don’t care.)

It’s not about deciding who you need or want to be. It’s about deciding who you are and sending that person into a locked cave at the very bottom of your existence. You are washing them away and making/creating something that can fit the outline you need (or want).

When you breathe in, you think about the situations you’ve been in that have encouraged you to need a change. When you breath out, you line them up and spin them around yourself (clockwise I’d suggest). When you’ve collected them all, see/feel them just around you at the border between “you” and “other.” When you’ve let them pool, or their energy combine and you can sift through, consider what links these things, these times, places, experiences, moments, together. And when you’ve found it (or them, there really should be more than one thing even if all boils down to a single thing - that you are “wrong”), breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in the “wrong,” that you have been for these times and places and people, and breathe out their expectations. But be careful not to let them go, hold them closely and within the circle or border or experiences, in your space still and not outside of it.

Inside you is everything that needs to go. And outside you is everything that should be. Simultaneously is best. But to begin with one it should be what’s inside of yourself. Think of who you are. (Only of who you are.) See yourself through time, as you were and became and are. Tie weights to your feet and rope around your wrists. Tap yourself on the head and let yourself begin to vanish. Open a door, push yourself inside it, and lock it. Lock it well and wind chains around that room. That person really shouldn’t be getting out, they’ll ruin what you’re working toward.

And now, the outside. String it all together and pull it close around you. Let it keep spinning or let it pile up, it doesn’t matter. Just know the rules you’re to exist within. If ‘x’ happens, what does it cause (what’s your reaction, ‘to a T’)? You’ve pulled up both common and niche circumstances, sort through and see the patterns. Know who you are supposed to be. Bring that person into being and step into them. Of course, little alterations can be made in differing situations, but for the most part, this is the ghost you’ve made and decided to wear. It’ll make the choices based on how you’ve programed it.

Just don’t freak out or tell it to leave, it knows better. You made it to know better. Because you couldn’t be trusted to be the right person, but no worries, it’s got your back. It always knows what to do and how to behave, after all you taught it. So have fun in the little locked closet at the end of the tunnel and just remember this was a good idea, it really, really was, and it’s doing so well. They can’t even tell the difference. Can you?

Anyways, be careful out there! This is obviously not healthy and likely a poor choice. But I did say I’d elaborate, and so I have. This part is actually pretty chill in comparison to stepping out of it.

Additionally, this is like a sketch of the method(s). Not exactly the way I went about what I chose to do, but the same principles where I’ve changed out details.


A Choice Between Two Hands

September 25, 2023

I was in ritual the other night, learning from a dear and trusted friend. And I was told that to move forward, I had things to let go of. That I couldn’t start down the path without a clean slate so to speak. And I’m conflicted about this. Because where I have been is so much of who I am. I understand letting go of things is important and matters, and I have let go of certain things. But to say that it has to be washed away…how can I do that to myself? Is this magick worth that? When will it become worth that?

I feel like I was given two wild tasks and told to pick my favorite. The first is look back down the path I’ve walked, and let go of so much and the second is a pure magick task that I am trying to unravel. I’m not sure which way the easier way is, and if the easier way is the magick route then what does that say about what I should do? Or was it given as an alternative because it’s easier?

My friend asked me to trace a fear, to find where I’ve been most something before, I’m not sure how to let it go. I know what type of magick I’ve knocked on the door of and I know, at least minimally, what type of path it is. But it’s so different and I know that without ‘letting go’ and starting fresh with this, I’ll never be good enough to partake of the path in any meaningful way. There is no peace in me while I hold onto the things I choose to carry, to posses. And for the demons and obsessions and manifestation, it’s never mattered. But for this…for this serenity is needed to walk the path a certain way.

One day, I’ll make a choice. Everyday I’ll make choices until then, past then. But today, today is today and not tomorrow. I’m content with that for now. Otherwise, how many hours of sitting like a doll in quiet, motionless meditation will it take to learn either of these things. Am I to try my hand at both? Doesn’t that show a lack of commitment? And ultimately, if I want to go anywhere real, I’ll have to learn both. Might as well try my hand at the magick again later, think on what to let go the next day. It’ll become clear, and I’ve (finally) learned patience is not an enemy on this walk.


Possessions and Greed

September 29, 2023

I was always possessive of what’s mine. It’s been a “problem” since I was little, though I don’t really understand how it’s problematic as long as people understand the bare minimum required to demonstrate any respect of boundaries. Unfortunately, people don’t seem to understand the “mine is mine” and “yours is yours” concept at any age grouping.

So I started cursing my things. What else was I supposed to do? It was amusing, the fallout. It also didn’t keep people from touching my things, just punished them for it. Recently, I was thinking about things people leave behind, and what is taken to the grave. Material things, items, trinkets, long-loved family relics, old books, blessed/cursed magickal toys, computers, phones, pretty trash (low quality items we like even if they’re largely useless)…

And I’ve changed the way I think about “mine” and “yours.” I’m not any less possessive over things in my possession, but that’s the difference there. It’s that I don’t really claim things as mine anymore, they’re simply staying with me, living with me, letting me keep them for now, in my possession right now.

So I was in ritual a few days back, or last week. And I was told to be careful what I’m possessive over, in relation to my feelings especially. I was laughed at for demonstrating greed. But the truth is both that greed applies to so much, and also that I don’t know whether it’s meaningless or devastatingly important. I am and have been greedy over certain things in the past, like most humans I’d assume. And I wonder when greed becomes wrong, or if it begins that way?

I know the life I currently lead, and I know my decisions today are my consequences tomorrow. And I have seen people fall and people rise on both sides of greed, people that have come before me. I have been told, all in its time and that some choices are not for today, but I can’t understand whether greed is worth pursuing. It will get me things I want, but I wonder at the cost of greed. And to turn away from it, and to what extent at that, there’s magick in that path as well.

Recently, I’ve begun learning from a friend I’ve known a long time and who has held my hand long before I knew the demons would (too). And the path he teaches stands in such contrast to everything else I have learned, I know they overlap in some places because all magick must and I am the same person no matter where I find myself, but I don’t know where it leads, other than to everything unimaginable and to everything I’ve been chasing since I first touched to pool of magick.

So I’m looking both ways, at the bottom of a cliff, wondering which possessions and which parts of myself are mine, are just in my possession currently, are tied to me through greed…


Memories — Vanished and Removed, Given and Taken

October 4, 2023

I’ve been asked about this type of ritual before (although if you’re here hunting for rituals, you’re going to find this post out of alignment with that), I suppose it’s relevant (currently) so I might as well say something on it. On removing? releasing? giving away? memories, so they no longer live within you.

I’m a strong believer in walking into a dark place and shutting the door and locking yourself in with your thoughts and feelings when the cogs start spinning and won’t stop. I’m a strong believer in letting things go when they aren’t worth the emotion they might threaten to pull out. I’m strong believer in tracing triggers. Not that those things don’t really go in that order.

Separately, I like to read. I may not be very good at picking up magick books, but I love a good story. Sometimes, I hunt down stories I know are going to make me feel like I’m trying to run through water. And sometimes, I happen upon them and either choose to indulge or end up there without knowing what I’ve gotten into. Sometimes I walk away, part way through. I had an experience a few months ago, in an altered state of mind, where I really came to terms with how easy it is to decide whether you/I like something or don’t (and, of course, everything in that moment was painted in extremes, but it’s been easier, after, for me to recognize “like” and “dislike”).

So the other night, I was in bed reading. I read a lot of things with similar lines of content, I just like certain (types of) stories. And I hit a sentence and was thrown into the past. And this is not the first time, nor the second, nor the third. And this one memory became two, three, four, twelve more. I’m in the habit of taking a breath, dismissing, and continuing—with this particular thing. But, I was bothered more than usual, or maybe it was a cumulation of botherings.

So, I’m in bed, reading peacefully my favorite kind of story, and I hit a thought, I get upset and it unwinds a bit, takes up more space. I’m not going to lock myself in the closet over this. I have—metaphorically, I didn’t actually get into the closet over this one. I get upset and angry and very upset. I am done being slave to this circle of the same stupid shit over and over. There’s another person in this memory, or the set of them. A person I chose to do an insane binding ritual with once upon a sickness. So, beyond over this repeating event and it’s associates, I found myself in ritual.


With Dantalion. With Sitri (quiet as a cat). With myself. I asked for something new. And then I turned, to Dantalion, and asked. It’s been five years. I should not be haunted by meaningless ghouls. I’ve done these things before. Always deeply unsettling, unnerving. The thing is, I don’t want things lingering in the back of my head, poisoning my heart when they can’t breathe. I want them out, taken, removed. Feelings, memories, attachments, it’s the same and it isn’t. But I do know, if done in ways that work, they disappear.

I took the advice this time, agreed when he said “as you sleep.” Nodded and did as told through the ritual. I don’t even care how it was done, I will in a few months when I get curious to learn, but for now, sometimes it’s best to just let things be gone. (I was told, by a dragon, to learn how to let things go, to let things go. This is by no stretch of imagination what was meant by that.)

To be clear, it is absolutely not my opinion that this is the best, or even a remotely possibly healthy, way to handle experiences that are upsetting. But, I was fed up with being chased by a shadow. And I make no claims to making solely healthy choices. So, I have a “sticker” on my wall that says, “Name it. Feel it. Let it go,” as a reminder of something I’ve been asked to consider by another. This ritual is a perversion of that, which is how I typically tend to handle this type of thing: in a dark, silent room.

So, there I was, in ritual, asking a favor. And there I was, a heartbeat later, looking at the altar and all the toys and stones strewn across it, begging for a fix (solution). So I turn to the spirit who steals away feelings and emotions, who walks through and brushes tampering fingers across mind and voice, want and walk of so many of us little humans. And I asked if he would take it away.

Dantalion: Write it down and I will take it from you. Just tell me what to take.

M: Will you be nice about it though? (The context here is that I demanded to be an active participant in a similar ritual and it was terrifying, I was not looking for a repeat with this.)

D: While you sleep.

So I began writing. Broad summary and unbearably tiny details all put down in the same ink. All the same. And I hit a moment where I was just confused. What more needed said? The moment is all the same. There were three “moments” I wanted cleared. It all overlapped. And I stopped, paused. What was the value, in writing these things on a page later dated and labeled “Do not read”?

M: I don’t want it anymore.

D: Be calm. There is more?

M: Do I have to write it?

D: Then feel it.

M: For real?

D: This is how we let go.

So, I sat in relative silence for a while and traced the precise outlines, and shaded in the pictures of three memories. All distinct. All the same.

Several more “words” exchanged, afterwards. (Of all those I’ve met along the way, he really “speaks” the clearest to me.) Don’t chase those thoughts for a few days. When you wake up it’ll be gone (6 hours is a magic number here I think). I was awake a few hours after the ritual. I wasn’t actively contemplating the memories (just, why would I?), but if I bumped into it, it wasn’t so loud and crucifying as before. But I did try to keep my thoughts away in general, no need to actively work against magick I’ve (asked) done. I will say, in the time following, until now, I’ve felt half-possessed most of the time I’ve been awake, unsure if related, but likely, in my opinion is, figure it’ll fade in the next day or two.

It’s like, if I consider what I’ve asked to be taken, what has been taken…It’s like the memory is in a bathtub and someone has pulled out the drain stopper. It’s like the colors, the sounds, the feelings are gone. Just a few crude harsh lines remaining, in washed-out, sun-faded scrapes against an impossibly non-existent backdrop. It’s really nice. It’s really lovely. If I consider too hard, it’s like my mind is trying to fill in the gaps with lies, that’s strange. But I can’t hear anything original, feel anything tied to it, the vision is blurred, like looking through fogged glass, like opening a picture book (coloring book?) and the lines are disappearing before your eyes.

So much of my “why magick?” answer is because I found myself here, or because the things I’ve found along the way, because I’m curious to learn (from them, especially). But sometimes, “why magick?” is because I just want to close my fucking eyes and see the backs of my eyelids, because I want to read my books and chill without things from the past popping up. It feels like an abuse of power, to have memories disappeared, taken, given, it feels like taking an easy route, but I really didn’t care and I don’t. I know what I wanted, and why, and I’m happy. And maybe, in a few days, even those traced over, sketched out outlines will be lost. Not hidden, not buried, gone.

It’s a trusting ritual. Like having feelings bled out. It’s so uncomfortable. The recounting, that’s uncomfortable. But also, so too is being awake and “fighting.” That’s really what I meant, the second part. I know awake means the mind is actively resisting. Or the body, or the “spirit” or soul, or whatever. Asleep, I’m not sure how it works, maybe the mind (body? soul? etc.) is distracted, so it’s easier? Maybe it’s the lack of conscious emotions tied to what’s going on? Maybe it’s something else, I don’t know. But I do know, I much prefer being out of it while he works.

There’s no adequate description to being awake and feeling that. Clawed fingers brushing through libraries in the mind, ocean currents drowning out the noise, fires burning that can’t be seen. No…letting him work while I’m not actively watching (and unintentionally fighting) is much better. With the exception of wanting to learn, of course, in which case some discomfort is “easy” to walk through for the show (lecture/lesson/teaching).

Dantalion, thank you.


Falling Leaves, summer sun and winter nights :fallen_leaf: :sunny: :cloud_with_snow:

October 28, 2023

I’ve been caught up with mundane stuff and the personal stuff for a few weeks. But, I should be picking up my ritual work in the next week or two.

October always seems to be like this, looking back. Even in different places, even around different people, it’s all the same gasping for breath and feeling pulled under. But it’s also usually a really beautiful and lovely month. Both a favorite of mine and a challenge each time it comes around.

Halloween aside, October is so full of change. Things going as they’re supposed to, as they always do, and yet every time a leaf falls in front of me I smile anyways. And every time I feel the wind it makes me happy too. October is one of the best months to be outside I think. It’s also one of the best months to consider who I am and who I want to be. Where I am on that path.

The Beauty of Anger

This month, I met with a demon, again, that likes to wear my skin and absolutely trash my relationships with others. She’s a damn good liar and fucking mean. But, you know, none of us are just one side of a coin, or one color of a beachball. I was so angry, so overwhelmingly angry, and for what reason I couldn’t say, not really, that was just the color of the world. In another time, I’d have just screamed until it was gone from my lungs and I could breathe again.

But a couple weeks ago, a demon from the past, both a shadow of myself and a light of who I am, came by. Summoned up by reminiscent nightmares and and boiling anger escaping past the pot’s lid. And I learned an interesting lesson about anger then, about the lies people like to tell about anger. Some of you know me better than others, most of anyone that knows me decently well-enough can tell you I have a little bit of a short fuse, and that sometimes my words come out on the harsher end of what’s typically acceptable in peaceable environments. I also use conflict as a calm-down method, which is super healthy I’m sure, but honestly conflict shows us who people are, it brings out so much of what we push down and when you get to it, it’s one of the best ways to know yourself and others–I think.

So anyways, I’ve read a lot about anger. And I’ve listed to a lot of people talk about it too. And I really have no comment on what they have to say, books, humans, the internet (we all filter things different depending on how we’re presenting them). And I have, truly, tried a lot of different things. The truth is also, that when I was younger, especially in high school but before then too, a lot, I held onto a lot of anger. And I was told, by some jackass dumbfuck idiot that you’re supposed to “let it go.” Because that makes sense? What other emotion do we learn that about? Are we not just demonizing and ostracizing anger? Maybe sadness, right. But no one tells you to process sadness, or grief, or any of its siblings or cousins overnight, they expect things like sadness to hang over you, like a cloud, for a while. But anger…we try so hard, as a collective society, to make it go away. And it’s such a stupid thing to do, I think.

Never have I felt more angry, in my life, than when I’m running away from anger. It hunts. I mean, my anger, it tracks me down with a spear and a bottle of fresh poison to skewer me on and to pour down my throat so I can’t scream. I have an intimate relationship with anger, it was my primary emotion for a long time. And I’ve realized, in the last week or two, that that demon I asked and invited over, she knows a lot more about anger, about me and my anger, than I do. Because I’m bad with it, because it scares me to be that angry and not be able to handle it, because she had a lot of the reigns when I was younger and in need of a demon’s mask.

And the color of it's magick

So I found myself drowning in a pool of anger, when my demon strolls along to laugh in my face, mock me, and hand me the most useful advice I’ve found on anger. “Breathe it in.” So many people talk about reconciling with emotions, or accepting them and moving on, or just “letting them go.” And that’s lovely. But it’s really unfair, I think, to feelings that want us. There’s a reason for each feeling we have. And they must work so hard to be felt, only for us to yell at them and tell them to leave, they’re making us uncomfortable, they need to go. Love, when it’s toward the “wrong” person, sadness when it interferes with mundane life, anger when we hurt others.

So, lately, I’ve been breathing in my anger. And I’m learning a lot about moving emotions, about the movement of them, about where they settle, how they feel when dipped in a little power. I use emotion in magick, sometimes, but mostly (shhhhhh!!) it’s concocted emotion? I’m one of those people who likes to manipulate others by use of emotion, usually gets me a bit farther than logic, although I’ll definitely play that game as well, and it also depends on the scene. I’m no stranger to dragging up emotions, to changing them a little, to highlighting certain underlying points within them. And a lot of the emotion I use in magick is much the same, it’s not often raw anything, it’s something latent, something I have the keys to but isn’t an open casket within me.

But this is different. And it’s not my first rodeo with tampering with emotions, and it’s likely to be far from my last, but it is something I haven’t consciously and intentionally explored as much as I’d like to. Changing emotions, keeping them in containers that aren’t bursting, letting them settle and find a home within me that isn’t destructive.

I was told, a bit back, by a trusted and much adored (and highly regarded) dragon friend to learn to let things go. And I have been, kind of. But there’s also this answer. The answer of why things are meant to be, or have to be let go.

Is it because they weigh us down? Keep us tethered? Or is it because they’re bad for us? Keep us from seeing more? To hold too much, it keeps us from progressing. But memories, possessions, emotions, aren’t they all the same in that regard? Is it that the emotion needs to be bled from them? I imagine, the more I begin letting go (by which I mean, the more I begin to allow to stop affecting me as I walk my path), the more there will be to find, to reach, to attain. And I don’t mean to be a sieve, because those never fill (with water, knowledge, power, or anything else).

Power is grown, cultivated. As is knowledge. And many other things. When you have too many things, you get a bigger house. As knowledge grows, so does the body. As power grows… I have no intention of being made of mesh, I have no intention of rejecting or letting pass through me, out of disdain or fear, or discomfort perfectly valid emotions, especially ones that taste like power, like strength, like hard-fought moments turned sweet. Every emotion that touches me, every feeling that pushes into me. If emotion is a currency of power—which I believe it is—it’s insane to give them up, cast them away or out. Also, I think, it’s ridiculously unhealthy, (or maybe it’s my outlook that’s unhealthy, wouldn’t be the first time, but I don’t care, healthy is subjective, and differs from one to the next) to be so arbitrary about choosing which emotions are “okay” to hold and which deserve to be thrown away, or worse, shunned.

So anyways, I as a part of my continued effort to not be running away from things this year, I’m not playing games at ‘inviting my anger for a conversation over dinner,’ but I’m sure as hell willing to soak in it, to let it soak in me for a change. Because, I believe, right now at least, maybe I’m making a mistake, maybe there’s a miscalculation here, that holding emotions doesn’t have to be some elaborate affair, nor does it have to come as a trade to peace, comfort, or power. So I’m trying something out, holding emotions and letting them choose how and where to settle in. And anger, anger feels so warm and at home within me, around me, at my feet and over my shoulders like a cloak. If anger is my path in this life, if it’s really what’s going to walk after me no matter where I turn and if it’s really going to hold my hand as often as it reaches, then I’m exhausted of running. It folds away so neatly, knows all my thoughts, my feelings, my friends and foes. And it has taught me So. Much. about magick in the last two weeks, more than I’ve learned in years it feels like, just in principles if not in practice. And I remember, of course, how it was I began on this path, led by wild observations and the energy filling me, surrounding me. Last month, I wanted to bind my anger into a rock, a pretty, rough emerald rock. Today, I’m intrigued at the concept, but determined to fill the store a bit more before playing the channeling and binding game in that way.

Our “vibes” govern a lot of our experiences in this world, I’d say. And I mean this in the sense of what you’re feeling is going to come back to you. So, I’ll say about that concept and anger, that my anger has never fought against me. In the ‘like attracts like’ sense, I’m not concerned at all. I might still be getting to know my anger, but it knows me. And I trust…or thought I did until I began typing this, I’ll be cautious going forward in this case…

The thing about emotion magick, in this sense, there are others but really so much of it, I’d say, is the same, if only I had the experience to back up that claim…but the thing is, is that all magick needs a direction. And so this leads to the question on how emotion hangs around us both when being actively used in magick and when not being used, or, even, when being used passively. And my views on this are confused because I’d like to argue for a magician most things (all?) that aren’t active magick are passive magick, but again, I’m not entirely certain how I feel on that claim right now.

So, I’ve been off with these games and learnings lately. But happy to be back :spider:

(It’s late, I’m tired, only very slightly proofed.)


Interesting to run across this. I long had a phobia of spiders, which can’t-run-now days spent in the woods of Ft. Benning largely cured. Lately I have been bitten by an interest in the 218 Current’s Akkawbishia, a spidress-aspect of Lilith.

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@anon31595307 The topic (title of the thread) is related to my username. If you read through the thread at all, you’ll notice an astounding lack of actual information on spider-related goddesses.

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Dreams of the Dark

I’ve had a few interesting dreams in the last week or so. Not sure if it’s to do with a change in (sleep) schedule, time of year, or something else, something more magick-y. They’ve all been magick-related though.

Torturous dreams, dreams of theft, an actual demon (I made a call to someone in that instance), dreams of the world behind mirrors, and dreams of great rooms where the “future,” whatever that means beyond this understanding of time I’ve been granted as a human means, is decided.

They’ve all been bright, colorful dreams that last after waking. Dreams where feelings both physical and emotional are felt and processed and relevant. Fortunately, I haven’t woken up with physical feelings lingering (Sitri likes to play around in torture-style dreams in a way that leads to me feeling actual fucking pain both within the dream and following waking up for various amounts of time).

One night, a few nights ago, there was something in my bedroom with me. I decided I was being paranoid and to ignore it. I miscalculated. It showed up to my dream and it was like a scene from an exorcist horror movie. It’s gone now. I called someone in the dream after realizing I wasn’t getting anywhere fixing my problem. It’s lovely to know so deeply in my mind what to do in those moments, it didn’t matter whether I knew I was asleep or not, the answer was the same and I knew that well enough.

Another night, I dreamt of the infinite-ness (if there’s a real word, it’s escaped me currently) of the mirror, of “the” reflection. Of the light side and the dark side and the doorway that keeps them apart, the mirror that allows anyone to pass through, whenever they look too far in, whenever they make the leap. It was strange and I think largely symbolic, but there were some things that rang incredibly true with certain teachings. I think it strengthened my understanding, even if I am more curious now and a bit confused on certain things. I have a better understanding in general and of certain questions. King Belial’s lessons on the mirror have been intense, this dream has added new understanding to them (not that I think it was entirely separate).

The doorway of death. Or maybe, a doorway to death. Would you take it, if offered or found… how hard would it be to say yes or to turn away from it, to resume playing at this life.

Im not sure if it’s the change of season or sleeping in the dark that’s gotten to me, but I’m not opposed. As all things, these types of dreams come in cycles I’ve found.

It’s faster to ask than “read through” a thread

First, you didn’t ask a question, in either post you made. Second, there’s a search tool that can filter by topic. Third, this is a journal thread, which makes it a place where off-topic questions don’t have a place. Fourth, and this is my opinion on most things in life, if you have no interest in reading, why ask? Do your research first.

Edit: In case you thought this was a discussion, it isn’t. I’m letting you know you’re off topic.

Another edit… If you’re interested in spiders (which is really lovely, I think they’re great creatures!) you can search the word, there are some great posts on the forum about many related topics, it’s just this isn’t really where they collect and I have absolutely no knowledge of what you mentioned, which is why I’m not open for discussion on the topic. Also @Xenophon I do apologize for being a little hot-headed, it’s a trait of mine I work hard to iron out and overcome, just doesn’t always show that way immediately. Looking forward to seeing you around the forum!

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The photos are very interesting. I have not before this considered calling spiders beautiful.

As for the anger, it is a trait I share. A useful too on occasions.

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A Collection of Bullshit

February 19, 2024

Premonitions, Ghosts under the light, 6 of Cups meets 9 of Swords

Yesterday I went out. I was advised beforehand on a couple things. Still, it was fun to have little moments of surprise as everything came to pass exactly at its time.

The idea of time is fun. I watched some fucked up show tonight, absolutely beautiful but out of a hallucinogen-induced dream. It imparted upon me an interesting perspective about just being a passerby in other people’s stories, just catching a glimpse of each moment we step through as time rolls on with us in tow. I wonder how many of the scenes we see are predetermined, not by the universe or god or something obscene but by who we are, inherently and at our core, by our prior choices.

So anyways, I was planning on walking out dressed almost exactly as someone I went out with, like I’d been planning what to wear for over a week and changed decisions a couple hours before heading out. It might have been fun to wear what I’d been planning on, but it’d have also made me feel uncomfortable to have even my hair matching the person I went out with. And then, I knew we’d be walking around, because I was “told,” it actually wasn’t at all the type of outing where you plan to walk around, at least not based on last time we did a similar thing. So I knew I was going to be a bit annoyed at my choice in clothes/shoes but chose not to care. Lo and behold, I was a bit annoyed but it was okay. We were in the car too long, I like being in the car for the most part, usually hope we’ll end up in the car longer than needed, we ended up driving in the opposite direction for a little while unintentionally, even supposedly with the correct address programed into the phone. Had a thought about having ice cream, we walked to an ice cream place. Thought about another human and they were there, didn’t see them but interesting to note while on the topic.

It was like checking boxes. A lot of days are. Days that aren’t standard. Little events contained with them that aren’t planned, aren’t set out or meant as an expectation. It’s strange. I didn’t used to listen. It was unnerving when I started to. For a while, I was mostly ridiculously thankful for the little “heads ups” I got throughout the day, or before certain things came up, were important. Most of the time now I’m thankful too, but yesterday the question of the value of “surprise” arose.

I can predict a lot of words that people will say. I think lots of people have this skill though–aside from bullshit small talk where we’re all reciting scripts that have been shoved into our souls. Especially those of us who carefully manicure our words because we’re aware of the consequences of saying the wrong ones. Sometimes, things are bit different though. Sometimes, I’ll hear someone’s greeting while they’re behind me, while I’m facing the other direction, while they’re lips are closed, just before they’ve taken the breath to speak. Sometimes, it’s a bit more or less than that.

Actions I struggle with a little more. I mean, I’ve learned how my actions–my placement in relation to other people as well–can affect others. But I fail more frequently with predicting people’s actions, their movements.

Events though. Whether (or not) I meditate, eat well, sleep enough, am angry or happy… It doesn’t matter. It’s the same, or maybe it gets more intense as time goes on. And so, I wonder, what’s there to wandering around impersonating a human if the experience is so fake. And I’m not saying I’m not a human, I certainly am one, but the question remains. Am I doing something wrong at this game if I’m living in a way most people aren’t?

I understand the point of magick, for many, is to have things they otherwise might not, to have certain experiences that others aren’t capable of (currently, not everyone is and has always been capable of certain styles of practice; the same could be said if magick were substituted or another word, right, we don’t all understand or have the same experiences as a scientist of a certain field, a professional animator, a gravedigger, etc.) having. To me, magic is. It was always magic first, understanding second. Having things I’ve actively put magic into is wonderful, but regardless, magic is always, regardless, there is no “point” that stands apart from this. But, I mean, if premonitions were something we accepted as a human race, it wouldn’t have the address it does in our world, which is to say the stigma and the questions on its realness and the fabrication of it. And I’m not saying I’m extraordinarily well-versed in premonitions, but I’m not fresh blood to them either.

They’re the scariest part of my practice, or the scariest part of what my practice has brought me. I’ve spoken on this before. I smile a bit now when someone suggests we take a walk to grab an ice cream, having had “ice cream” dangling from the ceiling beams of my mind since hours prior. And I double blink and take a breath when something I’m not eager to wander through is presented, having wondered exactly when such a thing would happen since the dream’s remnants in the morning. And I hold my breath and clench my jaw at the “unexpected” news of something or other I’ve already been mourning when the words spill out from another person.

I am, indeed, an authentic human. But I joke too about being only half. Saying also “the demons half raised me.” Omitting the pacts I’ve made. People talk about selling your soul with all the ignorance of the world brimming up behind their teeth and landing on their tongues. And then, it’s with the suddenness of all realizations that the understanding dawns.

I thought for a while reading others’ thoughts on magic would “spoil” some understanding, some conclusion-reaching I ought to have on my own. It was funny the first time I realized I’d read something so many times over and still had no idea what was being said, everything over my head. And some time later had the discovery myself. This is a path someone can walk you down by the hand and teach you with astounding attention to detail, but the epiphanies are all our own. There’s no way to just repeat something until it makes sense in magic. And I really love that about this practice. Maybe it’s like that with everything and I just haven’t noticed yet.

Premonitions though…a real mind fuck. It’s cheating I think (feel? wonder?). It feels a bit like knowing all the squares to a board game while others have to roll the dice or draw the cards to know their meanings. People tell me everything isn’t a game. But I can’t agree. Sure, not everything is fun. But neither is everything fun in most games, not if you have an attitude appropriate to the little pawn representing you at least.

I turned on a different set of lights last (last?) night. They’re dimmer, under the cabinet lights that I’ve turned on like twice (to see what the the switch did, on accident) in the last year or so. Thought it’d be fun to have on something dimmer. Felt like I was in a dream. I didn’t think slightly more orange than yellow lights would fuck me up that much. It was really weird. I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately. Absolutely, astoundingly mundane nightmares. Memories wandering around banging on the walls of my skull.

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