The Feast for the Second Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

☉ 19° ♈ : ☽ 5° ♒ : ☽ : Ⅴⅰⅴ


Yea! deem not of change: ye shall be as ye are, & not other. Therefore the kings of the earth shall be Kings for ever: the slaves shall serve. There is none that shall be cast down or lifted up: all is ever as it was. Yet there are masked ones my servants: it may be that yonder beggar is a King. A King may choose his garment as he will: there is no certain test: but a beggar cannot hide his poverty

Beware therefore! Love all, lest perchance is a King concealed! Say you so? Fool! If he be a King, thou canst not hurt him.

Therefore strike hard & low, and to hell with them, master!

                                                                  -The Book of The Law, Chapter II, verses 58-60

Remember all ye that existence is pure joy; that all the sorrows are but as shadows; they pass & are done; but there is that which remains.

                                                                 -The Book of The Law, Chapter II, verse 9

[published a day late. oops]


Another Post (second post)

Just an update. Yesterday was interesting. I was sitting against a wall in Triangle Park with my backpack at my side, my phone next to the pack, my black aluminum chamber pipe I’ve dubbed “The Shadow” sitting atop my phone. I had just blown a bowl of some kine bud and was writing in my paper journal, when in my view appeared a pair of black, polished, shoes. I slowly looked up black pant legs and found at the end of my vision’s journey a fully uniformed cop.

This was startling at first but I controlled my reactions. Remained calm as I had the benefit of a pair of Skullcandy® earphones obviously in my ears, the cord running from my head to my phone which lay beside my left thigh as I was sitting Indian style on the grass.  I reached to turn the volume down on my phone, a Samsung Galaxy S3, when I noticed that the pipe was sitting visibly on the phone. But it was black on black and in the dim shadow of my pack. Maybe Five-O didn’t see it. It is, after all, the Shadow; and only the Shadow knows.

“How you doing,” said the cop after I’d brushed the Shadow off the phone’s screen and under my thigh and feigned adjusting the volume before taking out my right earphone. “I’m good,” I said as I drew my right hand from across my left thigh over my right thigh, resting the palm down on the grass and looked him in the eyes. He nodded. “I’m just hanging out,” I volunteered, appearing to present no conflict or resistance, “sitting in the sun, writing.”

“I’m just checking on you,” the cop said, “someone called and was concerned about you. You need anything?” “No,” I smiled, “I’m good,” I repeated the suggestion as I moved my hand back to my left to tap the backpack and then drew the hand back to my right and the grass, again looked in his eyes. “You got a place to sleep?” he asked. This, for an instant, startled me again. I determined that while I think about the best way to answer, I’d smile almost like a laugh was about to happen. I didn’t want to detail even the neck of the woods of where I’m sleeping. I didn’t want this to turn into more questions. ”Yes,” I said. He smiled back and said “great” as he stepped back and then turned. I noticed he didn’t offer any more details or “offers” of social services or any further questions even. I thought it ran rather perfect for a cop I’d never seen around before.

He left. I wrote some more in my paper journal and then rolled a cigarette. I put the Shadow away until later when I’d smoke some more elsewhere. This is when I decided what kind of blog I was going to create here. Well, sort of. I mean, I sort of know what I’m doing with this; I’m writing about my views on life, the times, situations as examples, magick, Thelema, and all things metaphysic. The above story starts us off because it was while I was writing in my journal about what this blog is supposed to be, a sort of brainstorming technique of free form thinking and dialoging with myself, that it occurred. It occurred around the time I was writing to myself in questions how much of my living situation and lifestyle choices I publish and how much I leave veiled.  How authentic to authentically produce this blog through time? Well, that synchronistic event in time to the songs playing on my Spotify generated playlist settled it. This blog hides little or nothing, and will discuss all things relevant. 

I live out of a backpack. Smile

First Post

Back to blogging.

Had! The manifestation of Nuit!

Hail this first day of the Feasts of Liber AL.

On this date one-hundred fourteen years ago, Aleister Crowley, accomplished British poet, writer, record-holding mountaineer, and brewer, was with his wife, Rose Edith Kelly, on honeymoon in Cairo, Egypt.  Days before, after they had arrived under the pseudonyms of Prince Chioa Khan, and his Princess, Ouarda (Arabic for “The Great Beast and his Princess, Rose”), Crowley took his wife to the Kings Chamber of the Great Pyramid of Cheops and performed a magick ritual to demonstrate to her the astral light. Although having no interest or previous knowledge of the occult, Rose began for several days to periodically fall into trance and express messages to Crowley of the likes “they are waiting for you,” “there is a message for you,” “it is all about the Child,” and “the Equinox of the Gods has come.” And from there she provided evidence through a nearby museum by showing him the deity that she claimed she was receiving the messages from, and it was Horus depicted on a stele that had a catalog number of 666. Other qabalistic questions “drilled” to the previously “uninterested” Rose Edith Kelly, and Crowley became convinced of the authenticity of this occult experience and he listened. As a result, Crowley was then instructed by Rose to perform a rite of Horus each day for three days at noon and to prepare to take a message each day.  Rose added some corrections to the ritual of her own (perhaps “received instructions”) and changed a few traditional particulars, all to which Crowley protests that it means it won’t work. Nonetheless, it works. Each day for one hour, Crowley receives visitation from an emissary of the Gods and thus we have The Book of the Law and the Law of Thelema which it proclaims.

Today I celebrate the opening light of this three day feast by proclaiming this journey, this blog through time and space, in my own Thelemic conceptions, my own existentialist means and magickal attentions.  This journey of light begins on the first day of celebrations of the triune dawning of the New Aeon as prophesied by Aiwass, the prince priest the Beast, and his Holy Guardian Angel, Aleister Crowley. Today begins a new age for me and my return to fully-authentic blogging.