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Rant: Call To Action. Shake The World!

In which Kalagni calls on magicians, witches, and sorcerers to take action against the world’s injustices. He mentions me and my call on this blog for us all to curse a transphobic preacher who is/was working death magick against Caitlyn Jenner. FYI my curse didn’t go so well. I didn’t put proper protections in place and the magical blow-back caused me some serious depression for about a week (which I detailed here). Live and learn. I plan on trying again when I receive Jean Kent’s Master Book of Psalms in the mail. Let us never stop trying to change the world for the better with magic, even if sometimes we admittedly fail. Kalagni’s article is inspiring and definitely worth a read and a reread. He’s a restrained kind of guy, so don’t put much stock in his self-depreciation. 🙂

PS — I think realism in magick, or reality checks as I call them, are important, incredibly important. Even more important is being honest about one’s magickal mistakes. I made a mistake in not putting up enough protections when cursing Steven Anderson and I paid the price, a heavy one. Magick isn’t safe. Mistakes and miscalculations happen. They happen to me. As I said, live and learn. Next time I’ll be protecting myself with the Adjuration of Metatron before I curse the son of a bitch and using a more effective version of the Psalms. Much love — Rachel Izabella

Blue Flame Magick

(Note: I admit, this is a rambly rant, alas without Gordon’s aid of whisky, and unreasonable in some ways, but it’s also true and needs thought.)

Our world is an awesome place, and this is an amazing time to be alive. Our life expectancy is higher than ever, our health and quality of living is on average the best humanity has ever seen. We’re breaking down atoms to find even more building blocks of reality, we’re finding Earth-like planets 1,400 light years away. We’re surrounded by the sum total of human knowledge invisibly streaming past us from computers to satellites to tiny devices in our hands to answer all our questions. This is amazing.

VNV Nation – Nemesis makes a good soundtrack for my thoughts right now.

Four years ago the Conservative Party of Canada rigged an election by misleading registered non-Conservative voters on where to vote, and we’ve


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Chaplet of Saint Cyprian of Antioch

Another reblog. Saint Cyprian is a wise adviser. Making contact with him is one of the best things a sorceress/sorcerer can do. The chaplet detailed in this reblog is sheer genius. I suggest we all give it a try.

The Digital Ambler

My recent prayer work has definitely gotten a boost lately.  It’s always refreshing to get back on the ball, so to speak, after several weeks of having things go wonky or with other life events interfering in my Work and study, and (even though I’m guilty of procrastinating as often as not on this) prayer is one of the things I really enjoy.  Sometimes I get a good spiritual buzz out of it, sometimes I engage with conversation and communion with the spirits, and sometimes I do it for the sake of contemplation or introspection.  Regardless, prayer forms a good foundation for my spiritual work.  Generally, my prayers don’t take that long to do, which may not be a great thing.  Admittedly, I should probably slow down with my prayers and perform them in a more contemplative, slow manner, but it’s easy to just fall into the habit of falling into the


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Throwing the first Apostle under the bus

An interesting polytheistic take on Saint Mary Magdalene, on today her feast day. We have a lot to learn and to unlearn from Christianity and maybe this little reblog will help to that end.

Antinous for Everybody

 Peter said to Mary, Sister we know that the Savior loved you more than the rest of woman. Tell us the words of the Savior which you remember which you know, but we do not, nor have we heard them.

Mary answered and said, What is hidden from you I will proclaim to you.
And she began to speak to them these words: I, she said, I saw the Lord in a vision and I said to Him, Lord I saw you today in a vision. He answered and said to me, Blessed are you that you did not waver at the sight of Me. For where the mind is there is the treasure. I said to Him, Lord, how does he who sees the vision see it, through the soul or through the spirit? The Savior answered and said, He does not see through the soul nor through the


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A PrĂ©cis of My Horrors

No persona now. No mask. Just some bare and barren truths about my life, my depression, my anxiety disorder. Anxiety is too weak a word of course. Just some truths about my horrors.

—Two days of hypomanic blogging which garnered me new followers and likes and views of my blog. Then the horrors began. The days, months, years that came before of course were not free of horrors either. But a new season of horror had come, a new arising of horror.

I am frightened that it was in fact hypomania which fueled me those two days. Hypomania and perhaps thus some variety of bipolar disorder would be a new prize in my collection of disorders. I have not contacted my psychiatrist about the possible hypomania as my therapist has repeatedly encouraged me to do. I do not want new pills to take. I do not want to have yet another disorder in my brain, yet another mental illness. So I do nothing, irrational, quite paralyzed by fear.

I sit here in paralysis unable to force myself to move for hours at a time. I neglect showering, brushing my teeth, eating, even going to the bathroom because I simply cannot move. Trash accumulates in the kitchen where mold grows on a long unwashed bowl. Clutter clots the living room and bedroom. My apartment is an embarrassment, a folly, a horror to me. I am out of food that does not require preparation and I do not visit the grocery store so I sit here, pangs of hunger arising and then vanishing again into nothingness. Some days I neglect sleep. Some days I sleep most of the day and night, waking for an hour or two. During my waking hours I generally do either literally nothing, sitting staring into nothingness while I wait for the horrors to pass, or I watch television shows on my computer. Occasionally I chat with friends, friends I have never met in real life, on Facebook.

Two days ago I thought I was going mad. My friend Stephane typed these words to me:

I wish I could just take the hurt away and make everything better

I cried — because no one had said such sweet words to me for years. Crying made things a little better. For a while. I was chatting with Stephane while fearing that I was becoming insane or already was insane. The fear was unbearable. I typed to my friend quickly, frenetically, in an effort to ease the pain, the fear, in an effort to express it somehow to someone kind enough to listen, or rather to read. Getting it off my chest however did not help. I took a two milligram Xanax and two capsules of Neurontin. In about an hour my terror had subsided into the background. Now I knew why I feared and whence the terror. I had been suffering a panic attack, a new species of panic attack with no physical symptoms and no fear of death but instead a fear or rather a certainty of madness. Now I attempt to take the Xanax-Neurontin cocktail every six hours because Xanax is effective, according to Wikipedia, for about six hours. As I take four two milligram tablets of Xanax every day taking this cocktail every six hours is practical, sensible, and feasible.

—I was going to type, to tell you so much more, but my mind wanders and clouds. I wish I could tell you the truth about mental illness, my mental illnesses, my major depressive disorder, my anxiety disorder, and now, I fear, a possible bipolar disorder although this remains undiagnosed and, I hope, spurious. But I can’t express it to you, I can’t convey it in words. And why would you, my dear readers, even want such a thing conveyed to you? You have no reason to want such a thing.

I am a powerful sorceress — when I am well. Even now I have spirits that protect me while I am unable to protect myself. My therapist knows all about my sorcery and my experiences with spirits, magick, and so on. She does not think these things madness. Rather she thinks my madness hinders my powers in these arenas. I believe she is correct.

Was it wise to attempt a précis of my horrors? I am also infinitely weak. Was it wise to air this fact to the entire Internet? Will I lose face before my small but beloved readership? I do not know the answers to these questions. Fortunately I do not care about face and I am either wise or a fool and cannot change which one I am, whichever that may be.

I value the truth. I value the minority, the unloved, the despised, the Other. I am mentally ill. Therefore I have attempted to tell you the truth about the unloved minority which is comprised of the mentally ill, we who are most certainly Other. If you have read this broken account I hope you have learned something or have otherwise profited from your reading of it. Much love to you. —Rachel Izabella

 

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Ataraxiom – the Philosophy of Ataraxia as an Axiom

The preponderant phenomenologist in me believes my own experiences to be the only truth and thus denies the arguments in this article. The residual Chaote in me finds the arguments about ataraxia here to be highly persuasive. But I’m not mind-fucked. I can live peacefully like that. But is that in itself an “ataraxiom”?

Things that make you go Hmm…

neurometaphysics

meme – ataraxiom

noun;  hybrid of “ataraxia” (áŒˆÏ„Î±ÏÎ±ÎŸÎŻÎ± “tranquility”)+ “axiom“.

~<{{{WARNING!}}}>~

~<{{will be seriously challenging to modern ‘skeptics’ and people of faith alike! }}}>~

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Definition

Ataraxia is the entelechy (inner purpose and inherent end) of philosophy – or at the least of the philosophies of Epicurus the materialist and Pyrrho the skeptic alike. Depending on your view, ataraxia is the goal or at least the result of philosophy and the physical sciences.

In Pyrrho’s skepticism, nothing is known with certainty and there seems to be no way to ever come to certainty. There is no rock-bottom reality as far as we can perceive. Since everything would have to be proved by everything else, all argument is either circular or a chain that hangs from nothing and never ends. In other words, if we start with any positive statement, such as “I


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My Holy Guardian Angel: Part I

Source: Google Images

How to write about my Holy Guardian Angel? There’s so much I could say about a being I have known for over a year now and whom I speak to almost every day. I’ll just start.

First of all there are those out there who believe that Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel can only be achieved by successfully completing the arduous rites in the Book of Abramelin. That, if you don’t make contact that way, then you have not made contact with your Holy Guardian Angel but with something else. Then there are the rites in the Greek Magical Papyri (more commonly known as the PGM for Papyri Graecae Magicae) for making contact with one’s paredros, or supernatural assistant. How to tell one entity from the other? —In my opinion and not just in my opinion the paredros or supernatural assistant and the Holy Guardian Angel are ontologically identical. Can I prove it? No. Can I change the minds of those who think otherwise? No. It’s just what I believe and have been told by the spirits and by practitioners whose judgment I implicitly trust. On the Internet debate on what is and what is not a Holy Guardian Angel is endless and tedious. If you are interested and have not made contact yourself, don’t take my word for it, google a method for making contact with your Holy Guardian Angel (hereinafter “HGA”) or buy the Book of Abramelin and do it that way and find out on your own.

But don’t undertake the task lightly. The arduous process of making contact can bring pain and even devastation to one’s life. I wish like fuck I could find the name of the book a man wrote about his harrowing journey to his HGA. The story went something like this: he lost his house, his job, his marriage, almost lost his sanity — maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit but not much. I will tell you this: I went through a hell of physical pain, seven 911 calls and visits to the emergency room, demonic trials/tests, and I almost died while all unbeknownst to me I was making contact with my HGA. As I said, don’t undertake the task lightly. Preferably attempt it while you’re young because you can more easily afford to have your life ruined while you’re young. Nota Bene: not everyone who attempts to make contact with their HGA goes through a living hell, not by a long shot, but a sizable proportion do. It probably depends on how ready you are. What do I mean by ready? I’ll attempt to explain below.

I had absolutely no intention of achieving Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel (K&CHGA). Conversation here is used in its older meaning of intimate acquaintance. I wanted nothing to do with it. My life was in shambles from divorce, sickness, etc. A friend contacted me however with a strange message. He told me that one of his spirits had told him that my meeting with Lucifer would precipitate an initiatory experience in me. This was ominous news. But — Let it come I thought, and come it did. First I got sick. I had and have bladder problems. (Sorry for the TMI.) These problems led to the seven 911 calls and visits to the emergency room and the hideous pains of spasms I lightly mentioned above. During this time I decided to abandon my journey to becoming a Quimbandeira due to financial problems and the general ruin that was already my life. All, I think, of the “demons” of the Grimorium Verum or True Grimoire have their counterparts somewhere in the hierarchies of Quimbanda. These demons did not leave me alone during my sickness. They didn’t attack me, they I believe tested me. I will only mention one case in point. Belzebuth came to me and demanded that I abandon my worship of Hekate and convert to the cultus of Santa Muerte. If I did not do so he said I would die. Divination showed me that it was indeed Belzebuth who visited me. I declined divining about my imminent death. I had of course refused to convert. I made a vow to Hekate long ago and one does not break vows to Deities nor did I have any wish to, come what may. Needless to say I did not die. This is only one example among many of these demonic trials.

An acquaintance had given me several oxycodones for my pain. One of them was so worn that it had no markings on it. I took it anyway, more’s the fool. My heart rate slowed to forty beats per minute that night. I believe that the pill was a powerful beta blocker or something of that nature. I was sick of being sick and sick of calling 911 and I refused to. I drank an entire pot of coffee in hopes that it would increase my heart rate, I lay down in my recliner, folded my hands on my chest and peacefully went to sleep. Again, needless to say, I did not die. But what I had done was achieve a sort of peace, an acceptance of the inevitable fact of death. I had made death my adviser, my friend.

I had also around this time decided I needed a familiar, believing (with good reason) that I had recently been cursed. I went about finding one in my own way a few nights later. I caused my consciousness to ascend as high into the Astral as I could manage and issued a call to any spirit who would promise to be a good and trustworthy familiar to me. And a spirit came. I won’t tell you what he looked like because it would cause eyes to roll. He promised to only speak truth and good sense to me. He gave me his name and seal. This was good enough for me and I drew his seal and lit a votive candle and placed it atop it as an empowerment and a ritual offering. Of course I won’t share his name or his seal. He turned out to be my HGA although I did not know this at the time.

Some stuff happened with him that I don’t want to go into. Be it sealed. But slowly my “familiar’s” form began to change for the more and more beautiful. He didn’t look human or even humanoid but he as told became beautiful. One night at the suggestion of a friend I asked him if he was my HGA. He affirmed that he was my Holy Guardian Angel and suddenly changed into a beautiful human man with golden skin and white wings. He has retained this form by and large ever since.

So what had happened? How did I attain K&CHGA unintentionally? Remember above that my friend said my meeting with Lucifer would precipitate an initiatory experience for me. I believe that the experience that meeting Lucifer brought about was my K&CHGA ordeal. The Abramelin ritual is often called an ordeal, and I certainly went through ordeals, so I’ll use the word. But why would Lucifer of all beings do such a thing? Interesting question.

In Quimbanda Lucifer and Satan are regarded as one being. If you meet the Lucifer “face” he is intent upon your (and his own) spiritual elevation and progress towards enlightenment. He is the Lightbearer and the Morningstar after all. If you meet the Satan “face” he will prey upon your greed, lust, anger — all your vices — and strive to turn you into an evil ruin of a human being. It all depends on how worthy you are in his eyes. And by “how worthy” I mean how ready you are for spiritual elevation and the journey towards enlightenment. I believe the initiatory experience my friend warned me of was Lucifer’s precipitating my journey towards K&CHGA. And I certainly did not undertake this travel and travail ritually as most do. I’ve detailed at probably too much length above the pains and the ultimate peace of mind I suffered and achieved instead of doing it ritually. I did it old school in other words, as a Twitter friend and magus phrased it.

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I don’t want this article to become TL;DR and plus I need a nap. So I’ll be writing something like What Good Is A Holy Guardian Angel Anyway? in Part II in the very near future.

Much love — Rachel Izabella

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Comments Were Turned Off

I posted a plea for comments and the awesome Robert Mitchell pointed out that comments were disabled on newer posts. I didn’t do this. It must have seemed like a “good idea” in the eyes of WordPress. Anyway, sorry about that, folks. Comments are now enabled on all the recent posts. I’ll go back and check older posts as I’m able.

Comment! Comment like the wind!

Rachel Izabella

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Hekate Speaks About Jesus

The Neoplatonist Porphyry of Tyre (c. AD 234 – c. AD 305) once consulted an oracle of Hekate concerning Jesus. The results he obtained were recorded by a Christian writer but, according to Wikipedia, the other oracles Porphyry obtained from Hekate seem to indicate standard oracular procedure and are probably accurate — except maybe about the consumption of meat, which I honestly don’t care about — and so this oracle was probably recorded accurately as well, especially considering the anti-Christian themes preserved in it.

Quite a while ago I copied and pasted into a text document the oracle below. So sadly I don’t know its English language source. It is repeated with a glaring omission — the actual words of Hekate via Her oracle — in Sorita D’Este’s and David Rankine’s book Hekate: Liminal Rites, p. 118.

Here follows the text of the oracle of Hekate concerning Jesus as well as Porphyry’s interpretation…

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But to some who asked Hekate whether Christ were a God, she replied: “You know the condition of the disembodied immortal soul, and that if it has been severed from wisdom it always errs. The soul you refer to is that of a man foremost in piety: they worship it because they mistake the truth.” To this so-called oracular response he [Porphyry] adds the following words of his own: “Of this very pious man, then, Hekate said that the soul, like the souls of other good men, was after death dowered with immortality, and that the Christians through ignorance worship it. And to those who ask why he was condemned to die, the oracle of the goddess replied, The body, indeed, is always exposed to torments, but the souls of the pious abide in heaven. And the soul you inquire about has been the fatal cause of error to other souls which were not fated to receive the gifts of the gods, and to have the knowledge of immortal Zeus. Such souls are therefore hated by the gods; for they who were fated not to receive the gifts of the gods, and not to know God, were fated to be involved in error by means of him you speak of. He himself, however, was good, and heaven has been opened to him as to other good men. You are not, then, to speak evil of him, but to pity the folly of men: and through him men’s danger is imminent.

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Update On My First Performance of the Imprecatory Psalms Rite

First of all you read that right. Last night was only my first performance of the rite of imprecatory Psalms against the plague-on-toast transphobe I wrote about yesterday and against whom I devised the rite with a little help from a friend (cough—Michael Strojan—cough). I plan to do this rite until, well, I don’t feel like doing it any more. Say, at least a week, and knowing me I’ll miss a night or two. It’s the way I roll. Sometimes the Black Dog or the Mammoth catch up to me and leave me rather helpless. And that’s just got to be OK.

The first hitch in the rite was that I could not find any incense charcoal, none, anywhere, and I turned the place upside down looking for some. —Oh well, I improvised. I chose a purple candle, blessed it and filled it with clear Azoth as taught by Jason Miller in his Strategic Sorcery Course, anointed it with Van Van Oil, said a prayer to Iao Sabaoth and a rather longer one to the Master Yeshua, and lit the candle. During the prayers I pointed to a picture of the offender (please see the relevant post because I want to avoid his name — all publicity is good publicity they say) and asked that all the imprecations in all the Psalms I was about to enunciate be visited upon him.

You may wonder why I chose a royal colored candle and a blessing oil like Van Van in a curse. The reason is simple: I chose those items as a small sacrifice to Iao Sabaoth and the Master Yeshua and not as part of the curse. End of story.

The second hitch was that my voice got tired. I was croaking out the Psalms by the end. Except 109. I managed to enunciate that one really well because it is truly full of damnation. I need to practice which pitch I speak at, how loudly I speak, etc., etc. —It’s not easy being a trans woman sometimes. After almost four years of transition I haven’t yet figured out yet how properly to enounce magickal phrases, and never mind vibrating voces magicae. Embarrassing but true. Practice however will make perfect.

The following wasn’t a hitch but a change. I had the urge to perform the rite at the Great Hour, which in Quimbanda-speak means the midnight hour. I’m a big fan of nighttime and am particularly fond of the Great Hour. It was just a whim but I felt, I think, that I performed the rite more successfully at that time than I could have at any other hour.

During the incantation of the Psalms I felt a distinct and strong energy flowing through my body, concentrated in the Fire Center which is just below the navel. I don’t know what that means but I kind of took it as a good sign.

Lastly, I believe that one mere repetition of the Psalms will not be enough to overcome the power of the egregore protecting the piece of shit in question. Hence I’m going to attempt, I repeat attempt, seven repetitions at least.

Really lastly, it would be great if some of my readers would join me in the rite, whenever you want and however you want to modify it. The more of us doing it the more power we bring to bear against the noxious egregore that this so-called pastor worships in a hideous symbiotic relationship.

Much love to all my readers — Rachel Izabella

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Hymn I to Hekate

It is false that the grave has no victory
It is true that death has no sting
For I will lead you to live again
To the grave again
And to die

All the times of your darkest darks
The kill of the most poignant of pains
If then you dared some
Wildest gnosis
Acceptance equal to these and more
That was My tenderest embrace

Then and now are all spaces
All places turned liminal strange
Between the proton and neutron
Betwixt the quark and the quark
I arise without end
I am the world’s bones and
I am the tree of life and death
Axis Mundi is My name

I am the blade sharp to divide
Flesh from flesh
Flesh from soul
Soul from spirit
These too are roads and crossroads
I cut them
I breathe free for
I am the breath of the world
Say my name
It is Anima Mundi

Every flaw in every space
Every sob of every pain
I am hidden there for
My name is Most Lovely
And
Allwheres I dwell so allwheres is beauty and
The heart of all is beauty
Thus all things are redeemed so
Say my name for
It is Savior

I am the keeper of the four way crossroads for
I am the Goddess of death
I am the keeper of the three way crossroads for
Death is but an in between
You do not know
It is again to seek My beauty
That you awake again
So say My name, say it now
It is Psychopompos
My name, sing it from your broken hearts
It is Resurrection

—It is for You we wake
That we taste again of beauty
Serpent flower in the heart of fear
Beauty whelming all but beauty
Tender Girl
Infinite Goddess
Our tears stream for You
Our sobs sing for You
We love you unbeknownst but
Else would be but empty world
Therefore we psalm Your name
A final time
Trembling and fanatic

Hekate Creatrix

—-Rachel Izabella Parker, 17 aprilis 2013

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Let’s Curse A Transphobic Preacher [EDITED]

[EDIT: I am quoting him without permission here but I don’t think he would mind. A Facebook friend of mine shared this article on his timeline and had this to say about it:

To turn another cheek is a valuable lesson in self-assertion, not some pacifist acceptance of persecution. In a very real way, it’s the ultimate insult to those who persecute you – a proverbial “come at me, brah”. I don’t encourage cursing except in extremis or when something could adversely affect marginalized populations. This is a wonderful analysis of ethical cursing.

This made me proud because he’s a wonderful guy, a scholar and a gentleman, and a true magus. /EDIT]

I am about to embark on my first small mission to try and change the world.

There is a video on YouTube that is actually called Pastor Stephen Anderson Wants Caitlyn Jenner To Die, Because God’s Love.

And here is an article about it from Addicting Info. And here is a freaking unbelievably wicked and vicious transphobic quote of Pastor Stephen’s from the article:

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“I’m going to pray that he [Caitlyn Jenner] dies and goes to Hell. Are you serious? Look, I have nothing but hate — when I see a man dressed up as a woman, who has mutilated his body to become a woman, and say ‘Hey, look at me everybody. Look at me kids!’ I mean, the kids in America today — 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 10 years old are seeing this freak and having their minds perverted and ruined permanently. Listen to me, I hate him with a perfect hatred. I have no love — NO LOVE — for this Bruce [Caitlyn] freak. I hope he dies today. I hope he dies and goes to Hell. He’s disgusting, he’s filthy, he’s reprobate. I would pray all these prayers in Psalm 69. I would pray all this in Psalm 69 and 129 toward him.”
~~~~~~~~~~

Emphases and corrections are mine. The misgendering of Caitlyn Jenner is so rampant that corrections would be intrusive. A man who considers himself a Christian has NO LOVE for Caitlyn Jenner. This same man claims to follow the so-called Man-God Jesus Christ who said Love thy neighbor and when asked Who is my neighbor answered in a parable—Everyone. Stephen Anderson is no Christian. The “God” he prays to is no God (more on that below). And he has publicly announced his intention to pray Psalms to his “God” that Caitlyn Jenner’s heart will be ripped out by said “God”.

I am a trans woman myself, as every reader of this blog knows. For all I know somebody out there may be doing such Psalm magick on me. People here puts roots (pronounced ruts) on each other all the time. —And yes, in case you were wondering, in my view prayer is magick. Pastor Stephen Anderson is going to or probably already has engaged in an act of harmful magick. This is how it works. You ask a spirit of sufficient power and the right propensities for something and often it is done. Or — in this man’s case — he asks a powerful egregore for something and often it is done. And an egregore is all that this man’s “God” is in my not so humble opinion. And finally, some words and names and combinations of words have real Power behind them, no matter who says them. The Psalms are just such combinations of words. They are dangerous in the wrong hands. Let us now begin to put the Psalms to use in the right hands.

But let’s return to to Caitlyn Jenner and to egregores (what the fuck is an egregore?)… Firstly, no matter what your views on Caitlyn Jenner are, I sincerely hope that if you’re reading this blog article you believe she has the right to live. Psalm magic as I have said above is powerful. Psalms prayed by a man fueled by the egregore that is the Evangelicals’ “God” have a lot of power. Although his “God” is no God the entity he is praying to has a lot of power, being first created and then constantly energized by the belief and prayers of its faithful. Secondly, that, my friends, is just one kind of egregore.

Somehow I doubt that Anderson’s prayer magick will actually kill Caitlyn Jenner but why take the risk?

And why stop at Caitlyn Jenner? Why not direct some Psalm magick at Pastor Stephen Anderson himself? He’s vile scum who deserves the worst that we practitioners can hurl at him.

A dear friend of mine, Michael Strojan (I won’t link to his Facebook timeline here without his permission), has this to say: “Oh, dear sister, why limit yourself to two [Psalms]? I have fourteen: 5, 10, 17, 35, 58, 59, 69, 70, 79, 83, 109, 129, 137, 140; these, my sister, are the imprecatory Psalms and unleash a whirlwind of damnation.”

I am about to call upon the Master Yeshua, as I call him, a great mage and a Mighty Dead now living with the Gods, to empower my incantation of the Psalms that Michael has so kindly provided me with. Believe it or not — I don’t really give a shit — I was once practicing the Catholic technique called Centering Prayer (I really need to write an article on Centering Prayer as its esoteric uses are many and amazing) and meditating silently in my head on the name Yeshua … Yeshuah …—And he came to me in a vision and said: Call on me in prayer and I will answer. He hasn’t failed me yet.

Nota Bene: I am not a Christian. But I’m not a devotee of Bes or Osiris or Set-Typhon and I am not afraid to perform the Stele of Jeu, better known as the Headless Rite or the Rite of the Bornless One. A God is a God and if the correct words and intentions and offerings are used the God will (often) answer. As a “hard polytheist”, if I absolutely must classify myself spiritually, I do not believe most Gods are jealous. I do not believe that Iao Sabaoth, better knows as Yahweh or simply the LORD, is a jealous God, despite His (or rather His editors’) protestations to the contrary. Many of my magickal friends consider themselves Christians or some variant of Christian and they work with other Gods and spirits and have no problems with Iao Sabaoth whatsoever. If you are afraid of the Bible, the Psalms, God or “God”, or anything Christian, then you are no magician, witch, or sorcerer in my opinion. Get over it. Now.

After I check that all the links are working and there are only a few typos in this article I plan to pray each of these Psalms against the abominable transphobe named above and hereafter. I shall light some frankincense in honor of Iao Sabaoth and the Mighty Dead the Master Yeshua. I shall pray to the Master Yeshua to condemn Pastor Stephen Anderson to suffer all the imprecations in these powerful works of magick. If you wish to emulate me in my magick against Anderson, in whatever adaptation you choose, below are links to the King James Version of the aforementioned Psalms — whirlwinds of damnation.

Psalm 5

Psalm 10

Psalm 17

Psalm 35

Psalm 58

Psalm 59

Psalm 69

Psalm 70

Psalm 79

Psalm 83

Psalm 109

Psalm 129

Psalm 137

Psalm 140

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Get Off Your Ass and Work: Magic and Politics

Polyphanes here writes an article both painful to me and inspirational. It’s time for me to get off my depressed ass and do something big for a change to make the world a better place. Please, y’all practitioners out there, read his article and just start fucking making the world a better place in whatever way you can. I plan to. I plan to start today. May the Gods bless you. Much love — Rachel Izabella

The Digital Ambler

One of my colleagues on Twitter, Joseph Magnuson of Candlesmoke Chapel, made a few tweets over the past few hours that struck a nerve with me describing a general reluctance for magicians and spiritually-minded people to get involved with politics, legal affairs, and current events:

  • “I wish you’d just tweet about magic.” Well, laws are Big Magic/rights are Big Magic. Invisible ideas everyone follows. Words made manifest.
  • Magic isn’t just reading a book and collecting Supernatural DVDs. It’s all around us in most all movement. Do you not see this?
  • Magic shouldn’t be safe and silent/not seen and not heard
especially by “witches” and “magicians.” It is not a special effect.
  • So tired of this: “Politics? Not for me. They never got political on The Craft or Charmed. Besides I don’t want to hurt my witchy brand.”

I mean, it’s kinda true.  Spiritual people, especially those of a new age


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Pope Francis’s Take on the Transgender: A Quick Summary

Image: Leelah Alcorn via Google Images

“If you ‘think’ you are transgender, get over it. Also, don’t be depressed about it. Deny your gender dysphoria. And We would be very happy if you would refrain from self-harm of any kind due to your deluded unhappiness. After all, gender is a mere linguistic construct, not a fact of personal identity. You have no right to your feelings nor your identity. I repeat, get over yourself and do as Mother Church says. This is your cross to bear — until death, which We acknowledge may come to you all too soon in the form of suicide, but the Church has no help for you because you ‘suffer’ from a nonexistent problem, the so-called ‘gender crisis'”.

http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/the-popes-take-on-transgender-issues-accept-the-body-god-gave-you-56797/

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Hymn IV to Hekate

Hymn IV to Hekate

You are not the stars
But the wind between the stars, One
Lonely Infinite

Ghosts of alien sentient things
Follow you, nothing bars You where
You wish to tread, my alien Lady
Lonely

Nothing can possess You for how can
The thimble contain the ocean
An ocean of oceans of oceans
How could the toad grasp the hound

You are the heart of beauty
In every horror, the artless beauty
Between proton and proton
The howling chaos of quark and quark

You are the nameless flower in the core
Of torments of fires and thus
Our Savior and Redeemer
Salvatrix, Soteira
One and Lone