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Topics - Ringtail

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The Assault on Reality / Rock Paper Scissors - Fire Thread Worm
« on: November 06, 2019, 05:59:58 pm »
Dynamism is the cosmic quality of change and novelty. The energetic crackling possibility of the LS is its dynamic character.

Pattern is the quality of stability and harmony. Pattern appears in the LS through its self-sorting, connective weblike structure.

Entropy is the quality of decay that returns all things to Chaos. LS expresses entropy in its function of infiltrating and undermining the consensus reality.

In my experience of combination sigils, the larger glyph acts as a filter or qualifier on the smaller one. So, for example, drawing an LS inside a chaostar symbolizes the LS as understood through the idea of chaos, whereas an LS with the chaostar for the dot represents chaos as expressed through the LS. Subtle difference.

These sigils could be used to access the Ellisian currents of dynamism, pattern and entropy, respectively, via their essential shapes.


Phantos rolled in a heap of blown leaves in the cool air of autumn. His blue fur would not hide him well in this environment, but he wasn't concerned about that. Prey is blind if you move carefully, and he was very fast, as fast as birds. This was his pride, across all the distance of forested mountains bordering the saltwater. He was the color of the sky, quick like the wind, and sneaky like the furry beings that denned in fallen trees. It never seemed strange that there was no one like him. He was him, and others were others.
He lifted his eyes and nose from the leaves and inhaled deeply. Moisture, rot and worms fermented contentedly under their sylvan coverings, and the presage of winter was noticeable in the scent of the birch trees. But there was something else that Phantos could not place. It was an animal smell, but very unlike the little fuzzballs he ate for breakfast. Less warm, more tangy, it caused his nose to itch and somehow made him both happy and wary at the same time. It reminded him of a venomous insect, so Phantos climbed out of the leaves and looked around cautiously, even as his stomach grumbled and he licked his chops at the thought of meat.
Something buzzed past his head and flicked him in the ear. He leapt away from it with a yelp and stood, jaws open toward the empty hillside. The wind moved the branches. Nothing was out of place.

"What do you think it is," said a tiny voice in a tree. Phantos's eyes and ears locked on its position.
"A very glamourous fox." There - a patch of bark was actually light brown skin, and a green leaf above it was a cap bobbling as the animal talked. Phantos raised his wings in preparation for flight, but paused to watch.
"Oh! It's got wings though!" Exclaimed the small being. A purple-capped head emerged from behind a bunch of leaves to regard him with sparkling eyes.
Phantos had never seen anything like this. They were lanky and about squirrel-sized, but they had scraps of colored material tied about their bodies. They clamored about the branch with agility that bespoke an arboreal life.
"You!" said the green-capped being. "You're trespassing in the lands of the Feds!"

"I'm who? What are the Feds?" said Phantos, wondering what these things wanted with him. He was still trying to decide if they looked tasty.
"We're the Feds!" cried Green-cap, and jumped to a lower branch. He drew something from a pouch around his shoulder and pointed it at Phantos. "Come with us or be arrested!"
He was holding that thing like a stinger, and Phantos didn't like it. He took a step away, confused at the simultaneous command to come forward and stand back.
"What? You want me to go with you? Stop aiming that at me!"
Purple-cap jumped down to the lower branch and then to the ground, motioning her companion to lower his weapon. Fearlessly she approached and circled him admiringly. Phantos maneuvered to try to keep his eyes on both at once.
"Look at this, he's got scales. I think that makes him some kind of fish." She glanced back at Green-cap and he shrugged, hopped to the ground and joined Purple-cap.
"Can't be a fish. We're not underwater," Green-cap maintained.
"What else has scales and bright colors? A snake?"
"Lift your feet, you," demanded Green-cap. He came forward so assertively that Phantos pulled back and raised a forepaw. Green-cap gave his foot an expert scan.
"Sharp claws. Do you think he's a dragon?"
"Look at his teeth, suggested Purple-cap. "Are they sharp?"
"Open your mouth!"
Phantos opened his mouth.

"Sharp teeth," confirmed Green-cap. "Scales, wings, bright colors and claws. It's a dragon!"
"A dragon," Phantos repeated. He'd never had a word applied to what he was. "And you're Feds?"
"That's right, Auto Plus, we've got to take him downtown," said Purple-cap to her accomplice.
"Come with us!" declared Auto Plus, jabbing at Phantos with the weapon. It was a metal pipe with an irregular attachment at the back, and comically large for Auto Plus's size. Phantos measured it against the size of his pouch and wondered how the hell it had fit. A sharp chemical smell lingered around it.
"Only if you put that down," said Phantos.
"Okay," said Auto Plus, and re-pocketed the weapon without further ado. "Schitt, we're going now."
The purple-capped Schitt was still examining the folds of his wing from underneath. "Yay, downtown! You're going to like downtown. We’ll even show you the pre-sink."
The Feds led him up the ladder of tree branches and into a hole cleverly concealed by a hummock of moss. Inside the tree it was warmer and woody-smelling. Schitt picked up a wad of glowing fungus from a sconce on the wall and they climbed downward through the hollow trunk. Soon enough the sounds of the forest were muffled, the tunnel turned horizontally and its walls become dirt. There was a joyful smell down here, like spicy grass and mist.
They took him down a series of turns that he struggled to keep in order. His thoughts seemed to be on a romp and he felt little concern for whatever was going to happen next. Hopefully there would be something to eat, because he hadn't had anything this morning. The tunnels went on and on, but Phantos felt neither boredom nor fatigue.
"We'll get there soon," Auto Plus kept promising. Phantos wasn't worried. Schitt nibbled on the fungus as they walked.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Auto Plus motioned him down a side tunnel and the smell around them changed to something harsh and almost sulphuric. Soon the mud gave way to metal that was crimped into short waves, making its surface hard to walk on. At last they arrived at a ladder and climbed it, rung over rung, until the ceiling ended at a metal circle. Auto Plus braced his hind legs against the ladder's top rung and strained against it.
"Help me out, you, this thing's hard to lift!"

Phantos pushed his head against the metal lid. It was indeed rather heavy, but it lifted, and he peered out into the grey light.
The stony ground stretched out flatly before him until suddenly it rose up at a right angle and disappeared from his field of view. Scents overwhelmed his nose, mostly stone and metal, but underneath that were layers and layers of bizarre odors. Auto Plus and Schitt climbed out through the crack and bid him to come up as well. He surfaced into a large cave, with a stony cascade of perfect right angles coming right down to his feet. Following his detainers, Phantos climbed the rectangular hill up through an opening to the yawning cave mouth. He gaped at a row of shiny metallic lumps lined up symmetrically along one wall, each a shade of silver or black with a few bright reds and greens among them. But Schitt grabbed his ear and tugged him out under the sky.
It was grey and a light rain fell. They ran down a short, open hall of stone and out to a river of movement and noise. The huge shiny things raced past at speeds that only he could fly, creating a steady roar of wind. For an instant, his senses were overcome with it. Then movement to the sides registered as large animals walking back and forth, thick as a herd. He must have emerged into the middle of a colony. He leapt back to one wall, but the animals walked past him without flinching. He breathed. They weren't interested in him.
"Watch out for the humans!" Schitt danced past him. "They're mostly blind, so they might step on you," she warned. Phantos wasn't sure he liked this. He leapt from the ground and flapped into the air, landing on a metal beam above the heads of the humans. Schitt and Auto Plus danced around below him, mimicking the rhythmic stamping of the herd. A more familiar scent caught his nose. Birds! He looked up and saw three grey birds setting on a wire stretched between two walls. They were looking at him, alerted by the sound of wings. He wouldn't have chased them, anyway. He was still blinking, trying to take in the overload of information.
Nothing came down on him from overhead. Nothing leapt out of the shadows to drag him away. After a moment, his heart rate slowed and he could consider the scene before him. It was a chaos of sound and light, all painted over a backdrop of adamant grey filled with shining rectangular surfaces.
"Down here, dragon!" The Feds were waving him onward.
Phantos's stomach grumbled. He looked again at the wary gray birds and dropped back to the ground to follow the Feds on foot. They didn't make it easy, darting between the tromping legs of the herd animals, so that Phantos had to use all his proud agility to keep them in sight. Thankfully they didn't take him out into the river of racing metal, where he was sure he would've been crushed. Instead they followed the parade of bipedal creatures until the Feds turned to the side, through an odd gateway into a muddy area that smelled of rancid plant matter. There was a huge, green metal box which the Feds climbed gaily and indicated for him to push open the heavy black lid. Smells rushed out that made him gag, but the Feds leapt down and tore open a black membrane, dug around inside until they produced something they thought was edible, and sat down to enjoy it. Phantos couldn't bring himself to follow them.
"Stinky but good!" Schitt called. "You're missing out!"
Phantos returned to the ground, snorting. He didn't like this part of downtown. He would much rather eat a nice tasty bird than whatever was in that box. He scanned the sky, but the feathered ones from earlier were missing. Eventually the Feds rejoined him. His stomach growled again, and he informed the Feds, with a lingering gaze, that he would like to find some meat. There was a nervous pause, and then Auto Plus raised a finger.
"Right this way!" and he darted over to one of the stone walls.
"This is the pre-sink," explained Schitt, gesturing at the foul muddy area, "And this… is the sink!"
She and Auto Plus pushed a loose plank of wood and slipped behind it. Phantos followed them and emerged into another cave with square walls, this one thick with the smell of grease. There was a puddle of water on the floor, and above him he could hear a steady dripping. Detecting no danger, he took to the air again to survey the area. Water was dribbling from a tubelike fixture, and he licked at it gratefully, but his nose drew him toward a large metal cube that was radiating heat from its top surface.

"We are in luck!" called Schitt, pointing to the hot surface from her perch on a shelf. Four lumps of meat were sizzling on the cube and giving off a delectable odor.
Phantos didn't need encouragement. He flew over to the cube and knocked the meat onto the floor, then dove on it and licked up one of the lukewarm patties before the Feds could even reach their share. They ate quickly and in silence, hot grease matting the fur on his paws and dripping off his chin. He was so invested in the food that he didn't hear anyone coming until a metal implement dropped to the ground behind him, causing him to leap out of his skin and flee to the wooden panel. The human screamed, a terrifying high-pitched sound, and began flailing at the Feds with something heavy that it grabbed off a shelf. Phantos squirmed out behind the wooden panel as a deafening explosion roared behind him followed by a loud crash.
All was quiet. After a moment the panel wiggled, and Schitt and Auto Plus emerged from behind it.
"Do you want any more meat?" Auto Plus offered, unfazed. Phantos declined, his heart slowing to normal.
"Well, we should probably get out of here. It's a good thing there are lots of pre-sinks in town. What you want to do next?"
"Can we ride the 156?" asked Schitt.
"Great idea!" declared Auto Plus, and they were off again, while Phantos's stomach was still tight around his recent meal. Back they went into the noisy herd, and alongside the channel where the metal things ran, to a corner where the Feds signaled Phantos to wait. The metal beasts came to a stop here, very still and rumbling under their breath. Schitt and Auto Plus skipped out into the channel in front of them all, and Phantos followed tentatively. The beasts did not react to them. Schitt paused and bent over to look at a nut that lay on the ground, but above them a blackbird called harshly and fixed her with a mean glare. She left the nut and scampered to the side of the channel, reaching the lighter gray stone just as the metallic monsters roared to life and took off at a gallop.
They walked just a short distance more before stopping at the base of a pole. Several humans were standing here as well, looking down at glowing objects in their hands. Phantos sniffed at their funny smelling feet, until his eye was caught by a human sitting on the other side of the channel. This one sat on the ground, while all the others of its kind stood or walked Its face was covered in mangy hair, and it was surrounded by bags of material. He wondered if it might be sick. It looked at him with a concerned expression. It moved, hesitated, and made to get up without removing its eyes from him.
But at that moment an elephantine metal creature glided to a stop in front of him and squatted down with a hiss. It opened a tall mouth on the side of its body. To Phantos's consternation, the humans standing around the pole walked into the thing’s mouth, and the Feds hopped up after them. Phantos glanced back at the pandemonium behind, forward to his beckoning guides, and made a judgment call. He jumped into the mouth just before it closed.
Then the beast rose up and rumbled, and through the clear crystal of its mouth he could see downtown go by faster and faster. He climbed up into the monster's insides and found that it was mostly hollow. Numerous humans sat on soft fleshy shelves, and he explored the area around their feet. The corners and overhangs made him feel safe. One pair of legs with shiny black hooves had a pouch next to it that leaned against the wall. It was made of skin and smelled very strongly. Poking his nose into it, he found many white leaves of a bark-like substance, which he pulled out onto the floor. They were covered with black markings which entranced him with their intricacy. Almost, he could make sense of some of the pictures. This one looked like a human face, and another was just a circle filled with wedges of different colors. The 156 slowed and stopped and opened its mouth again, and the human got up and walked out, taking its pouch with it.
Phantos climbed up to the empty place where the human had been sitting. Out a crystal pane he could see the landscape race by, and this eased the nausea caused by the constant shaking of the metal behemoth around him. He gazed out in wonder as the concrete jungle with its trampling herds and brilliant lights passed into a calmer countryside of bushes and meadows. He looked back at Schitt who was teasing a tiny, snarling dog, and at Auto Plus, who was stealing colorful beads from a human's belongings, and suddenly felt dizzy and very tired. When they came to another stop, he jumped down to the floor and made for the monster’s mouth.
"You're leaving?" asked Schitt, leaving the dog in peace for a moment.
"Yes," he affirmed. He felt the need to lie down somewhere.
"Okay then, bye," she said without remorse. He jumped out of the mouth and landed gratefully on grass.
"Be careful going down fairy tunnels in the future,” called Auto Plus. “It's more dangerous than you think.” They waved their paws at him from inside the 156. Then the mouth closed, and the great metal beast lifted itself and stormed away.
After the uproar of the day, the relative quiet of the countryside rang in his ears. The stars were soft and unfamiliar as they emerged from the dusk. He dug into a dense juniper and curled up to watch the ghosts of experiences flash by.

The Assault on Reality / MASS VERSE SHIFT MAY 15TH
« on: May 07, 2018, 12:46:12 pm »
Uranus enters Taurus + New Moon

Making waves in the consensus reality from New York to Philadelphia... (the long way)

This is a basic common outline and you can build on it however you want, or not. Because everyone has access to a chair, or something that vaguely resembles one. We've been hyping this all over social media, getting as many people as possible reclaiming their power at once and using it to shake off this ridiculous self-fulfilling dystopia and bring the worlds we want to see closer to reality. If you want a specific time, our suggestion is around 11:47 am UTC, the time of the new moon.


It's simple.
So simple it can be called naive.
But, I think, it's what unites us all.
And so I have faith in this plan.
Do you remember when you were a child? When every tree and toy and cloud or rock became an imaginary friend, took on some kind of personal meaning, was a magical creature, or inspired you to believe in the strange and impossible?
Maybe a cardboard box could become a super villain's lair, a castle, or a science laboratory? Maybe your fork was a mighty sword! And you believed in that sword on some level during that playtime you had with others and yourself. You understood that anything could become anything during pretend. Because you imagined it.
Or perhaps you can't remember ever being a child because you weren't. You were born and instantly had to grow up. Your imagination time was put aside for worldly burdens and your childhood was sacrificed to keep your parents together, to keep your stability. And so you look at what could have been and feel a little bitter, a little sad, because you wanted to play, to imagine, and dream, to play pretend and create. It's time to take your playtime back right now. It's yours no matter how old you are!
Heck, who knows? Maybe you're somewhere in between on this spectrum.
On May 15th, I want us all to be united (as individuals) in a mass game of pretend.
Except this time, we aren't pretending, we're only remembering the power we had as children...before any of our dreams were bruised or destroyed by hurtful experiences or outside forces. Or before adulthood told us that they were "unrealistic". On May 15th, I want us all to remember that we are dreaming children and anything can become anything.
United as individuals, I want us to be engaging in remembering that we are all parts of the dreaming mind of God. And by that virtue of that, we are all also completely God.
"God", in this context, can be understood as Source which is neither good nor bad but all things.
I want us, on May 15th, to proclaim this FACT about ourselves. Remember or try, even just for a moment, that you are a node in the dreaming mind of God. Remember what it was like to make-believe and pretend because my theory is...God is a child, learning about itself, in a constant state of imagination, dreaming, and pretend. Creating, sustaining, and destroying all existence. The reason for all of this is God's attempt at understanding itself.
That God-Child, no matter how deeply buried, is inside us all. We are a part of it.
Down to the most mundane tasks, we use that God-imagination ability to dream, to steer our lives into the future, and make choices based on our dreams. As adults we engage in another game of pretend that, often these days, feels less satisfying and more terrifying and existential. Maybe even monopolized, imbalanced, or brutally cruel. Because a lot of dreams are sold under the context that they're buying more "realistic dreams", more stable dreams.
So for one day, let's take back the game, and re-write the rules! Let us all, individually but united as one, proclaim ourselves God, and DREAM BIG. Take back all the dreams you sold and dream a dream again!
Proclaim yourself a part of God!
Proclaim yourself God!
For a second, believe in your connection to every spirit and every part of life and every aspect of death!
Believe you are all the things in-between as well, both earthly, divine.
On May 15th, just believe. Just give it a try, for just a second, even if it all seems silly and pointless and simple.
Before whatever you have planned that day, I want you all to sit down in a chair and pretend. Access that power you had as a child, that you HAVE NOW as a magician or even just a person who dreams! Pretend that chair is a throne or a time machine or a gear upon which you can turn the entire world because YOU ARE GOD. You are a dreaming child in your heart with incalculable power because you are all things. You are life, death, the stars, the earth, the span of time from start to finish. You are a tiny part of it and also the entirety of it.
Just remember, that's my grand master idea. Just remember, on May 15th, that you (you reading this post) are God playing pretend with the whole multi-verse. Play pretend while sitting in that chair, if only for a few seconds, that you have the ability to transform the world into anything you want it to be. That after transforming it inside your imagination, it will become real, no matter how long it takes to become. DREAM BIG. IMAGINE ANYTHING. Remember that you're the Dreaming God and when you get out of that chair and go about your planned rituals or continue on with life, BELIEVE that you're standing up and walking into the world you imagined/dreamed up.
That's all, just remember, and dare to believe for just a day that you are Source. Maybe you already know and do that in your daily practice? Then this should be easy.
I feel like the part of Source which dreams up all potentials for Earth has been stuck on the Jerry Springer channel for centuries now. What I propose we do is collectively buy God (ourselves) a Netflix or Hulu account. Perhaps that's just human nature? And all this upheaval is just ho-hum? But I believe, truly believe, that if we all remember that we're God in that window of time where Uranus enters Taurus and the new moon graces the skies and DREAM of what the world COULD BE...who knows?
A bunch of powerful magicians remembering that they're God just for one day could do interesting things.
The worst that could happen is nothing at all. So why not? That's the big plan. No ritual tools, no fancy incantations, no offerings or regalia...just you remembering that you're God dreaming and that there's absolutely nothing that can stop you from reshaping the world with your dreams!
Because nothing can.


^ Read to make this post make a whole lot more sense if you're not familiar with MtA.


I recently acquired a copy of 20th anniversary edition Mage for my birthday and have been reading it, although I don't know anyone willing/able to run a game currently. On a different topic, I have room for another big project to focus my practice. I think this is going to be how I roll, one thing at a time that I can pour all my energy into, with as few distracting "dailies" as possible.


Nine spheres,

Eighteen weeks,

I throw myself into the experience of one particular area of Creation for fourteen days and attempt to derive some kind of mystical understanding of the thing, and to perceive and manipulate it magically however I can. Hopefully that will be long enough to shift my habitual mindset into awareness of the sphere and make something happen. Of course there are blind spots in this way of dividing the universe and practices that won't occur to me to try, but there might also be a momentum effect that builds into something genuinely powerful, as I've experienced in past extended workings. Especially given the importance that blending spheres holds in the game.

This... sounds less interesting than it is to me. Considering that I plan to spend the next fortnight engaged in such activities as literally watching paint dry, it's probably a little abnormal that I was hyped enough about this to be awake at the crack of dawn. Oh well. If this works, I'll call anyone who doubted me a muggle and go rub myself in a closet.

I'll report back at the end of every two weeks.

And another thing. I've decided to do a ritual on each new and full moon that channels the power generated by this work into my hypersigil, so they add rather than distract from each other. I did the first one a couple nights ago, associating Matter with Jupiter and symbolically pouring resources into the hypersigil in the form of crystals and other physical tools. I hope to build up a ritual over time that empowers and aligns with the hypersigil using all the spheres, e.g. candles or electricity for Forces, a repeated chant or dance rhythm for Time, bodily exertion for Life... I don't know about the rest. Message me if you want the link to see the hypersigil.

Here's the probable timeline:

Matter Nov 5 - 18 / Full moon Nov 3rd - Jupiter
Forces Nov 19 - Dec 2 / New moon Nov 17th - Mars
Life Dec 3 - 16 / Full moon Dec 2nd - Venus
Correspondence Dec 17 - 30 / New moon Dec 17th - Neptune
Time Dec 31 - Jan 13 / Full moon Jan 1st - Uranus
Entropy Jan 14 - 27 / New moon Jan 16th - Saturn
Prime Jan 28 - Feb 10 / Full moon Jan 31st - Sol
Mind Feb 11 - 24 / New moon Feb 15th - Mercury
Spirit Feb 25 - Mar 10 / Full moon Mar 1st - Luna
And possibly something for the last new moon on the 17th.

See you there,

The Art Lab / Hypersigil project
« on: September 10, 2017, 06:54:54 pm »
Got the website up for my new project. It's a story. Updated daily, I hope, but this is the very beginning and I'm not sure where it will go.

First, the concept and sigils, reposted from Scroll down to the next post if you've seen this already.

To link Nature (life and matter) to Magick (input from other realities, or directly from Khaos) through the symbol of the dragon. Emphasis is on the dragon as a mythical beast, used interchangeably with the serpent as an emblem of envenomation and transformation. Success would mean a great cut-and-stitch between this reality and others, expressed by an increase in magic everywhere, particularly in those areas where the wild lifeforce reigns – that is, everywhere but the blandest parts of the CR, which will come under further strain and assault. Widespread visions and synchronicities related to snakes and dragons are anticipated... some have already occurred.


(This isn't a sigil, just a diagram)

The sun is conceptualized as the Apollonian source of mundane reality, overpowering the stars which project alternative realities. The Vision of Tiamat - the Chaos wyrm tunneling through the worlds and across the sky – is the LS, identified with the moon, which is a lens of sorts projected through Aelie by an unknown source of power which is the collective will and magick of the web. The lens moves to eclipse the sun, instead becoming a portal for the influence of the other. The beam of shadowlight which streams through this portal is associated with Montangesav, and takes the form of a swarm of magical serpents which break through the portal, streaming both ways between the dragon-shaped energy of this world – Kundalini – and that of the otherworlds. These many snakes are associated with the phenomenon of shadow bands. Every inch of space and every living thing that the shadow stream touches will be hit with a draconic octarine firebolt that attempts to entwine their very lifeforce with magick. The snakes’ bodies solidify bridges between Here and There, running along the lines already defined by the connections of the web.

There will be multiple people/groups doing rituals with a similar intention and concept along the path of the shadow, so it will encounter our message in repetition. For the most part, I speak for the working group consisting of myself, Alice Hart, Ahavah Ain Soph and possibly Jason Luxon operating out of Seattle and travelling to Oregon for the solar eclipse.

Clarification of some terms:
(As much as they can be clarified, based on existing knowledge)

Aelie - If each linking sigil is a crack in everyday reality, Aelie is the aspect of the web that grows into those cracks, widening them and promoting change. I understand it/her as the connective body of the web, a kind of alien plant thing transporting magick like sap. Kind of Ellis and kind of not. It is Alive, invasive and charges the hell out of everything she touches. It was the focus of my work on last year's Chelseanacht.

Montangesav - The "black queen" that was encountered earlier this spring. She's expressed herself in visions as an enormous dark world serpent, and for this and other reasons, we believe that her appearance at this time is in relation to this working. The common perception that people get from her is of an increase in gravity and a sense of everything kind of pulling together. Thus, our theory is that she is the web attempting to materialize on denser planes of existence. In any case, we think she can serve such a function.


This is the connection sigil for linking works across distance:

This is a programming sigil for the operation:

I have a painted version which combines the two sigils by placing the first in the center of the second, and moving the LS down into the chaostar. This will be the centerpoint of our ritual in Oregon.

The Armchair's Lounge / A simple camping trip...
« on: July 11, 2017, 05:47:27 pm »
“Come into the wilderness for a while,” said 663, hiding from the sunlight in a pile of forest detritus. “Bring what you need of civilization – food, tent, all the comforts. I’ll fix all your problems if you do that.”
“What is it you want?” Moonlight filtered phantasmically through the LSD-twisted cedars. An image came to mind, that of the Cheshire cat in his tree over a lost winding path.
“I… want to get lost.”
“Really. And, what do you want to get lost from?”
“You mean, what am I running from?”
“Is something chasing you?”
“Yes… and also, I’m running towards shit like that!” I said, pointing to a particularly whimsical construction of tree stump, hallucination and shadow.
Lost, I thought. To be lost, while having what I need to survive and keep finding new things. In that way, both escape and continuation.
I remembered this conversation somewhat ruefully while shoving through thick, thick bushes on a steep, uneven slope. The trail had vanished under my feet several hours ago, and no amount of pouring over the map successfully matched it to the territory. The bushes were covered in some kind of sticky sweet droplets that, to my nose, smelled oddly of marijuana, and soon my clothes and all my things were covered as well. I sat down. My water was low. The river was close, but it would be a difficult climb to carry my pack back up the side of the valley. I can see it from here, I thought. I’ll set my pack against this tree, scramble down this drainage and come right back up.
I went down. I refilled my water. I scouted a short way upstream, appreciated a waterfall, came back to my starting point. I scrambled right back up the drainage.
I searched for my pack for hours, combing up and down, back and forth over an area that was probably only a few thousand square feet. The evening wore on, and I remembered a forecast in the low forties for that night. The neck-high brush had swallowed my gear and wouldn’t cough it up however nicely I asked. I called the names of friends bodied and disembodied, threw will and vision around, even followed a whistling bird around in a big circle on the off chance that it might help a sucker out. I was becoming desperate and exhausted.
“Here I am!” I said to a projection of the Doombringer sigil. “I’m all yours for this experience. Then when we’re ready, I can find my pack again. Because all the good stuff’s in the pack, ya know. The sacraments are are in the pack,” I said, bargaining for all my possessions were worth. “So we can’t have the sacraments until I find my pack, yeah?”
The sigil glowed, but there was no response.
My magic wasn’t working. Of course it wasn’t. And if I’d managed to find my way into a true initiatory test, that means I’d failed, as I knew I likely would. What kind of temperatures can a human body sit out in before hypothermia becomes a real problem? I honestly don’t know. It was worth it, I said to myself stubbornly.
The options ran though my mind of their own accord like a quiz in one of those survival handbooks. You are lost in the woods and have misplaced your gear. You are underdressed for the expected temperatures. After a long search proves fruitless, you are exhausted and the light is fading. What do you do?
a) Continue searching with decreasing visibility
b) Attempt to backtrack and find the trail in the dark, then retreat to the trailhead
c) Prepare for the night
Unlike most things in life, those quizzes always have one correct answer.
No more stupid decisions.
I began grabbing chunks of the thick moss that covers everything in the northwest and throwing it in a pile next to a small flat space, where the ground was covered by several inches of insulative growing stuff. My blanket-to-be accumulated quickly, and my actions brought purpose, confidence and fierce energy. I rested a moment under the oncoming night that I would survive, examining the bushes that surrounded me, and the mysterious sticky stuff that they seemed to produce.
Everything smelled like weed. As I finally put this together, I laughed, and looked up.
My pack was against a tree, fifteen feet from where I’d been building my bed.
No more stupid decisions. Of course, that’s not to say no more risks.
I tried the moss thing that night anyway, to see if it would work. It helps a lot, but even after wimping out and putting on my layers, I was very cold. I think I would have lived, but I definitely wouldn’t have slept. Some tips if you ever have reason to use this trick:
- Although I would have eventually given up from the cold, what actually got me first was the sheer discomfort of dirt falling in my face and face holes. Save the cleaner clumps to put around your head.
- The moss in the northwest forest insulates almost as well as a blanket. The padding under me worked well; I didn’t feel myself losing heat to the ground, but I was definitely losing it through cracks in my covering. One thing that helps with this is if you peel off the big, intact sheets you can find on logs and especially boulders. Then you can set these like a shell over a layer or two of looser stuff.
- Another idea that I didn’t try would be to find or dig a deeper hole in the ground, or even create a sort of crib by driving sticks into the ground, close to each other to form a rectangle around your body – I think I’ve seen I diagram like this in a book somewhere. If you make it deep enough, you would have a kind of bowl that you could lay in and then fill with moss. That way it wouldn’t roll off you even if you moved.
- The moss is very absorbent, so keep several inches open under your nose so it doesn’t trap the water of your breath.
- This idea comes from a similar technique someone taught me once, using pine needles. Northwest moss works much better and is more comfortable, but of course it depends on your location.

Entheogens 101 / Sobriety is like riding a horse...
« on: June 30, 2017, 05:55:28 pm »
Normal consciousness is like riding a horse. Reliable, sometimes stubborn, but mostly the rider is the one making decisions.
Mushrooms and Ayahuasca are like riding a dragon. The beast is at least as intelligent as the rider, probably much more so. While they are, fortunately, open to suggestions, ultimately the mount is in control.
LSD is like a lamborghini. It gets you where you tell it to go, and it does it fast, whether or not that's a good idea.
DXM is a japanese mecha suit. Powerful, versatile, and people think you're a dork. But joke's on them, because you're actually a giant robot. No, really.
Drunkenness is a drunk horse.
Weed is a turtle. Distractable, earthy, chill, possibly wise. Slow on land (mundane business) but graceful in the water (intuitive realms).
Salvia is a titanic alien plant that grows perpendicular to this universe, and all those adjacent to it. It thinks you're a fun toy.
Add your expertise! Is DMT a rocket? What's dream consciousness?

I'm beginning to develop a back catalog of unstructured gabbing which I was unable to condense into a more presentable written piece. A lot of it comes off as sort of visionary, and many of the more out-there bits were channeled directly, coming into my mind often one word at a time, from one or multiple sources, internal or external is anyone's guess. Drugs may or may not have been involved. I make no claims for any of it, but I'll [redact] parts as I see fit. I've recently given up the habit of journaling in a linear, "here's what happened" kind of way, because I believe it was acting as a valve and ultimately a tie to mundanity. This switch might just be the thing that throws me off the deep end, and you'll have the opportunity to watch it happen.

I really wanted to make a bunch of poems and other, more gracious forms of expression to share with you guys, but the sources won't have it. I might need to regain their trust or something. But the current will do bad things to me if I only consume, so here's what I have.

The Assault on Reality / Chelseanacht 2017 planning thread
« on: June 23, 2017, 06:10:59 pm »
(Has this thread been made yet? I can't find it.)

The people who have spoken up wanting to be involved are as follows:
Ahavah and Alice: are sequestered in Hawaii, so whatever work they do will be distance.
Freyja: is around Portland last I checked, and will want to participate, but they need to come online between now and then to gear where and when it's happening.
Sei and Isidore: might be coming on from Cali. Otherwise we'd be doing the rite over Hangouts.
Branch: says that he's going camping for a "working against the grand memetic parasite" from the 15-17th and has invited us to come, is that right? Says he has a tent for four people. I also have a two person tent and a tarp. Only thing we'd have to figure out is how to reconcile this with people trying to work in from a distance. We couldn't do hangouts if we're in the woods.
I'm also going on a camping trip for a week or two between now and then, if I can get a couple supplies together. I would leave on the first or shortly after and be back by the fourteenth, probably earlier. But I won't be able to help with planning while I'm out there.

As for the rite, we have the seige engines that Ahavah's been drawing up, and the mirror shard LSes planted in cities around the US. If there's more prepared than that, I don't know about it. If we go camping with Branch, maybe we could blend it into the thing he's doing? There's also the eclipse rite coming up a month after, so we could do something with that.

The Armchair's Lounge / What is this animal skull
« on: April 02, 2017, 03:39:01 pm »
I found this in the woods when I was setting stuff up surrounding the strumming. It's that white thing at the bottom left of the tree. I thought it was a mushroom at first, because it doesn't appear to have eye sockets? If you look closely in the 2nd and 3rd pictures, there's a patch where it looks like the bone was grated by something. What is this?

And this other piece of bone next to it

General Occultism / The problem with the old gods
« on: March 20, 2017, 04:10:50 pm »
“Your new gods can’t stand up to something that’s received dedicated worship for thousands of years! Lives have been sacrificed to empower X!”
And this is a real problem. Pretty much every religion in history has been heavily interwoven with defense of the status quo and the justification of authority. Many gods that modern pagans/witches/occultists/whatthefuckever work with have attributes that explicitly enforce outdated values. Odin? He’s a king. Artemis? Made a big deal about virginity and punished one of her followers for being raped. Sekhmet? Murderous rampage against anyone who contested the “divine” rulership. Many people claim these gods as meaningful allies, but how can we trust a being that has such a record? Beyond that, how can we forgive them?

The way I see it, there are a few solutions:
1. Don’t work with gods, period. Deal only with lesser entities that you can keep a tight reign on, or don’t depend on spirits at all. This is a credible way to practice, but it’s not everyone’s style.
2. Only work with entities that have no track record of such abuses. They’re hard to find, and if you go with something obscure then there’s always the possibility that the myths that indicate such allegiance have been lost. This solution tends to fall into three categories:
a. Beings that were understood by their culture of origin an adversary to all that is right. These might be worked with following the framework of Satanism, Setianism, and others of the type, where the being is treated as an embodiment of the chaotic good. The issue here is that while ancient moral codes were fucky in some ways, they weren’t pure evil either. So much of what they attributed to their culture’s devil really was rejected for a reason. This is how you get reactionary codes saying that things like greed and envy are virtues (yes, they can be, in moderation. That wasn’t the point that Christians were making, however. See option number 3).
b. Tricksters and amoral, primordial things. Can certainly be good allies when they’re not doing something legitimately cruel. One option is to treat all magical entities in this way, and trust no one, especially not the things that pretend to be trustworthy. That’s easy to say, but in practice, everyone I see working with spirits who’s not binding them like a goetic mage is exhibiting some level of trust. Usually rather a lot of trust.
c. Totally new gods, demi-gods, egregores or other things that have arisen very recently. This runs into the argument at the top of this post, where they may be comparatively weak. Without a historical grounding, their personality might shift rapidly, which may or may not be a good thing. Many of them are also tricksters, owing to being created/discovered by chaotes.
3. Reinterpretation. This is basically saying that the major body of worshipers were wrong, and the characteristics of the deity in question actually meant something more esoteric. Divine authority means transcendent truth, not mortal dictatorship. Virginity actually means some other kind of purity, male and female are more like yin and yang qualities than a reference to physical sex, and so on. The only issue here is that, if we are to consider gods as real, independent beings who are influenced at all by our vision of them, they might not agree to changing their values to match the times. Especially those that were honored as guardians of tradition in any way. If the whole body of modern practitioners refuses to deal with them in an aspect that we don’t agree with, we’re essentially giving them an ultimatum: change your ways, or be forgotten. But even if the deity is successfully modernized in this way, the myths and words used to describe them still carry the poison of their old interpretation – the implication that there is One Right Way.
All of this applies equally well to religions that are still alive, like Hinduism and the Abrahamic faiths. Gnosticism has some of its own history at least, but it still falls under category three, an interpretation that conflicts with that empowered by the mainstream.
Anyone is welcome to comment, but I especially want to hear the perspective of those who work with such entities and paradigms.

The Assault on Reality / Feb 10th writeup - Portland
« on: February 13, 2017, 11:47:43 am »
Although Branch canceled, enough of us in the area were still interested in having the bowling event. Except we didn’t bowl, but, whatever.

We think Steven chose this date because there was a penumbral lunar eclipse. It wasn’t visible at our site, though, because it happened around 4:30 in the afternoon. We worked it into our rite anyway, taking place after midnight, by remembering and stating where we had been at that time.

Makeshift altar created with a piece of plywood on top of a pile of logs.
Five rubber star-patterned erasers placed in a circle or pentagram. Four blue stars, with the fifth, red one lined up with Etamin, the eye of Draco, as our designated North.
Inside the circle of stars was a three-dimensional origami ellisian generator in a clear box, next to a “dragon egg” made with red wax and an eggshell. We formed a double circle using a necklace and a bracelet, both carrying dragon associations, and inside that we placed a toy astronaut holding up a mirror shard. This cosmic vagina-mouth was decorated with small stones created when a downed power line electrified a patch of concrete.
Our intention was to use time’s nonlinear nature to catch an echo of this summer’s solar eclipse working. We would create an anchor for it in our current place and time, sending power both ways, amplifying and extending its reach. Our immediate goal was to soften reality in our vicinity: a marshy field that was already haunted by fae. The plan was to do so by reflecting the light of the moon with a mirror shard held by the astronaut onto the origami generator.
We each chose a quarter and called the elements using stones placed around the table. Followed with the Transvocation of Khaos, and then an evocation to Bahumet (the first dragon, carrying golden/solar associations). Here we’d been planning to do the reflection part, but clouds had covered the moon. We waited and shared wine with the fae. When it seemed like the moon wasn’t going to emerge, we improvised by taking the origami generator out of its box and holding it between the clouded moon and the astronaut.
This leaves the question of what exactly we did, symbolically. The clouds came in only during the ritual and cleared up afterward. In a way, the moon was eclipsed by them, and then we eclipsed it again from the astronaut/mirror shard using the generator. Before the ritual started, I’d reflected moonlight with the shard into my hand in order to test it and some of us think this was enough to charge it. We buried the shard on location as an anchor.
Later in the evening while we were preparing for bed, I stepped out to use the bushes and some… thing came over me as soon as I left the house. It stayed with me all night, throwing my fears in my face, which I handled pretty damn well if I do say so. My heart rate increased to over four beats per second and stayed there for hours. I know that cannabis can raise heart rate, but I’ve never experienced it. I may have also been hypothermic.

While driving around the next day, I kept feeling like I was about to get a flat tire or something. It might have been an irregularity in the handling that subconsciously tipped me off. My engine died halfway through the drive home, leaving me stranded overnight until the trains started running.
Possible explanations for these outcomes:
1. It was the well-known dark aspects of 156/663 testing me, in their way
2. It was a direct result of something called up during the rite
3. It was a brush of the black cloud that’s been affecting many people in the current lately, probably an extension of the cloud hanging over the whole world
4. It had nothing to do with any of this, and was just some malevolent spirit taking advantage of my vulnerable state.
5. None of the above, I was high/unlucky.
The first three are not mutually exclusive. I’ll admit, at the time I assumed it was them.
The day after the rite I found a black spider, passed a street with a name that holds synchronous significance to me, and encountered this graffiti of Aelie next to a black moon.

(Aelie wasn’t used in this rite, but probably will be during the summer eclipse)

Sei reports lots of dkmu-related synchronicity on his trip home. I’ll let him and others speak to their own experiences, if they want.

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