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Messages - Ringtail

#31
On the night of July 23rd, when the moon was new and both it and the sun had moved into Leo, Alice and Ahavah and I called whatever is draconic in us and spoke the following into a dedicated fire:

1. Nildovah Bo (The void dragon flies)
2. Leinselo motaad, leinsezaamhus motaad (The world of lies shudders, world of slavery shudders)
3. Nau sul se grind, vomindok dovah du shul (On the day of meeting, the unknowable dragon devours the sun)
4. Voth Aelie, Krein viin do zeim (Through Aelie, the sun of magic shines from beyond)
5. Shaan riiselaas Kundalini alok (Inspire essense of life Kundalini arise)
6. KoraavseTiamat, miiraaksehahnu bex (The vision of Tiamat, portal of dreams opens)
7. Motangesav, vithrath zoor meyz gol (Motangesav, serpentriver legend become earth)
8. Jul mindoraan, pogaan sunvarreselah vokrii staadnau rovaan (Mankind understanding, many monsters of magic revived unbound wander)
9. Daalsediiv, daalselah (return of Dragon, return of magic)
10. Fah nau daar sik, mu aav leinne (For upon this mark, we unite the worlds)

(thuum.org)

A voice recording of the ritual exists which I hope captured more of what was spoken in liminal space. I haven't listened to it yet. It's about an hour and a half. Some dudes around a campfire next to ours must have had an interesting night.
#32
Goal:
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.


Mechanism:



(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 identified 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.

We hope for there to 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.


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. We plan to do some divinatory work to better understand her part in this.




Sigils:

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.


Plans:

Next move is to perform a rite on the upcoming new moon to solidify and express this structure, and then do divination to gather more information and move threads as needed. After that, I'll be working to deepen contact with the powers involved, specifically Tiamat, Montangesav, Aelie, Kundalini and the dragon/serpent spirit itself. I have a lot of free time at the moment, so I'm going to gun this.

There will be a working done on the next full moon too as final preparation. It will center around visually projecting the LS on the moon, and everyone is welcome to join.
#33
I guess I'm going to be in seattle with Ahavah. Really sorry your accomodations got dropped, I would help with that if i could. You could ask Ahavah, he might have room if i sleep outside. But downtown Portland had some synchronicities for me when I went looking, it's a good place for it, the area around Powells bookstore.
#34
The Assault on Reality / Re: Death to the Image...
July 12, 2017, 06:25:43 PM
https://avecthonos.wordpress.com/

I read this and felt a long reply coming on, but now that I'm back to my computer I don't know what I planned to say. I typed some stuff but it was rambling and kind of all over the place. I'll try to get to the point.

"Unfortunately my incredibly extensive use of narcotics, extremely powerful initiatic experiences, and camaraderie with a lot of these people blinded me to how ultimately useless and full of shit the majority was."

That's just the thing. I've waded through so, so much bullshit in my short life in search of crazy diamonds, I've developed a highly effective filter for it all. It's so effective that I barely notice all the immaturity that Branch lists in that link. I know it's there, but I think I must have a mistaken estimate of how rampant it really is. I notice the posts that I find cool and valuable, above all I see and feel the dream of the current itself, and the rest I just kind of brush past. Honestly, I don't know how this isn't the case for the rest of you.

So it doesn't matter to me how many immature assholes fill this place up. Give me five sincere mages working in a coordinated way and that's enough to wage a guerilla reality war. How many people are here that you want to work with? Those are the ones to pay attention to.

(Vague? The goals have never been vague to me, and if politics is "activities associated with the governance of a country", it's never been that either, unless maybe there's some overlap with the rejection of said governance. I think the phrasing can be confusing, as it's really, imo, an assault on insubstantia – the dehumanization, objectification, and de-animation of the world of enfleshed dreams, the real world, which when seen properly is Wonderland itself. Calling the grey monolith Reality is a response to years of being told that it is so, that "This is reality, grow up and deal with it," while my soul screams that no, it is not.

I'm pretty sure I woke up a fucking dragon just in this past week. And I think the LS must have helped. It is Alive, it is Working. It flows in me, around me, and through me. Its objectives and how to go about them are crystal clear.)

To cut a long(er) post short(er), I think DKMU is way too big to be a singular entity, if it ever was one. Every once in a while someone brings up the idea of affinity groups or terrorist cells, and it seems obvious to me, that's how dkmu should run. The only alternatives are to be swamped by lowest common denominator chan spam, or go the route of trying to define the AoR and draw boundaries around it, which of course would kill it fast and hard.

The groundwork is already there. Even within the network itself, there are, I hear, different frequencies corresponding to different styles. Like a mitosing cell with its DNA already split, although there's no outward sign. If everyone's fed up with everyone else, why can't there be multiple dkmus? Whitelighter cells, blackdarker cells, if the facebook shitlords want a CMG-style garbage heap that also bears the mark(s) of dkmu – fuck it, let 'em have it, I say! Let the LS and her friends spread to fill all culture, truly set them free from uniformity. When something exists on both sides of a battlefield, it has become a part of reality.

Some time ago I sat at a three-way fork in a forest path, snacking on sandwich crackers. Out of courtesy and invitation I threw bits to the three directions, and then to a fourth, where an invisible pathway led out from the top of the T away into the bushes. When I did this, I felt a fourth energetic pathway open, and the dynamic of the place shifted to that of an X. But I'd kind of aimed wrong, and these roads weren't lining up quite right with the physical roads. One branch of the path didn't actually have a channel above it at all. "What the hell," I said to myself. "Hail Discordia!" and I chucked a cracker toward the remaining path, opening up a fifth channel. "Now you've done it," said the guardian of the intersection, with unconcerned humor. I gazed into the peripheral, where I saw and felt the five threads struggling and pulling at each other in a high-energy stalemate. The situation wobbled this way for a moment, and then collapsed outward to fill space, the crossings spreading away from each other until they came to rest in a kind of roundabout consisting only of three- and four-way connections. The geometry stabilized and the flow continued smoothly.

I don't know how to help this process along. The Discordians had their cabals and that seemed to work pretty well. I guess those of you still on facebook could make more side groups, but that doesn't seem very... organic, and fuck facebook anyway. I think I'd just like to encourage everyone to build up your own webs with the people you want in them. It doesn't fucking matter what everyone else is doing. I think Branch has a particular idea of what DKMU means, since he lived one style of it for so long, and now he's trying to jettison all aspects of his life that are associated with that. But the current can be many different things, hell, it already is. Can't we all just do what we want to do with it, and screw the rest?

Condemn the name if you have to. Tell the people you don't like why they suck, and then ignore them; there's more than enough room on the internet for us to not have to interact with certain people. But just... keep connecting, and keep fighting. There is no "direction this whole thing is going" about which to worry, because it's not a ship that turns one way or the other, it's a fleet that can split and rejoin at will.

HTNF!
#35
If you're going to get lost, do it somewhere pretty.

https://postimg.org/image/mvma0mf27/

https://postimg.org/image/vf5nydnen/
#36
#37
I'm going to keep the rest of my adventure to myself for now. I'm sad that my phone's battery died and I don't have photos to share of the place I camped, a hidden place just upstream of a well-traveled ford, filled with deadwood and mystery. Roni Jean, you would have lost it over this place. If you ever make it out to the Olympic peninsula... or the Northwest jungle in general, really. The ground was so uneven that the only efficient way to traverse it was to run along the the huge fallen trees like highways, crossing from one to the next as the chipmunks did. My mind does great things for itself when isolated for even a few days. Perhaps mad things, depending on your definitions. The more alone I am, the less alone I am.

This post may have given too much credit to the 663, just because these are the experiences I've chosen to share. Did Doombringer come through for me, finally? Or did I give myself advice to go out into the woods for a while and it worked on me as well as I knew it would? Everything that happened could easily be explained as the result of my own actions, and especially on the night of the campfire, I seriously doubted the wisdom of dragging the sigil into it at all. I keep pulling it out because, like LS, the idea is consistently exciting. It stirs my curiosity strongly, but is always frustrating and usually anticlimactic. Is it supposed to do that? Am I just not seeing the result? The LS/Ellis is real enough to me, as are Zalty and Ino. If I approached him much more patiently, on his own terms, would I get more out of it? Or is he just another image distracting me from what I'm capable of? These are rhetorical questions, of course.
#38
#2

---

I threw sticks on the fire. "You can speak up anytime you like," I said, holding back frustration. The sigil was awake, but said nothing whatsoever. I sat down across from it.

The night deepened; the LSD came on. I put a green devil's club stalk on the flames and pulled out my rune set.

"Doombringer," I said. "Tomorrow night I'm going to [redacted] to give more power to the eclipse working. Can I call on you during this rite?"

I drew a rune: Raidho reversed. Don't rush. Fine. I've got all night.

Spirits gathered around the fire. Ancestors? That's a new one, but it was definitive. My fire sputtered and I was embarrassed. "I'm sorry I'm not very good with this," I muttered. Oxygen, heat, fuel. Why do the sticks never want to catch for me?

You're using too big of sticks, too fast, whispered a young mind next to me. A voice came back to me from an old memory, it must have been from early childhood, when someone was first teaching me about campfires. Keep feeding it twigs, keep feeding it twigs. Perhaps due to some perceptual distortion, I found myself doing this already without meaning to, and now the fire was growing rounder, more pleasing, considerably more stable. "I found this strange and indicative," I scribbled in a notebook. "Where someone from a prehistoric culture of ancestor worship would find it merely indicative, and someone from a modern culture, merely strange."

Time passed. For safety's sake, I had to watch the flames closely, to make up for my impaired condition. I drew another rune. Surely, by now?

Hagalaz. Jera reversed. Although I knew a different meaning for the first rune, right now all I could read was Hazard. Mind the Hazard. What does Jera reversed mean? It means, a woman replied, Now is not the correct time.

This was by far my quietest trip, although there was no silence. Unintelligible murmurs surrounded me. Canines howled constantly in the gaps of white noise produced by the river. In the pattern of burning sticks I saw, not just triangles, but pentagrams, hexagrams, and other occulty glyphs, including a particular Z-shape that appeared several times; this was to say nothing of the wilder scrawl that lit the dark tree trunks, amid their peacock-feather foliage beyond the circle of light. Fire likes geometric shapes, someone said.

I tended the fire alongside other children. When I would drift off gazing into it, it would burn low, I would feel the disapproving glance of an elder and scramble to add more fuel.

After what must have been several hours of this, he seemed to speak. You have grand ideas, said 663. But I would be just as happy sharing a fireside with you.

KISS, I jotted. The night wore on. Acid faded and the fire burned low. The "younger" ancestors appeared to go to sleep, leaving progressively older demographics. Soon it was only the great-grandparents around the low flames, talking of things only they could understand, and then they, too, gave way to terrific Night and the glow of red coals. A face looked out at me from their crimson arrangement, releasing acrid fumes; I shivered at the thought that Fire might be angry. But when I looked away, a warm yellow glow still ringed my vision and felt sure that the ghosts and the bonfire were still there. I turned around and they were gone, I looked away and they were back. The darkness writhed, yet I felt safer than I have in a long time. I crawled into my bag and slept, unusually warm in the premorning chill.
#39
The Armchair's Lounge / A simple camping trip...
July 11, 2017, 05:47:27 PM
#1

---

"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.
Lost.
"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.

Fuck.

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.
#40
Wait, what is this?
#41
So, Branch isn't participating. Sei and Isidore, do you still want to do this? Location isn't difficult. We can drive up any national forest road (as opposed to state park or national park or something else) and camp for free as long as its not near a developed trailhead. As for time, there something I'd kind of like to go to on the night of the 14th, otherwise I have literally nowhere else to be.


Ahavah, we need to discuss the rite asap. Text me if you have my number or find me on irc.
#42
Was that a scorpio full moon? Huh.
#43
I sail at first light. Be back around the 12th and we can finalize plans. Anything* you guys come up with in the mean time I'll be down for.

*Try me.
#44
Entheogens 101 / Sobriety is like riding a horse...
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?
#45
The Armchair's Lounge / Re: IRC WAR
June 30, 2017, 04:33:48 PM
That explains a LOT.