Author Topic: In the Hall of the Red King (Chelseanacht 2015)  (Read 1865 times)


In the Hall of the Red King (Chelseanacht 2015)
« on: July 18, 2015, 07:30:26 pm »

By Frater Alysyrose (Chelseanacht 2015)
(Images to be included in later doc)

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." - Edgar Allen Poe

ON THE night of July 17th, 2015, the 8th anniversary of the Chelsea Working, a collection of practitioners performed a scattered, yet connected ritual involving the DKMU egregores. The bulk of the operation was to occur in New Orleans, Louisiana, wherein a handful of colleagues would be working with the first 5 as their primaries. So as to empower the operation, others would work with the 'more distant' aspects from afar. I had been called to work with him many weeks prior, so for this working, my station fell on the Red King.

Ritual Sequence:

0. Preparation. The altar is arranged with symbolic items. We were going to use a wooden dome out back at first as ritual space. Realizing we were very low on candles and could not properly illuminate the space (only 1 small black candle), we improvised. Altar additions include various informational/linguistic objects: a keyboard, paintbrushes, a black mirror, various power cords, some books (the EXIT Collection, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, the Elements of Style), cigars, a black dice rolled until it came up 6, a billiard number 1 ball (symbolizing the Magician), a black candle in the center before the mirror, a small wooden chest full of gems opened up, a small obsidian disc with the hands of a clock etched upon it, etc. The Red King’s sigil is pinned to the wall above the altar. We mark the outer skin of a mango with sigils and certain numbers, and the Ritual Connection sigil being used by others. We then eat the flesh of the mango, making it a Eucharist of sorts. Prior to getting into the ritual, I also play the song ‘Red’ by King Crimson, followed by tribal drumming meant to linger in the background. I enter the ritual space and close the door.

1. A circle is cast with incense. I used Palo Santo. I then anointed my forehead with salt water followed by a quick “Praize hiz name, for He Livez.” (Nod to Zalty.)

2. A very simple Ellis Grounding procedure then followed. A Linking Sigil was drawn in the air over each cardinal direction, as well as above and below, with a red paintbrush (wand) held in a red glove also marked with the Linking Sigil (an item given to me years ago by Frater Vinncent.) “Upon this mark, I unite the path of the North within our space.” And so on.

3. The Transvocation of Khaos then followed with minimal editorial adjustments. The red paintbrush became like a conductor’s baton at this point, emphasizing the sway and motion of the rhythm and tempo of the words.

(Some time is spent intently gazing at the reflection of the candle flame in the black mirror. This is done to encourage trance, or an otherwise altered state of consciousness, though it should be mentioned that I had partaken in some pharmacological trance-potentiators beforehand.)

* * * * *

KHAOS! First of the Protogenoi! I call upon the primal nothingness in which everything is. I call upon infinite vacant space out from which came all things.

KHAOS! Thee who hast no limit below, no place to settle. I call thee in thy fullness of being. I call thee in thy infinite potential! The original undifferentiated oneness of being!

KHAOS! The gate is open! The path is drawn! To Beauty! To Variety! To Conflict! The currents within flood without! Our name is Multiverse. Our name is Eternity. Our name is Naught!

IA, IA, IA, NAMELESS! Here and Now, Nowhere and Forever! Khaos unleashed! Khaos becomes! IA, IA, KHAOS! IA, KHAOS! … “I!” (Spoken as ‘eye’)

* * * * *

 A change in the felt energy of the room, and within the body became markedly obvious. A hot tension above the gut manifested itself and began to rise, eventually causing a notable tingling in the arms, fingers, and forehead.

4. Attention now turned to the Red King. Still using the red paintbrush wand held in the red Ellis glove, the calling began. I used a variation of the one found in the back of Liber LS.

* * * * *

Hear me and travel forth from thy slumber!

O Dreaming King and Lord of the Manifest!

He who is the Eternal of Infinite Form!

The Authoring Hand of the play thus encountered!

I bid thee awaken! (Wand taps the black mirror)

Be wrested from thy solitude and direct unto us the streaming blood of the dream so desired!

The gate is open, the path is drawn! (The LS is drawn in the air over the Red King sigil.)

Quillipthoth! (Wand taps the black mirror. Conscious thoughts are emptied; I gaze deeply into the Red King’s sigil, eventually becoming lost within it, having to remind myself to finish the calling.)

Quillipthoth! The gate is open! Thy dream unto us! (Wand taps the black mirror three times.)

* * * * *

 I find myself in full-blown wakeful trance mode at this point, still hypnotized by the Red King sigil. It seemed as though the bit of sacraments I took all rushed in and became more active at the completion of this calling. Some time passes. The felt presence of the space becomes increasingly alien. My mind is clear of conscious thoughts, all attention being placed on the subtle energetic sensations of the environment.

 The room becomes hot. At some point, a voice inside my head speaks in a stern but soft-spoken manner, “What is it that you want from me?” The mental images attached to the message were that of a tall and slender, large and perpetually shifting black/red mist, or cloud, only vaguely humanoid in form. I assume this to be the Red King.

 I respond by telling the entity that practitioners in New Orleans require his connection to a larger working. Mostly, I’m sending it ‘information packets’ at this point, my conscious mind still more or less out of commission: images of New Orleans, my memories of how the ritual was planned out, an image of the Connecting ritual sigil, etc.

 The entity responds with something like, “Is that all?” I take this as a sign that it understands exactly what I mean, so I respond with something like, “Yes. Thank you. And I wouldn’t mind chatting a bit before you leave.” It responds with something like, “Oh, really?” In a curious, playful, somewhat devious tone. At this point, I feel the linking-up starting to happen. The room feels wider than before, expanding into and inclusive of a much larger field. This sensation builds, and I get the impulse to hit the ‘enter’ key on the keyboard I placed on the altar. I do this, and the thick presence that had accumulated in the room dissipates and shoots off into multiple directions. The air doesn’t feel so much like pea soup anymore, now becoming lighter, thinner, and cooler. A piece of the Red King presence still lingers. I sit down on the floor and smoke some weed out of a dried lime which I had previously turned into a pipe. I place a notebook and pen in front of me, and begin to channel the entity. Asking it questions was replaced by the want to let it speak through me, instead. This is what came out.

* * * * *

1. Speak gracefully, for I am that which giveth language.

2. I am the arrangement of the many to form the one, though not a single thought contains me. I am the permeation of the conscious with the subconscious. I am the Thing King. I am the author of the named. I am the keeper of the code. I am the felt wave of the idea in a castle on the border.

3. My presence is the key to the veil of stars wherein the worlds unite upon the shaded bridge; the veil wherein the ego intertwines with and crystallizes belief. I arise within the small as I arise within the large. Where my patterns align is located the grand door to the great hall: that continent of magick and miracle. We are but a single step beyond your soils.

4. I am the hexagram: the meeting of the micro and the macro. Forever I am travelling. There is no stillness in me. I am the word engraved, and the law set in stone so as to be smashed. Alpha Beta I am. All values are subject unto me. All meaning is entangled within my richly flowing garbs. All numbers are subject unto me. 3x7=21 because three times seven equals me. Every successful calculation marks the involvement of my reach. I am the Universe come alive by the enactment of thought.
(At around this point I remember noticing increasing audio-visual hallucinations within the room. This is uncommon for me and marijuana, but not unheard of. At one point I thought someone was in the larger room outside the ritual space, and saw a white object, like a cat tail, swiped from underneath the door at least three times. Small points of light/color would flash for a millisecond within the ritual space. The auditory hallucinations were of chatting and talk, seemingly from one or more people from beyond the space.)

5. Whosoever enters this hall is to be an emissary of the game. The pieces are moving as I am ever-moving. The red gates all aflame shall appear to you in this order.

(At this I was waiting for a list of names, but instead received a vision that reality became a flip book. An opening appeared in space like a page being lifted: the top-surface layer of reality peeled back and turned over, revealing another page (layer), slightly different in character than the last, on and on, ad infinitum. The layers began to curl over and flip faster. Somewhere embedded within each one was the barely visible Khaosphere (Atomosphere), the atoms around its nucleus now animated and spiraling around the center. All of the many thousands of layers of reality in motion manifested the undulating seal of Khaos.)

6. (Image)

(The channeling more or less stopped after observing the prior vision, ending with the reception of the sigil above and the single word “ENTRY.” After being drawn out in the notebook, the great King’s royal presence was no more.)

* * * * *

 I blow out the candle, break the circle, and exit the ritual space. Still heavily in trance-mode, I go to the bed to lie down. A lot of random thoughts occurred during this time, plenty of closed-eyed visualizations, and general post-ritual energetic fuckery (as I’ve become accustomed to.) There was a time, however, when Ino showed up, coming forth from a distant direction. She at first appeared in the form of her sigil (the one with the open eye up top, and the closed eye at the bottom.) Some sort of dialogue was shared, but I can’t recall it. Only the visuals stuck. After some time, I found myself in her “realm”, and her visage turned to that of a thin young woman. The environment, as best I can describe it, was like the inside of a dome alongside the sensation that this dome was very high up in the air. Inside was a white ground overlaid by what looked like plastic nets of shimmering silver spider web designs, strewn all about. The air was cool and comforting. Ino herself was a pale, thin, diminutive young woman with a short ‘pixie’ haircut, but instead of human hair there were white-translucent crystals. She was dressed in a silver-white outfit, also showing many glass-like crystals.

 After some forgotten ‘conversation’ more in the form of sending each other ‘images attached with meaning’ instead than using words, Ino brought me to the White Queen. She shared many aesthetic similarities with Ino, but was an older woman, pale firm skin, dressed in a lavish, appropriately royal looking garb. Large white crystals sprung from her skull in a glorious arrangement, with many smaller baubles and crystal spheres imbedded in the silver cloth that covered the top of her head. H.R. Geiger type imagery comes to mind, but lighter, more crystalline than organic, and cold. Myself and the White Queen then begin to attempt to ‘sync up’, perhaps because of the remaining Red King vibe in me. I felt like she wanted me to accept something very important – some necessary acceptance about the nature of reality – though in the state I was in, didn’t know exactly what she meant, and the sync-up never happened. If it had, I wonder, it might have paved the way for Conjunctio (magickal union of the Red King and White Queen.) But not tonight.

 Such is my account. The 8th Chelseanacht is at an end. Special thanks goes out to all participants, and we hope things were a blast down in New Orleans. I still see much work to be done given new insights. AUTM:IUTW, DTTI:HTNF, NNCN. Khaos Provides.

- F.A.