Showing all posts by Satyr Magos

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What Do Your Ancestors Deserve?

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

This article was written for and originally published in the Fall Equinox issue of The Center Spiral Magazine and is cross-posted at the Kansas City Sorcerous Arts Collective.

Ancestor veneration has always been a thing. It has been central to many indigenous practices for millennia; it has been a part of diasporic traditions for centuries; it is arguably the basis of saint cults. I even knew of academically minded neo-Pagans doing it in the 1990s. Watching the meteoric rise of ancestor worship among white neo-Pagans over the five years, though, has been a trip.

I can’t get on the train. I keep having to ask myself, “Who are these ancestors?” As far as I can tell, for most people that question seems to conjure first an image of their beloved grandparents, and then of their fantasies of Iron Age warriors and Neolithic wanderers, with little thought of the centuries in between.

I too, think of my grandparents and great-grandparents. I think of the racist jokes they told. Of the way they treated my mother and my sister. Of how they always had a justification for police brutality. Of how they ignored the AIDS crisis. How they opposed the Civil Rights movement. How they may or may not have fought in the World Wars, but certainly did not oppose the US genocides and apartheid state that inspired Hitler and the Nazis. How they fought to preserve slavery in the Civil War. I do not find these deeds worthy of veneration. Do you?

White people whose ancestors came to the United States before the Civil War have even less to be proud of. How complicit were they in displacing the indigenous population? Did they own slaves? Were they a part of the original, most guilty, colonizing forces?

As a white person, when relating to other white people, I always find a more-than-academic interest in ancestry to be a giant red flag. That territory is rife with phrases like “Christian civilization”, “heritage not hate”, “demographic twilight”, and “Jews will not replace us”. Other gems include, “the Irish were slaves, too” and “well, sure, but the Natives weren’t really using the land”.

Any white person interested in ancestor work of any kind needs to grapple with some basic facts of history. The very category of whiteness was invented to justify colonizing the New World: prior to that ambition, the only pan-European identity that existed was Christendom, and the wars of the Protestant Reformation will tell you exactly how unified that identity was. Slavery existed before white people, but one of the very first things “whiteness” did was to invent the most horrific form of slavery to ever be conceived or implemented. White people implemented brutal and murderous empires on a scale unknown in prior history. White people invented scientific racism. White people continue to reap the benefits of this rapine and murderous history, continue to hold the majority of the globe in abject subjugation.

Any white person interested in ancestor work also needs to look to the present and grapple with the reality of which white people share their interest in ancestry. Mormons, colonizing the dead through posthumous baptism. Confederate sympathizers. Neo-liberal and neo-conservative apologists who hide their racism behind “but our accomplishments”. White identitarians. White supremacists.

White identity and white nationalist groups surged in popularity following the 2008 election of Barrak Obama, the first Black President of the United States. That surge included a new vigor in neo-Pagan fascist groups like Odinism and the Asatru Folk Association. From where I sit, the renewed interest in ancestor worship by “apolitical” and “mainstream” New Agers and Pagans that I first saw in 2012/13 looks a lot like those ideas filtering from the extreme toward the middle.

I’m not accusing every white person interested in ancestor work of being a crypto-fascist. I’m saying that white people interested in ancestor work cannot just handwave history away. I’m saying that white people – white Pagans – cannot simply just jump from their “sweet old (probably racist, homophobic, and imperialist) grandma” to their Iron Age progenitors without dealing with everything in between. I’m saying that white people working with their ancestors must address the crimes of our ancestors, and the ill-gotten-gains that define our lives.

We must ask ourselves, “What do our ancestors truly deserve?”

White people who wish to venerate our ancestors must begin by determining which ancestors are worthy of veneration. This is the work of history. Of education.

When we make offerings to those who came before us, we must name the deeds that make them worthy. The inventors. The scholars. The plumbers and mechanics and crafters. The healers and care-takers.

And when we make offerings to those who came before us, we must condemn the deeds that make them unworthy. The colonizers. The slave traders. The slave holders. The rapists and murderers. The racists, the misogynists, and the homophobes. The status quo warriors of prior ages.

White people who wish to venerate our ancestors must work to atone for their crimes among the living. This is the work of feminism. Of anti-racism. Of anti-colonialism. Of anti-fascism.

If white people – white Pagans – are to venerate our ancestors, we must do so without nostalgia or sentimentality. Even as we lift up the heroes of previous generations, we must bind our evil ancestors to Tartaros. Or Hell. Or the Void. Anywhere but the mortal world where they can continue the works they began in life. And we must fight their unrepentant children who re-commit and deepen their crimes.

And we must beg forgiveness from the ghosts of those our ancestors wronged.

What do your ancestors deserve?

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Introducing the Hidden Worlds Podcast!

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

August has been fucking bonkers, and super good for me in a lot of ways, but in all the hustle and bustle I forgot to make a major announcement here at the Obsidian Dream!

I’ve been talking about launching a podcast for literally years. One with Aradia. One with Kraken. One by myself. But it didn’t quite come together until the beginning of this year, when I began recording segments for my then-empty Patreon.

Friday, I finally launched the first episode of the Hidden Worlds Podcast. My interview subject was Emily Gabbert of the Kansas City Witches Meet-Up and Center Spiral Magazine. You can listen to the episode and see the show notes over at the Hidden Worlds blog. You can subscribe in your RSS-based podcatcher via this link. I’m working on getting it up and running on iTunes, Spotify, and all the other corporate curated spaces … that might take a couple more episodes to hammer out.

The Hidden Worlds podcast will consist of alternating interview and subject episodes, focusing on the visceral experiences of creating art and practicing magic. Unlike this blog, which hardcore targets the moderately experienced witch and magician, the Hidden Worlds blog and podcast will strive to be accessible to the more casual student of art and the paranormal. Every episode will end with the fun and exciting question: What Is The Strangest Thing That Has Ever Happened To You?

The podcast, like this blog, is free and will always be free. The only ads you will ever see or hear are for my own projects and/or the projects of my interviewees. But, because we live in the 21st century world of late stage capitalism on a dying world, I will beg you to support it out of the goodness of your own heart by backing me on Patreon. I have just finished revamping the tiers and rewards structure, as well as recording a pitch video. Please head over to my Patreon, laugh at the video, and consider pledging your support.

In art, witchcraft

Maeteria Magica: Talismanic Images

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

I have received a number of messages asking if my talismans are consecrated or made according to astrological timing. Overwhelmingly, they are not. I am not an astrologer, nor do I have the resources at this time to keep one on staff. There are advantages to this: firstly, astrologically timed and consecrated jewelry costs hundreds of dollars more than what I am charging; secondly, it leaves the owner of the talisman free to put the images to whatever purpose they want, with no interference on my part.

My talismans draw their power from the materials and images from which they are made, and from the consecration which is your responsibility to provide.

The Power of Maeteria

You can make a talisman out of literally anything. I have made phenomenally powerful talismans out of printed note cards, herbs, glue, and wax. Most of the talismans available on the internet are made of stainless steel, pewter, or pot metal. These are good enough for huge swaths of the community. They are certainly more affordable. I am offering something else.

I am offering fine talismanic jewelry made from pure copper, sterling silver, and 14kt yellow gold. As the shop grows, I will also be offering talismans with precious and semi-precious stones; ancient coins, arrowheads, and glass; and occasionally high-art found-object materials. Precious metals and stones take and hold magical energy better than anything; they make the best homes for the spirits you call and awaken. They are also — and this is arguably most important — really, really cool.

The Power of Images

The majority of my talismanic jewelry draws its power from either the images or the materials employed.

My Apotropaioi line — the Attic Gorgon, Humbaba, the Eye — are ancient protective symbols with no astrological associations or requirements that I am aware of. While they could certainly benefit from electional magic, they do not require it. The images themselves are tied to deep currents going back millenia, and need only be awakened and attuned to the owner.

Now, many of the traditional talismanic images do have astrological associations. While these pieces would benefit immensely from being crafted and/or consecrated in accordance with evectional timing, the images themselves have a powerful current of their own, and I do my best to tie the talismans to that current when I make them. Experimentation has proved to my satisfaction that while these talismans are not as powerful as those made in accordance with electional astrology, they are more powerful than those made of inferior material and without the current of the traditional image. They also grow more powerful over time through use and (re)consecration as opportunities arise.

Regarding Consecration

Because I am not crafting my talismans in accordance with electional astrology, and because I do not know most of my customers personally, it is my policy to do only a minimal consecration. I attune each piece to the currents associated with the images and materials from which it is made, making each piece more vessel than spirit. It is then up to the owner of the talisman to consecrate their piece in accordance with their own traditions of timing and rite.

I am a professional witch. I can perform the consecration for you. That service starts at an additional $50.

Electional Timing

I have every respect for the traditions of electional talisman consecration, and have used them to fantastic effect on a number of occasions. If and when I am made aware of an astrological election in sufficient time to use it to empower talismans, I will absolutely do so. Those limited-run pieces will be labeled and priced accordingly. If you know of such an election and would like me to help you take advantage of it, please give me at least two weeks notice in order to properly design the images, develop prototypes, and/or arrange for assistance with the casting and/or consecration. This service starts at and additional $100.

In art, witchcraft

Grand Opening: the Sorcerer’s Workbench!

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

After more than a year of talking about it, and jokingly referring to my personal projects as having come “from the Sorcerer’s Workbench”, I soft-launched an etsy shop at the end of march. By the end of May, very much to my surprise, I had over $200 in sales. Clearly there is an interest in mid-range fine talismanic jewelry, and I am delighted to fill that niche.

Welcome, now, to the grand opening of the Sorcerer’s Workbench! I have a dozen designs already available for sale.

Some designs are based on traditional grimoires such as Agrippa, the Picatrix, and the Lesser Key of Solomon.

Others are inspired by modern grimoires such as the Hekataeon.

Still others are riffs on tradiditonal/folk/mythic images, or inspired by my own spirit contacts.

I also do custom work, designing images based on your needs and inspirations, and incorporating whatever gemstones and sigils you desire.

So, please: check out my shop, and hit me up if you have any questions or commissions!

In scholarship

Personal Gnosis: Some Preliminary Thoughts

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

I’ve been using the word Gnostic a lot.

I should probably talk about it.

I first encountered the word “Gnosis” in Phil Hine’s Condensed Chaos. I met it again — a lot — in the various works of Peter J Carroll. Then I encountered it again, as “Gnostic” or “Gnosticism”, in Bart D Ehrman’s Lost Christianities. The last gave some context and meaning to the glib, 1990s pomposity of the first two.

Since then, it’s become something of a rabbit hole. Rune Soup. Aeon Byte. Ecstatic rituals, modern and ancient. Conspiracy theories.

“Gnosis” is generally understood to be Greek for “knowledge”. Touching base with the dictionaries at Perseus, it seems to be a little more than that: there is a strong implication of inquiry; Heraklitus used it to suggest cosmic knowledge; some sources indicate a sense of being known. “Gnosticism”, meanwhile, shares a key feature with the word “shamanism”: many scholars believe the word to be too broad, too modern, to be of use in discussing ancient sources. It is certainly a large and broad subject, too vast for me to discuss at bredth. But I do think it may be useful, both to my readers and myself, to talk a little about a few of the through lines and what they mean to me.

[A preliminary note: this is probably the first in what may be a very long series of posts. Due to its personal nature, it will not be as citation-heavy as later posts. When I start talking facts and theories, I’ll go back to Chicago Style for you. Today we’re talking about the broad strokes, emphasizing my feelings and UPG.]

Inquiry, Revelation, and Awakening

The mystic’s first task is to seek knowledge. No more, no less. Through research, experimentation, ecstasy, and art. Seek knowledge.

Having attained knowledge, having awakened to her truth, the mystic’s next task is to awaken the world around her. Not by sharing the truth she has found, per se, but by spurring others to seek out knowledge for themselves.

What “knowledge” constitutes Gnosis varies somewhat from tradition to tradition, even person to person. The broad implication always seems to be knowledge of the cosmos. Or, more narrowly, knowledge of the source of all things (“God”). The neo-Pagan term Unverified Personal Gnosis (UPG) seems overwhelmingly to refer to the needs, nature, and personality of the gods. From where I sit, Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel (KCHGA) would probably qualify, though I don’t know that most ceremonialists in pursuit of that Knowledge would consider themselves Gnostics. The Chaos Magick use of “Gnosis” to mean little more than “trance” seems, to me, to water the term down unnecessarily.

Divine Spark

When I first discovered the modern neo-Pagan movement in the mid 1990s, this was one of the ideas that drew me in. The notion that each person is born with a spark of the same divinity as possessed by the gods.

Ancient and more conventional versions of Gnosticism attribute this divine spark to an intercessory figure, often named Sophia, whose departure from the heaven / the true source / the alien God / whatever marks the beginning of the Gnostic narrative. There are too many variations to count or describe here, but the gist of it is that by accident, error, or mercy, the Sophia / savior figure brings the spark of divinity from heaven to earth and transmits it to humanity.

Many Gnosticisms reserve this divinity for humanity; animist visions perceive it in literally all things. For myself, I lean toward the animist vision.

In many versions, the Gnostic inquiry and awakening (see above) culminates in a visceral awareness of this divine spark. So awakened, and seeking to awaken those around her, the Gnostic seeks rites by which to return to Sophia and/or the alien divine source from which Sophia came.

Archonic Interference

There is something fundamentally wrong with the world. There are people and places, both mortal and cosmic, that clearly want nothing so much as they want everyone else to suffer. These corrupting, controlling forces are the archons, who seek to imprison all who bear the divine spark so that they might steal it for themselves.

The name “archon” also comes from Greek. The root, archo, means to be first; from that we have arche, which simultaneously means law and origin, and archon, which means ruler, lord, or king. Another common phrase in English is “Powers and Principalities”. The archons are cannonically cosmic tyrants; Gnosticisms which perceive allies among the forces of the cosmic forces refer to those powers as Aeons. In a perfect world, this would make all Gnostics Black Block anarchists; tragically, this is not the case.

In many forms of Gnosticism, the chief archon is the Demiurge: the mad god who either created our sick,sad world or who took the work of the true creator and perverted it into a prison. “Demiurge” is, of course, also from Greek: demiurgos, maker or craftsman. This monstrous divinity has many names; my favorites are Yaldabaoth and Sammael (they’re fun to say).

It is this aspect of Gnosticism which is often responsible for its reputation as world- and life-hating. Certainly those strains exist. But, that way lies nihilism, and I try very hard not to go there.

For myself, I do not see an inherent conflict between the notions that, on the one hand, life and the world are sacred; and that, on the other, there are parasitical and/or cancerous cosmic powers who wish to drain the joy out of everything. Just look at people. What is the cosmic reflection of earthly Status Quo Warriors? Of parasitic billionaires? Of murderous tyrants who claim divine favor and are not struck down by lightning?

As above, so below.

Live a Mythic Life

“Write your own Gospel, live your own myth.” This phrase comes not from ancient sources, as far as I can tell, but was coined by Miguel Conner of Aeon Byte: Gnostic Radio. It is, I believe, both his most radical and most useful thought associated with modern Gnosticism.

In the words of [look dude’s name up], “The awakening of any individual is a cosmic event.” Or, as Miguel Connor likes to say: The awakening of any individual is a cosmic rebellion.

If the gods who oversee the world are evil — and only the most toxically positive deny that at least some of them are — then to know goodness is to rebel against them. If the gods of this world wish us to live in ignorance, then to seek knowledge is to rebel against them.

There is a dark side, of course. The notion of a mythic life, a cosmic battle between an awakened elect and monstrous forces of control, seems to make Gnostics even more prone to paranoid delusions and asinine conspiracy theories than the rest of the New Age and neo-Pagan population. Frankly, I’m a queer historian: I know damn well how the rich and powerful have oppressed their subjects since the rise of agriculture; that doesn’t make the conspiracies that fascinate the pseudo-enlightened (chemtrails, hollow earth, reptilians, Bilderberg) any less farsical, particularly given how those same people point to feminists, queers, anti-racists, and anti-imperialists as divisive weapons and lapdogs of the Secret Chiefs. But I’ll dig into that, later, along with so many of the hanging threads above.

What’s important to me, personally, and to this introductory blog post is the mythic potential of life. Not every myth is heroic — we are not all (thank the gods) Theseus murdering the Minotaur, seducing and then abandoning Ariande. Some of us are the Roman citizen-soldier, whose only ambition is to go home and serve our families. Some of us are the Sybil, holed up in our divine caverns, hotboxing sacred fumes, spewing mad prophesy to those brave and desperate enough to listen. There are so many myths, and an infinite universe to fill with more.

In art, hedonism, scholarship

Pride and Paganism 1/2: Dance for the Dead

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

It’s Pride Season, and that always puts me in a contemplative mood.

I guess I should start by saying that I was a late bloomer. I didn’t grok that I was bisexual until I was about 21 years old. In my defense, sex education and mainstream culture in the 1990s had left me with the impression that bisexuality was something that only existed in women (and let’s not even get started on all the transphobia that my genderqueer ass is still struggling to sort out). I didn’t go to my first Pride Parade 2007, after I moved to St. Louis, in part to come out of the closet. I didn’t have much experience with the community. I was still pretty fresh out of the closet, still pretty ignorant of most politics. 

It was a lot spectacle.  I took hundreds of pictures with my first digital camera, a ViviCam3705.  It meant a lot to me to go with the folks of BASL, to see and be seen.  I bought my first pride jewelry.  I had my first “what do you mean you want to have an actual conversation before I suck your dick” encounter with a gay man.  It was wild.

Fast forward a decade and change.  I haven’t been to a Pride festival or parade in years.  There are a lot of reasons for this.  Part of it is that I’ve always worked weekends — even in shops where not every jeweler worked Saturday and/or Sunday, I’ve found myself in the position of Weekend Jeweler.  Part of it is poverty — in Kansas City, unlike St. Louis, Pride is a ticketed event, and the venue they chose previously was one whose policies made bringing your own food and beverages difficult.  Part of it is my growing sensitivity to heat — I had made plans to meet my friends at Pride after work, last year, but heat exhaustion defeated me.

Part of it, though, is that I don’t like the direction Pride has taken.  I’m a history-minded queer, you know.  I know that the modern liberation movement began with a riot sparked by police brutality.  I know that many of the first Pride festivals were Gay-Ins — massive displays of public queer affection meant to confront, shock, outrage.  It wasn’t that long ago that half the states in the country passed constitutional amendments in “Defense of Marriage“.  You can still be fired or murdered anywhere and everywhere in the country for being too visibly queer (particularly if you’re a woman of color).

So it bothers me that Pride events have been taken over by corporations that profit off queer trauma survivors’ and queer youth’s abuse of alcohol (without doing anything for the movement besides some PR stunts and HR handwringing).  It bothers me that people are advocating for larger police presences at Pride festivals and parades.  It bothers me that, in most parts of the country, Gay Liberation (a phrase that, when it was coined, was every bit as radical and frightening as queer anything) has become LGb(t) Assimilation.

And yet … cops whinging to be included in Pride parades is an improvement over clockwork raids of gay bars.  Corporate sponsorship / takeover of Pride festivals is better than every single queer knowing that his, her, or their job was at stake if anyone, ever, found out.  Assimilationism is better than countless lives swallowed by sham marriages.  But … those aren’t the only options, are they?

I oppose the institutions of marriage and military service.  And,  yet, I demanded an end to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell because, so long as the institution of the military exists, it’s better that queers be allowed full participation.  I demanded Marriage Equality for the same reason.  Being able to imagine a better world does not mean we cannot or should not celebrate victories in this one.

Unlike marriage and the military, Pride is not an institution with roots in previous civilizations.  Pride is a late 20th Century bid for revolution.  The Gay Liberation Front, formed mid-riot, was as opposed to the Vietnam War and to poverty as it was to the oppression of queer people.  Thus, marriage be damned, Pride’s assimilation by mainstream capitalist and imperial forces is a betrayal of its own roots — a clear case of winning a few battles while ultimately losing the war.

I don’t have any answers here.  No thesis.  Just hard questions about goals, tactics, strategy.

Remember that the Nazis burned the library of Magnus Hirsfeld’s Institue for the Science of Sexuality, setting back sexual science and queer liberation by at least a hundred years.  Remember that in mid-19th century United States, the police systematically raided gay bars for fun and profit.  Remember that Reagan (and most USians) ignored the AIDS crisis for more than a decade, figuring that the queers deserved to die.

I dream of a better world, but I don’t know how to get there.

I believe in Pride.  The procession.  The pageantry.  The mad Dionysiac revel of it.  The seeing and being seen, our warts and asses (sometimes literally) on display beside our vital life and joy.  But it needs less Bacchanalia and more Sporagmos; fewer drunken satyrs, more maenads tearing blasphemers limb from limb.

When you dance for Pride, you dance for the dead.  Don’t let our murderers and their sympathizers turn a profit off of you.  Don’t let their successors use you as a public relations prop.

In witchcraft

Hekate: An Unexpected Devotion

Author Satyr MagosPosted on 2 Comments

This week has marked an anniversary, half-forgotten in the madness of 2018. This time last year, my working group participated in the global Rite of Her Sacred Fires. It was not the first time I had invoked Hekate, but it was the most significant up to that point.

I must emphasize “up to that point”. Hekate began to appear more frequently on our docket, culminating in a devotional Samhain ritual in which I make made myself a vessel for her so that my compatriots could approach and petition her for aid. Three months after that, Jack Grayle’s Hekataeon went live. Aradia and I dove in head first. Our copy arrived just in time for Paganicon, and we started the work as soon a we got back.

I am 38 years old. I have been practicing magic since I was 16. But I was raised with the blandest (functionally atheist) sort of Protestantism, and I did not reach out to the gods until I was 28. Excepting my easy relationship with Dionysus, I did not manage to cultivate anything resembling a devotional practice until I was 30, and that was very much rooted in the particular circumstances of the Sunrise Temple. I have had relationships with a wild variety of spirits and an eclectic assortment of gods and powers, but little of it resembled anything akin to worship. And until a year ago, Hekate was never even on my radar.

I began to work the Hekataeon at the end of March, as I was coming out of a deep depression, a descent that began early in 2017 and bottomed out last Thanksgiving. The ascent has been steep but rocky, and it is difficult to say how much of my improvement is the native cycle of my fucked up brain and how much is as a result of the work. I could not have begun the work had I not begun to feel better at the first of the year. Any daily practice would certainly have improved my life. But also, the calming and cleansing of mania is a recurring theme in the Hekataeon.

Now, a year after that first significant contact, I have participated in the Rite of Her Sacred Fires for the second time. I had just completed the twenty-seven days of devotional meditation that comprised the second section of the Hekataeon, studying the facets of Hekate, and was about to make the transition from Devotee to Adept. By the time this post goes live, I will have completed that initiation.

Jack Grayle’s vision of Hekate is Gnostic, cosmic — the beginning and end of all. As I dig in to his ancient sources, and compare them to other modern visions, I find that he is not alone in this. I wish that I were in a financial position to take Jason Miller’s Hekate Sorcery course.

I am a sorcerer. A witch. A heretic. A Gnostic. I make handshake deals and back alley bargains with spirits. I treat with gods and demons and angels as equals. I seek ecstasy. Not Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel, but rather Gnosis — knowledge of the divine power from which mortal and immortal life both spring, and which I cannot believe is a person of any kind, not even a god. I reject the capital G.

Though I have courted a few, with varying degrees of success — Apollo, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Baphomet — Dionysus is the only god I have truly loved. I did not seek out Hekate, but rather met her through my friends. One thing led to another. And now … I have graduated from disinterested third party Reader to Devotee … and now to Adept. Degrees of priesthood follow, culminating in a binding contract that will last into future lives.

Devotion in this life I am prepared for. I do not know, however, that I am prepared to make any promises about the next.

For now, though, the road ahead of me is obscure. I do not know, precisely, what will be asked of me. The work may reject me before I am forced to reject it. Or the goddess and I may come to more complex and nuanced arrangements. Decision, after all, is her sacrament.

Until then, it seems, I am Devoted. Very much to my own surprise.

In witchcraft

Prosperity Mojo: Further Work with Bune

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

In early November, shortly after Jupiter entered Sagittarius, Aradia and I decided that the stars were reasonably well aligned for our working group to do some prosperity magic. But because our working group was getting a little burnt out on charging sigils with Orphic hymns, we decided to go in a slightly different direction: pulling out our collections of scrap fabrics, herbs, loose stones, oils, and whatnot, we decided to make mojo bags.

Having previously worked with Bune (October-November of 2018), I made the spontaneous decision to include the seal I had hand-engraved in brass in the otherwise conventionally Jupiterian prosperity talisman. It sits on my altar and I spritz it with prosperity spray every pay period.

But Bune likes public praise, and I’ve got to hand it to him: he’s delivering. Despite an otherwise slow holiday season at work, every pay check has been above average. My ebook sales bumped, and my Kindle Unlimited pageviews skyrocketed. It’s not a huge amount of money, but it’s workable and sustainable growth.

I keep hearing about how dangerous it is to work with Goetic spirits. How they’ll fuck up your brain and your life. And, don’t get me wrong, there’s some folks in the Lesser Key that I won’t touch with a ten foot pole. And it’s always possible that there’s something unique about my natal chart or my previous magical practice that makes my situation special. But so far, I’ve found Bune to be a reasonable and companionable partner in crime.

In Uncategorized

Another Year in Review

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

This year sucked.

I mean, not all of it, obviously. I’m not dead yet. Still walking and talking. I even accomplished some really amazing and important things that, in the rear view mirror, may eventually loom larger than the sucking. But for the most part, I spent this year crashing and burning after the stress and betrayals and hurts and failures of the awful year that came before.

People better known and more clever than I have been joking for months that 2018 was absolutely no less than three years long. I deeply resonate with that. Looking back at the first two thirds of this year, I can’t even say for sure what happened when because there doesn’t seem to be enough time for that much to have happened.

For that matter, the first third of this year blurs together with the last months of 2017. There was an awful lot of suck. Frankly, I don’t even know how to get into it without being accused of rumor mongering and poo-flinging, which is a large part of my radio silence over the last year and a half. The short version is that, following my departure from the HSA in November/December of 2017, I withdrew from public participation in the KC Pagan community entirely and lost a few friends along the way. I then proceeded to bleed on everyone within anime-blood-spray distance, and things only got more unpleasant from there.

Hands down, this has been the worst year for my mental health since 2004, which I spent almost exclusively hiding in the basement of The House on Shoal Lane. It even beat out Fall Semester 2012, which featured daily panic attacks and more reasons I will never trust a mental health professional. As unpleasant as it was to be around me, it was even worse to be me.

At the same time, there were some truly amazing accomplishments.

Even as other parts of my life were burning down around my ears, I spent the first three months of 2018 putting the final polish on my debut novel, getting the typesetting just right, and ultimately putting The Mark of the Wolf in print. I am now a published author. Bucket list item checked.

At some point last winter, a friend admitted to me that he was the proud owner of an under-used farrier’s forge. Over the summer, he, Kraken, and I set about teaching ourselves blacksmithing. I won’t say that we’re experts (or even very good), but I have now made three knives (mostly; I need to get a chainmail glove before I try to put an edge on them). Bucket list item checked.

(Between those two accomplishments, I have done everything that I dreamed of as a sixth-grade satyr. My childhood vision of my life is complete.)

After a year of trying and failing to get a D&D game off the ground, I launched my first 5th Edition campaign in a brand-new homebrew setting in March. The campaign is still going strong and a bunch of people I barely (if at all) knew are now my friends. While nothing compared to the preceding or following accomplishments, this is my first campaign since I stopped gaming for college in 2011, and has been one of my chief points of stability amidst the madness.

In June, the private working group Aradia and I have been hosting passed it’s one-year mark. At Samhain we came up with a motto.

At midnight New Years, as 2018 becomes 2019, I will have been with my primary partner Aradia for ten fucking years. This is an accomplishment that I did not, could not, envision as a child. Or even as an adult. Frankly, I’m struggling to wrap my head around any one putting up with me for that long even as it’s happening.

After a year long hiatus from public ritual, Aradia, Chirotus, and I submitted an application to perform a public ritual at Paganicon 2019. We were accepted, and our Classically-inspired purification ritual is currently scheduled to go just before the opening ceremony. (No pressure.)

In retrospect, regardless of how awful 2017 was, I think that a collapse this year was both inevitable and necessary. 2018 was the first year since 2011 (when I started Real Liberal Arts College in Sunrise, Indiana) that I haven’t been burning the candle at both ends. I knew since April that what I needed was isolation. It took till July or August before I got to the point where I just stopped returning messages. I should have just told (more) people that I needed to go away for a while and just done that instead of waiting until I Just Couldn’t Anymore and ghosting. I guess we’ll see in the coming months how badly those bridges are burned.

I want to end this on some clever note, maybe something upbeat. I don’t have it in me. But here we are, on the cusp of the new year. At risk of tempting fate, I’ll just take this moment to tell 2018 to fuck right off. You didn’t kill me, you fucking fuck. To the rest of you: raise a toast tonight to your own divinity, if nothing else. Raise one to the rest of us if you have it in you. I’ll see you all on the flip side.

In Uncategorized

Life Chapter N+1

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

It is a common fallacy among writers, or so I am told, to see our own lives as a narrative arc.  I am more guilty of this than most.  I know that it is a fallacy.  I know that real life is, for better and worse, much, much stranger than fiction.  I know that mortal lives are always messier than that.  And yet … the arc of a story remains the chief frame through which I experience the world.

The last chapter of my life began when, upon graduating college, I moved back to Kansas City.  I returned to the mall jewelry store where I had spent the previous six years, off and on.  I volunteered with the organization that puts on the festival that had been the highlight of my year since 1999.  I got involved in a relationship with someone who, though the romance didn’t last, has proved one of the best friends I’ve ever had.  I buckled down and finished my first novel, and successfully ran a Kickstarter to start a publishing company to print that novel.  I started producing jewelry of my own design, mostly for myself and my closest friends, but solid work that I’m proud of.  I took up a whole new art, photography, which I grow better at each time I pick up my camera.

In December of this year, I formally resigned from all my positions and responsibilities within the festival organization.  In February, I released my novel into the world.  In March I taught one of my energy work classes at the Witches’ Meet-Up, my first class hosted outside the HSA.  All this to say, I believe that these events mark the start of a new chapter in my life.  I don’t know, precisely, what the road will look like, but it is my hope that it ends with me as a full time professional Pagan.  I’m already working in a Pagan jewelry store.  I have just released a Pagan novel.  I am building a small repertoire of workshops on magical technical skills.

In the last chapter of my life, I took on too much responsibility, too quickly, without adequately vetting the people I was working with.  In this next chapter of my life, I hope to deepen my personal practice, to deepen the relationships that survived the previous chapter, and to make more art.

Thank you everyone who’s been along for the ride.