planetary magic – Page 5 – Journey Through The Obsidian Dream

HPF 2012: Rites of Magic

Satyr Magos02/06/2012

Not counting the public rituals, which are a disaster I will get to soon, I did three major rituals at Heartland Pagan Festival this year. The last, I have already described. The first was the creation of a Moon Talisman, taking advantage of the Lunar Election; the second was my most effective performance of the rite of the Stele of Jeu to date.

Friday morning there was a window of opportunity to create a lunar talisman. Due to a variety of factors (idiocy on my own part chief among them) I was not able to print out a copy of Christopher Warnock’s lunar talisman to assemble and charge at the appropriate hour. Instead, having the pdf on my phone, I transcribed the invocation into my sketch book and reproduced a crude sketch of the general figure and the characters above him. When the hour came, I expanded upon my crude sketch from memory, using my nice fountain and brush pens.

The invocation was potent, and I felt the familiar Lunar power flow through me as I incanted. I had to leave my ritual jewelry sitting on the talisman when I was done, because it was tingling too much for me to continue wearing it (as is my wont at ritual occasion such as the festival.

I think it turned out nicely. One of these next days, I’m going to produce a nicer version, as well as Lunar images from the other sources Warnock quotes above.

Saturday night, after the main-ritual-gone-awry, Alopex and I went back to Camp WTF to decompress. The sun was setting, Alopex went for a walk, and I’d been wanting to perform the Stele of Jeu since I arrived, but hadn’t quite found the right moment. That seemed to be the right moment: Memorial Grove, Camp Gaea’s small graveyard was near the encampment, there was a trivium crossroad on the way, and the sun was setting. I made the walk and found a stone slab of an altar in the middle of the grove. Beside it was a fist-sized rock, ideally shaped for me to paint the Beneficial Sign upon it.

I opened with my Pentagram Rite, and made my offerings of pomegranate mead. The wind, which had stilled for a while, rose as I incanted and just kept rising. I really don’t know how to describe the effect of the ritual except to say that I was high, and that I stayed high for hours. I was going to leave the stone, except that it insisted I take it with me.

The next night, while Aradia and Aurora combed my aura and I tried to let go of all the accumulated pain and bullshit I hadn’t quite managed to deal with and/or banish over the semester, shortly before I performed my overzealous blessing, I was struck by my first real insight into the Stele.

Although one source gave the rite explicitly as an exorcism, the other people I’ve talked to about it insist that there’s more to it. And there is. The first two thirds seem to be an exorcism or banishing of sorts—“Mighty Headless One, deliver him, NN, from the daimon which restrains him”—but the final portion suddenly identifies the magician with the Headless One he has been calling upon:

“I am the headless daimon with my sight in my feet; [I am] the mighty one [who possesses] the immortal fire; I am the truth who hates the fact that unjust deeds arc done in the world; I am the one who makes the lightning flash and the thunder roll;/ I am the one whose sweat is the heavy rain which falls upon the earth that it might be inseminated; I am the one whose mouth bums completely; I am the one who begets and destroys; / I am the Favor of the Aion; my name is a heart encircled by a serpent; come forth and follow.”

Suddenly, after months of practice, this seems to be a ritual which first hollows out the magician—blasting him free of “negative” influences and forcing his aura into the shape of a vessel—in order to make room for the Headless One to fill him. In a very loose sense, the Stele of Jeu may be the badass great-great-great-grandparent of Drawing Down the Moon. It is an exorcism, and simultaneously a literal invocation. Or seems to be, anyway, at this stage in my practice. Would anyone who has experimented with this more care to comment?

In art, hedonism, witchcraft

Continuing Experiments: Sigils, Talismans, and the Stele of Jeu

Satyr Magos17/05/2012

While I haven’t had much time to write clever blog posts since finals week started gearing up (then ended, with all the unanticipated post-semester and graduation-related madness), I have managed to make time to actually do the magic. I have performed the Stele of Jeu twice, fired off a shoal of sexy sigils, and made two new talismans based on what I learned of talisman-making from the Jupiter Election.

the Stele of Jeu

The Stele of Jeu the Hieroglyphist is becoming an increasingly integral part of my practice. Interestingly, though, the more often I perform it the more subtle the effects seem to be. I performed the rite at the last Dark Moon, on the Day and Hour of the Sun, and as a part of my Beltane celebrations in the woods behind my school.

In the first case—as seems to often happen—I was struck by the sense that something was watching me as I performed my rite. That sensation faded, though, as I performed the ritual. By half way through, actually, it had faded to the point where I decided to try out something I’d read somewhere and repeated the central portion of the ritual until I got the feeling of rising power:

Holy Headless One, deliver him, NN, from the daimon which restrains him, / ῥουρβριαω μαρι ὠδαμ βααβναβαωθ ασς ἀδωναι ἀφνιαω ἰθωληθ ἀβρασαξ ἀηωωυ / mighty Headless One, deliver him, NN, from the daimon which restrains him. / μαβαρραιω ἰοηλ κοθα ἀθορηβαλω ἀβραωθ / deliver him, NN ἀωθ ἀβραωθ βασυμ ἰσακ σαβαωθ ιαω

That definitely had an effect, though I would be hard pressed to actually describe what it was. I sat in the salt circle and meditated for a while, basking in the magical afterglow.

I performed the ritual again at Beltane, under the nearly-full moon. My outdoor festivities with Sannafrid were actually a couple days late, on account of the rain on the 1st and 2nd. Being in the woods, I skipped the salt circle—salting the earth is not my idea of a good time. On the one hand, the effects were much less profound than I had hoped/feared/anticipated; on the other hand, they were very interesting. The woods suddenly felt more alive. Sannafrid and I could sense spirits everywhere—not like I had conjured them, but more as if I had suddenly tuned in to the layer of reality where they already lived.

I think they were just the spirits of the wood, and while they may or may not have been aware of our presence, I honestly don’t think they could have cared less. It was a very powerful experience, if just a little surreal. I think that’s an important lesson for all magicians, but for witches and nature-worshipers in particular: to keep in mind that most of the spirit world, like most of the natural world, doesn’t care one way or the other about humans. We’re doing our thing; they’re doing theirs.

a Sigil Shoal for More and Better Sex

The way I count the Moons, the third day of the Dark Moon is also the first day of the waxing phase. After performing the stele of Jeu, once the hour had passed from Sun to Venus, I fired off a shoal of sigils for more and better sex. The effects of this shoal were even more awesome—and, importantly, longer lasting—than the first one. The shoal included five sigils (the specific phrasing of which is apparently in the stack of notes that didn’t make it back to Kansas City with me), all aimed at improving my sex life. The majority of the sigils were aimed helping my body keep up with my libido—and, more importantly, with Sannafrid’s.

The results were fucking spectacular. (Yeah, I went there. How could I resist?) At risk of crossing into the realm of Way Too Much Information: not only was I able to manage 2-3 times in a day (a little difficult at 31 on a mediocre diet), I was able to keep that up almost every day for a ten day stretch of the two-and-a-half weeks between when I fired the sigils and when they faded about a week ago.

So … waxing Moon, day of the Sun, hour of Venus is damn good astrological timing for sex magic. I would have thought the Full Moon, day and hour of Venus would have been as good … but it was also the 3rd day of the Full, so technically a waning Moon, which may have had an impact. Further confounding factors here include the sigils themselves, the way they were phrased, single versus shoal, and the fact that I was still tingling from the Stele of Jeu.

a Talisman of Venus

Anticipating Venus’ recent retrograde movement, I made a talisman of Venus based on the Jupiter Talisman I made at the recent election. I used Christopher Warnock’s Venus image on one side (I really need to buy his Picatrix translation and star producing my own images based on the descriptions); the Agrippan characters of Venus, my Glyph of the Moon, and a pair of sigils (empowering myself with the Favor of Kings) on the other. I performed the rite at the Day and Hour of Venus, using a slightly altered version of the Orphic Hymn to Venus—I added a line at the end asking to be endowed with the Favor of Kings—burning incense of my own making, and anointing the talisman with Abramelin oil—and using the various Venusian symbols I keep on my altar rather than a formal Triangle of Art. For a more general Venusian boost, I also took a bit of my Venusian incense and started an infusion like I do for my essential oil production. I left both projects on my altar to marinade essentially until I packed everything up for the trip.

My understanding is that, so close to the retrograde, even the otherwise auspicious arrangement of planetary forces on that Day and Hour of Venus with a waxing Moon was less than ideal. Still, I felt that it would be a good idea to shore up Venusian in my sphere given the complexity of my love life at the moment (that’s a post in and of itself, and one which is particularly delicate since all parties involved read the blog. I’m glad that I did: the talisman and the infusion-in-the-making are both radiating good, clean, Venusian power.

Safe-Travel Talismans

My final magical project in the Sunrise Temple, before leaving for the summer, was to produce safe-travel talismans for Sannafrid and myself. She is spending the month in China as part of an ethnography program through our school—a sort of “victory lap”, as they call it here. I was going to be making a drive across three states with a number of the things most dear to me in my back seat.

Using essentially the same methodology as I did for my Jupiter and Venus talismans, I made a pair of Mercury talismans for Sannafrid and myself. The most interesting differences between the rites was that these were made at the day and hour of Mercury, outside in the woods during our Beltane celebrations, and that I used a lock of her hair mixed in with the Mercury blend between the two sheets of cardstock and had her write her own Names to create the link to her, where I used my Glyph of the Moon for my own talisman.

The results were again spectacular. If I do say so, myself, I’m getting pretty good at making paper talismans. I’m looking forward to teaching myself some metal-etching skills so that I can use similar techniques in more permanent mediums.

In witchcraft

New Thoughts on Initiation

Satyr Magos02/05/2012

Coming from my background in eclectic Wicca, the word “initiation” has certain connotations—first of group identification, and then of hierarchal advancement within the group into which one was initiated. Skill and experience were supposed to be equivalent with rank, and in many groups I’m sure they are; one knows, however, that in others—groups more closely aligned with the Masonic traditions from which the initiatory degrees arose, perhaps—access to information was and is restricted to initiatory rank. Whether or not that’s a functional system for some people is beside the point: I never wanted anything to do with it, and it’s one of the reasons I never pursued membership in a coven or lodge more vigorously. Alternatively, Christopher Penczak and some other eclectic Wiccan writers discuss initiation in slightly different terms. They speak of initiations as recognizing progress made, or the formal beginning of a period of intense work or study. It was in these senses that I underwent my own initiation, almost two years ago, and it is in this sense that I am planning to undergo my next at Samhain, assuming that my experiments continue proceeding according to plan.

Since entering into my study of the Western Ceremonial tradition, however—particularly post-Golden Dawn and post-Chaos Hermeticism—I increasingly find the word “initiation” used in radically different ways. Rufus Opus, for example, has frequently spoken of his Gates Rites, which he performs regularly, as initiatory experiences. I was recently linked to another gentleman discussing his elemental initiations.

This use of “initiation” seems to convey a sense of immersion in the elemental or planetary force being summoned, and/or of opening (or maintaining) a channel of that force into one’s “personal sphere”. This is a fascinating concept to me, and one which is probably not as revolutionary as it seems: going directly to the Powers of Elemental Fire for instruction in the nature and use of Fire; going directly to the Powers of Planetary Venus for instruction in the nature and use of her energies. Or maybe it is revolutionary. I don’t know enough about Medieval or Renaissance thought to even guess, and even within my own specialties of Classical Studies and modern Neo-Pagan witchcraft, it’s hard to say sometimes.

Whether or not the idea is new or not is beside the point. It’s one that I’m definitely going to have to experiment with, and which may find it’s way into my personal practice. Hell, in a sense I’ve already started: I’ve undergone Earth, Water, and Fire initiations (though they weren’t quite framed the same way) as part of my Penczak-based work (Outer Temple and Temple of High Magic), and begun the process of Earth/Malkuth and Moon/Yesod initiations. I did all these through visionary work rather than evocation, and I think I will finish out the full set of four elements and seven planets before I do evocation-based initiations.

And then … what happens when I start experimenting with the signs of the Zodiac as sources of power?

In witchcraft

Working the Jupiter Election

Satyr Magos23/04/2012

I think most of you know that there was a badass astrological opportunity last Thursday. It was my privilege to be able to take advantage of both the morning and afternoon openings.

As is my custom on Thursdays, I got up before dawn. Rather than go to the cafeteria, however, I made myself breakfast at home while readying my space. I cast my circle at the crack of dawn and the beginning of the Hour of Jupiter, and by the time I was done consecrating my space* and preparing a Jupiter incense of dandelion, clove, sage, and nutmeg, the election was upon me. Due to a shortage of resources, I printed a paper talisman across two sheets of paper. One side bore the Jupiter image provided by the generosity of Christopher Warnock, the other bore my Glyph of the Moon and a pair of glyphs representing my intention: bestowing myself with the Favor of Kings; in between, I scribed my birth and magical names on the reverse sides of the sheets, sprinkled the same herbs I used for incense and a drop of Abramelin oil, then glued the sheets together. I blessed the talisman with the Picatrix Jupiter invocation Mr. Warnock provided with the image, anointed the image deliberately with more Abramelin oil and inadvertently with wax from the candle I had dedicated to the purpose.

That done, I left the image and the burning candle on my altar as I dashed off to Yoga, a second breakfast, Ancient Greek class, and lunch. Those “mundane” tasks out of the way, I returned home for the second election.

Here in the Midwest, the afternoon election was infringed by some minor Lunar affliction that no one really got into and which I couldn’t identify on my astrological software. Good enough, Mr. Warnock said, but not as good as the morning timing. So I chose something much more targeted and immediate than the talisman construction: a direct appeal for aid in my meeting with the Registrar, which would come almost immediately after the election ended. I sigilized my desire using the Kamea of Jupter, performed another invocation and lit another candle, and went off to meet with the registrar.

To make an otherwise uninteresting story short: the registrar agreed to take all my transfer credits without further complaint, won the lottery for the weaving class (which “never happens” on your first try), begged for and received an extension on the ancient history paper (formerly) due tomorrow, and this afternoon’s meeting with the Financial Aid office took less than thirty seconds to sort out a paperwork issue. When I descended to my Inner Temple over the Dark Moon, the Favor of Kings glyphs were glowing on the walls.

So far it looks like the Jupiter rituals (including the previous sigils) have worked, and worked beautifully.

*Tuning it, more accurately. “Consecrating” implies that there was something unsacred about it before I got there, and I don’t truck with that fallen world theological bullshit. But that’s a series of posts for another day. In the meantime, see Phil Hine.

In witchcraft

Synthesizing Planetary Magic Into My Personal Practice

Satyr Magos18/04/2012

Some readers may wonder, looking at my bio, how it is that I can be so ignorant of Chaos and ceremonial magics if I’ve been practicing for as long as I say I have. The short, easy answer is: freestyle circles and energy work, augmented by ecclectic/New Age Wiccan ritual and (in the last few years) visionary work.

When I was 18 or so, I came to the conclusion (in absence of any evidence, but … I was 18) that Cetlic knotwork was a two-dimensional representation of ways to shape energy. That, in combination with the stripped-out version of the LBRP that I had found on the internet and a keen interest in elemental energy, became the basis of my magical practice.

Like (I imagine) most magicians, I can conjure elemental energies essentially at will: drawing energy from the world around me, filtering it through my body and aura, and transmuting it by will into Fire, Air, Earth, or Water to suit my needs … just as one conjures and focuses intent for, say, some forms of candle magic or sigils. Unlike some witches and magicians, however, I also do this with Solar and Lunar energy.

One of the things I’m looking to do with my experiments in planetary magic is to come to understand those energies well enough that, in absence of convenient astrological timing—say we’re rolling retrograde when I need to do some mad Mercury, or right now with Saturn in the long retro, or it’s the Hour of Jupiter and I need some Venusian mojo right the fuck now—that I can conjure them in similar fashion. This sort of understanding of planetary forces would also facilitate my desire to, for example, make a talisman invoking the “baleful” aspects of Venus and Mars for a “No Babies Conceived Here Ever” talisman to hang above my bed.

Some will ask, “If it’s possible, why didn’t the ancients do it that way?” The easy answer is, of course, that’s not the way they thought about magic. Except, of course, in the East where we get a lot of these ideas from in the first place. Chi, anyone?* Again: I can already do this with Solar and Lunar energy.

Now, I realize that this will not shelter me from astrological “weather” altogether. It may never work the way I imagine it will (what does?). But think: if I can generate my own planetary energies as needed, how much more awesome could my sigils and talismans be when used in conjunction with astrological timing? And if I know how to move that energy, I could, for example, take advantage of the next Jupiter election to endow the shit of of some Jupiter water or store that energy in a crystal battery for another occasion.

*A gross oversimpification, I know.

In witchcraft

Hod Altar—or, Seething on the Bench

Satyr Magos29/03/2012

I disassembled my Yesod Altar last night and built up an altar representing the powers of Mercury in Hod. This, of course, is a part of my ongoing studies in Western Ceremonialism.

I chose last night to do it, in part, because I wanted to upgrade the talisman I’ve been using to help with my studies in Ancient Greek.

Then I remembered (again) that Mercury is still retrograde, and that not only is any magic a bad idea, but that Mercurial magic specifically directed at communication was an exceptionally bad idea.

The results from my last experiment were less than ideal. To say I haven’t slept right since would be an exaggeration, and imply a causal connection that is probably better attributed to a combination of school-stress and the manic side of SAD exacerbated by unseasonable weather. In this wake of this, a friend pointed out that perhaps Mercury Retrograde and the Vernal Equinox (the former in general and the combination in particular) were not the best time to be fucking with shit if I didn’t want to break my brain (again). I decided he was right, and have pretty much set aside all my experiments in favor of some basic aura maintenance and Yoga. This is probably the best decision I could make, because I really do feel a lot better after another rest.

But I’m starting to get antsy. That’s, again, at least party the unseasonable weather and the inevitable energy burst of spring. But I’m hot to get back into the magic. This isn’t βούλομαι—a rational wish or desire. This is ἐπιθυμεω (longing desire) bordering on ἐραω (love+lust).

I have always been drawn to magic; the more I do it, the more I lust after it.

I cant wait for Mercury to turn direct so I can get back to work.

In witchcraft

Lunar Journey II

Satyr Magos09/03/2012

Because, to my mind, 4am 8 March is actually more Wednesday night than Thursday morning, I performed my Esbat rites on Wednesday. Initially, I didn’t feel as “on” as I did Monday night, but the journeywork turned out to be more productive, if less dramatic.

I made another Lunar incense blend: calamus, eucalyptus, jasmine flower, myrrh, and willow. I actually liked my first blend better, but this is why we experiment, right? After charging the incense and a bottle of lunar water, I mixed my flying potion (1), donned my visionary mask, and descended to the underworld through the Void.

Approaching the world tree, I asked to be returned to the Realm of Yesod and the Moon to further explore it. Taking me DOWN this time instead of UP, the tree deposited me back on the island with the nine-pillar temple. I began my work by leaving offerings of light for the two figures in the temple, and the entity which had “roped” me Monday night.

There was a land-bridge off to one side which I had neglected to investigate last time, so I started there. Strangely, it didn’t go anywhere: although I tried to follow the coast I found past the land-bridge, I kept finding myself back on the shore of the island. Frustrated, but undiscouraged, I dived into the lake instead.

Swimming down, I encountered a dolphin. I asked it if it was there to guide me. “No,” it said. I asked it why it was there, but it didn’t answer. It did, however, follow me as I continued swimming down.

“This is an awfully small body of water for you,” I noted.

“Well, yeah,” it acknowledged.

“Where do you come from?”

“Out there.”

I asked it to show me, so it led me—almost faster than I could follow—out to another, deeper region of water. Down and down it led me, vanishing as I found myself on the bottom of an ocean floor.

Being the bottom of the ocean, there wasn’t any light, and it took me a few moments to adjust my astral vision until I could see. (For some reason just conjuring a light didn’t seem like a good idea.) When I could see, I found myself surrounded by massive, alien creatures, all trudging toward the direction from which I had come. I couldn’t see them clearly—mostly just massive legs and bodies, dimly seen through the dust they raised—but they were legion, and each hundreds of times more massive than I. I swam in the direction from which they had come, and none deigned to acknowledge me. Eventually I came to a place where I was alone.

After swimming in random directions and encountering a lot more nothing, I drew a circle in the sand of the sea bottom and sat down cross-legged, waiting. soon I began rising, and eventually broke the surface.

I cannot remember—could not, in fact, even immediately upon returning to my body—how I transitioned from floating over this massive, primordial ocean to standing once more in front of the nine-pillar temple. This time when I ascended the stairs, the figures had moved. They moved again in front of me, and acknowledged my presence. We communicated briefly, and I received a positive response when I asked if I could return for instruction. The woman reached out and touched me, and I was filled with a vibrant, cool energy.

I returned to the world tree, and through it to the waking world. The journey was done.

I think I will do one more lunar journey before moving on to Hod/Mercury.

1 The usual, lately: absinthe and sacramental mead at a 1:3 ratio. It’s a little stronger and a little easier to slam than properly louched absinthe, if not quite as exquisite.

In witchcraft

Ceremonial Studies: Refining My Intent

Satyr Magos19/01/2012

When I set myself to the study of the Western Ceremonial tradition it was largely an intellectual exercise. Yes, I expected to be a more competent and powerful witch/magician by the end of it, but I’d already learned the rudiments of sigils from Chaos magic (which I had largely understood as a subset of the ceremonial tradition, though I now know better) and I didn’t imagine that there would be much that would actually stick with me after the experiments were done. After five months of study, I have come to understand just how little of what I thought I knew about the ceremonial tradition has any basis in reality. Conversely, I have found that my chief concern was fairly well founded: I am fundamentally incompatible with some of the powers it deals with, though not in the ways I had imagined. I have also come to recognize what the ceremonial tradition has to offer me personally: access to planetary Powers.

Various manuals of witchcraft that I have read in the course of my life have come with huge tables of plants, rocks, scents, colors, and their planetary correspondences. But the rationale of those correspondences has never really been explained, nor why the attributions and uses of those correspondences varies so radically from the mythologies and portfolios of the divinities for which the planets have been named. My explorations of ceremonial magic have helped me to understand (for example) why it is that Mars, the planet, has so little to do with Mars, the Roman god of war and the citizen-soldier.

More interestingly, particularly from my perspective as a visionary/shamanic witch looking to delve into that most forbidden of arts known as the evocation of spirits, I have learned of the multitudinous hosts and legions of spirits who make up those planetary Powers. Even if, having acquired some skill at conjuration, I decide that it’s not for me, the names and sigils—phone numbers, as Frater Acher describes them (and I need that book)—will still be useful in seeking out contacts by other means.

Despite my best intentions, I am still having difficulty translating my theoretical studies into actual praxis. This is partly a matter of trying to convert certain patterns into ones I understand, partly a matter of struggling to overcome inertia after having fallen off the horse (so to speak) of daily practice.

I want to begin seeking that thing known as “Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel” (or, you know, something along those lines, since I don’t quite buy the “guardian angel” part), but I have not yet settled on a particular ritual to that end. The Stele of Jeu? The Bornless Rite? Liber Samekh? (Sure, they’re all variations on the same tune, but I still need to choose one.) Or some other ritual I haven’t found yet, aimed at the same goal? Right now I’m leaning heavily toward the Stele of Jeu. Very heavily.

When I resume pursing the planetary forces themselves, do I continue with the quasi-Golden Dawn route of Penczak’s High Temple? Do I buy RO’s Gate Rites (I’ve been tempted for a while)? Do I go whole-hog and dig into Abremelin? Frustratingly, a lot of these questions would be a lot easier if I were Christian, or at very least if I weren’t energetically incompatible with the Archangels. I really need to get my hands on a copy of the PGM—both translated and not.

I’ll say this much, though: by the time I’m done, there will be a neo-Pagan grimoire for sale somewhere. I can’t be the only one struggling with some of these issues. And maybe, as I continue, I’ll find that someone else has already done this. Maybe I can use their work, maybe I can build on it, and maybe I’ll blow them out of the water. There’s only one way to find out.

A research paper is no stronger than its thesis. Until now, I had been doing no more and no less than preliminary exploration. Now I have more specific aims—my theses, to continue the metaphor: to get in touch with the Planetary forces, Powers, “elementals” (for lack of a better word) and spirits; to craft rites which fit within a neo-Pagan conceptual framework; and to make those experiments available to the public.

In Uncategorized

Approaching the Garden

Satyr Magos16/09/2011

As of today, I have completed the first month of my year dedicated to the study of ceremonial magic. For thirty-one days now, I have performed the Qabalistic Cross upon waking and before working any other magic (well, except that one day I overslept and had to come back home to do it at noon; rough morning, that). I have performed Penczak’s Ascending the Spheres meditation a half-dozen times over the course of the last week, have prepared space in my Inner Temple, and have built my altar of Malkuth.

After a month of performing the Qabalistic Cross, often more than once in a day, I have mastered it to the degree that I can perform it’s invocation silently – tuning to each of the arms of the Q-Cross the same way I tune to the Elements when I cast my circles. It has made some lasting changes to my aura, not all of which I yet fully understand, but so far they seem all to the better. The ritual has helped me keep my course as the time my coursework demands and the toll of my seasonal allergies tear away at the hours of sleep available in any given night. At a school that strongly encourages people to overcommit themselves, to give more than they have, it is helping me maintain my proper position at the center of my own universe.

There is still a great deal to learn from the ritual, of course, and I will try further variants and modifications as the months pass. But I am ready to move on.

I am ready to immerse myself in Malkuth – the Kingdom, or the Garden as Pecnzak also calls it, though I wonder at that translation. I have familiarized myself with the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram as much as one can without actually performing it. I will perform it daily at least for the full month, probably for the rest of the year. I will perform it in its full and original glory, Archangels and all, for at least a week before experimenting with the common Wiccan variant. I have a quart of Full Moon water left after starting my mead, and look forward to using that to make Holy Water. I may also use up the rest of my Dark Moon water for a different batch – I wonder if it will turn out different. I look forward to exploring the Elemental Realms of Earth as a part of this process, and exploring a new paradigm of the elements.

I approach Malkuth at dawn. So mote it be.