Babalon Dairies: # 14: Snakes and Ladders


This is Part 14 to a series of posts about my adventures during 2005, leading up to the performance of Paul Green’s play Babalon. The story is full of cloak and dagger, initiatory strangeness, chaos, and hysteria. It shows what can happen on the Magical path if one is not careful…

Directed by occultist, Alison Rockbrand, Babalon was performed on December 16, 2005, at the John Gielgud Theatre at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts to a sold out audience of London’s finest occultists and magicians. If you want to listen to it, click Radio QBSaul: Archives: Babalon. I played Marjorie Cameron/Babalon. I am called Angela Murrow because I had to hide my identity.

Babalon Diaries # 14

Those of you who have brought Deities through yourselves will understand  what I mean when I say: at this point all Hell  broke loose.

A Deity as powerful as Babalon, coming through a frame as sensitive as mine, was a bit too hot handle. Marjorie Cameron was a Taurus at least. Grounded! We Aquarians? Not known for it.

I have heard so many reports of magic going haywire. Even among the pros, relationships can be ruined as the scales tip wildly and reality crumbles. Some magicians don’t recover completely. I wonder about one of our number, because he was totally out to lunch most of the time, surrounded  with all his demons and other friends…

102009  SNAKE Emerald  #4

>I was feeling pretty rocky, sometimes sliding into a kind of hectic edginess and emotional reactivity >that was not like me at all. It was good for the role of Cameron, but I grew to fear the terrible flames <of kundalini that were coursing through my system filling me with desires I knew would lead to >serious trouble for little old me if I acted on them. I suppose there had be an outlet for trouble. It >came via a couple of my regular Tarot clients from Camden Market.

>There was this family issue.

>The Turkish one I’ll call A.  She was someone I thought was a friend, that I could trust her, at least on the grounds that I helped her so much, finding her places to stay, helping her get jobs, introducing her to people who I thought would be good for her to know. I even did readings for her during my free time to save her having to travel to Camden Town. I suppose she resented it when I didn’t want to give her discounts when she called me on my own time. Rather I charged her extra as any right thinking professional would do who needs down time after working in the public all day. I will never understand the thinking that you should get to wear somebody out and get special favors for it!??

Why didn’t I know she was a scheming, two-faced, treacherous, lying cow? Because of the fatal flaw of many of us in the helping professions — empathy!

I made the mistake of recommending her for a job at a pub owned by my other client,  who I’ll call C.

C’s father was a very wealthy, middle aged man and (HOW did I miss this?) A. was a true Gold Digger. Determined at all costs to land a wealthy, middle aged Englishman and marry him, she made her play for C’s father taking advantage of his usual drunken state and desire for much younger women.. C’s father was not divorced from her mother, so it was unlikely he would marry A. so she could stay in England legally. But that did not deter her any more than gratitude would prevent her slandering her friends when she found out C’s father did not approve of “the occult”.

Long story short, C. and A. began to coming to me every day complaining about each other and campaigning against each other. I was trying to stay balanced myself, and trying to understand where each of them was coming from, but when C. proved to me, in undeniable terms, that A. was slandering me behind my back, and telling lies about me, and telling C. that I was dangerous and  just after her money, I went ballistic and confronted A. ! Neither me nor Babalon was having any of that!

This of course made things worse. A. was so addicted to getting Tarot Readings, and so insistent on having them when she wanted them, that I began to let her trade with me for Turkish coffee readings because I knew she didn’t have any money — even when I no longer wanted any readings and knew she didn’t need them. She was just like a machine once she began a behavior, she would not stop. I put up with it because I felt sorry for her…the road to Hell was duly paved.

So A. set her cap for C.’s dad. C. grew to hate A.


Silly me had a great idea: Let’s solve this problem.

I was hanging out with all of these magicians so I asked one of them if he knew how to bust up a destructive relationship that was hurting so many people and causing no end of grief for me?
He said it was his “specialty”.
“How much would you charge?”
“300 pounds.”
“Maybe I have a job for you…”

So I introduced this Magus to C. and decided to let them work it out.

We sat in the Devonshire Arms, now the Hobgoblin, in Camden Town. At that time The Dev was very cool Goth pub with these wonderful dark, deathly Tarot designs painted on the woodwork. (I hope they are still there. It would be a shame for them to disappear.)



C. made an excellent impression on Mr Magus. He told her she was a born sorceress and he would be happy to help her out. They made whatever agreement they made. I thought, “Good. C will be happy, and I can get some peace.” Famous last words. The Babalon current was moving through me, and taking over my whole life — Babalon:  Goddess of Love and War! (How I laugh in retrospect!)

Weeks went by and nothing changed with Daddy Warbucks and A. C. and I began to wonder if any magic had indeed been done. Despite lack of results, the  Magus came to collect his fee. I got the whole sordid story second hand.


The day after paying the Devil’s ransom, C. came to see me in the market. She was in hysterics.

She had gone to the Dev, to meet the Magus and pay him the 300 pounds.  The Magus showed up with the Wiz. They  expected, along with the 300 pounds, for  C. to buy them drinks. She being young and unsure did this for them , buying round after round until they all were drunk. They left the Dev and went to another pub across the canal where the Magus read Tarot cards for some girl, and scared her half to death.

“Arlene, that poor girl was crying he scared her so much, and they kept talking about Sex Magic and the Eleventh Degree. They wanted me to do something with both of them. Down by the canal!”


If any of you don’t know the evil reputation of the canal that runs through Camden Town, well I have news for you! At least once a year a body is found floating in it, and in the two years before this incident, boys were fishing suitcases out of the water — ugh! I can’t even write about what was inside!  And body parts — one of the big news stories that year was the boy who was killed in a Black Magic ritual  whose remains were fished out of the canal.
The drug addicts fixed themselves up under the bridge. The Camden Ripper was at large. It was a pretty yucky place.

“You didn’t do it did you?”

“NO! But they said they were going to perform the Eleventh Degree down by the canal. With each other!”

“Oh, they are just playing with you.”

“No they’re not! And they took all my money and expected me to buy their drinks and then (Magus) terrified that poor girl….told her she had demons all around her, and was under the influence of sorcery…

My head began to throb in earnest at that point. To the Magus demonae would have been desirable. It goes to show you difficult it can be to get out of your own frame of reference!


I figured I would try to find out what this Eleventh Degree was because I knew nothing about it. I was never into Crowley, remember. That night at rehearsal, The Two Bros would neither speak to me nor look me in the eye. Magus was straining to be jolly. I knew he was worried about what happened and that C. had told me all about it.  I stayed neutral. We were there to rehearse, after all.  When I did not act strangely, the Two Magicians seemed to interpret that to be that I didn’t know anything, so they relaxed. Still there was tension.

After the rather tumultuous rehearsal,  I grabbed G. and asked him to explain.  “What is the Eleventh Degree?”

G. seemed a bit edgy. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because Magi One and Two scared C. half to death saying they were doing the Eleventh Degree down by the canal.”

I shouldn’t have felt upset, but I was.  I suppose the whole atmosphere lent itself to that. G didn’t say much of anything after that, but I had a horrible awareness that Babalon wanted him. He was 25 years old and I was his mother’s age. But did Babalon care?

This was the big secret that those other Magic Boys didn’t know. They don’t do the choosing when it comes to Babalon. Neither does the Priestess — which is what I was at that point — Babalon is the one who decides who to bestow her favors upon. This was a very complicated thing…..


And of course, if you want to listen to podcasts of our December 16, 2005 performance of Babalon, the links are just below.

Babalon: Part One

Babalon: Part Two

Please leave comments. For updates of the Babalon Diaries, subscribe to my RSS Feed or my email list. There is more to come…

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For Thanksgiving: The Beauty of the Earth: photos by Todd Atteberry

Thank the Goddess for the beauty of the earth!



For those of you who want something to do after dinner beside watching the football game, I have a special treat.

I found Todd Atteberry’s  wonderful blog “A Gothic Cabinet of Curiosities and Mysteries” while I was hunting for images.

I don’t know what Mr. Atteberry does, but his photos look like paintings by the Old Masters such as Rembrandt, or Vermeer.

His work is so beautiful, that I  commented on his blog and went back a few times to his many galleries of  evocative, eerie, haunting images. When he told me he was going to Salem for the first time, I sent him my blog post Haunted Salem so he would know a little bit about how it was before the 1980′s economy crash in New England inspired a true horror  show of commercial theme park kitsch exploiting the town’s reputation for witchcraft.


He made his trip, told me via Facebook that the article helped him a lot which was nice to hear.  I was then directed his page where I found a gorgeous picture of one of the old graveyards under a spreading old oak tree. I have been to Salem many times over the years and have never seen such an evocation of the power in the land as that photo. Todd seems to be able to erase all evidence of the modern world. You feel like you have walked into that time over 300 years ago when America was still a colony of England and our King was George III.

These new images of Salem are on his blog now –  GO HERE NOW:


I hope you enjoy these gorgeous images of autumn in New England and their evocation of the true meaning of Thanksgiving by a true artist who has the gift of Seership and records his visions with a camera.



Go off into cyberspace and explore Todd Atteberry’s many art galleries. And, if you feel like you have to own something,

or want to send your Friendly Witchy Blogger a Yule Prezzie — he sells these for a song!

Here is a link to his big gallery:

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Does This Sound Like You?

Could you be a Carrier of the Witch Blood?


Sharon Tate in “Eye of the Devil”, 1963. Initiated by Alex Sanders in preparation for her role as Odile LeCaray, she may have been a natural witch. Her Astrological chart with its strong Neptunian influence suggest this may be so.

Are You:


drawn to dark, mysterious things?

not just interested in Vampires and  Faeries, you want to be one?

unable to stay away from books about witchcraft and sorcery?

able to see or sense ghosts, and the past lives of places?

excited about going to places like Salem, or Whitby?

into dark glamor and wish to convey a powerful presence?

compelled by the Mysteries?

having trouble staying in your body? Are out of body experiences a away of life?

Since childhood you have practiced rituals to either placate the Gods, or communicate with spirits.

in a natural deep communion with nature and the spirits in trees, plants, animals, and landscapes.

passionate that sacred things and places must be protected.

more perceptive than most other people you know?

convinced that you have to keep these qualities to yourself.

These are just some of the  possible traits that can indicate that you may be a hereditary witch — that you are a carrier of the Witch Blood


Margaret Hamilton caught on fire while filming the Wizard f Oz!

How it Used to Be

I grew up in the 1960’s and 1970’s, in a small town of Irish and French Catholics in Massachusetts. Witches were believed to be either fairy tale characters or evil old women who were burned at the stake in the Middle Ages.

England had serious laws against witchcraft until 1951. After these laws were repealed,  Gerald Gardner went public with Wicca, a religion he developed by cobbling together folk lore, the ideas of Margaret Murray, some involvement with British magical traditions, and perhaps with a mix of the tribal ritual he may have seen in his years as a civil servant in Indonesia.

Robert Cochran came along later claiming to come from a long line of witches, as did Sibyl Leek. Still, the idea of a family carrying on an unbroken heritage of witchcraft or magical practices was considered a very wild claim. Yet some people seemed to be born with psychic and magical powers, were clearly drawn to tales of witchery and magic, and had the imagination to create communities of like minded souls who came together to be witches.

Those desires had to come from some place! This is where the idea of the Witch Blood was born. It may have been Robert Cochran who coined the term to describe people who for some inexplicable reason were willing to risk everything — jobs, houses, partners, families, etc. in order to pursue the path of witchcraft. Witch Queen Maxine Sanders was driven out of her home by frightened neighbors and had another house torched when they found out she was a Witch, even though she had done them no harm.

The conclusion was that, just as in fairy tales in which the Beggar Maid is discovered to be a Princess by virtue of her uncharacteristic beauty and refinement, someone with witch blood in their veins can be spotted by other witches.  Perhaps there are people who come from families where the Craft was practiced long ago. These practices went underground, or were replaced with Christianity, but something remains in the genes that is passed down to one or members of the family unrecognized, or misunderstood.

Dormant Witch Blood can also be ignited by Initiation into Wicca, Faery Witchcraft practices,  and the creation of a magical way of life.


Carole Bohanon is the new witch at  Wookey Hole Caves, England.


Today, many people have been born into witch families, and raised in the Craft. There is no doubt that they are hereditary witches and carry the Witch Blood. There is no mystery surrounding it as there when I was a young person just finding this stuff out about myself.

Still, I am sure that there are some in the current generation who feel these things and have no role models in their families. Their families may even be fundamentalist Christians — I have known a few people like that. Some Christians doth protest too much, and some ex-witches have gone into Christianity because of bad experiences in covens, or after frightening themselves when the magic actually works! They can be the most virulent antagonists against witchcraft.

Of course films and now television are currently having a field day with witches. Teenagers can take them on as role models, and in many cases, not be stigmatized as weirdos. In general, I have found witches to be a pretty happy lot, optimistic and creative, imaginative and fun loving.  If sinister overtones are there, it is because of the dark cycle we all must go through, and the way some us walk between the worlds. Some witches are also sociopaths, but that isn’t just because they are witches, nor is sociopathology exclusive to witches and magicians.

If you have found yourself wandering in the woods, or walking the hills like a lost soul, hoping somewhere deep inside, where even you cannot verbalize it, that you will find them, then you might be blessed with the witch blood. If you leave offerings for the spirits, try to engage others to sit in a circle and call the spirits, if you feel you have  a secret name, you might have the witch blood. If you are more drawn to these things than “normal” activities, are more comfortable in nature than in a church, if you can’t get your nose out of certain types of books….then I may have news for you….


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Overcoming Poverty Programing: uber long post…sorry.

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The Power of Self Healing

I had a profound healing experience yesterday that I thought to share with you. In all my years as a healer, I never  did any work on myself that was so surprising and transformational. I discovered the core of my money issues and the healing process shook my foundations in a way I never would have believed. Since we all have these issues, I thought this little post might provide some helpful insights.


Just to set this up, i came back to the States exactly three years ago after nine years living in London. I had a Tarot reading stall in Camden Lock Market. Before that, I had had a thriving healing practice in Seattle, and made enough money to allow me to travel and live a very nice lifestyle with a lot of freedom and few worries — plus I helped a lot people. In London, I was reduced to eventually having to put in four days a week in hyper stressful environment, reading Tarot cards for a relative pittance. After a while I got so busy that I began to experience serious burnout and everything in my life fell apart. It has taken me these three years to recover my health and balance.

I have an arsenal of healing techniques that have evolved over the years. Among them is a method that actually changes DNA patterning so that you can unload  past conditioning and replace it with something you want – so you can move forward instead of being stuck.

Money has been a serious issue for me since my return. For one, during the last year I was in London,  I was not able to make very much money so when I came back to Seattle, my savings was used up re-locating and I had to get a J.O.B. I was only able to work part-time because I needed to heal.
Result: barely making it. Then the economy went bust. Combined with my inability to work for tyrants,  here I am on unemployment just squeaking along below the poverty level.

I have begun to see clients again. And after twenty-five years of experience, I feel I am entitled to charge premium prices.  I have arrange things so that I see  fewer clients who pay more  for the sake of my health. I do not want that burn-out again. I am still undercharging and struggling with the issue of translating value into money.


A really nice lady was referred to me  for a Clairvoyant Reading by a client I have had for years. The reading went so well, that it also over time, and I charged her for the extra half hour. This was great for me because I am determined to feel deserving to be paid what I am worth. But, after she left, I felt guilty.

This feeling of guilt was so strong, I had to sit down and deal with the fact that I felt  guilty about being paid — even when I have provided excellent value to the client. The first thought in my head was that if i were a man I wouldn’t even think twice about it and would have charged more in the first place. I remember being told long ago that, whereas female’s in the helping professions are expected to have sliding scale  payment options, males rarely do, if ever. I was feeling very tired of how us women seem to  have been programed to lose all the time. So often, women put themselves “on sale” as Suzi Ormond says — and its wrong.

I struggled with this curse for an hour or so and realized I need to do something about it, because I am so sick of this mindset. Since I have been on the internet,  in the last six months, I have become aware that there are huge numbers of people in this country who think nothing of dropping $20,000 on a  weekend seminar — who cry poverty while they money out of their ears. It is a real eye-opener.


Poverty Consciousness Sucks

I grew up in a poor working class French Canadian family in Massachusetts. My father never made more than $20,000 a year in his entire life working in the office of a factory. My mother worked part-time in a department store. There were three of us kids. My mother still thinks $20,000 a year is fantastic money. Cripes, I made way more than that as a part time healer and psychic — even working part-time in the theater! And it wasn’t enough just for me to live on! To make it even more deeply programed, all of my friends have to struggle financially. They are mostly women, and a couple of guys, who despite their brains and talents barely make ends meet.

There is nothing like getting over 50 to make it plain that if you continue on that path, Bag-Ladyville is your destiny when you live in the Land of the Free.
And nobody will care.

So, I decided to use one of my DNA techniques to do away, once and for all, with this stupid Poverty Consciousness. And it is stupid. Its a total waste to live like that. I decided I had to stop putting myself on sale. I am not a bargain basement.


After my usual hectic week, I sat down last night and did this Energetic Re-Patterning of the DNA technique on myself. In this method, you decide if the problem is in your organs — in the Chinese  Five- Elements system, or your Chakras. Then you connect with your Higher Self and  begin to pick numbers from a list. I have found that even though I have the lists in front of me, I can make myself not see them — I am good at unplugging my recognition of the ones I know by heart.

I started with  the Chinese Five- Elements, and this is what I came up with — it was so dead on it was scary!

Question: Why Do I feel guilty Accepting Money in Exchange for My Work?

Earth Element:
Organ: Stomach —  deficient energy
Reason: Over-sympathetic  — Need to Nurture Others

Primary Pattern: Not feeling I have the right to give support and ask for it back. I do not believe my needs are equal to those of others.

(Well, that hit home like a ton of bricks on so many levels. But it was only descriptive and I needed more, so I decided to check into my chakras as well.)

Energy was stuck in my Second Chakra and my Third Eye.

2nd Chakra : Lack of Pleasure
I must sacrifice pleasure to survive
Primary Pattern: Lack of ability to nurture myself

(Another bingo! This one is so me these days, and with a Venus ruled horoscope not normal or conducive to anything good. I could become bitter but I won’t :))

3rd Eye: Vision in denial
Not having the ability to imagine something that has never been before
Primary pattern: Loss of imagination and ability to dream.
(Who me? Things are worse than I thought.)


The Universal Fear was — no surprise:
Lack of Self Worth in the eyes of others. Hahaaha!

My Karmic pattern had to do with Astrology in relation to earth changes,
My kidnapping someone in a past life (these are often metaphors)
and Birth tTauma having to do with my mother’s  memories of deaths in the family.

That last one set my mind in  a spin. I am the first born. My mother was 20 years old when she had me. When she was quite small her little 3 year old  brother had an appendicitis attack and died. She had been left alone with him while my flashy grandparents were out partying and they refused to come home when she called them. so she was left alone to watch her  little brother die. Their extraordinarily colorful family crumbled after that. I won’t go on…

In my DNA due to past life carry-over:
(Well that speaks for itself!)

My Womb Pattern: To survive I must fit in
(I’m the last person to do that aren’t I? If I survival depends on fitting in I’m doubly screwed!)


Points of Pain

What really hit me was the idea that I must sacrifice pleasure to survive. That brought up masses of pain. I’m an artist  ruled by Venus –  I live for beauty and sensual pleasure — or I used to. It also hit me how I was throwing myself away. I can’t afford to do that. I enjoy living indoors in the lap of luxury. i would like to stay in 5 star hotels when I travel. I hate being poor. Though, true child of the 60′s, I used to mix that up with being free!

So, taking that as a point of pain, I began to meditate.
Here is where it all comes clear.

If  you come from a poor background, and have poor friends, or are women depending on a man for survival — something my generation was shamed into letting go of by feminism — this may  resonate with you.

In meditation, my mind went back over the family history as I had heard and experienced it growing up. It was depressive and gray,  black and white. Images of Victorian London ( or in my case France or Ireland)  with cobbled streets out of Charles Dickens came up in which I appeared to myself as a poor thing, an insubstantial waif in the street, and then I turned into a hardened woman, old beyond her years, scrubbing the steps in front of my house in the slum. I kept hearing myself saying “scrabbling, scrabbling, endless scrabbling.” That phrase summed it all up. It kept repeating, so I used it as a fuel to  move energy.

(This image relates a lot to mother and her side of the family as well, and is one of the reasons for the forced glamor of my grandparents who sought to escape their poor backgrounds by acting the fashionable party people. Of course their attempts to have pleasure, and escape survival mode, backfired horribly. That is the power of conditioning!)

Meanwhile my body from chest to waist and the back of the neck was a solid block of pain. This was where I was holding this DNA pattern of “endless scrabbling.”   It was so intense I worried I wouldn’t  be able to move it.

In the method I use, you examine  the images and feelings held in this energy. You must also forgive whoever instilled it in you, and  at the same time feel the pain of what it has done to your life. I had to forgive the whole family tree. That wasn’t too difficult. Many of them had suffered more than me. I had also had a rather amazing life without much money, so the effect of this poverty training wasn’t that bad — until now. The cost of living in this country has become  ridiculously high since 2002 and it is slated to go up again.

And it is hard to get older with nothing in the bank, and no support system. Money has become a  necessity now.

So I let the images arise of gray and miserable and hardened form in my mind. I knelt “scrabbling” on the cobbles with a wire brush cleaning the city dirt off the front doorstep. Finally,  I was able to pull away from the images.  As I detached emotionally,  I stopped  judging the goodness or badness of the situation and this neutralized the fear. Then I  let the whole thing sit, there as nothing but a ball of energy.

My whole being shook and shattered like nothing I ever experienced before. Years of pain broke away and I felt myself opening up and expanding — making room for more. It is hard to convey intense power of this in words, but if you can imagine how a genii who has been stuck in a bottle for centuries feels when some one finally lets him out. He can expand to his full size! he can breathe! That would be worth three wishes, wouldn’t it? My aura got bigger and the patterns dropped off like shattered glass. Then I drew the energy into my heart, with forgiveness, and  and healing of the wounds took place.

So much for an issue I had not thought of as being important. All the pains in my body that one might associate with age are gone. Lack of money, poverty programing, turned out to be  deeper, and more profound an issue than I ever imagined.

But  poverty was normal!  Not just for me and my family, but for my friends  and associates as well. How often do we question “normal”?

The second step in this DNA process is to replace that old program with a new positive one. I wanted to feel free to be rewarded with money equal to the value I give in my services. And that clients are happy to pay me, and I am more than happy to receive money in exchange –  according to the just Law of Reciprocity.

Considering I have changed so many peoples lives, that could be quite a lot.

This was even more mind blowing. Normally manifestation techniques are relatively quick, but this shook me to foundations.  The kundalini rose like  wildfire and started moving through everything and blowing out patterns and DNAs, expanding my energy yet again, and showing me visions of book deals and money pouring down from the heavens in the form of gold coins until I was buried in a mountain of cash.
I sealed it and thanked it.

Today I will do part 2 of this process which is an emotional clean up.

But I wanted to post this to inspire you all to look at your money issues in a new light — as being symptomatic of deeper problems that if left unchecked could magnetize some dire straits to you. Especially you women — stop putting yourselves in the bargain basement sale. Take a page out of the men’s’ book. We should not have to just give and give and give and get nothing back. In the end you could be left with nothing at all.

So maybe just reading about my programing — different than yours of course — might get you thinking about why you have money problems, if you do, and how you might benefit from tackling them head on.


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Shamanic Illness as Initiation

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Diary of Drawings

This is a drawing I made in the mid 1980′s.

During the two and half years that Saturn transited my Eighth House of love and death, I went a little mad you might say.

It wasn’t insanity or anything, it was because of psychic attack.

I had been in a deep relationship with a man who was separated from his wife. If there is such a thing as a Soul Mate, we were it. We openly talked about ourselves that way. I had a vision of him shortly before we met. During my daily meditation practice, I saw him falling out of the sun towards me. When we met, it was an instant attraction. Numerologist Tania Gabrielle would probably look at my 44-8 birth numbers and call it Fate.

But the estranged  wife wasn’t having any of it.  When she found out he was seeing me, she decided wanted him back and went on the warpath with me.

There was a point at which she got really aggressive and started to play games. I was a pretty otherworldly and therefore naive in the way that otherworldly, ungrounded people are. I had nothing against her anyway — this guy and I were Soul Mates. What was I supposed to do?

When the fallout started, I was kicked out of the apartment by my room mate. I moved into a house closer to where my boyfriend lived and spent most of my time at his place. She started coming around. Next thing I knew, I fell into such a deep depression that my personality actually changed. I even looked weird to myself surrounded in this horrible dark vortex.

I always drew pictures and started doing that for hours at a time instead of studying — I was in University then. I mostly drew images of this guy and me in boats and in towers. I began a series of myself with antlers on my head. The drawing at the top is one of the survivors.

Its me looking into a mirror and seeing  antlers on my head.  Before that, my boyfriend had told me I looked like a deer. Maybe it was auto-suggestion, but I do have a Capricorn Moon and associate this self image with that.



At one point I became very ill and had to go to the hospital with anemia. I was a vegetarian, but also very depleted in other ways.

I became obsessive compulsive, especially with the drawings. I just didn’t stop. Drawing is a wonderful thing, but I felt like I had a motor in my head — maybe I had become autistic or something. It was just weird.

I had been a regular meditator since I was seventeen, and with this boyfriend, had gotten into Tibetan Buddhism and had been initiated into a few saints whose names I can’t remember any more. One was a purification saint. I have always been a great visualizer, and had built up images of these saints in my mind that were very powerful. I was really good at meditation.

So imagine how it felt when I couldn’t do it any more. All I saw was a swirling black energy that made me sea sick. I even went back to Massachusetts to visit my family and it was still just as bad. I was always nauseous and a light- headed, and very confused.

My dreams were  violent. I was always being chopped up into pieces. My body parts were scattered all over the place. I had a series of these  dreams and I drew pictures of those and burned them because I was afraid I might be murdered or something.

Then one night, I dreamed my body parts were scattered over the snow and it was very bloody. Some Inuits came up the slope and wrapped all my body parts in a seal skin. Then they put me inside a sweat house — I can still remember lying on a bench near a wonderful steamy rock pile. I stayed there for a long time.

When I was healed, I dreamed all the time that I swam under the sea with the seals. I was a kind of mermaid.  I drew the seal under the boat that my boyfriend and I were on all the time in my drawings. I let the seal guide me through my emotional turmoil and show me what I needed to know.

Psychic Attack


Our relationship suffered because my boyfriend  just wouldn’t deal with what was going on. He was too weak, and they had a six year old daughter that he felt guilty about.

I began to isolate. I was not a fighter. I still hate to fight, but have learned since that sometimes I have to stand up for myself. But I do hate conflict.

One day I was in my room and took a break from drawing. I wanted to meditate. I remember so clearly sitting in front of my altar and seeing the black vortex spinning all around me. I also saw all these spirits, very flat with triangular heads — a bit dog-like and cartoonish. There were hundreds of then all over the room. I felt sick as one of them stood behind and was tying something around my neck. Seeing them, I said to myself, “I am going to push them away with my light.”

I focused really hard on the light inside of me and sent it out until it was all around me. I continued to expand, obliterating all those little dog things, intending to fill the entire room.  Suddenly there was a kind of explosion, and it was as if the sun had come into the room!  Golden light was streaming everywhere and in the midst of the light were these eyes, black rimmed and compassionate, and face like Christ, though I am not if it was He or some older God. The golden light kept pulsating all around me, erasing all of the spirits, filling the room and healing me.

Deer Lady

It was after that I began to draw the deer lady pictures.

My relationship bit the dust. She was a lawyer and he didn’t stand a chance. Exhausted  ( and I haven’t even told you the half of it) I bowed out and concentrated on school.

This was the 80′s. Lots of books and courses were being given on the West Coast especially. I was also living near some of the most powerful Indian Tribes in North America. Powerful for magic that is. Gradually I learned about Shamanism and was told by one of the Salish Elders here that I had had a Shamanic sickness. All the dismemberment dreams were about taking me apart so I would be put back together in a certain way. The Seal medicine was help me to flow in the sea of the emotions — I also say the unconscious.  The Inuits are at the North Pole where me spirit came into the earth’s atmosphere before birth. They  still have a very strong Shamanic culture.

I see the Capricorn Moon at work as well. The fish-goat who climbs to the top of the mountain and dives deep into the ocean, is very much like the selkie seal lady and the deer lady I became. The Indian gave me a name: Whiteswan, a spirit  bird who transits sea and sky. I also believe that the psychic attack forced me  to strengthen my power, strengthen my light, because that was all it took to make the attack stop and fill me with a vision of golden light and the presence of God.

Two years later I was drafted into the healing profession and have been doing that ever since. Though the seal medicine healed me, it is the deer that I feel is the most like me and images of people with horns and antlers cast a kind of spell over me. I suppose I am more sure-footed that way.

Chesca Potter

Chesca Potter

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Video: Celtic Gods and Goddesses

Author and occultist, Sorita D’Este,  posted this on Facebook and I just had to put it on the blog! It is really gorgeous with vocals by Loreena McKennitt and some very cool storytelling. Its also a nice follow up for the Ogham post.
Thanks Sorita! And enjoy!

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Irish / Celtic Gods and Goddesses (Part 1) – The Ever Living Ones The Celtic pantheon is known from a variety of sources, these include written Celtic mythology, ancient places of worship, statu…
Irish / Celtic Gods and Goddesses (Part 1) – The Ever Living Ones

The Celtic pantheon is known from a variety of sources, these include written Celtic mythology, ancient places of worship, statues, engravings, cult objects, and place or personal names.

It should be understood that there are two main types of Celtic deities: general and local. General deities were known by Celts throughout large regions, and are the gods and goddesses they invoked for protection, healing, luck, honour, and many other needs. The local deities were the spirits of a particular feature of the landscape (such as particular mountains, trees, or rivers) and thus was generally only known by the locals in the surrounding areas.
Category: Education

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Ogham & Faery Divination

Ogham and The Book of Ballymote


I am writing a book on the Irish Ogham. I have been working with the Trees and the strange alphabet based on them, and reputed to be one of the only things to have come to us from the Druids,  since the mid 1980′s. I wrote a poem way back then called Witches Wheel, using the Trees on the Wheel of the Year. This poem was instantly snapped up by the editors of Seattle poetry mag Bellowing Ark, launching my brief, but eventful, poetry career.

I was going through some journals and things and found that old Bellowing Ark with this poem in it. It inspired me to put a book together using this poem based on the order of trees in association with the months that felt right to me back then, and still do now. It is not the standard Celtic Tree Calender, or Celtic Astrology we have had marketed to us for the last 20 years. It is based on the thirteen month lunar calender of the Celts — equally speculative, but more appropriate. I back up my ideas in the book and will make it available through this blog.

At the time I wrote Witches Wheel, I was heavily under the influence of Robert Graves’ White Goddess.  I wrote a few others under that influence, including Song to the Gundestrup Cauldron lurking somewhere in the Archives of this blog. Recently as I was doing research to refresh my memory a bit,  I was poking around in an online version of the Book of Ballymote. There I found this list — a nice bit of wonderfully poetic Tree Lore.

Click below for that poem:

Intimations of Ancestry: Song to the Gundastrup Cauldron

The Book of Ballymote was written by a scribe and named for the parish of Ballymote, County Sligo, in 1390 or 1391.

I don’t know really know much about it except that it is full of Ogham, like this page here: all these arrangements of little lines symbolize particular trees, and everything they are each associated with.

RIA image detail (2)

For more details on the Book of Ballymote, there is a fabulous website:

Ogham Scales from the Book of Ballymote, by Dr. Barry Fell.

Faery Divination?

I think it was from R.J. Stewart that I first heard where the Faery Tunes of Ireland, like Pretty Girl Milking a Cow, and the Faery Tunes of O’Carolan, came from.  In my other brief career as folk musician, I knew that some tunes were  known as Faery Tunes, but I did not know that they came up from under the ground.

Call me what you will, but when I was in Ireland, I took a tour on a bus out to the Burrin. As we rode along, I could have sworn I heard music coming from under the ground. Had I known how to write music, I could prove it!

The Faery Tradition is a path of imagination and poetry. In the same way that Turlough O’Carolan captured Faery music as it rose up from the Underworld, I believe that one can get messages from Faery through the trees, the patterns the branches against the sky, and the flight of birds across the sky seen through the trees. Some of these messages may be oracular. A Faery Seer sees signs everywhere, and  with a certain poetic sensibility is able to interpret them.


These meanings are mostly about the actual uses of the trees- as types of firewood, cattle fodder, what can be made from them, what insects or animals might hide in them- or are simple descriptions of the trees. While some of the meanings are quite intriguing, I don’t believe that these lists are specifically related to divination or magic- although they could have been part of a larger system that was.

List One:

From The Scholar’s Primer:

Word Oghams of Morann Mac Main

Parentheses are mine. My meditations have been quick. They will bear deeper work, especially when you are familiar with the trees and can, in a sense, go into them. Be the tree and at the same time, the observer of the tree and you will find the juncture for divination.

At the end of this post, i gave a nice little divination technique.

B – beith, birch – faded trunk and fair hair
,   ( this is how Birch looks)

L- luis, rowan – delight of eye, blaze or flame
, ( the berries of the rowan are flame red)

F- fearn, alder – shield of warrior-bands,   (the bleeding alder was used for shields)

S- saille, willow – hue of the lifeless
,   ( willow is the threshold of the Otherworld, death)

N- nion, ash – checking of peace (a sign of peace)   ( upholds the earth)

H – huath, hawthorn – pack of wolves
   ( the Faery Tree, dangerous to touch)

D – duir, oak – highest of bushes     ( large)

T – tinne, holly – “Another thing, the meaning of 
that today” ( holly is the Winter King who must replace the Oak of Summer)

C – coll, hazel – fairest of trees
  ( poetry and wisdom)

Q -  quert, apple – shelter of a hind, a fold, lunatic ( romantic, sexual love. Lovers run mad in many Celtic tales)

M – muin, vine – strongest of effort ( you cannot break it)

G – gort, ivy – sweeter than grasses, cornfield   ( spreads everywhere like grass, but is sweeter)

NG – ngetal, broom – a physician’s strength    ( luck)

ST – straif, blackthorn – strongest of red (dye color)
  ( Also, a tree of suffering — blood)

R – ruis, elder – intensest of blushes, from shame   ( witches tree)

A – ailm, silver fir – loudest of groanings, death rattle
    ( the ghost rising up out of the earth, birth coming from death)

O – onn, furze – helper of horses, chariot wheels       ( feeds horses)

U – ura, heather – in cold dwellings, mold of earth
    ( grows close and all over the ground)

E – eadha, aspen – distinguished wood for the trembling tree  ( good fire)

I -  idho, yew – oldest of woods  ( immortality)

EA – ebad, aspen (or white poplar)- most buoyant of wood  (graceful, flexible)

OI – oir, spindle tree- most venerable of structures   ( house building wood)

UI -  uillean, gooseberry- sweetest of wood
       ( berries)

IO – ipin, honeysuckle (or woodbine)- juicy wood
     ( wine)

AE – emancoll, witchhazel- expression of weariness   ( end of wisdom)


List Two:

These meanings show another aspect of each tree.

Word Oghams of Mac ind Oic:

b, beith, birch – most silvery of skin ( bark of the birch)

l, luis, rowan – friend of cattle  ( I think cattle shelter under rowan)

f, fearn, alder – guarding of milk   ( The Fery King who guards women — shields were made of alder)

s, saille, willow – activity of bees ( the buzzing of bees signal proximity of the Faery Queen. Willow is her tree)

n, nion, ash – fight of women    ( the Three Norns live under Yggdrasil, the World Tree and spin the Web of Wyrd)

h, huath, hawthorn – blanching of face ( fear the Faeries –  supernatural beings, harbingers of death)

d, duir, oak – carpenter’s work
  ( wood for building houses, Door)

t, tinne, holly – fires of coal     ( holly fires, berries turn  white, green, red, and then black)

c, coll, hazel – friend of cracking  ( hazel nuts being shelled)

q, quert, apple – force of the man
  ( sexual potency inspired by beauty)

m, muin, vine – condition of slaughter, a man’s back
  (captivity,  lashes)

g, gort, ivy – (med nercc, meaning “abundance of mead.”)

ng, ngetal, broom – (this list skips this letter..)

st, straif, blackthorn – increasing of secrets   ( anything hidden under the blackthorn is safely guarded)

r, ruis, elder – redness of faces, sap of the rose
   ( Enchantress’s tree)

a, ailm, silver fir – beginning of an answer, child’s cry ( birth)

o, onn, furze – smoothest of work

u, ura, heather – growing of plants, the soil
  ( holds the soil as groundcover)

e, eadha, aspen – synonym for a friend

i, idho, yew – most withered of wood, or a sword  (old and yet strong)
ea, ebad, aspen (or white poplar)- corrective of a sick man

oi, oir, spindle tree- (this list skips this letter)

ui, uillean, gooseberry- wonderful of taste

io, ipin, woodbine (or honeysuckle)- great equal length

ae, emancoll, witchhazel- (this list skips this one)

Ogham Staves for Divination


I am not sure if Ogham staves are authentic, or if they a new thing based on the I-ching. They are cool though.

For modern people,  who don’t spend a lot of time with nature watching the trees, Ogham staves can be a replacement for this observation of the patterns of trees. Having the forest reduced and encapsulated  into a set of tools,  saves you having to learn the names, growing conditions and seasons of each and every tree.

I would tend to visit a tree — say a yew in the park close to my house — and work ask it to help understand the forces of death and rebirth, and immortality.  Or I would  find a willow if I wanted to increase my psychic powers.

I call Observing the  Ogham Faery Divination at its purest. Casting the Ogham staves can work in much the same way if you learn the qualities of the trees,  their life cycles and where they fit in the chain of life. Then, when the staves are thrown, you merge with the spirits of the trees and gather the messages from the images that come to mind. The spirits you commune with are Faery beings who impart to each tree is numinous, eerie, poetic attributes, making the staves into doorways to the Otherworld where the answers lie.


I have used Ogham divination in this way for other people. You could try it too.

1. Have the person bring you a leaf. or several if they need them. As they gather them, they should be thinking the whole time about their question or concern, and thank the trees for the leaves.

2. Go out with your client and find a tree that the leaf belongs to. For instance, if they brought you an Oak leaf, find an Oak tree.

3, Sit under the tree, lean on its trunk, and go into communion with the spirit of the tree — its Faery self.

4. If you like Geomancy, this would be great to use it, but only  if you need a tool besides Clairvoyance. But if you meditate deeply enough, you should be able to receive direct impressions — messages from the tree, the wind in the branches, the life all around it. What falls on your head?

5. What animals come along? Imagination is the key to Faery divination.

6.  You can also make a board like the diagram above and throw stones on it and see where they land if you need more detail. This is good if you have to  stay inside, or want a bit more information on an issue and require more trees.

Have fun!

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Babalon Diaries # 13 The Gospel of Babalon

Occultist and director, Alison Rockbrand as Babalon

Metamorphic Ritual Theatre Production of Parzifal on Glastonbury Tor, 2005

Alison Rockbrand as Babalon
Alison Rockbrand

Alison Rockbrand is an Occultist who uses Experimental Theatre as a vehicle to create Magic. She gets Babalon Diary #13 — of Transformation

Alison has had a fascinating career. Before moving to London she was Artistic Director of what sounded to me like a kind of Surrealist burlesque theatre of madness in Toronto, Canada. She  studied the sacred Kathkali dance in India as  a basis for a production of MacBeth. One of my favorite stories of Alison’s is the one about a production of MacBeth she directed  with a cast of 6 year olds.

There is another odd link-up with what I have discovered to be the real through-line of my life. It was the bright aspect of the Holy Grail that led me to Britain in the mid 1990′s. Once there, the Black Grail took me down into the depths and then  came Babalon — the Red Grail.  This production of Parzifal, classic story of Grail Quest, connected Alison and I together as Babalon, before I even met her later that same year, 2005.

Alison discovered the Babalon Diaries quite early on and wrote me about them. I asked her if she would like to contribute, and she offered me this very interesting piece. The Biblical language is very much in line with the writing style of Aleister Crowley, original invoker of Babalon.

The Gospel of Babalon

according to Ilaktra Drugvant

translated by Alison Rockbrand

Whore of Babalon>Behold, to those who would appease with transference the beasts and offer worshipful sacrifice to us, >the words within are not dictated: we understand the rites to be of utmost personal pleasure and self >dedication. Essence we have not, blood is to be drunk and contained within, without the merest >influence of disdain. We are those whose sacrifice is the unanswerable, the lie and the abomination >placed upon the land in which our houses are raised, destroyed, and raised again.

>Avail us, Mother of these Aberrations of the birth which gives way to the lie, the untold and the >fanciful: for we are not the dismal followers of the path of righteousness but rather of the wayward >way, of the unsanctified ritual and the ungrateful fulfillment. We know and can remember the word >of untruth that you spoke to us in the dry lands and then again in the rain, while you fed us and >satiated us with fine intoxicants and the flesh. Of the flesh, the blood and the death of beauty you >have taught us: this and more we know and we will speak. Become do we the eye, the one that sees, >and then who understands the dance of intoxication that she has presented to us. She has said that >the dance is to become the music and the music is not a different dancer than she. She has said this >in the rain while moving on the body of a man, while eating cake and wine, while sitting with us in her gardens filled with the rose. We have known that the shift of her time is the shift of the instrument of sound, and with this knowledge we also dance, move upon the body of a man and sit in our gardens filled with the rose and other fragrance. We have ourselves opened the void of pleasure and felt the continuum of the beast and the mother of lies as they gaze in each others eyes to behold the death of beauty and the awakening of the immortal flesh. The oscillation of the living body while engaged with the dying essence is the meaning and reason for the discovery of music: she who orders order out of the silent void of the all that is, is the one who dies and in death has taken on life, and yet also a dream of life. We who know can, as we will it, become unto a song that has played and will reside always in the great arena of the planets. Yet for us this means more than it does to a song or to a whisper, for to us the intoxicated dance is the first glimpse of the flesh’s continuity. For we do not understand the immortal gods to be without the body but within and have consecrated our bodies as though they were the sacred talismans of the later gods we are to become. Death to beauty and to the essence of desire that beauty resides within, for we are the abominations, the dark desire and the unrepentant savages of your kingdoms. For we are not subject to that we would be not, and all we are, none will be subject to those save that will become like us.

Beyond the enigma is the land of the lovely and the virtuous yet these are the ones who design to destroy our gospels of mystery. She who is called the mystery and the fulfillment of the endless riddle had spoken with the tongue of the serpent, and has said  the truth is the lie once become undone.  Speak then of the lie first and the truth after, for once born the truth is used by those who would have essence and live from it. From the lie we might gain the everlasting mystery of change and the chaos of the void. We are those whose answers change as the flesh dissolves into the godflesh and lasts as long as mystery lasts.  We then are the ones who know that all is immortality and all is continuance once the hours as darkened kings of truth have fallen at our feet and granted us the soulless life. When the enigma becomes fulfilled into itself the hours of day and night are to come into one, into one hour and this is the hour of our mothers great pleasure, her orgasm and her lie told. We are also there with her and when the riddle is open, when the unknown and the twilight are engaged in copulations we are the receivers of their fluids. We drink of the mystery and of the hourly kings and we are become wise in what we yet have not known. Our knowledge is thus what we can see with our eyes that traverse time and the limitation of answers. Our art is not of limitation, it is not done to look us back in the eye and tell us what we are: to us this is the abomination of art. Our art is what is continuous, what is dying and yet what is given to you to live beyond yourself.  We are the ones who look back at you, we are the art and we have not been created but have become what we are out of mystery and the formidable enigma.  She whose knowledge is the knowledge of all, since all is changeable, has told us this. She is the untruth come into truth and to be used in the form of the dream, the fantasy, the desire.  She who uses truth to divide the lies into dreams has told us this  My continuity is the continuity of the landscapes found in dreams. Will you dream and find that the daylight has lied to you with it’s insidious hourly truths? You must dream your way to the land of the gods and there remain, lost in the lie of your concoction. We are the dreamers and the ones who bring temptations unto all who would have them. She was the first who brought temptation to us and to others who have faltered in their fantasy. For those who accomplish and manifest their fantasy are those fit for the immortal pleasure, but those who cannot and who falter and live instead according to the laws of men will die like men, and live again not.

Accord we with strength, for as She has told us that the strong are the companions of the beast. Those who tend to the beast, feed him and ride him must have strength enough also to equal him. The beast who to you is the chaos, the barterer of men and killer of the righteous, is to us the model of our ethic. For he who is animalistic and strong enough to kill at his pleasure, kills not only the citizen, but also the slave. He sees not what he kills, save that its flesh is his desire. He will kill us as well as you if we also cannot combat with him. He kills and eats what flesh he will need to satiate himself, and in this he gives himself pleasure. He thinks not that he should do what men do, since he is not of men. He knows not guilt nor compassion, he knows not song, not dance and not beauty. He cannot be trapped therefore, by the hourly kings because no king can keep him, nor combat him save those who have his strength, his trust, or both. For to us the beast is what we watch and what we emulate in our worldly ethics, and in this he has become our partner and our mate. When we love the beast, when we mate with him and include him in our intoxications, we are then become like unto him. When we drink of his essence and devour his blood as though it were our own, we are to gain his stature, strength, and virility. And this eating of blood and drinking of essential fluid of the beast, is done between us as well, that we may not be stopped ethically by species. For to eat of the intercourse of man and to devour his blood is to us the practice of the eye seeing life turned inside out. In the flesh exposed and the blood gushing out we can see the essence of life also gushing away and we know that life is meant to be lived as though death were near and the flesh transformable. We have seen this and She has told us to do these things Keep the beast and love him, for he is your partner whose blood you will see turning life around and around. Look at him, and love the flesh as it lives, and as it dies and as it transforms. We with her have this as our idea of what is to be thought of as beauty: it is the living flesh and the promise of its death and transformation into enigma. The beast then is our emblem of the strength with which we will accomplish our immortality. He is our vehicle of pleasure and in his blood we find knowledge of the paths of entropy. Mate we then with the great beast, who kills all for pleasure, and turn we the flesh inside out to watch life change from death to godflesh, for the Mother has taught us this.


Lust do we after our divinities for these have been seen by us, and we have knowledge of our selves as the gods that inhabit heaven.  We are these, and these are us, as we do end all division and all totality. For to us the greatest union is that of unities. The unity, the total one, is divided from all that is not composite with him. The whole one, the non one, the empty or complete one, are all formations of the unit. He is the isolate one, who needs of no other one. He is either complete or he is empty of all that does not divide him. He stands like a god alone, and his power is of one who creates his paradise according to his complete desire. To us he is to be united with another unity, and to thus become and encompass the unitary power of one who both is and is not something complete. Yet by this he becomes more complete, and his power vast. For who can trap him now, who has gained the power to act the paradox? She has said: I have come to bring about the union of unities! Be not satisfied to live in your desire alone, for to have a desire beyond your own, to have your lover’s desire, is to become at once your lover and yourself. This is the knowledge of the power of love and power of the paradox. These are inseparable, for to love beyond yourself, you must love as yourself. Thus if you love beyond and through, yourself and the other, you are come to share two minds, and two divinities. To this we accord much power and much pleasure, for in this our pleasures inform each other and we are come to greater knowledge through this act. We unite the unities beyond ourselves, when we reach for the image of our godselves in the heaven of our creating. Here we will create together this paradise with our selves both in time and without, with our lovers and without, with the Mother and without until we have the art so that it cannot be made out of our limitation any longer. The art is to be made now our of our continuing knowledge and the knowledge of our lovers, so that we cannot limit our selves but fly freely into the immortal heaven when we are making our transformation into gods with flesh. By uniting with unities, our paths come to be vast and varied, so that in all the days of our flesh, we will never cease to learn and to know and to be pleasured.  For this knowledge once gained, though it increases, dies not, but lives as we do.

On to the rules of men do we tread and desire to break. For upon us these laws are given, though we do not receive.  The men who we watch and who we designate as the hourly kings or followers of kings, are men of the direst poverty and ignorance. These are the makers of truths that destroy the dreams of all living beings. For dreams to kings are dangerous things. The dream once dreamed has within it the power to manifest. The dream will undaunted seek its reality and its realization. It will traverse the land of day and the land of night and will pass right before the eyes of men as it seeks its continuity.  And the kings will observe the dreams in the form of lies and will know that they are dangerous. He will know that if enough dreams are allowed to manifest his own dream will be weakened and struggle for actualization. The king’s dream will always be too weak and the longer he spends on slaughtering the dreams of his followers the weaker his dream will become. His laws are written to stop the dreaming at its origin, to end the reckless thinking and knowing of his subjects. Since dreams and lies are created in the darkness and silence of experience, he disfavors the dark and he calls it by the name of Evil. But to us and to the Mother, evil is all that creates individuality. The first lie was the first thought by the first man who had his private desire. The dream is an intricate lie which proves by its artfulness the quality of our identity. Dream what dreams you will, followers of the lie. The laws of men are not for us, and crush them you must, if they design to crush your sleep. For it is these men who have labeled me the abomination and who have spoken of me as of a savage beast. Trust not their words of truth, for there in you will meet your demise. The Babalon has spoken to us thus.

The hourly kings call us by the names of savages and beasts, and yet we will proclaim that we are so, and therefore not to be made part of their kingdoms. They have hunted us like beasts, and come into our society to murder and defame us, for no other reason than to remain in ignorance of what great pleasure, and what knowledge and what power we offer.  For they are lost, in worlds vastly inaccessible to us, and believe that power is already theirs. Yet they are deluded by aspects of truth held onto and become belief, and will not relinquish their small amounts of hourly power for greater pleasure in the unfolding of the lie. These men’s laws and traditions we cannot abide by, since to us the law is limitation on our power and tradition a limitation on our knowledge. For though we might seem to abide by the hourly truths when we are seen by the eyes of kings and followers of kings, in these truths we hold no belief but continue to dream and know and seek pleasure in the secret ways of the Babalon.  For she is the mother of the lie and the dreamer of the inbetween.  She is the first temptation and the last which does not end. She is all continuity and all ipseity, for all is become to Babalon, all may behold Babalon, all may become Babalon.

Naught will we do and naught will be save that which gives us what we seek. We are not the ones who will not allow pleasure to be awoken and taken. Not will Babalon say, nor will we say that the way is straight or narrow, for it is not. Nor is it the way up, nor the way down, but it is the way across, sideways and through. Not to us, must one give oblations, not to Babalon, not to any god. Worship not the gods, but learn from them. Not to end up in the void of pleasure, the absence of pain, for this is not our teaching either. For our teaching is naught but what is found in the inside of the Babalon, in the bleeding Babalon, whose death cries when we kill her and devour her are the cries of one reaching greater power. Naught is she but who has taught us to make love to her, and to watch her blood as it fills the great void of pleasure the planet over and becomes human pain. Be not afraid then to drink of her pain, the blood of Hers that we have spilt in love and duty to her, but drink full of pain all the way to her flesh and come upon her great bloody and devoured body lying over the void of pleasure. Not the path this is, not any path, but the immediate way. Not the pleasure of the Babalon, but the pain of the Babalon makes this your  infinite elixir. For we are not the ones who live eternally by one flesh, but by the creation of the flesh, and by the turning of it inside out to we live eternal.  Not from pleasure or from pain take the only gnosis, but always the unities will unite themselves upon you, and in the immortal flesh you will continue to create and destroy. For in this cycle is your eternity, and to become it never  die without being reborn.

Always she cries out,
Babalon! My self!
Away from me turn
Lies within my mouth
On my naked body lies


For amazing photographs of Parzifal, with some of the same cast as Babalon, click this link:

I wish I had been there! It looks fabulous. The role of Parzifal  was  played  by the many talented
Oreyelle Defenstrate Bascule who also, no doubt, directed the piece.


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Winterspells Witchcraft Takes Over the World!

Correction! they were here before me. I still its pretty funny!

I must have been receiving  messages form Pomerania!

I may have become a woman of influence!

It looks like one of those puppies took my course in the Nine Secrets of the Faery Witches.

Go forth Oh students of Faery Witchcraft!

This entire fleet of Pomeranians shall soon be flying through the sky on

tiny broomsticks to carry out our magic spells.

I can see it now!  A whole coven of Pomeranian Witches.

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