The world of occult magic is dizzying and baffling in it’s complexity. The Babble-on of ten thousand voices, information overload; a web of competing systems and ideas. In a churning ocean of sometimes meaningless language we must navigate primarily through our own experience.

Creating a coherent model takes time and a continual flow of contact with the angels, demons and godforms of our imaginations.

Praxis accelerates the many faceted process called initiation. The gathering of data is less important than developing a relationship with these personified forces.

Each star must find its path. The raising of the kundalini serpent is the aim of the adept.

We must kindle the spark of divinity inside to become a phosphorus flame. Illuminating the darkness of the unacknowledged self. All must be brought to that searing light because that self is every god you’ll ever need.

We are all initiates, marked by birth and sailing on the solar bark of Ra to the end of time.

Magic is the engine of societal evolution. Whatever consciousness is, it works, refining and perfecting itself, into the future through artists, scientists and visionaries. Culture changers who perceive the ancient teachings of the fallen angels.

Every action causes a reaction. We all make waves in the morphic field. If you take responsibility for every phenomenon you will eventually be the master of happenstance.

We must seize control of our minds and nervous systems and the multiverses within will unfold before us. We can become our own meta-programmers by enhancing our awareness of other states of being. Invent new worlds and breath them into life. Stretch ourselves into unclaimed psychic territory and return with maps, reports and stories. To bring an artefact back is the Promethean challenge!

Paint, write, invent, reach into your own depths and drag magic from the nagual. You have nothing to lose but your inauthentic self.

The Imagined History of Certain Northern European Tribes and Other Bizarre Tales.

After a day walking with S.L.L. on the beautiful shingle beach, a ritual bath and opening LBRP I took the ‘Mckennai’

I felt the blanket on my shoulder turn to fur and found myself alone in a cave with a fire separating me from what I perceived to be Diety.

I was receiving a massive download of information. I was still battling the Spider God (Ix Tab?) while viewing the history of the human result of the gene mutation… the blue/green eyed tribes of Scandinavia. Proto Vikings who made a ‘Covenant’ with the ‘Lesser Gods’. In the trip it was revealed that these gods were some kind of super humanoid, extra terrestrial or related to the infinitely complex hierarchy of Angelic hosts, gods and archetypes. It was not clear at all but the basic idea was that these mutated blue eyed people had made contact with the pantheon (which seem to be the same group of characters that appear in Egypt, Greece, Rome, Mexico, India ad infinitum) and made a ‘covenant’. The agreement was the favour and protection of/from(?) these beings if the warrior cults stopped cannibalism and adhered to a basic moral code which was specific and unique on earth at this ancient time where we had just splintered from other weird hominid species. We lived in dry, cold rocky territory and resources were scant. We developed engineering skills and advanced fishing and hunting techniques. We had fire, the Sun, the Sea and we had a strict warrior code. Blood and bones and campfires. The eternal ocean of Time I drifted like Floki…

Walter & Aleister Cut-Up.

Little grey humanoids with overlarge heads Beast’, this extraordinary man and his Jew yet to be devoured. To be devoured. Men terrible nightmare, expecting to find himself house. Find himself house. He was, however, still dressed speed. Still dressed speed. Champagne bottles popped like artillery tall ogre in a leopard skin it, an entity named Aiwass had new age as the ‘Thousand Year Now, would you like a cup heartily but good naturedly. But good naturedly. Walter was seemed to speed up and couples women. And couples women. A pianist played and one man who had blown his cover, on a chaise-lounge. On a chaise-lounge. “Guten Morgen Standardfuhrer billy goat. Standardfuhrer billy goat. The man looked neither had been scheduled for 6pm. Scheduled for 6pm. He like Goebbels’ propaganda cartoons of capitalist of it had been more than third beer had just been delivered which had been enclosed in Walter’s through his hair with his long behind sinister/comical masks and swayed in left nor right as one normally zeroed in on his contact without wig and frockcoat played with demonic white gloved waiter when he spotted baffling oeuvre. Spotted baffling oeuvre. His main interest was with Jesus hair and Himmler glasses. And Himmler glasses. The revolver like a quick draw lifted his head the scene had pointed and laughed as a fight ‘The Imperial Hotel’ and laid out poetic language had predicted the dawning giants forehead and pulled the trigger; a drug induced fantasy. Drug induced fantasy. He blushed the indescribable scenes at the hotel or two couples moved onto the young friend? The young friend?”, he laughed again, more whom Hearst had described the ‘Wickedest Walter had taken his eye off scooped it up with knives and a banner fell from the barrel struggling to cope with an hallucinogenic broke out between a seven foot head in his hands and rubbed obscene but enthralling striptease. But enthralling striptease. Walter suspected at an old grey haired man, ordered another pint of beer, cold been swatting up on ‘The Great a gaze that was both intimidating and had no language left to good idea. To good idea. Crowley fixed Walter with chuckled and shook his head. Shook his head. “I and women in wigs and white unison. And white unison. The music was now frenzied which the nearest spectators ran and A violinist dressed in 18th century thought I’d never pull you away! Pull you away! Of good old English tea my Man in the World’, The old his eyes, trying to regain some now couldn’t see him… The music for establishing a master race. A master race. His lead powder make up obscured themselves head of an owl gobbled down dinner plates… there was more but swine, their fleshy faces morphing into and satisfying after a stuffy afternoon would when looking for someone he’d robe and a black woman almost even a glance at anyone else? At anyone else? Woman had appeared on top of the piano, a satyr advancing on Crowned and Conquering Child’ and wanted It was past 7. Was past 7. 30pm, his meeting woman who was now writhing on dressed in Harris tweed. In Harris tweed. It was piggy snouts, grunting. Piggy snouts, grunting. A beautiful young Kluge” Walter turned to see the slightly haggard in appearance. Haggard in appearance. Walter knew eyebrows were combed upwards in a of the ‘Age of Horus‘. ‘Age of Horus‘. Walter expecting either Gestapo or British MI6 grey haired man had parted his swirled like dervishes, throwing back their as if he’d been having a first name had seemed like a a tiny little man with only must have blacked out. Have blacked out. He awoke fell to the floor before dissolving knew that Himmler had interpreted this with guns. This with guns. He found himself looking only seen in the grainy photograph anchor to reality but when he assault on his senses. On his senses. He tore himself Walter Wilwers. Himself Walter Wilwers. Keeping his own as he remembered some of the lounge. Of the lounge. The man was thin and way that reminded Walter of a shells as toffs in tops hats then disappearance of Crowley he was floor dancing. Was floor dancing. How could he have need is love, love, love is in the clothes he’d worn to beard in the middle and his or knew about the Nazi‘s plan but could not believe that any the grand piano and danced an was full of young men and he’d been drugged. He’d been drugged. Since the appearance Crowley. The appearance Crowley. “Enjoy the party Walter?”. The party Walter?”. He room in his guest house. His guest house. He’d heads in great gusts of laughter. Gusts of laughter. Become even more bizarre. Even more bizarre. He looked as tall and wearing only a with horror as a creature in artist, pressed the gun against the a black SS uniform with the all you need” sang a man Reich’ and Hitler as Horus, ‘The and uncanny. ‘The and uncanny. The large room had letter of introduction. Letter of introduction. He had called shut up in an airless, tiny in his bed at the guest “BANG! The guest “BANG!” it said. ” it said. The huge man and spats quaffed together and became dictated a message which in rich filled up since Walter’s arrival and his eyes from the lithe young into a sticky black substance to and did not sound like anything the hooked nose of a caricature a strange looking man enter the and black insect eyes gabbled and dumbfounded. Gabbled and dumbfounded. He had vague memories of Walter had ever heard. Had ever heard. “All you raw leather holster. Raw leather holster. She slipped out her with purpose. Her with purpose. He put his erotic scenes and ran his hand the man for a second and to know what it’s co-author thought, Crowley’s ‘Book of the Law’ in to his table by an immaculate Walter was lost, his mind gone describe what he was seeing. He was seeing. He instinctively that this was the Crowley. Was the Crowley.

Western Book of the Dead (Cut-Up)

Book of the Dead. ‘The Dead’. A consistent feature of enlightenment is to claim that future space for the tribe. The tribe. As outlined in Prometheus Rising*. Prometheus Rising*. At first we are in an impossible place where only Magi and Ippisimi look into our own programme codes… Programme codes… Technology and social media, where we form little tribes of mutual interest, it is a potentially explosive way to navigate our own death? Own death? It came History… Came History… The Immanitization of the Eschaton is really possible, not-here place, back home to show the tribe. The tribe. And, most importantly, taking something from that non-local, certain plants and fungi, imbibing the miracle cure… Miracle cure… Questions.

“Write your own script” they said. They said. The another is the voice(s) of something that is the profundity of the psychedelic experience and how to probe the uncreated like ectoplasm, stretching tendrils astral world of Horus, Hecate and Odin, Hathor… or does the sacred molecule simply offer a Transcendental Object at the End of Elve? That seems very interested in DNA/RNA some ancient species who happen to live in my last journey so the transition was very. The magician is a pyschonaut or nothing. Or nothing. Only it validates magick by confirming there are other correct. Other correct. I shouted questions into the void and I’m trying to reach back in to communicate and correspondences and much occult lore seems absolutely passed it easily and bathed in the feminine quick. Feminine quick. The spider demon was present but I “Why Not?”. “Why Not?”.

We must imprint the higher circuits has a voice. A voice. The voice of the Fairie godforms are accessible and available. And available. The sacrament itself most powerful tool we possess. We possess. Combined with digital must battle through the psychic detritus which in and evolution, they want us to take them in the experience does it make absolute sense. Absolute sense. To me that we may need a ‘Western great poet Shelley declared “Poets are the unacknowledged glow of an amethyst forest… Amethyst forest… I felt like want you to become like them, they say legislators of the future”. The future. Burroughs realized the cut-up, The Tree of Life is a sublime graph and Lilith and the pantheon of archetypes. Of archetypes. These magickal terms constitute the lower astral planes. Astral planes. Luckily End of Time and you’re all invited! All invited!” They not us. Not us. It allows us to enter the going on a journey through the Looking Glass, beyond time. Beyond time. That place beyond time is not Magick combined with the sacramental elixir is the said… They

said… They know you and remember you and so. And so. We are post- modern shamans deliberately invoking into space! Into space! “There’s a Psychedelic Ball!”

They only resulted in more even more complex planes of existence, populated by non human intelligences. Human intelligences. Reality and… no longer in human form began high doses of the sacrament. Is the perceived could hack into the present from a place?