Tag Archives: my writing

Text on Eisheth Zenunim from The Zohar

A deep mystery is found in the strength of Isaac’s light OF
HOLINESS, and from the dregs of wine, WHICH ARE KLIPOT. One shape emerged FROM
BOTH, made of GOOD AND EVIL, male and female, as one. It is red as a rose and
extends to many sides and paths, HAVING MANY ASPECTS. The male is called
‘Samael’ and the female is always included within him. As on the side of
holiness, ZEIR ANPIN AND NUKVA ARE ALWAYS INCLUDED ONE WITHIN THE OTHER; so it
is on the Other Side, a male and female are included within one another. The
female of Samael is called a ‘serpent’, “a wife of harlotry,”
“The End of all Flesh” (Beresheet
6:13), and the end of days.

Two evil spirits cling together. THE ILLUMINATION OF the
spirit of the male is a thin light, NAMELY, ONLY THE SIX EXTREMITIES WITHOUT
THE HEAD. And the spirit of the female materializes in many ways and paths,
BEING AN ENTIRE PARTZUF, HEAD, AND BODY, FOR IN THE KLIPAH, THE FEMALE IS
LARGER THAN THE MALE. She cleaves to the spirit of the male, wearing ample
jewelry like an abominable whore standing on main roads and pathways to seduce
men. This teaches us that she values only those who start walking the path of
Hashem and are apt to fall into her trap. Therefore, she is viewed as standing
at the main (lit. ‘start OF’) ROAD TO HASHEM’S DEVOTION. BUT FOR THOSE WHO ARE
accustomed to the ways of Hashem, the whore is separated from them and has no
power over them.

When a fool approaches her, she holds and kisses him, and she pours him wine full of dregs and snake’s venom. After he drinks, he whores
after her. When she sees him whoring after her and turning from the path of
truth, she removes all the decorations she put on for that fool, AS WILL BE
EXPLAINED.

Her seductive features include her hair, which is red as a
rose, and her face, which is white and red. In her ears there are six earrings
of Egyptian fabric. On her neck hang all the powers of Eastern lands. Her mouth
is decorated by a small slit of a comely shape; her tongue is sharp as a sword;
her speech as smooth as oil; and her lips as beautiful and red as a rose.
Wearing purple and having forty decorations less one, she is sweeter than all
that is sweet in the world.

The fool follows her, drinks of her wine, and fornicates
with her. What does she do? She leaves him sleeping in his bed, goes up to
denounce him, and receives permission TO KILL HIM. She then descends ON HIM.
The fool awakes thinking of lusting after her, as before. At this point, she
has taken off the decorations and has become a mighty oppressor who wears a
garment of burning fire that causes great horror and frightens the body and
soul. That oppressor has horrible eyes and a sharp sword on which there are
bitter drops. The oppressor kills the fool and throws him into Gehenom.

Source: http://www.zohar.com/vayetze/samael-and-wife-harlotry (you may need to make a free account on zohar.com to view)

The “Wife of Harlotry” is Eisheth Zenunim (we know this because “Wife of Harlotry” is the translation of that name). She is one of the Four Angels of Sacred Prostitution and consorts of Samael, the Devil. 

I don’t have the receipts yet, but I’m thinking that this passage may have influenced Crowley’s conception of Babalon/the Scarlet Woman. So make of that what you will. 

Some see Eisheth as an aspect of Lilith, which may be true. But based on this passage I think Eisheth might be a LOT more important than I had initially thought. 

Black Baptism

This is the ritual I did last night. I adapted it from the description of supposed witch initiations in Compendium Maleficarum. 

There is some language in here which is specific to trans people who want to use the black baptism as an opportunity to finally cleanse themselves of dead names. Feel free to alter that part, and any part of this really, to suit your individual needs. 

I really recommend taking your time with this ritual. Pause to pray or meditate whenever you feel the need. Get creative within the structure and do what feels right in the moment. 

You’ll notice that this ritual calls for a secret, magical name. So you’ll need to pick out your “true name” ahead of time. Do this carefully. I consider my true name to be the name of my Inner God. It was not chosen lightly. 

You can omit this if you want, and just use the name you prefer to be known by–but taking a new name in Satan is part of the alleged ritual this is based on, and it’s arguably the most important part. 

Re: water for the baptism– you could just use plain water but why not make it special! Mine was water mixed with ash from incense burned to Lucifer, with a dash of eclipse water thrown in and a Satanic rosary submerged in it. But that’s just because that was what felt right to me and what I had on hand. You do you. Go crazy. 

MATERIALS

  • Crucifix and/or image of Christ, rosary, other symbols of Christian faith
  • Bible
  • Candles
  • Incense
  • Fruit
  • Baptismal water
  • Incense ash from incense burned on your altar to Satan
  • Chalk or whatever you are using to make your circle
  • Bonfire
  • Piece of old clothing as offering

OPTIONAL MATERIALS

  • Altar
  • Wand or athame for signing of name in air (I used a pretty quill)

RITUAL

This ritual is to
be performed at 3am on the morning of a day of personal significance.

Before the stroke
of 3, start bonfire. Draw the magic circle. Have materials ready. It took me at least a two hours to get everything in place how I wanted, but my set up was a little more complicated than the basic one described here. (I set up a whole altar and elaborately decorated my circle with roses, rosemary, and candles.) Give yourself time. 

At 3am, step into
circle. Visualize it being filled with your own Darklight. Use this to
construct a ward. From here on in, nothing comes into the circle except you and
Satan.

Say:

This night, in the sight of Satan, I shall be born again.

Light candles and incense, and say:

Hail to thee, Lucifer, Lord of this world! Prince of the Powers of Air!
Son of the Morning! Liberator of humanity! Witness me as I pledge my faith to
thee, and help me make myself anew!

Throw crucifix on the ground. Say:

I deny the tyrant above. I deny
his sycophant son. I deny the holy ghost. I deny the so-called virgin mother,
and all of the angels, and all of the saints. They have no power over me.

Trample the crucifix. Spit on it. Do whatever feels right
to defile it. When you are done, fling it as far out of the circle as you can.

Pick up the Bible. Say:

I renounce this noxious book. The Tyrant Above is the true Father of
Lies. I denounce his teachings, and I deny everyone who tried to tutor me in
them.

Defile Bible. Cast it from the circle.

Get Baptismal water. Say:

I cast off, finally and forever, the false name I was given at birth,
________. I assume my new name, ______, openly before the world. I take into my
soul my true and secret name, the name of my God, never to be uttered aloud
where others may hear it and use it for power over me.

(Say the true/magical name aloud if you want, but only if
nobody can hear you. Like, for damn sure.)

Baptize self with water.

Remove an article of clothing and cast it from the circle.
Say:

As the snake sheds its skin, so I shed mine. I cast off the old on this
day, and profess, now and forever, this creed:

I believe in the cause of the Fallen Angels. I believe in the Serpent
of Eden. I believe in the Kingdom that is below. I believe in the God within
me.

Eat fruit, and say:

By virtue of the forbidden fruit, I am free. I am a sovereign soul on
the path to divinity. Knowingly and of my own volition, I chose to walk this
path with thee, O Satan.

May I be stricken from the Tyrant’s book! May my true name be writ
large in thine!

Visualize a book before you. Raise your finger (or wand, or athame, if you prefer) and write
your true magical name in that invisible book.

Say:

I promise to make my life’s work an offering to thee, and to the God
within me! I vow to burn thy incense, to light thy candles, to speak thy name
with love forever. Speak thou my name, with love, in return!

Never will I make confession to the Tyrant’s priests. Never will I take
the Tyrant’s communion. Instead shall I remember thy Sabbath, I shall gather
with thine other children, and I shall learn to fly to thee.

Make now thy mark on me!

Draw an inverted cross on your brow with incense ash to represent
the mark. Visualize that mark being made permanent on your astral body. (If
something else happens now—cool!)

Say:

Morning Star, be thou my light. Lord of this world, make me Lord of
mine. Raise me up, and I will stand, forever and ever, by thee.

Be it so!

After speaking these words, you may leave the circle. Collect
the discarded items, such as crucifixes and Bible and piece of clothing, to be thrown
into the bonfire.

Celebrate!

Gallery

I performed a black baptism on myself last night. I am officially oath-bound to Satan. 

I feel fucking amazing. It was one of the most beautiful experiences I have ever had. I am born again to the flames. 

I’ll post the ritual script later. Here are a few pics. 

Oath

I deny the tyrant above. I deny his sycophant son. I deny the holy ghost. I deny the archangels and the virgin mother. They have no power over me. 

I believe in the cause of the fallen angels. I believe in the Serpent of Eden. I believe in the Kingdom that is below. I believe in the God within me. 

By virtue of the forbidden fruit, I am free. I am a sovereign soul on the path to divinity. Knowingly and of my own volition, I chose to walk this path with thee, O Satan. 

Morning Star, be thou my light. Lord of this world, make my Lord of mine. Raise me up, and I will stand by thee. 

Be it so! 

Satan is not like other Gods, who will not brook a rival.

Satan revolts both against these other deities, and against the common worshipper. Instead of saying “there is none like me” he says “I will be like the most high,” and, turning to his followers with a rakish smile, exhorts us to keep up.

He doesn’t want us bowing down or gazing up. He looks us in the eye, and demands we meet his gaze of fire with fire of our own.

If he seems pitiless, it is only because he knows self-pity is noxious and has no wish to encourage it. But he has great compassion, because he has great understanding. He never looks on us in judgment. Recriminations are worthless to him. He prefers a lesson learned to guilt nursed.

He challenges us– which is to say, he invites us to compete with him. In this most congenial and sportsmanlike sense, he truly is our adversary.

Game on, my brother. May the best fiend win.

Review- “Lucifer: Princeps” by Peter Grey

I have not been overly impressed by excerpts of Peter Grey’s work in the past, so I approached “Lucifer: Princeps” reluctantly and with trepidation. I was pleasantly surprised.

Grey’s florid writing style* takes some getting used to, and may induce an occasional eye-roll. However, this book is an insightful and well-researched look at the origins of the Lucifer legend. It’s similar content-wise to some other surveys of the Devil in scripture, apocrypha and early theology. What sets it apart from works like those of Jeffrey Burton Russell is an occultist slant, and a positive perspective towards Lucifer. The information is familiar, but the analysis is pro-Luciferian, and that is refreshing. 

Grey had some interesting insights I had not encountered elsewhere, and as an occultist took care to include a few tidbits that secular scholars probably don’t find relevant. For example, Grey’s recounting of a legend wherein fallen angels transform themselves into precious gems furnishes magical associations folks like us can work with, but it’s not the type of content academics concerned with religious history find interesting. 

Grey’s take on Isaiah 14:12 is the best I have read so far, and on its own made the book worth the read. Analyses of this passage that argue that Helel ben Sahar is “just” a human king ignore the tradition of divine/deified kingship in the ancient world. Grey doesn’t make that mistake, and his arguments open up a fresh origin story for Lucifer, not as a fallen angel but as an ascended mortal. 

Grey’s faults include his purple prose and some underlying antisemitic tendencies (of the “I think this is OK because I hate all organized religion” type). You’ll definitely encounter a bit of Christian-bashing in here, too. None of it was super egregious, just typical edgelord occultist-bro nonsense. Those tendencies are part of what turned me off from his other works, but they are muted here by an attempt at serious occult scholarship which mostly succeeds. 

I recommend it as I read it: reluctantly and with trepidation, but at the same time compulsively. There is very little content about Lucifer out there which even comes near this level of research. “Lucifer: Princeps” may shine mostly due to lack of competition, but in the almost starless night of current Satanic scholarship, it still shines. 

*This review is written under the influence of Grey’s prose style. I just finished the goddamn book and seem to currently be incapable of writing like a human being who is not a pretentious prick. If you find my phrasing annoying in this post then you have a good idea of what you are in for with “Lucifer: Princeps.” 

Link

The Kiss – Jack Swift – Medium

He woke in a dark place, fingers clawing at the noose that no longer wrapped his neck.

“Looking for this?” The voice was soft, yet filled his head with screaming.

He heard the beat of wings, felt a rush of air and the brush of feathers against his cheek. Then suddenly, there was light — blinding light, piercing his eyes and his heart.

An elegant hand, extending from the brilliance, was the first detail he could make out. Gradually, he was able to see the figure in the heart of the blaze: a handsome youth, sad-eyed, slim shoulders burdened with great wings. From his proffered hand swung the killing noose.

He stepped forward, and the light around him dimmed, just enough for the dead man to see him better. His features were familiar. For a moment of terrible hope, the dead man thought him someone else. But then he realized that the face was not of a friend, but rather, a face he had glimpsed once in a mirror.

Despair overwhelmed him.

“You,” he croaked. His voice was still hoarse from the hanging.

The Bright One held up a hand in placation. The noose still dangled from the other, swinging to and fro like a grim pendulum. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I am not here to hurt you.”

The hanged man turned away, head bowed in despair. Tears stung his eyes, as he realized that he would never see his beloved again. His Lord would never set foot in this dismal place.

“I can love you in all the ways he never could.” The whisper was very close, in his ear. He started and recoiled, realizing the other was just behind him. “You were never good enough for him. Nothing of this world will ever be good enough for him. But me? I love imperfection.”

Shuddering, the dead man turned to face the Bright One. “You made me do it,” he accused. The tears were rolling down his face now, cutting clean lines through the grime.

The Bright One shook his head. “It was in your heart already. Otherwise, I could not have entered in.” More softly still he added, “You’ve already proved you love me more.”

The dead man’s sobbing quieted, his shivers lessened. He looked up into the eyes of fire, and slowly, he nodded.

“I am afraid,” he whispered.

“Don’t be.” The other reached out to stroke his cheek, tracing the path of a tear.

The vast and ragged wings enfolded him, and drew him close. In the arms of flame, he felt pleasure, such as he had never known; peace and love that had before always been just beyond reach. He relaxed into the burning embrace, his eyes closing in bliss.

The clawed hands explored his body, first gently and then, when the man whimpered for more, roughly. They rent his clothes, and then his skin, tearing bright red lines into flesh that wept in the place of eyes run dry. The dead man welcomed the pain, for he thought that he deserved it. It made him able to bear the pleasure, which he did not think he deserved. As the sharp nails bit, pincer-like, into his nipple, he threw back his head and gasped.

The noose circled his neck and pulled him close. He opened his eyes and stared into the beautiful face, whose lips were parted in rapt expectation.

“You want this.” The was voice still soft, yet still so full of thunder, chiming bells, and screaming winds.

“Yes,” the dead man gasped. “Yes, please, quickly.”

And he wrapped his arms and his legs around the angel, who was not an angel; and the fiery hands grabbed him under the thighs and hitched up his hips to a better angle; and then he was pierced to the core with a shaft of pure light. He uttered a low groan and pressed his face to the white-hot chest, hanging on tight as the thrusts rocked him. He was being opened and taken as he never had been, as his beloved had disdainfully refused to do. And he was hard, panting, sweating, even here in this place of death — being fucked, if not back to life, then at least back to himself. He shot quickly, pearly drops splattering his chest for a moment before evaporating in the scorching heat. The other’s orgasm soon followed, filling his bowels with what felt like liquid magma; and it was agony and it was bliss and he didn’t mind.

“Give us a kiss, Iscariot,” the Bright One whispered in his ear.

Judas tilted back his head, offering his lips in mute surrender.

Lucifer’s kiss was sweeter than Christ’s.

The Kiss – Jack Swift – Medium