Mindspace: The Astral Plane
In this episode I’m continuing to explore the themes I’ve covered in my previous three or four streams.
First I want to clarify for myself what occultists mean when they speak of ‘The Astral Plane’ then I’ll go on to discuss the denizens of this weird and occasionally terrifying place.
I’ll be using ideas put forth in the books Psychedelic Shamanism by Jim DeKorne and my current favourite, Secrets of the Magickal Grimoires by Aaron Leitch, with some Robert Anton Wilson and Crowley thrown in.
I first came across the idea of a mysterious realm where mythic beasts and figures roam in a book called Magic: An Occult Primer by David Conway. I found it in my school library in first year (age 12) and was immediately fascinated by its description of the astral plane.
As a child I’d fantasised about finding a secret door to a cartoonish parallel universe, my own Narnia or Oz, and here was an intelligent adult telling me that such a door existed.
Two or three years later I would find myself in that landscape by accident. A group of friends and I had gathered magic mushrooms on the school football pitches on a wet autumn afternoon. I don’t know who gave us the idea or what we expected them to do. I remember the earthy taste and slimy texture of the raw mushrooms as we consumed them without finesse. I must have eaten just 30-40 whole psilocybin mushrooms.
My group of five or six adventurous pals wandered down to our favourite hang out, a large park in our neighborhood called The Duthie Park. To keep this short, after an hour or so I felt increasingly strange. In the September twilight, colours began to intensify and the grass, trees and bushes all around me began to glow and radiate presence from within.
I wandered away from my giggling schoolmates and sat facing one of the largest trees in the park. I sensed the energy emanating from it. I even imagined it was communicating with me in slow vegetable language. Everything around me shimmered and vibrated with life. My thoughts became profound and my normal internal dialogue became, for the child I was, mystical. I felt like I’d temporarily become elect, a prophet or a genius.
I told myself I’d found the Garden of Eden and things would never be the same again…
So, moving to the present day and my attempt to intellectually understand the occult world of higher dimensions and ‘spirits’, be they Gods, Goddesses, Angels, Demons, Daimons, Elementals, Extraterrestrials etc. I want to know, not only what they are, but how I can work with them to satisfy my curiosity and enrich my life in a magickal way.
Let’s start with where and what the place I called the Garden of Eden was? It was the Duthie Park, my physical location hadn’t changed. I wasn’t lifted bodily into heaven, (although that’s probably how it would be described in religious literature) so the answer must be that I’d accessed something that was inside me all along. Jim DeKorner would call this ‘Mind Space’, an inner dimension that shamans, magicians and visionaries have visited and described since the beginning of our ability to ‘time-bind’. I’m pretty certain that all religion, mythology and spirituality, indeed anything humans regard as holy or sacred, come from contact with this Mind-Space and its inhabitants. I believe the most infallible method of reaching it is by the use of plants and fungi known as Entheogens, Psychedelics, Hallucinogens, Plant Teachers etc but other methods include prayer, fasting, meditation, gazing, yoga, and of course ritual magick, and, more recently dream machines and flotation tanks; In fact all the techniques of occultism get you there to a greater or lesser degree. It’s my aim on this blog/channel to try and show the unity of purpose behind everything from Stone Age Shamanism, Greek Mystery Schools, Medieval Grimoires, Golden Dawn and Thelema, Chaos Magick, the Human Potential Movement and even some New Age modalities, although I find New Age-ism to be the most confused and muddied pool, perhaps because it’s so new we have no historical perspective on it yet. (There’s a good graph at the start of Liber Null & Psychonaut by Pete Carrol which shows a very similar progression of traditions and it also goes into different methods of achieving ‘Gnosis’ which are exactly the ways to enter the astral plane without the use of drugs)
Shamanism has always proposed the existence of at least three worlds: The Middle World is the everyday human world (circuits 1-4 using the Leary/Wilson model), The Upper World is the Celestial world of God, The Sun, Good Spirits, Angels etc, The Lower World is the Land of the Dead, Demons and Dangerous Spirits known as the Infernal/Chthonic world (both of these latter worlds would be covered in circuits 4-8). For the sake of simplicity I’m not going to draw a sharp line between shamans and other psychic travellers like magicians, mystics, kabbalists and psychonauts because the ideas and terminologies overlap so much. Agrippa, in his Three Books of Occult Philosophy also posits three worlds (Elementary, Celestial and Intellectual) and in the Kabbalah we find four (Assiah, Yezirah, Briah and Aziluth). Divisions are somewhat arbitrary because of a very important point. These worlds are subjective, in that they are not directly perceivable to our ordinary senses.When we travel into our own interior worlds there are no concise boundaries, only gradual changes of terrain. This doesn’t invalidate them but it does make them very difficult to visualize if you haven’t been there. They do not exist out there, somewhere in the physical universe but are contained within our own psyches. We are the Brazen Vessels containing infinite intelligences, heavens and hells!
By definition a higher dimension would be invisible to us in our everyday level of consciousness. We have three dimensions of space (Length, Breadth and Height) and one of Time, which we call the Space/Time Continuum but because we cannot separate our subjective experience of time from our experience of so called objective reality within time,
DeKorner suggests the term Space-Mind and describes it thus
Space Mind describes the experience of our subjective consciousness immersed in a three dimensional world. But this is far from our only reality. The zero dimensional point of consciousness, when focussed inward, perceives another region, which I submit is best described by the term Mind-Space a distorted mirror image of Space-Mind. Space-Mind and Mind-Space are, back to back, the two infinities confronted by consciousness
Scientific Materialism fails to describe the interior, imaginal world because we cannot stand outside our own reality in order to measure it. To again quote the author of Psychedelic Shamanism
It is easy to comprehend a point, line, plane and cube; indeed any child can readily discern spatial dimensions below three, but even mystics get confused when trying to describe four dimensional space.
In the work of C.G. Jung we find the concept of the ‘Collective Unconscious’ and in the work of Austin Osman Spare we encounter the idea of Kia, which suggests we, as individual perceiving subjects are able to tap into a larger group mind where powerful psychic forces meet racial or cultural Archetypes. I suggest if we go deeper into this realm we encounter independent beings who are not simply parts of our subconscious minds but exist as Higher Dimensional Entities who can work with or against us.
DeKorner calls the inner, occulted world Mind-Space because we are always at the centre of our own perceptual universes. We filter everything through our own sense organs and nervous systems. Robert Anton Wilson would call this our Reality Tunnel and the Wilson/Leary 8 Circuit Model is something I’ll be returning to again and again as I explore maps of consciousness and alternate realities. How can spirits be inside and outside of us simultaneously?
I’ve often noticed how paradoxes seem to suddenly resolve themselves while under the influence of psychedelics and believe this is because they temporarily give us a Superposition outside of time and space!
Like the invisible forces of gravity and radiation the spirit world presumably exists when we’re not observing it. In fact it may well be that it is observing us from that extra-spatial dimension. This would explain how a god could appear to be omniscient and omnipotent from our perspective.
DeKorner asks us to visualize being a two dimensional entity living on one of the faces of a six sided cube and states
Although it isn’t immediately obvious to you, your world is actually tangential to five invisible two-dimensional universes similar to your own, each with its unique population of beings. Imagine that turned inside out, in three dimensions, and you get an intuitive grasp of how we can grasp other realms from within.
The author clearly places the astral realms in ‘Hyperspace’ and also notes that our three dimensional language/concepts struggle to describe the events and qualities of that other place.
Is this why writings on mystical states of consciousness can be notoriously difficult to understand? Crowley often describes this problem “Nothing is clearer to my mind than the great difficulty habitually experienced by the normal mind in the assimilation of metaphysics is due to the actual lack of experience in the mind of the reader of the phenomena discussed”
I’ve often remarked myself that when on large doses of psilocybin human language seems utterly inadequate. Ideas are understood in something non-verbal; language needs to unfold in linear time to make sense. The closest we get to describing shamanic journeys are metaphors which are often synaesthetic; “It was like tasting fire or hearing pure colour”!
The reason I’ve struggled with conceptualizing the idea of ‘real’ beings in an imaginal space should be self evident. Where do I stop and they begin? This has been a really important question for me. In my search for answers to that first psilocybin trip I’ve continually dismissed evidence of other realities and spiritual creatures because they failed to live up to my ideas of objectivity. I wanted them to be ‘real’, measurable and able to give me proof of their existence. (This reminds me of Alex Eth’s question to Stephen Skinner about the possibility of capturing an evoked spirit on film. “It just doesn’t work like that was Skinner’s reply”).
That first vision when I was pulled out of my body while receiving reiki and shown planet Earth from space by ecologically minded Pliedians was rejected because it seemed just too strange, too fantastic.
In the summer of 2018 however I did a series of psilocybin trips and combined them with fasting, purification and consecration rituals and observances. I visited a friend who has a large house with a room solely dedicated as a temple. I framed the whole experience with banishings and invocations and had an undeniably magickal experience where the absolute reality of the shamanic extra-dimension impressed itself upon me. For weeks afterwards I felt what I’ve heard described as a kundalini awakening. I had boundless energy, found a new sense of purpose, started a YouTube channel and restarted my Golden Dawn grade work.
These experiences tie in nicely with the Leary/Wilson 8 Circuit Model where four ‘antique’ circuits which all adult human beings have are gradually opening into the next four ‘future’ circuits which become more transcendental, the 8th and final circuit being the ‘Non-Local Quantum’ circuit.
I again stand in a similar place with my sudden realisation that those weren’t simply hallucinations or phantasms from an overactive imagination but were part of an ongoing initiation, a journey or indeed a quest to the astral world!
A huge problem for me as a practising occultist is my abounding skepticism. I see testimony from occultists and spiritual types which seem entirely implausible. I would hate to fall into the category of deluded spiritual narcissists who clutter up Facebook groups and YouTube channels with wishful thinking and downright lies about magickal abilities and encounters with beings from other worlds. When I started getting serious about ritual magick and unexpectedly seemed to make contact with beings from my inner planes I walked away because I wanted proof that I wasn’t just imagining these encounters. I wanted the entities to give me proof that they had some knowledge beyond that which I already possessed.
I wanted an equation or piece of amazing information, something that could be kabbalistically checked like Crowley’s Book of the Law. The being Thosis told me that it could only communicate with the imagery and vocabulary I already had. This to me was final proof that I was playing some bizarre game with myself, but I recently read Aaron Leitch saying that because spirits have no physical bodies and no voice boxes with which to speak they do indeed rely on our stock of images and words to converse!
I believe I’ve been too dismissive of important clues to the reality of the spirit world and will go forward with much more openness to the ‘Spirit Model’.
Because the astral world for me began with a psilocybin experience and continued with a willed or self created (discovered?) world it’s been difficult for me to judge what was just imagination and what was coming from a pre-existing spiritual sphere. This can’t be true just for me but my perceived lack of any special psychic talents and a tendency toward laziness have made me feel I’m very far behind some of my magickal peers.
I have had some extraordinary experiences while experimenting with ritual magick and perhaps it’s only in looking back I see that my occult phenomena were more valid than I realised at the time. What I have to figure out right now is how I’m going to proceed. As I’ve said before, blind faith in a process is not something I’m interested in. I can’t devote myself to a system or lengthy working without knowing exactly what I’m trying to do and where it fits into the bigger picture. I refuse to be swept along by faddish ideas of being matey with Demons to become a living god. Delusion is strong in the occult community although there’s an equally strong faction whom I admire, who clearly aren’t making it up and who are entirely sane!
It seems by viewing magick as a psychological process I’ve missed out on some really interesting leads in the puzzle of human consciousness, which is what I’m really interested in.
Angels, Demons and Psychedelics
Working with spiritual creatures just to gain a better job or some other mundane thing seems trivial. This is one of the reasons that, until recently, I’d never given much credence to the grimoires with their mind bogglingly complex instructions for summoning Angels and Demons. Apart from the overt religiosity and strange unobtainable ingredients the roles assigned to these extra-dimensional intelligences seemed banal and materialistic. Contacting beings who are presumably to us as we are to animals and asking them to make us invisible or find us buried treasure seems a real waste of an opportunity to learn from these beings.
Perhaps they are not to be taken too literally in respect to the powers the Celestial and Infernal intelligences possess. They were written a long time ago when our understanding of science and technology were riven with superstition and ignorance.
As much as I respect ‘Traditional Magick’ I feel that having to turn back to material written hundreds of years ago shows how Scientism has impoverished our ideas on how to interact with non-physical realities.
By using occult technologies and entheogens we could repair our broken relationship with Mother Earth and the Elementals who must be in despair!
But perhaps I’m looking at things back to front and the old ways are the best ways? Aaron Leitch describes the religious worldview of the Solomonic texts “glossed over by Christian hyperbole”. He sees the grimoires being the direct descendents of the Western Shamanic Tradition. In this view ‘God’ is the Sky Father of all Pagan religions who is called to oversee the operations of magick, or perhaps give them his blessing, but it’s rarely, if ever the Heavenly Father who has to act. The work is carried out by intermediaries, Angels, Demons and Spirits, be they Elemental or even spirits of the dead.
It’s true that many techniques in Solomonic and other classical magick texts come from pre-Christian Egypt and Greece. Is the reason that magickal culture has definitely shifted to much older concepts of an objectively real spirit world because the psychological model proposed by Late 19th and 20th Century occultists just can’t account for the obviously very real experiences and results that magicians have when they work with The Lemegeton, the Trithemius method or the Heptameron?
At a time when the internet and dedicated, rigorous scholarship has allowed those of us interested in Esotericism in all its forms to obtain an overview of the entire history of time bound spiritual, religious and magickal texts, we are surely better placed intellectually to discern the truth of the astral plane and its inhabitants than ever before.
The printing press was one of the contributing factors to the European Renaissance. Are we witnessing the flowering of a true occult Rebirth? It’s an interesting side note that the Black Death preceded the historical Renaissance as Covid 19 may be preceding ours!
One would think that to learn more about spirits and the astral plane we could go directly to source and ask the spirits themselves. Unfortunately to quote Skinner again “It just doesn’t work like that”. Because of the notorious difficulty in contacting them in the first place, (something I’ve never definitively achieved without entheogens) and the apparent fact of spirits never giving a straight answer or indeed being downright deceitful, this is not an option. Perhap this is to be expected of beings from ‘higher’, intra or extra-spatial dimensions; a cross-species dialogue where our language is unable to capture the profound insights or information the entities give us. John Dee’s Angelic conversations are a good example of communications from the astral world. There, occasional truths commingled with teasing lies, failed predictions and confusion. How can we account for this?
DeKorne discusses the capricious nature of ‘mushroom spirits’ in Psychedelic Shamanism and gives us one reason why they can be deceptive.
Empirical evidence shows that each dimension within the imaginal realm is inhabited by monads of sentient energy. Like all living organisms, these entities seek to nourish and promote themselves. The closer the perception of the entity matches our own, the more appealing will be its arguments to our awareness, and the more likely we will feed it with our belief.
The idea of spiritual creatures “feeding on our belief” calls to mind the jealous gods of our spiritual past. What the Gnostics would call Archons. Those demanding worship and sacrifice and terrorizing their subjects for more and more energy in the form of burnt offerings. I’m also reminded of the bloodthirsty Aztec deities who required huge numbers of human sacrifices. The idea that there is a spiritual food chain should not be surprising. We exist by devouring the life energy of the ‘lower’ kingdoms, animal and vegetable Why wouldn’t those of higher kingdoms predate on us?
The magickal practice of making deals and pacts with demonic entities is long established.
In my own experiences with high dose psilocybin I’ve been approached by entities who seem willing to take advantage of my confusion when first entering the Lower World to offer me deals which might have been to my detriment. When correctly brewed and taken on an empty stomach psilocybin tea can come on incredibly quickly. In my 2018 experiences I’d be fully tripping within 10-15 minutes of consuming the liquid. The transition from normal consciousness to being fully in that other realm can be compared to suddenly being dropped into a deep and murky sea.
I always seem to enter on the lowest level and have to gradually rise through the inner planes and the first part of my trip is often strange and scary. More than once I’ve felt myself to be surrounded by skeletal bird creatures who seem to be, if not outright predatory then akin to scavengers who flock around a food source they think might be in trouble.
I once described them as being like astral beggars from an Interzone marketplace. “You look lost meester, come with me, I keep you safe, take you to the good place yesssss?”
I believe that the vast array of creatures, good, bad and indifferent encountered in the psychedelic journey are of the same types as magicians and shamans have been working with for millenia. In The Excellent Booke of the Arte of Magicke by Phil legard and Al Cummins from crystal scrying experiments in 1567 the magician, soldier and courtesan Humphrey Gilbert and his skryer John Davis describe imagery which is extremely psychedelic. Visions include a tree made of blood, one of crystal, hairy books, headless birds and a host of characters including biblical saints, dead magicians even King Solomon and Adam!
The fact that the shades of real historical personages like Agrippa and Roger Bacon mix freely in the astral realm with Saint Luke and Old Testament figures indicates how our subjective imaginations can never be truly separate from magickal and entheogenic experiences. The line between ‘me’ and ‘not me’ is fluid and dynamic.
Dee lay stretched out on the dilapidated couch, oily and paint stained, eyes flickering open. An almost pleasant ache lingered around his temples from the night before, scorched tin foil lay winking at him on the low table, ashtrays, wine bottles, tubes of paint…
He squinted as the bright sunlight found it’s way through the gaps in the confusion of masking tape, curtain and canvas on the studio’s large windows. His mind caressed the vivid dreams of morning as he reached for his cigarettes and eyed the large refrigerator, humming it’s hymn of cold beer and last nights leftovers. Small party last night… He pats his pockets until the sound of pills rattling in a bottle reassures him he hasn’t lost them. He cracks open the childproof top and shakes five blue tablets into his palm and places them on his tongue, he likes the sweet taste and sucks them till they melt.
His dreams have become more interesting since he started his ‘dream journal’ and he opens it before the already fading ghost disappears completely.
The sigil I did yesterday seems to be working already as all through my dreams I was finding money, tucked away in books. One and two pound coins pouring out of an old diary, crumpled notes appearing in pockets. I’d been in a shop with a friend I hadn’t seen for years, trying on weird outfits… an expensive shop. A grey boating blazer with subtle grey stripes with a voluminous scarf of the same material attached. I’d totally have worn it… the scene shifted (or mebbe it was a different dream?) and I’m with my brother and a gorgeous girl with red curly hair and Modigliani green eyes, in fact she looked like a girl I knew a long time ago… she was at a piano in ‘The College’ (again this place, always spend at least part of my dreamtime here, always in small groups of people who are kinda familiar but not). Ally was on guitar and I was trying to explain something about octaves (I know nothing about octaves, I leave that to the musicians, I just shout into the mic and write lyrics!) I wanted her to play an octave higher than the guitar… it faded out after that...
Dee goes to the fridge, it is kinda early for a beer but he’s still half drunk anyway and he can feel a hangover gathering like grey clouds. He pulls a freezing pint tin of Budweiser from the twelve pack untouched from last night and pops it open…
On the easel stands his latest painting, a cityscape in blues, pinks and crimson, the way the light catches it makes it look like stained glass. There are more canvases, scattered around the large square room, radiating light and thick daubs of titanium white…
We are history.
Everything happens NOW!
Mother & Father were wolves.
Pan the European.
Radio Stalingrad crackles… SURRENDER!
Born of Fire,
Bones bleached desert white, in the nuclear winter.
We watched starlings swarm like bees,
Tracers under Union Bridge.
Believe this story when you hear it… Some sailors said.
That before there was land, everything was water.
Fish eventually became monkeys and built the land.
Humans were invented by god and saved by Jesus.
The land became nature and people made centuries.
people remembered god but then killed him, several times!
Everybody knows, the screen stops you seeing.
Climb through the T.V.’s empty soul and set free those little people trapped inside…
The soul is an Eagle, or an Arrow, or just a weightless shadow that dwells within this frame of bone
I remember sunlight and walking down University Road…
Everything is so quiet and still i feel like i’m frozen in an old photograph
lying dusty in a drawer.
become an artifact, immortal, to step ‘Out of TIME’.
Berlin, January 1941
Walter was making jokes in his head… shaking in the boots he’d spent an hour polishing! His uniform was immaculate. Everything he was wearing had been cleaned and pressed from his shorts and vest to the glaring, grinning death’s-head on his cap. His hair was fair and fashionably cut. Shorn back and sides with a fringe which he kept off his brow with brilliantine. He stopped at the mirror for the seventh or eighth time as he tweaked the peaked hat and tilted it just a touch. He was overwhelmed by his own appearance. He looked and felt like a modern day Lancelot. Walter had not joined but drifted into the SS. The black dress uniform and Luger pistol were enough. With his 1st in English he was told he’d be given a job in intelligence with minimal chance of ever being anywhere near a front line. He reckoned the war was pretty much won anyway, and if he had to put up with all that Aryan crap to land a plum job then so be it. The pay was good and the girls loved the SS. How the hell had he managed to be so well regarded? And now! What fate awaited him?
Excitement like electricity coursed through him, lifting him out of his body, looking at the perfect human form from somewhere above himself. Walter was gone for a moment…
He sat on a smooth stone bench in a long corridor. He again checked his watch. His appointment was at 8am, it was now 7.58 precisely. At the other side of the huge double oak doors carved with familiar runes and swastikas was Heinrich Himmler, who, just then, might as well have been Saint Peter at the gates of heaven.
Walter Kluge heard footsteps and the door began to swing open. He rose sharply and snapped upright and soldierly. As the adjutant appeared he automatically clicked the heels of his highly polished boots and gave the roman salute. “Heil Hitler” he boomed. The heavily decorated attendant returned the greeting with the same vigour. “The Reichsfuhrer is waiting Kluge, do come in”. He turned and led Walter across an impossibly large marble floor. Their boots clacked and echoed crisply, Walter made sure his steps fell in unison, matching Himmler’s deputy. A sense of being absolutely alive overcame him. His senses were heightened to a remarkable degree, the red of the long swastika banners glowed like they were lit from within, the smell of leather and freshly laundered wool and cotton were overpoweringly pleasant. After at least 25 paces he reached the massive slab of the desk behind which sat the second most powerful man in Walter’s universe. He looked exactly like he did in photographs and newsreels. Walter could see the dark stubble on Himmler’s chin. The thick, round glasses… “Sit down Standardfuhrer, please”.
Walter sat stiff in the leather padded chair.
“You have been recommended Kluge”, he patted a yellow coloured file on his desk. Walter didn’t move, concentrating on not staring but trying hard to make eye contact when appropriate.
“You are an Anglophile Kluge?”.
Himmler smiled and Walter saw warmth in his leaders eyes. They were human eyes, smiling, friendly.
“I have studied English Reichsfuhrer and speak the language fluently but they are done for. I am an enemy of the English as a soldier of the Reich”.
His reply seemed to further the good atmosphere. Walter was beginning to relax. He felt the warmth of the winter sun which shone through the huge square windows and revelled in the near euphoria of the moment. A feeling of unreality flickered in his mind.
“Perhaps you can have a chat with Mr. Churchill for us?”.
Walter gave a measured smile, keeping his lips firmly shut to prevent him grinning like a fool.
“You are being attached as my representative, and of course an ambassador of our brotherhood to an Ahnenerbe unit… your mission, Kluge, is to find Aleister Crowley and bring him back to the Reich”.
Book of the Dead. ‘The Dead’. A consistent feature of enlightenment is to claim that future space for the tribe. The tribe. 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 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!”
The needle my sword.
The crack pipe my chalice.
Valium pantacle, pornography wand.
I cast thee away!
Out Demon out! Oh filthy parasite!
You, the Deceiver.
Bringer of Death & Sorrow.
I cast thee out in the names of Sarothis, Iseth, Thosis El Roi!
I am Triumphus, Victorial, Recoverovable & Uncompropoth!
I am the First & the Last, Abba & Babba, Xenotantric, Zectomorphus!
I am the the pure morning & the ultimate midnight.
I come without going, start without stopping…
I am the irresistible, flickering, incandescent Shalobath!
I crash against the rocks with spume & foamy vigour.
I glisten on the sweet mountain grass under the lilac spider moon.
I rise on scented currents as the Sun explodes & the Stars flee from Ialdopan the Pandemonicon!
I live and die with every heartbeat. I fluctuate, penetrate, osscilate.
I am everywhere I look & all things issue forth from me!
I am terrorist, percussionist, endless & infinite!
I create & I destroy.
I hold all things in my embrace & Dissolve with my tongue.
I am without meaning and incomprehensible, without rhyme or reason.
I am ancient & enduring.
I rise & fall, coming & going in great shuddering spasms and paroxysms!
Hark unto me oh Iambecoming!
The Magician fixed Walter with a gaze that was both intimidating and uncanny. The large room had filled up since Walter’s arrival and was full of young men and women. A pianist played and one or two couples moved onto the floor dancing.
How could he have zeroed in on his contact without even a glance at anyone else? Walter had taken his eye off the man for a second and now couldn’t see him… The music seemed to speed up and couples swirled like dervishes, throwing back their heads in great gusts of laughter. A violinist dressed in 18th century wig and frockcoat played with demonic speed. Champagne bottles popped like artillery shells as toffs in tops hats and spats quaffed together and became like Goebbels’ propaganda cartoons of capitalist swine, their fleshy faces morphing into piggy snouts, grunting and snuffling. A beautiful young woman had appeared on top of the grand piano and danced an obscene but enthralling striptease. Walter suspected he’d been drugged. Since the appearance then disappearance of the magician he was struggling to cope with an hallucinogenic assault on his senses. He tore his eyes from the lithe young woman who was now writhing on the piano, a satyr advancing on her with purpose. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes, trying to regain some anchor to reality but when he lifted his head the scene had become even more bizarre. He looked with horror as a creature in a black SS uniform with the head of an owl gobbled down a tiny little man with only the hooked nose of a caricature Jew yet to be devoured. Men and women in wigs and white lead powder make up obscured themselves behind sinister masks and swayed in unison. The music was now frenzied and did not sound like anything Walter had ever heard. “All you need is love, love, love is all you need” sang a man with Jesus hair and Himmler glasses.
Little grey humanoids with overlarge heads and black insect eyes gabbled and pointed and laughed as a fight broke out between a seven foot tall ogre in a leopard skin robe and a black woman almost as tall and wearing only a raw leather holster. She slipped out the revolver like a quick draw artist, pressed the gun against the giants forehead and pulled the trigger; a banner fell from the barrel “BANG!” it said. The huge man fell to the floor before dissolving into a sticky black substance to which the nearest spectators ran and scooped it up with knives and dinner plates… there was more but Walter was lost, and had no language left to describe what he was seeing. He must have blacked out. He awoke as if he’d been having a terrible nightmare, expecting to find himself in his bed at the guest house. He was, however, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to ‘The Imperial Hotel’ and laid out on a chaise-lounge.
“Guten Morgen Standardfuhrer Kluge” Walter turned to see the man who had blown his cover, he guessed either Gestapo or British MI6 with guns. He found himself looking at an old grey haired man, dressed in Harris tweed. It was the magician…
I see the holographic future with life size bio units providing companionship and entertainment. Instant global communication through the new language translator, allowing us to share information as never before. The network of light is rhyzohmatically spreading. “You can’t stop an idea”.
She told me she was writing predictions on parchment and sealing them with wax and the Thosis seal. Seal! Saroth’s spirit animal… did she?
So, boundaries are dissolving nicely and reality with it. “Talk about mandala effect!”
Words invoke so I invoke with words. Images evoke so I evoke with paintings and symbols. “A picture tells a hundred stories!”
“It’s a thousand, isn’t it?”.
So the controllers have lost their black lodge hoodoo and are believed to be hiding in a cave complex in New Aberdeen. Our psychic sniffer dogs are trained to pick up the astral trails of louche…
To have been lazy, neglecting a course of ritual magick, putting off LBRPs because you work all the time… then taking a large dose of psilocybin can feel like suddenly being dropped into very deep and murky waters.
Magick and mushrooms should be very good friends. Magick provides the perfect framework for navigating the landscape the mushroom provides. A big trip, like near death O.B.E.s, seems to mirror the beliefs and expectations of the experiencer, to an extent, but more importantly there is something larger at play. The elevated state of consciousness generated by psilocybin is not the DMT flash but a prolonged journey into the world of demons and angels and a glimpse into the vaults of heaven.
The demons and low lives swarm around you when you’re first plunged into that black formless ocean. As you struggle to cope with the sudden transition you become aware of others around you. Like Interzonian street hawkers they see you, a foreigner. “Hey I can get you outta here man, jusst help me a li’l”. They come in skeletal, crow faced, “I can get you to the next level kid just sign here”. I saw a huge mantid type creature once, it wore a tiny blue cloak. It only wanted to observe so I said sure, why not?
The last time the mushroom said “Come before me naked”, which I took to mean, ditch the baggage. “You are your own Mother & Father… rebirth yourself!”. So I, at the highest level of i-ness became utterly free and rose higher still… I saw crystalline structures imposed on the architecture of the room with my eyes open.
With my eyes closed i soared up and up losing all sense of body. I was shedding layers of programming like a snake sloughing its skin. I was entering the realms of pure experience, unmediated by primitive primate language.
Spiral out in fractal forms. Fractal forms of Thosis, hurling a gibberish language at the Moon… “Ravished every hour”. We mediate experience through language, symbols are as Angels and Demons, is as the Hrumanchis, the Ape of Invocation… of BELAROTH and THOSIS! And THOSIS! It’s skin I sloughed my Misrule. Of Misrule. Ancestor Spirits and the three dimensional world. Dimensional world. Angels Wild Hunt! Wild Hunt! Barbarous names are murky energies and spider beings language at the Moon. The Moon. I haven’t been fed. Been fed. The Ancestor Spirits cry out for the realised. Everything I’d been on that night of the up to that moment had ego and Lunar -Saturnian body. Desolate. Body, Desolate.
The Forgotten Old Ones uttered in Places of the Throwing words at concepts from dimensions beyond normal and unspeakable rites! Unspeakable rites! Woden leads all. I thought it the lower astrals and spirits and other people’s who you know counts… You spirits. “You spirits”. In the shamanscape it’s web is an apt metaphor not just what you know, tongues to speak! To speak! This is communication here. Communication here. The beings known primate behaviour was a reversal. Truly the Kali Yuga! Kali Yuga! Signs, shapes, colours and scent. And scent. Understood from three dimensions. Three dimensions.
The Shades of the Dead, hail undiluted meaning! Undiluted meaning! Time is BABALON. The Forces of Darkness loosed with its fragile human primatism and Hunger! And Hunger! Dark Satanic temples saw the Ages of Man. Ancient Gods, Great Old Ones, a silly monkey for daring huge cosmic forces… My egoic thinks it was smart. Was smart. Unfolding like the thousand petalled, contacted through precise correspondence of being crushed and compressed and stood for. Stood for.
It was not some friends attempt to make flat lotus, like a snake shedding… Attention of the Living… The Living, The Howling Forgotten Spirits of Cold. The most powerful form of “I was a lie”. I was and I saw my self the non verbal realm of Wise or Holy. Or Holy. It was shamanic interconnectedness. Shamanic interconnectedness. Relationships with people, human consciousness cannot be sacrament that allows us to enter you who have no centre of a tangle of and palaces of The Lords. The Lords.