This coming January, we are planning a trip to Frankfurt and touring the surrounding area of Hessia. Apart from visiting family there, there is a very exciting prospect waiting for me as it is the birthplace of the mythology of Dr. Faustus. As you can obviously tell, the legend of Faustus has inspired me since I was a boy. It is a name I have taken unto myself. It will be a time for special inquiry in situ and I will hopefully find some time to contemplate the themes of Faustus in his own country. How did this myth shape the history of that place? What is the current fingerprint of the legend on the people who live there? Where do the stories overlap with real history? These will be some of the questions I present myself, with the help of 500 years of scholarship on Faustus to work from. It is an exciting time, more to come!
Faustus summons the spirits. c. 1840. Carl Christian Vogel von Vogelstein
Lloyd de Beer, curator at The British Museum, explains the origin of the Canterbury pilgrim badges and how they relate to the swift rise of the cult of Thomas à Becket, whose followers drank the blood of the martyr for miracle cures.
Having recently become vaccinated against Covid-19, and yesterday partaking in an especially potent and intoxicating visionary potion: the light is beginning to return to my eyes, the fog is lifting from my mind, and the hope of a life in the world of tomorrow looms above the horizon once more. Now beginning my plans to re-enter society one step at a time, I am inspired to take a moment to reflect back on my notable experiences of life during the pandemic.
We were all livestreamers in the beginning, LOL.
Pictorial representation of my life last year.
While constraints were sometimes dire for me, and being also a man who believes the words of scientists, I have been faithfully observing safe social practices this entire time to the best of my ability. As my immunity against Covid continues to increase over time, I feel a new power in me and a sense of cautious invincibility rising.
While this past year has been a time of deep, long solitudes, I have not been alone. I have been spending the days in my diminished sphere while keeping good company. Long have been the hours spent dreaming, philosophizing and sharing ideas with a brilliant mathematician and programmer, biologists, artists and performers, entrepreneurs, witches, Satanists, and other accomplished folk. I even got married!
My very gay marriage was moved forward because of the climate of politics. Stressful.
Some of us have begun combining our skills to perform new experiments, artforms, and creative projects. We have spent time exploring vistas of the mind, penetrating our consciousness, and comparing experiences to better understand ourselves.
When it finally began to look like the pandemic was not going to be a short thing, I wanted to make sure that this time was well spent in perfecting myself, pursuing my interests, and honing in on my skills.
The Enchiridion of Faustus, a work of art in progress.
Over a period of eight months, I poured much of my creative energy into a piece of art which will soon be unveiled. It was a constant practice in self discipline, dedicating long hours to toil and care to make sure that I was producing the very best of my current ability. As a result, I have much to show the world in the coming weeks, the fruits of these labors.
I dedicated other time to pouring over books I was waiting to buy or read. You can see in posts below this about my recent astrophotography work as well. All of these things I did while working my full time job (now at home), and busting my ass off to keep straight A’s in my pharmacy school work.
Three hundred and sixty-five days is a long time to isolate oneself. To withhold from loved ones who don’t understand why we have to stay apart, and to even loosen ties with some of them who deny the dangers out there despite the evidence, has been a long hard year of absence that can never be recovered.
Nature is home now.
Yet oftentimes for me, even more space was needed. The stress of the American election cycle, the hatred I withstood while living surrounded by idiotic Trumpers, the mounting danger of disease and the rising death tolls, all in a state where the dumbfuck governor was letting things run loose and lawless against it all, was wreaking havoc on my mental health. Many, many times, I went into the woods for days at a time. Some of the longest periods were planned retreats, where we would all disappear into the wilderness and go off grid to disconnect from the bullshit.
So many days and nights wandering through wood, sun and star.
Walking in the dark woods, miles away from any other human, with only the moon to light the way. Working in silence to gather ancient light from distant unreachable stars above me. Or even screaming spells and curses at the planet Mars or pouring out all our pain into the Earth with beating hands and bitter tears flowing.
Gone but not forgotten.
Other times completely and utterly alone with nothing but the stillness of nature, and my own mind. This past year, those woods have become my refuge, sanctuary and a place of inner peace. My practice of meditation is regular again, and my mind and I are becoming reacquainted with each other.
A Hermit stays in there, and it’s me…
As mentioned above, this was a time of cultivating knowledge, deepening understanding, and exploring the mind. One of the major themes of this website is about my magical practice. You can see that some of my biggest work was directed at hexing the political sphere, to put an end to the corrupt, and to seek out justice.
At one point, binding was supplemented with outright cursing.
My city and so many others became a battleground of sigil warfare, with the Trumpfucks usually winning with the idiotic flags, banners and boat parades. I had a lot of time on my hands…
I am proud to say that as part of the Bind Trump movement, I participated in each group ritual every single lunation, and then some. But once the election was decided and the final binding took place, I lost my direction! I had absolutely no magical practice and no idea what to do with myself. Even when the time felt right to start up again, each divination plainly said “Wait….rest….recover…”
Our coven was faithful in the vigilant performance of blue wave magic.
Now my energies are more directed, and they are directed back at myself where they belong. I am back on track applying what magic I know to project my very large Will into the universe to manifest my desires. I have a year of new mental, spiritual, academic, and skillful discipline under my belt. I am ready to soar again!
I am currently abiding the seventh Satanic Rule of the Earth: “Acknowledge the power of magic if you have employed it successfully to obtain your desires. If you deny the power of magic after having called upon it with success, you will lose all you have obtained.”
I am glad to say that most times, my magic works for me! Hope you enjoy what is to come in the future days of Book of Faustus.
“In this episode, Ciaran meets Australian Satanist David Sinclair Smith and learns what the Church of Satan is really about, and attends a satanic ritual deep inside a forest. Our camera captures it all. Is it as controversial as most people believe it to be? Watch now and decide for yourself.”
Quantum malorum clausa nullo limite Cogit libido, quamque dulci carmine Purissimas mortalium mentes rapit Furias in omnes, sed cito quam fallimur. Vitam brevem breve gaudium Mors occupat momentulum quod ridet, aeternum dolet.
“How many evils does Lust command, in the small secluded margins; who with enchanting spell the pure minds of mortals does subdue, and in everyone induces rage, but quickly each is deceived. Death, seizes fleeing Life and brief joy. He laughs for a moment, and forever despairs. “
This engraving by Jan van de Velde depicts a witch as thought of during the height of witchcraft hysteria in Europe. The bare-breasted wild woman stands proudly in her Circle of Art, while demons surrounding her wait to do her bidding to summon some misfortune. All around her are the tools of her craft: the grimoire, the diviner’s cards, flasks of potions, a horn of herbs and a wand, and the goat which she undoubtedly flew in on.
The witch at her cauldron, sets upon some foul brew with the aid of her demon familiars.
Flemish artist Adriaen Collaert (1560-1619) produced the engravings, pictured here, which depict personifications of Aristotle’s classical elements: Earth, Water, Air & Fire, printed in a wunderbuch in the collection of Jean de Poligny. Now located at the Rijksmuseum. Prior to modern atomic theory, these elements were postulated to be the prima materia whose infinite combinations were the physical composites of all things in the Universe. Each engraving was modeled on paintings by the Flemish master de Vos the Elder.
Air, perhaps Aeolus himself, conducts the creatures of the air in their activities. Birds, insects and the angels of the wind are at his command.Earth, personified as wild nature in Cybele, holds the works of nature and man in her hands. Her head wizened and her breasts sagging from their labor. New life and death are seated at her feet. Creatures of the land walk over the vast hillside.Fire! Divine Helios sits in the wheel of the Sun encircled with brilliant flames. The phoenix and the salamander (fire elementals) come to him. The world below is cast alight. Water, as seafoam-born Venus, who is surrounded by the hidden bounty of the mighty sea. She holds the tools of human navigation in her benediction. Her throne of seashells is carried by the Moon, which in its turning controls the tides.
Between 1999 and 2003, an archaeological excavation of the Sainte-Catherine river produced a remarkable collection of medieval pilgrim badges. Between C. XII and C. XV, Christian pilgrims would display these inexpensive badges as charms bought at shrines to the saints.
Some pilgrim badges would display a mundane concern to which the pilgrimage was dedicated (healing, expiation for sins committed, special blessing, travel concerns, etc.) while others were fashioned through verisimilitude to have the same protective powers as the sacred relics they represented.
These badges, or signs, not only represented the experiences of the pilgrimage, but also presented the wearer’s status as a pilgrim as well as what pilgrimage they were set upon. These would also function as a visual language between pilgrims who did not speak a common tongue. The wide popularity, mobility and cheap easy production has resulted in a high number of found examples. Besides their apotropaic qualities, to the medieval pilgrim, the badge also served as a visual memory of their encounter with the sacred relic–a souvenir.
In the image above, a variety of examples from Canterbury Cathedral depict the head relic of St. Thomas à Becket. The head was removed from public veneration and the Cult of Becket was outlawed during the English Reformation.
Bibliography Blick, Sarah, ‘Comparing Pilgrim Souvenirs and Trinity Chapel Windows at Canterbury Cathedral: An Exploration of Context, Copying, and the Recovery of Lost Stained Glass’, Mirator (2001), 1-27 Lee, Jennifer, ‘Beyond the Locus Sanctus: The Independent Iconography of Pilgrims’ Souvenirs’, Visual Resources 21 (2005), 363-381 TIXADOR A. Enseignes sacrées et profanes médiévales découvertes à Valenciennes, Service archéologique de Valenciennes / Illustria-Librairie des Musées, 2004.
The most sacred and important holiday of the year is upon me. My birthday! This year’s festivities were scaled down due to the pandemic but they were no less decadent than in the past. My small chosen-pandemic social group got together to assist a Black Mass to celebrate my LIFE (and what a life it’s been so far).
This year’s altar was in stark contrast with the severe torch-lit ceremonies of the past. To celebrate indulgence and all the pleasures of the world, we built an altar toFaustus, the god who is ME–covered in gold, jewels, and all sorts of glittering trinkets which glowed in purple light. My favorite music filled the air as I offered (myself) choice incenses and an oil of frankincense, cinnamon and violet. Our holy communion was a delicious goat cheese with raw honey, and the “Elixir of Life”, Veuve Clicquot with a hearty splash of Chartreuse.
The Faustus candle was lit and bedecked with all the treasures of the altar, where its flame will continue to burn for many days, fortifying ME in my renewed hunger for LIFE.
Readers of this Book, and visitors to my Instagram, will already be highly familiar with my deeply seated hatred for Donald Trump and his cohort of evil. I have been an active member of the #MAGICRESISTANCE and Bind Trump movement since the very beginning. Unfortunately over the years, I have found the common spells used in the movement to be weak and pusillanimous. I do believe that the Trump Binding ritual has been effective in containing a great amount of what human evil this man is capable of unleashing on the world (things could be MUCH worse).
Still, the time for binding is over for me. I, and a large number of witches I know out there, have moved on to cursing. The stakes are too high in this election/pandemic/uprising/disaster fueled year to take any chances. Not only are we cursing the president himself, but his enablers, the GOP, and even his local supporters in my own town. If you fly a Trump logo near my house, I will be happy to include you in these workings. (Coincidentally, as soon as we started cursing some of the neighbors, the Trump flags started to disappear).
From my IG story, to my mind a type of high-broadcast sigil!
Some in my coven are working a series of rituals both simple and complex, almost every night for the foreseeable future, including the Operation of the Grand Bewitchment being held on Tuesday, June 15th. Below is a description of one such ritual we developed, which after a month of introspection, has shown itself to be effective not only against Trump’s reputation, well-being and safety, but has been a much needed catharsis for us internally.
Saturday, May 16th 2020, ☽︎ in ♓︎, Day & Hour of ♄
On this night of a waning moon, and in the day and hour of Saturn (which governs death, destruction, illness, and other dark influences), the Priestess and I gathered to conduct a five part ritual of destruction against Donald Trump, the GOP and other far right evildoers. The altar having been prepared, the torches lit, and the concelebrants in full regalia, we intoxicated ourselves with liquors, cannabis and visionary herbs.
I. Opening the Hellish Vortex
The LBRP was omitted for this circle casting, as we welcomed all malice, wickedness and evil spirits to be present at our baneful altar. In its place, the Banishing Ritual of the Hexagram was used to remove even any positive influences present. Infernal powers were invoked with the solemn ringing of a bell, and calling out the names of the princes of Hell: Leviathan to the West, Belial to the North, Lucifer to the East, and Satan to the South. Then using the formulae of the Opening by Watchtower, the elemental powers at each quarter were called upon, and their influences equilibrated at the center of the altar. Next, as Saturn began to rise above the horizon, we performed the act of Drawing Down Saturn. As the gong sounded beyond the Sphere of Art, the space was enveloped in a dark flame which burned with wrath and fury. The elemental, diabolical and planetary energies now filling the chamber, we circumambulated the altar to form a vortex of these powers.
II. Binding the Enemy
We then performed the binding traditionally used by the Bind Trump movement, only now including the printed images of all our GOP worst-favorites as well. This time, however we had a secret weapon! You see, after Congress authorized a stimulus payment to the priestess and I due to the pandemic, by law the IRS was required to send notification to each recipient by mail. In this case, Trump decided that it was necessary to make the IRS send a letter in his name, and with his own signature at the bottom. By the Law of Contagion, this granted us immediate magical access to the person of Donald Trump, granting us a new avenue of magical influence over him we did not have before. The first Trump letter was consumed for this binding. To prepare the next step, a special Saturnal incense was prepared (henbane, sulfur, chicory, pepper, myrrh and dried blood) and the space was fumigated thereby.
The Mark of the Beast himself. (I wore that cilice during the ritual to add my bodily pain to my malicious intent. Very effective.
III. The Curse Jar
Continuing to circle the altar, we entered the next phase by reciting the mantra, “Bring forth the flames of Hell!”. As we marched around, reciting this mantra with great passion and hatred in our hearts, we visualized the writing and scorching black flames of hellfire rising in this space, as the drum and the gong continued. A cauldron had been set in the center of the altar for burning our photos of the victims. Each of us took turns with these images, pouring our hate out onto them, piercing them with nails, and imbuing them with enmity, then casting them to the fire in the iron pot. Whenever we held an image that inspired additional outrage, we were free to throw burning phosphorous into the cauldron as well. Bring forth the flames of Hell! Seeing the faces of Trump, McConnel, Pence, DeVos, DeSantis, Scott, Rubio, and others–GOP lobbyists, EPA violators, alt-right murderers, criminals, killers, liars and cheats–burning up in our hands, brought us great delight at the thought of their downfall. Bring forth the flames of Hell! We continued this movement, until the heat, the sweat, the panting, the rage, the tears and the fury were built to a horrible crescendo–FRENZY!! Bring forth the flames of Hell! We took our coven’s sacred sword aloft, and pierced it through the air towards the burning cauldron, thrusting all our rancor, wrath and despair into the smoke and ash of their smoldering, writhing faces. Bring forth the flames of Hell! The images having been consummated by flames, we removed the ashes from the cauldron and added them to the Curse Jar. Inside the jar were the artifacts from the binding (above), the second Trump letter, the Saturnine incense, dirt from the yards of all the Trump supporters in my neighborhood, and my own concoction of Goofer Dust. This dust contained quantities of the following: graveyard dirt, cayenne pepper, habanero pepper, snake skin, a snake’s head, bone dust, salt, poppy seed, coal, the hair of a black dog, a spider and her eggs, and iron filings. Bring forth the flames of Hell! The Curse Jar was then topped off with an anointed death’s head candle, inscribed with the name Donald J Trump, whose wax was then let to drip through the whole jar as it melted and finally suffocated itself. We poured the rest of whatever malice we could find inside our hearts, into the jar, and sealed it with black candle wax. Bring forth the flames of Hell!
The jar holding our cursed intentions, burnt images, and all the vile ingredients commingled together in collage of ugliness.
IV. Toast of Destruction
Having spent our rage to the utmost of our ability, we then poured out blood red wine infused with bitter herbs, into ornate crystal chalices. “A toast…to the end of the GOP, to the death of tyrants, and to the suffering of Trump!” I let the bitter wine flow down my throat to drown the fires of my burning anger, to soothe my body and comfort my soul.
V. Down by the Riverside (Closing)
The Curse Jar made ready, the conflagration within drowned with wine, and all our energy spent, we left the circle and marched in solemnity and silence to my town’s canal, carrying the Curse Jar (and a second curse jar made months previously) in hand. To the ritual mind, it felt like holding a ticking time bomb, a hand grenade which could explode with our condensed acrimony and blistering vengeance. With some solemn words of release, we dropped the jars into the canal, letting the water carry them away to the sea. When we returned to the circle, we dismissed the quarters, bade farewell to the Infernal powers, and purified ourselves with the LBRP and other purifications.
The ritual was then concluded, and we left to go spend time and play games with our friends across town to refresh ourselves.
The Book of Faustus 