I have a lot of personal projects going at all times. These are usually very complex, technical hobbies. My projects can last months or even years, depending on the state of my focus or creativity.
Without revealing too too much, I am just writing here to celebrate, to commemorate, a great personal triumph in the field of chemistry. I have performed a procedure that has resulted in a great Mystery. A precious, beautiful substance of great price. This week, I feel like the alchemist who has finally transmuted his base substance into gold. I have extracted, dissolved and purified and bottled a Wonder.
I’ve been studying chemistry for a number of years now and (second to astronomy) it is the most mind-expanding practice I have discovered. It makes me feel like a god, but it’s more like an intelligent ape playing with the building blocks of the Universe.
From start to finish, it is a practice of mindfulness and forethought. Every step taken is deliberate and intentional. It is as much an art as a science. Watching reactants interact with each other, transferring energy, moving towards equilibrium, changing state, color and temperature, all at my own direction.
So, after years of toil both in the classroom and the lab, it is such a high feeling of reward to see something of my own crystalize before my eyes.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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…”
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.
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).
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.
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!
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.
Alec Falle Hamilton recently shared this drawing which was inspired by the spirit(s) of the magic mushroom. “I asked the mushrooms how I could honor their spirit with a single drawing. Their answer came back immediately… ‘It’s all One line’. Here’s Leonardo Da Vinci and the Hermit, drawn without lifting my pen from the paper, made up entirely of mushrooms.”
This resonates so deeply with my own mushroom experiences, which often hurtle me back and forth between the past and future, with icons like Leonardo and other Renaissance figures giving my inspiration through their work. Leonardo has always represented to me the greatest mind humanity has ever offered: one whose inquisitive nature lead him to define new art forms, mechanisms and ideas that were centuries ahead of his time.
The Hermit is of equal importance in his quest for interior silence. Becoming a spiritually minded person often means separating oneself from society in order to deepen the relationship of the individual with nature and his own self.
These are all values upheld by the mushroom spirit.
I don’t live in a place where clear skies happen often–such a shame because one of my favorite hobbies is astrophotography. This year though, I made an arrangement (with a church, of all groups!) to make use of a private field near my house for astronomy purposes. Astronomy is, after all, hugely important to magic!
On the night after Christmas, the sky finally cooperated and so I went out to this field for the first time to take pictures with some new equipment. As expected, the cops showed up in the middle of my work with their obnoxious bright lights, ruining whatever shot my camera was working on. Know-nothing neighbors had reported suspicious activity where a strange man was allegedly taking pictures of their houses in the middle of the night. So I showed the cops my equipment, and my proof of permission to be there.
That still didn’t stop the interruptions since other nosy neighbors simply plowed through the pristine field in their 4-wheeler to stop right in front of my camera to see what I was doing. “I’m taking pictures of space. You just drove right through my shot man”. They were nice enough to apologize and we talked a bit about space before I shoo-ed them off. It was a night of hassle and obstruction, but I at least managed to get two decent pictures using a barn-door tracker which I had built the week prior.
This imaging session represents a big milestone for me, as it was the first time I have ever successfully imaged another galaxy. It just boggles my mind that the precious light from those stars had been traveling across the vast ocean of space for 2.5 MILLION years before it made its final destination in the sensor of my camera. In my city, the night pollution is a nightmare. I don’t get to practice much but I am always studying to improve my techniques. This is proof to me that study and sound theory make good results!
I’ve been using this Fall and Winter to spend more time under the night sky, not only making astronomical observations, but in spiritual contemplation. My coven recently had our annual High Sabbat of the Woods where there was much time to lay under the stars in a visionary state. We spent most of our trip watching the sky from dusk till dawn. As the trip started kicking in, the sun was setting in a gorgeous gradient of orange red and yellow against the black horizon of trees, as Venus and Jupiter glided downwards to follow the sun. I could see how the planets are revolving around the sun in a 3D universe, not just the dome of the sky. It was a moment of cosmic revelation which just made me feel so incredible small against the unfathomably huge and ancient universe.
For a time, our group had been scattered about in the woods exploring. When we all suddenly met each other in a cypress swamp, we looked through the dense trees at what seemed like an industrial light nearby. It was the moon, shining so brightly and hanging low and large above the horizon. The rest of our trip was lit entirely by moonlight. It was a beautiful night of enchantment and delight.
This weekend in the northern hemisphere we were all treated to an auspicious occurrence of a full moon in Pisces. This placement to me indicates a great magnification of spiritual movement, intellectual flow and inward creativity. Retrograde Neptune which governs this lunation may cause it to seem like the spiritual seeker is trying to swim upstream–there is struggle but determination in his efforts.
The day of the 13th, Sage, the priestess of our coven, invited me to join her in a full moon ritual. Despite being tired from all the crazy shit going on in my professional life right now, I decided that a full moon on Friday the 13th just cannot be overlooked. So we gathered!
Here in the south it is still hot at night but a passing tropical storm across the state thankfully provided some breeze and ambiance to the surroundings. This night was full of life as all the trees swayed, the crickets sang and a large and invisible family of frogs were calling out to each other as the moon passed silently overhead. To prepare we set up a working table outside. We took a lot of time before starting anything to ground ourselves and discern what need there was for working under this moon. It would be a night for divination and spirit travel! Not having a proper crossroads to work in, we decided instead to get cross-faded with an inebriating combination of alcohol, cannabis, kinnikkinnik, and the last dregs of my vision potion (the jury is finally out on this BTW. It is very inspiring).
We purified ourselves to start, cast the circle with the LBRP and called the elements together. We opened our ritual by drawing down the power of the moon into our space. Then we took out the Black Mirror. This mirror was built by me, consecrated to the moon, and since then has never touched the light of day. Sage took her dive into the depths of the mirror as I stood watch. By now all the potions and fumes from earlier were keeping me relaxed but deeply focused. I couldn’t tell you what Sage saw in the Mirror. That is for her to tell. But when I went in next, I had a profound, almost psychedelic experience.
My intention when starting this divination was to discern whether there was any hope in the future for the human species. As I opened the veil and entered into the Mirror’s fathomless depths, my mind’s eye briefly caught a glimpse of the anthropological story of homo sapiens from the last major Ice Age, to perhaps a not-too-distant future of human space exploration. But before gleaning too much about my intended question, a cosmic voice interjected…
“You’re asking the most boring question ever”, it said. And suddenly my vision transformed into an ever-expanding, multi-dimensional, fractalizing space. It was a universe beyond our own. It was the world of forms and it was the world of the formless at the same time. This multiverse of possibilities, endless endless combinations, opened up to me like a book in an alien script. “Is this the Askashic record?!!”, I thought to myself. No answer. Only the fast whizzing of ineffable words, images and feelings which were beyond my understanding. It was too much to contain. My mind was spinning and then somehow I spiraled back into my normal time and place, outside the Mirror, and outside still under the light of the moon. The lesson from my seemingly idiotic question? The human condition is an illusion of permanence. My human consciousness is a mere drop of water temporarily separated from an immense ocean of Mind. In some ways this is disturbing. In other ways it is comforting.
After this we had to stand up, move around, stretch and breathe. We then sat down for a mutual astral voyage up to the sphere of the moon, to explore its powers, denizens and structures. But that is a highly detailed story for another time. Finally we set up a small telescope which we used to focus moonlight into a singular point. We took turns charging our ritual objects with this favorable lunar energy, and blessing ourselves with its light. We also prepared a lovely urn of moon water, which we will use in the coming days.
The fullness of this moon also serves to remind me how full my life is. It is a blessing to have the means to explore the path of the spiritual seeker. And it is truly a blessing to have companions to explore the path together.
One area of my home is dedicated as a workshop for magical experiments. Once I bought an antique armoire, painted and gilded it, and then consecrated its use for magic. It serves not only as a permanent altar, but also a very useful storage space for my ever-growing collection of magical materials and artifacts. Since so many people who have seen it wonder what all I’ve got in there, let me give you a peak inside. Items marked with an * will have further details at the bottom…
The Red Book of S et L – My personal book of shadows. Essentially the true Book of Faustus.*
Mortar and pestle
Bundle of sage
Cauldron of Ogun*
Fetish of Eleggua* (I messed up and made two 8’s) 8. Deck prism
Assorted candles, figurine candle
Herb jars *
Chicken foot charm
Book of Sigils*
Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds
Witches’ Flying Ointment (by Sarah Anne Lawless)
Morning Glory seeds
Sacred jewelry, kept in a clay pot I made
Vision potion herbal blend
(Located underneath 26) Packets of baneful plant seeds. Henbane, atropa belladonna, cinquefoil and others.
Hot plate for burning vessels
The altar level, which I decided not to release full photos of, contains many other items including the orisha Osun, ceremonial tools of the Golden Dawn, active spells, mojo bags, offerings, bells, wands and everything else.
Any magic mirror of mine needs to be fancy as fuck.
A proper cauldron. Not just for cooking but also for large potion batches–ayahuasca comes to mind…
Gays and their disposable income, what can I say?
1: One of my most prized possessions, The Red Book contains a record of my most interesting magical experiments, frequently used spells and ceremonies, correspondences, and spiritual writings. It is of course for my eyes only. Our coven has a separate Book of Shadows for common use.
4, 6, & 8: These Santeria/Yoruba items came to me purely by chance. When I used to work at a homeless shelter, people would come by with donations of all kinds. Sometimes they were useful things, sometimes they just wanted a place to drop their junk. One day a donation came in that was an old box full of strange objects that no one wanted to touch. When I opened the box, here was this head figurine, an iron cauldron, railroad spikes, a metal rooster, and another mysterious box with small animal bones, dust and a written spell. All these items were covered in grease and looked well used. Since fate determined that they would show up on my desk, I decided to take them home and maintain their dignified presence, rather than see them be thrown away.
11: About a dozen herbs are nicely bottled up off-camera here. They include things like wild lettuce, mugwort, damiana, High John, salvia divinorum, foxglove, rose petals, and others.
14: Similar to The Red Book, the less formal Sigil Book is a worksheet for sigil making and destroying. Some sigil drafts remain although their meanings are mostly forgotten by me when I look back. It is mainly a nostalgia piece.
Timothy Wyllie’s life is proof that in order to become a great wizard, you have to alter your mind in drastic ways–usually to the point that you no longer even identify with the profane world at all. Having recently spent some more time learning about his life, he strikes me as the spiritual son of Dr. John Dee as well as Dr. Alexander Shulgin. A bit more about his mystical life comes from this eulogy by Erica Robinson of Inner Traditions:
If you are a witch, like me, of a non-Wiccan, non-Pagan persuasion, this newly released book may be present the path for you. Orapello and Maguire have put together their own tradition of witchcraft that makes sense for modern times. This book serves as a reminder that we are people of the land, and we are each tied to the land where we live. There may be little need for gods from an ancient bygone country which we have never seen or heard. Instead we should favor indigenous plants and animals, local customs, the spirits and ancestors of our own land, and the seasons not only of our own region, but seasons that make sense to modern living (that is, a non-agrarian society that has little fear of food scarcity or timing rituals around harvest or famine). This is especially poignant as Americans with a shorter breadth of history and folklore native to our home country.
As the title would suggest, the tools of this craft are traditional as well, but adaptable to our own needs. The authors lay out a sixfold path of traditional witchcraft which includes: History and lore, magick, divination, herbalism, necromancy and hedgewitchery. Their system flips the established yet contrived order of the elemental corners upside down, in favor of one that makes more locative sense to the user’s common sense. There is no shortage of animism or ancestors here, along with their two primary deities who are the masculine and feminine deifications of Nature itself.
I myself will be adopting many of their ideas into my regular magical work. This kind of magic ties the blood of Man to the soil of the Earth in a deep and meaningful way. What’s more is it raises our awareness of the world immediately around us and our relationship with it. Rather than adopting a witchcraft tradition which is a confused occultic hodgepodge amalgamation of other peoples’ ideas (or worse, a confused “New Age” practice that has no coherency or basis in reality whatsoever), Besom Stang & Sword inspire the reader to make their own path, and more importantly, forge a living tradition that is woven into their own world.
In The Witches’ Ointment: The Secret History of PsychedelicMagic, Thomas Hatsis takes you on a roller coaster ride through history in search for the mysterious origins of the legend of the witches’ flying ointment. Through story telling and by using primary historical sources, Hatsis presents the way in which the village healers and folk medicine practitioners of the Middle Ages became the most hated and feared of creatures to Christian Europe–witches! This book explores the historical use of psychoactive substances in both medicine and magic, and sheds much light on the Inquisitors who reacted to these practices with fear. Thomas Hatsis’ academic work, shown expertly in this book, is truly, truly impressive. Did he find the fabled recipe for magical flight? You will have to read to find out!