It’s weird. Since starting a Goetia Immersion class in August 2015, I’ve maintained a daily magickal practice easily enough. I don’t necessarily do heavy work every day, but I always do something, even if it is just some light meditation or a quick Tarot reading. Despite that, I needed a break after the Domagick challenge. I know it wasn’t the work itself that turned me off but the necessity of having to make reports here every day. Either way, I was so done by March 30. I’ve yet to hand in the last half of my monthly Goetia notes because of that break.
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY 18
I pleased to announce that my house was free of workmen all day today. It turns out they managed to get the job done early and didn’t have to come back after all. That meant I could dedicate the entire day to magick and art. Hurrah!
First, I made a scrying mirror. When we bought our new TV stand, my family decided not to put on its doors, so that left us with two large pieces of framed glass. They were too beautiful to throw away, and I finally put one of them to good use this morning.
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY 14
I made another burnt offering to Oso today. Afterward, I launched the sigil I’d created. I sang Oso’s enn during both, my song becoming more and more sibilant as I went along. The imagery that appeared in my mind’s eye during the launch was distinctly different than usual. Strangely, I heard it as a senryū at the same time:
Black kite flies over
the white-capped mountains of hope—
my fears disappear.
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY EIGHT
Week One of the March Domagick Challenge is now complete, and I’m not sure how I feel about my progress so far. I wanted to lessen my anxiety with a good dose of self-love, so I’ve tried embracing disowned parts of me through shadow-work and shamanic journeys. I’ve used these techniques before to great effect, but this time around it feels like busy work compared to other things I’m trying.
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY SEVEN
I continued today with the five warrior syllables but did not feel any tingling in my third eye. This might have been because I vibrated the syllables in front of my partner, which made me feel somewhat self-conscious. He didn’t care what I was doing, yet I remained aware someone else was in the room who wasn’t taking part in my spiritual practice. This continues to be a problem with having downsized our apartment; we pay less rent, but I also have far less space within which to work. So far, I can’t see any way around it except moving my practice from place to place so I can be alone. With my fibromyalgia, I find this sometimes tires me out so much that I then don’t want to practice magick at all. I know I will find a solution, but one just hasn’t come to me yet.
I had a good deal of writing I wanted to get done today for the course I’m teaching at the beginning of April, and I expected it to fight me every step of the way. Strangely, the writing came easier than any I’ve done in years. I can’t help but think that’s because I’ve decided I don’t have to write anymore unless I want to do so. I am doing it for me, not anyone else.
I know I can be an extremely resistant individual. If you keep telling me I have to read a book, it doesn’t matter how good that book is; I will never crack its covers. The thing is, I’d never describe myself someone who dislikes authority figures. I’ve always been the kid who sits at the front of the classroom and hands in their homework on time. I remain a mystery, even to myself.
After meditating briefly with Salleos, I consulted the Tarot about this tendency and turned over the Sun and Death cards. I interpreted this to mean that I know my place in the universe and want to do what I like. I also want to make space for frequent new opportunities and growth, i.e. I hate getting bored. I just have to make sure I am pursuing of meaningful change and not being contrary for the sake of being contrary alone.
Besides this, I made took a couple of photographs for the #developingyoureye challenge WordPress. Whether or not I initially feel inspired by each day’s photography prompt, I always become absorbed playing with the act of playing with my camera and altering the photos. It may make me a wannabe hipster, but I adore this kind of thing.
Today’s prompt was ‘connect’ and I planned to take pictures of my cats alongside a necklace which means a great deal to me. When I pulled the necklace away from one of their paws, it formed a natural heart shape. This represents the person who gave me the necklace perfectly, as she is all heart. C, these are for you.
(The photograph at the top of the entry are for yesterday’s prompt, bliss. I took the photos too late in the date to post on time.)
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY THREE
There are innumerable ways to work with daemons. Often magicians command daemons to obey their will and try to force them to do what they want. As a Daemonolater, I believe daemons are divine intelligences and prefer to treat them more respectfully.
This morning, for example, I reached out to the daemon Salleos by singing his enn, a short phrase which acts as a daemon’s calling card and can be used as focal point just like a sigil. Later in the day, I concentrated on his seal until my eyes grew heavy, and then drew a tarot card for guidance.
When I asked Salleos how I could treat myself in a more loving and compassionate manner, the Two of Cups fell out during my shuffling. In the Thoth deck, this card is literally titled ‘Love,’ and can mean a union of two people as well as uniting with neglected parts of yourself. Since I’d drawn a picture earlier called “Romancing My Shadow,” I believe I’m on the right track.
You see, Salleos is best known for causing men and women fall in love, but I don’t need romantic help right now. However, I’ve practiced core-shamanism for twenty years now, and shamans are known to marry spirit helpers of the opposite sex in many traditions. Once I applied some outside the box thinking to how scared I am of my being myself, especially my artistic self, I realized I could work with Salleos to reconcile with that part of me. I spent a good portion of my day setting up an art studio in my house to woo “her.”
As per my agreement with myself, I also:
- Listened to the soundtrack from the novel I’ve decided not to work on this month. No anxiety came up except the feeling, again, that I should be working on it. I chair danced it away.
- Took two photos as part of my decision to make art every day. These were taken in response to the “water” prompt in the WordPress #developingyoureye challenge.
DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY 2
I feel like I was kicked in the teeth this morning. One of my cats jumped up on the bookshelf and knocked down what I’d I spent a week crafting with Malphas. One of its parts cracked right down the middle. It wasn’t just a trinket. I’d spent days charging it with positivity, security, and creativity. Now I either need to repair it or start again. Worse yet, when I came home one of them had puked spectacularly all over my desk chair. I couldn’t help but think the universe was trying to tell me something. Last night’s question kept coming back to me. “I’m a writer, aren’t I?”
I suppose I am. I do, after all, write. Sometimes I even enjoy it. I blog at demonolatry.org and have a good time doing it. I’m may ache after my time at my desk, but I don’t resent that. It feels like time well spent. I feel the same way about the posts here. I’m not sure how many people are reading, but at least I’m being given a chance to express myself.
Other times, writing feels like a burden. I don’t mean the business aspect of it. Although marketing yourself on the internet is never fun, I’ve gotten used to that over the years. Perhaps not savvy at it, but I recognize that it is a task I cannot ignore. Yet that isn’t the part of writing I’m referring to, or even the Dreaded Novel I Cannot Finished. Rather, it is that people think of me as a writer. It is what they expect me to do with my days, and what they expect me to be good at, and to be satisfied by. Writing has always been at the core of who I am. I fear that saying it no longer makes me happy a good portion of the time will make me seem like an entirely different person: a lesser person, someone not as worthwhile in their eyes.
The people I admire most are storytellers. A few have been published—many times, in fact. Others struggle to place their stories. They remain among the most gifted tale-tellers I know. I always feel blessed when they open up and share one with me. In all likelihood, most of them wouldn’t even consider themselves storytellers at all. They might say they have the gift of the gab, that they can make people laugh, or that they are natural healers. Indeed, they should be allowed to define themselves, but they remain storytellers to me, and they seem a little bit magical because of that.
Two tell stories with something other than words. The teacher of my sound healing class can spin tales with graceful movements alone. On the other hand, my husband weaves stories with color and light. He paints in three mediums now, with oil being the latest he’s trying to master. He once wrote together, but he could never quite express with words what he can with the brush and he always felt as if he was trying to catch up to me.
I admit it sometimes frustrated me that such a knowledge gap existed between us, but I knew he would catch up. I’ve often wondered if the joy went out of writing for me when he moved onto painting. Deciding that would be the easy but not true; in many ways, I prefer to work alone. Still, I often resented the excitement with which he raced to his easel while I trudged to my desk. I knew fibromyalgia and all shit-ton of other health conditions made harder and harder for me to sit there, but I also realized stress worsened fibromyalgia. After years away from drawing, I finally tried my hand art again to spend time with husband and to relieve that stress.
When absorbed in lines and color, the world disappears for me in the way like it used to when I wrote fiction. I cannot connect with stories that way anymore. I have to fight through fibro fog to write at all. I was amazed when I could edit a friend’s work so easily the other day. It took me hours, but I could concentrate in a way that I can only with visual art and meditation now. I know if I keep plugging away at it, that I can probably could force those neural pathways open and write again… but I don’t want to do so.
I think that’s what my spirits were trying to tell me when they brought up the Novel That Dare Not Be Named and all its labyrinth symbolism again. It was a story about a man who felt himself changing and became terrified of that change. I felt myself changing while writing it and became similarly afraid. Back then, I was certain that any metamorphosis providing me with the key to happiness would also guarantee I’d end up alone. I still fear that, only now I can see that my chrysalis involves art. The tarot deck I consulted today said no change will come at all unless I am willing to admit what I want, no matter the risk. I’ve known this all along.
Not so long ago, the writer I admire most suggested I take a break from writing. Other than my current commitments, that’s what I’m going to do. I will even play what if with myself and pretend I am not a writer, at least not a professional one. I may be good at writing, I can support my friends and all they do, but I do not have to write anything new this months unless it makes me happy.
Somehow I forgot that muses must be nurtured. They must live in a healthy environment to thrive. I’ve kept mine in a coal mine, working him 24/7 for years. Even when I wasn’t selling my work, all my writing was aimed at eventual sale or getting me forward in some way. I stopped writing for fun—except for the few bits and bobs I mentioned before. I’ll keep up with those because there’s no reason not to; it makes no sense to throw away what still works, does it?
In light of what I’m figuring out about myself, I’m ratifying my original plans to bring them more in line with working with daemons of love and understanding. Therefore:
EVERY DAY –
I will write my novel for one hour, without planning anything in advance, using a soundtrack I created for inspiration. I will not judge or even looking back at the work until the end of the month. Listen to the soundtrack. Meditate on and disperse any anxieties it brings up with dance and sound. I accomplished this today.
EVERY DAY – At minimum, sing the enns of the daemons I’m working with and run their energy through my chakras. I accomplished this today as well.
EVERY DAY – Make some new art, even if all I do is photograph or draw something I love. If possible, I will listen to upbeat music while I work.
I haven’t managed this yet, but I still plan to after dinner. I feel like saying I want to make is major movement on this front, since I’ve been nearly paralyzed to say it out loud and disappoint people I love. In addition to completing day two of the #developingyoureye challenge through WordPress and snapping the photo you can find below, I took a snapshot of the angel which sits on my porch. Do you love her as much as I do? You can see her at the top of this post.
And, of course…
EVERY WEDNESDAY – Attend a sound healing class here in my city.
MARCH 10 to 12 – Attend workshop on the how to use the 5 Warrior Syllables.