Diamond Digger (220 BPM)

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

To these eleven words, I have the relationship of a sugar daddy to his diamond-digger, of a moneyslave to his domme, of Heracles to Queen Omphale!

On this subject, I am asked how I manage the fact that my marvellous promulgation — by far, by very, very, very far the best currently in circulation on Earth — has earned me, “for my fee” (Cordis 1, 41), five years in prison from the Heathen and the envious hatred of virtually the entire global Thelemic community outside our Sect!

The answer is in the statement itself — precisely, in the adjective “marvellous.”

There can obviously be no more official recognition of my Work than a condemnation — for this very Work and for not having “renounced [my] spiritual practices” (as Judge Chabanon put it) — to five years of actual prison time…

For those “promulgators” tormented by the insignificance of their own attempts, who make it a point never to praise anything except what is as mediocre as they are (this is how nullity maintains itself), this is already hard to swallow…

First attracted because it shines — Sir Shumule playing with life and money, with the divine sciences and with judicial powers, with a casualness they will never possess — they quickly realise that the comparison is not exactly flattering to them…

I mean: not only are they not Zugers (miskin, though…), but every single day I publish online, with an illicit iPhone, from a prison cell saturated with signal jammers, infinitely better texts than anything all of them put together could ever imagine conceiving, even once in their lives, with all the comfort, all the freedom of action, and all the imaginable technology at their disposal!

I have a supernatural constitution. It’s genetic. But it is also deeply humiliating for them!

So please, no hard feelings: I love with a burning heart (AL 2, 24) all Thelemites in the world and I am quite aware that if I were in their place, I too would hate myself!

That said, let us joyfully add another layer:

I just had, with Tia — who has always had a soft spot both for lithotherapy and for ostentatious bling — a meticulous exchange on the respective powers of the precious stones enumerated in verse 4 of Chapter 1 of The Book of the Heart Girt with a Serpent.

“Therefore thou writest that which is of mother of emerald, and of lapis-lazuli, and of turquoise, and of alexandrite.”

At the end of our conversation, the question was not really settled — so I immediately smoked two enormous Isla OG joints in order to approach the matter methodically — and I observed the following:

I. Mother of Emerald

First, the context:

While the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) is busy recording his karmic recollections in a book, his Holy Guardian Angel, visibly pleased with him, compares what he is writing, in praise, to various precious stones…

I can understand that — I myself tend not only to regard my dear memories as so many dazzling jewels, but also to fixate obsessively, with a kind of superstitious awe, on each piece of jewellery I own, focusing on the happy events associated with its acquisition…

Thus, until very recently, the object I cherished most in this world was a Chopard Ice Cube watch given to me by a great love of my youth.

I looked after the maintenance and security of this treasure with maniacal care!!!

Yet please do me the honour of believing that, since the end of my idyll with the woman who had given it to me, I had fucked in every dialect!... I had whipped pearl-laden socialites from great Western families under the libidinous gaze of their candaulist husbands!... I had flogged penitents!... I had deflowered lolitas, fucked cocaine-fuelled night owls, Slavic escorts and hardcore tomboys!... 

But nothing had managed to diminish the intensity of the truly religious fervour I devoted to that watch and what it represented…

However, I recently realised that the Divine Injunction “Wear to me jewels” (AL 1, 63) — implying that jewels are to be worn exclusively in honour of our august Queen Nuit — together with my New Solar Year Vows (“This year, I want to reach, in relation to Nuit’s earthly representative — my wife Chloé — the state in which Majnun was in relation to Layla — to hear ‘Chloé’ in every sound and see Chloé in every occurrence”), rendered my attachment to that object completely obsolete, and my feelings towards it are now very different.

I think that as soon as I get out of prison, I will trade it for a Cartier Love bracelet in platinum, which I will give to Chloé before withdrawing to the foot of the Swiss mountain where her ancestor Nicholas of Flüe lived, and there end my life as a living embodiment of the Fool of the Tarot, grazing the grass of the fields like Majnun and Nebuchadnezzar.

Such is the power of stones!…

II. Lapis-lazuli

This kind of fetishism is perhaps the most magical — that is to say, the most Thelemic, that is to say, the healthiest — perspective a man can have on the world…

I mean: the future is a hypothesis, the present is unquantifiable — only the past exists — This is the meaning of the Word of the Old Serpent, Hadit our Master: “all is ever as it was” (AL 2, 68).

Anyone who — like Eve, Job and myself — has experienced a sudden, unmediated passage from an ultra-paradisiacal way of life to a time of particularly harsh “danger & trouble” (AL 3, 11) knows this principle: one is “strong in war” (AL 3, 28) to the exact measure of the Happiness one has stored up during the Blessèd Days: diamonds are forever.

Yes, the past is utterly immutable, and we usually lament this — But as a result, “the Kings of the earth shall be Kings for ever,” by virtue of which “it may be that yonder beggar is a King” (AL 2, 68) — Hence the fundamental Shumulism: As far as Absolute Happiness on all imaginable planes of existence is concerned, it is better to have had it for half a century than not at all — it makes for memories…

III. Turquoise

In the negative, this is the notion that Freud managed to capture on the fly, just as George Orwell did, who in 1984 bases the height of Inhumanity on the principle of the Mutability of the Past.

Understand: from a Thelemic point of view, “inhumanity” means: that which is contrary to the divine order of things; that which belongs to the agents of chaos, enemies of the gods; that which is contrary to the Law of Thelema.

In terms of the Holy Qabalah, we say: Man is the Tree of Life, which is summed up in 10 Spheres connected by 22 Paths, a Mystery logically symbolised by the Number 220 (that is, 22 × 10).

Now, 220 also symbolises “the whole of the Law” since Liber AL contains, in total, 220 Verses — 220 being therefore “the whole of the Law,” can be read as “Do what thou wilt.”

The deep Being of man — the “thou” of “Do what thou wilt” — is therefore symbolised by 220, and this is what the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) teaches us when he says “I am the Heart” (Cordis 1, 1), since Heart = H(5) + e(5) + a(1) + r(200) + t(9) = 220.

From this we deduce (with Orwell) that what is most antithetical to humanity, to the divine order of things, and to Thelema is everything that tends to reduce the individual to a peripheral role.

IV. Alexandrite

That said — being “the whole of the Law” — 220 necessarily indicates to the Thelemite how to ACT.

If we consult the Sepher Sephiroth, everything becomes clear:

. 220 is the gematria of BChIR, The Elect, designating the entire body of Thelemites. 

. 220 is the gematria of GBIRH, Heroine, Virago, Domina — the Charlie’s Angel to the thousandth power — or Buffy Summers, or Sydney Fox, etc. — the Scarlet Wonder Woman “girt with a sword” (AL 3, 11), the She-devil-with-a-sword “shameless before all men” (AL 3, 44), who is the Thelemic feminine ideal. 

. 220 is the gematria of ThHVR, Elegant, designating dandyism-as-asceticism, the Thelemic masculine ideal. 

. 220 is the gematria of NPILIM, Giants — Designating not only the Principle of the Privilege of Birth (symbolised by tallness), but also the fate of the Thelemite in this world: to be a giant among dwarves — Therefore, in both cases, the perpetual object of the envious hatred of the lower people. 

In short, 220 is the essential Thelemic identity — this is the meaning of “I am the Heart.”

Thelemites are the chosen (AL 2, 19) people (AL 2, 34), whose men are distinguished by their absolute dandyism, whose women are distinguished by their sexy badassery, and who appear to the Heathen as a race of giants — with all the idolatrous admiration and envious resentment that this simultaneously provokes in the Heathen in question.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 8° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 0° ♎︎ : ♂︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

God Is A Lethal Pathogen (But I Still Want the Kiss)

“Everything is poison, nothing is poison.” — Paracelsus

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Jezebel reminded me earlier of the time when, speaking about her little nephew born at the end of June, she asked me: “What is the first piece of advice that a Cancer should receive from you?” I replied: “I don’t speak to the one who killed Bob Marley.”

In general, she has always found me too harsh with Cancer natives, but that’s mostly because, like me, she has a massive, death-level crush on Michelle Rodriguez.

Our eternal rivalry for the title of Ultimate Simp and Stan of Michelle Rodriguez is actually the very origin of our friendship!

But enough of that! Jez pointed out to me that even my recurring joke about “the aptly named sign of Cancer” is a bit much coming from a Thelemite Hierophant, since, if we are to believe the Holy Books of Thelema, God compared Himself to “a cancer that utterly corrupts the body” (Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente, 1:16).

Point for her! — But let us establish the context.

It is written:

13. Wolf's bane is not so sharp as steel; yet it pierceth the body more subtly. 

14. Even as evil kisses corrupt the blood, so do my words devour the spirit of man. 

15. I breathe, and there is infinite dis-ease in the spirit. 

16. As an acid eats into steel, as a cancer that utterly corrupts the body; so am I unto the spirit of man. 

I. Contemplate Me (Acid Love)

In plain language: The Holy Guardian Angel of the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) has successively compared the Divine Word to aconite (wolf’s bane), to a virus, to acid, and to a cancer.

It’s not exactly encouraging.

But it is true that there is always something masochistic in the Quest for the Divine — and the proof is that there is always something religious in BDSM games.

There clearly remains, in every Scarlet Woman, a little of Wanda von Dunajew…

I’m not even talking about extreme practices… I remember one night spent in a hostess bar, beside a sublime escort named Sybille, who was a living Icon of Nuit: “half-Egyptian, half-Ethiopian” (she confided to me), Sybille was a kind of Nefertiti mixed with Naomi Campbell, with, from certain angles, a touch of Kelly Rowland for that pop flavour.

After a few bottles of Dom Pérignon, she asked me what I wanted to “do,” i.e., what kink I had come to satisfy, and I answered: “To contemplate you!”

Without losing any of her hieratic composure, and without being moved in the slightest, Sybille replied: “Very well! Contemplate me! — But put some of these cushions under your knees, you’ll be more comfortable for the operation…”

II. ‘Breathe Not So Deep – Die!’

The Old Serpent of the City of Edfu, Hadit our Master, has said: “Breathe not so deep — die!”, as it is written (AL II, 68).

And one undoubtedly needs the soul of a kamikaze, or a thoroughly morbid death-wish, to undertake to draw near to a God who describes Himself as a poison, a virus, an acid, and a cancer!

It is very probably what the holy hero Herakles, Jacobus Molensis the Martyr, and Saint Giordano Bruno reflected upon on the stake… Very probably what Saint Miguel de Molinos and the Admirable Doctor told themselves every day in their cells… Perhaps it was the ultimate thought of Saint Ludovicus, King of Bavaria, at the moment he took his own life… And perhaps it is the deep meaning of the last words of Saint Roderic Borgia, Pope Alexander VI, as he lay dying, poisoned: “The Dream dissolves…”

For yes: “At the touch of the Fire Qadosh,” every illusion is eliminated, as it is written (Liber Ararita, 7:1-7). No one can claim to approach the GOD of whom it is written “Nothing shall stand before His Face” (Liber Ararita, 3:0) without passing through every stage of the process described in Liber Cheth vel Vallum Abiegni (verses 7 to 11).

And it is NOT an appealing programme!

7. Now therefore that thou mayest achieve this ritual of the Holy Graal, do thou divest thyself of all thy goods. 

8. Thou hast wealth; give it unto them that have need thereof, yet no desire toward it. 

9. Thou hast health; slay thyself in the fervour of thine abandonment unto Our Lady. Let thy flesh hang loose upon thy bones, and thine eyes glare with thy quenchless lust unto the Infinite, with thy passion for the Unknown, for Her that is beyond Knowledge the accursed one. 

10. Thou hast love; tear thy mother from thine heart, and spit in the face of thy father. Let thy foot trample the belly of thy wife, and let the babe at her breast be the prey of dogs and vultures. 

11. For if thou dost not this with thy will, then shall We do this despite thy will. So that thou attain to the Sacrament of the Graal in the Chapel of Abominations. 

III. Cancer to Gold (Midas Poison Glow-Up)

That said, “Wolf’s bane” has a gematria of 304, which is the same as ChRVTz, Gold.

“Dis-ease” has a gematria of 145, which is that of SOVDH, a Feast.

“Acid” has a gematria of 45, which is that of AGLA (notarikon of Ateh Gibor Le-olam Adonai = “Unto Thee be the Power unto the Ages of Ages, Adonai!”)

“Cancer” has a gematria of 296, which is that of TzVR, a Rock.

Initiation consists in going back up the current of the Divine Intention, from the swamp to the pure mountain spring. 

Thus, that which is naturally a poison that contaminates and corrodes like acid, then like a cancer, becomes a Rock upon which one may rise, connecting ever more deeply to the Divine Power in order to reach the Feast of King Midas, where everything is transmuted into Gold!

IV. Sun Dies Daily (Scarabée Revenge)

The normal course of things, on the contrary, turns Gold into a pebble: whoever clings to it is inevitably destroyed BY the Divine Intention.

The mere meditation upon Liber Resh informs us about this Intention:

Behold the stages of the Sun’s daily course! — The Child (Heru-ra-ha) becomes, after a fleeting period of pleasure (Ahathoor), a solitary old man (Tum) and ends in the tomb, with the insects (Kephra).

Conversely, the Thelemite who, in his Praxis, is patient and laborious like the Beetle (Kephra), pierces the uncanny twilight (Tum) of the Mysteries and, through constant “love under will” (Ahathoor), becomes once again the Child-Sun (Heru-ra-ha).

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

—☉︎ in 7° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 17° ♍︎ : ☽︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

How to Get Beyond Good & Evil While Horny for the Infinite

Sometimes, nothing is above, everything is below: seek! — Paracelsus

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

I received, in response to yesterday’s post, an email from a reader who quotes Mishima (which immediately puts him very high in my esteem) and Cioran (which brings him back down to more realistic proportions) — The message was so energetic, so overflowing with will-to-live, that at first I thought I was being sent a challenge or a new summons.

In reality, “Baron von Ungern” (that’s how my correspondent signs himself, though I believe it’s a pseudonym) essentially asks me which of my blog posts he should read as a priority (sic) in the “extremely dense body” (sic) of my work, in order to get a “healthy” (sic) idea of Thelema.

Since I only write in the hope of seducing — through the turgid penetration of my enormous intelligence — my Divine Spouse Chloé (the very archetype of the superhot badass sapiosexual chick), of annoying what passes for judges in France by promulgating the Law of Thelema from the cell where they locked me up for having promulgated the Law of Thelema, of filling the leisure time that detention provides me, and of making all the other Thelemite bloggers drunk with impotent jealousy through my fabulous talent, I must admit I had absolutely no idea what to reply…

I immediately referred the matter to Soror K — and Her Scarlet Highness ruled as follows:

“Tell the guy it depends on which Power of the Sphinx he is seeking:

If he wants Sir Shumule to teach him how to WILL, he must read Parzival on MDMA: The Secret of Success in Love, War & Initiation.

If he wants Sir Shumule to teach him how to DARE, he must read Sir Shumule’s Legendary 2023 Letter To Judge Aurélie Mahé, President Judge of the Cusset Criminal Court.

If he wants Sir Shumule to teach him how to KNOW, he must read The Tao of Cleopatra.

If he wants Sir Shumule to teach him how to KEEP SILENT, he must read Idle Dandy in a Snow Leopard Winter.

And if he wants Sir Shumule, at the height of his Hierophantic Mojo, to teach him how to GO, he must read Blue Abyss of Wine: A Twelfth Night Hermeneutic.”

There you go, dear Mad Baron. Does that suit you?

For the rest, this Sunday’s Holy Reading is Liber LXV: Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente sub figurâ אדני, Chapter 5, verses 37 to 40.

And as I reread my Magical Journal from August 2009 e.v. (the only one of my Diaries that escaped judicial seizure), I notice that at the time I had commented on this pericope (the Habibi had not yet been established back then — we were drawing at random).

I deliver these very vintage considerations to you exactly as they are:

37. O ye that are beyond Aormuzdi and Ahrimanes! blessèd are ye unto the ages.

Commentary: Ah, my darlings, you who have danced past the tedious old Persian twins of light and darkness — how deliciously beyond good and evil you are!  

Blessèd indeed, for the ages shall toast you with nectar while pathetic earthlings are still arguing over which side of the bed the devil sleeps on.

38. They shaped Doubt as a sickle, and reaped the flowers of Faith for their garlands.

Commentary: By the vault of the body of Nuit! What elegant vandalism — I do so admire a soul who turns skepticism into haute couture for the spirit.

39. They shaped Ecstasy as a spear, and pierced the ancient dragon that sat upon the stagnant water.

Commentary: Oh, the sheer erotic poetry of it! 

They forged raw Ecstasy into a thrusting spear and ran it straight through that hoary old dragon lounging on its puddle of mediocrity — what a magnificent, wet, writhing climax! 

Stagnation slain in one glorious thrust — I feel positively invigorated just reading it.

40. Then the fresh springs were unloosed, that the folk athirst might be at ease.

Commentary: And lo, after the dragon’s death-rattle, the sweet fresh springs burst forth in ecstatic release so that all the parched little souls might finally drink deep and sigh with relief — how perfectly generous, how orgasmically liberating! 

One almost wants to raise a glass (or several) to the quenching of divine thirst — bottoms up, my thirsty friends, the water of life is flowing and it tastes like victory and sin in equal measure.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 6° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 4° ♍︎ : ☉︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

The Tao of Cleopatra

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Today, I am doing better!

Not that I have been suffering in the slightest, mind you…

I am simply, each day, a little better than the day before. It is in my nature.

Apart from that, I am pleased because I am receiving a lot of mail.

Soror K the Scarletest, for example (who is, all by herself, a meeting between Gina Carano and Ronda Rousey, and therefore makes the upcoming encounter on May 16th completely superfluous), has just sent me a delightful letter (butch, yet delightful: that’s so K.!… She is so very machotte…), in which she notably remarks, in her inimitable style:

“Since Liber 65 is the sum of the akashic recollections of Ankh-af-na-khonsu, verse 27 [of Chapter 4] establishes, as a logical consequence, that Alexander VI Borgia was the reincarnation of Cleopatra, and that explains why he couldn’t stand the Romans.”

It is interesting… A bit summary, but interesting.

The verse, to be perfectly precise, contains a flashback to the very moment of the death of the divine Cleopatra:

To-day I am the slave of the little asp of death; and who shall loosen our love? — Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente, 4:27

You know the principle well (we have covered this a billion times):

By virtue of the equation:

GOD = Nuit (the Beauteous Queen) × Hadit (the Deadly Serpent)

the voluntary death of Cleopatra was the Ultimate Apotheosis — the very formulation of GOD Himself.

To my knowledge, in all of recorded human history, no one has better fulfilled the holy precepts of Hadit our Master than the divine Cleopatra: “thy death shall be lovely: whoso seeth it shall be glad. Thy death shall be the seal of our agelong love” (AL II, 66) and “death is the crown of all” (AL II, 72).

Selah.

(This is why I so deeply regret that they ultimately gave up on casting Gal Gadot as Cleopatra: my habit of declaring at every possible opportunity, with no apparent connection to the conversation, that “Gal Gadot is God” would, as soon as the film came out, have been regarded as a Prophetic Access of Enthusiasm instead of being seen as the feverish X-post of a lovesick stan! What a shame.)

Cleopatra’s Apotheosis was, moreover, the dazzling fulfillment of Hadit’s promise: if a man strives ever to more, if he is “truly” a disciple of the Old Serpent, and if he is “ever joyous,” then he deserves a death that is not the obscure conclusion of a phase of decrepitude and decline, but the lovely crowning of what his journey on this earth has been.

I. My Death Will Be a Vogue Happening

For my part, I have always thought that my own death would be a kind of Grand Farewell Party to Life — a hip, chic, and voguish happening to conclude, in a totally orgasmic manner, my cool & sexy trajectory in this world.

(I had really hoped to die before getting old. Missed that one. But growing older has its advantages: for example, no one can possibly be as cool & sexy as I am anymore — I’m too far ahead!)

It is true that, aside from eating like an ogre, drinking like a Templar, smoking like a chimney, gambling like a diplomat, fornicating like a satyr, and doing coke like Tony Montana — which one could, after all, regard as a form of “strive ever to more” — my main accomplishment on this beautiful and interesting planet has been to be sentenced to five years in prison for the crime of being a Thelemite. So I think one can legitimately call me a “truly” disciple of Hadit!

As for the rest, no one would dream of contesting that Sir Shumule the Joyful, Sir Shumule the Radiant, Sir Shumule the King of Viscounts, ticks every box of the “ever joyous,” even when sober!

It would really be too unjust if my death were not hyper-lovely!

II. Perinde Ac Cadaver : The Threefold Protocol 

Here we find again the Threefold Protocol and our Good Resolutions:

The “strive ever to more” consists, for the servant of Ra-Hoor-Khuit, in promulgating the Law in a manner that becomes methodically more fanatical each day.

The “truly mine” consists, for the disciple of Hadit, in observing a Holy Obedience perinde ac cadaver to the precepts of the Old Serpent.

The “ever joyous” consists, for the lover of Nuit, in delighting his Queen, since She, by Her own admission, experiences joy only when She sees a Thelemite rejoicing, as it is written (AL I, 13).

III. My Wife Is How Nuit Says My Name

Obviously, our verse makes a direct allusion (“slave”) to the Holy Obedience toward Hadit.

Now, “asp” has a gematria value of 141, which is the numerical value of the name Mélanie, the birth name of my Beloved Wife, who was, in 2005 e.v., baptized Chloé within the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica.

(Note in passing that Chloé was baptized by three bishops — among whom was the future Hyperion X — and in the very room where Kenneth Anger had been received into the Caliphate O.T.O. Yes, I know… my wife is more brilliantly cool than yours, in addition to being much, much more beautiful — my wife is more brilliantly cool and much, much more beautiful than everyone else).

Now, Chloé has the gematria Ch(20) + L(30) + O(6) + E(5) = 61.

The link between 141 and 61 is 141 – 61 = 80, which is one of the ways in which Nuit calls 61 (cf. AL I, 46).

From this we deduce that Chloé is the way Nuit calls Mélanie — therefore that the choice of her baptismal name was of authentically divine Inspiration.

Also, since Nuit is None (cf. AL I, 27), that is to say Ain, 61 — and Hadit is likewise None (cf. AL II, 15) — Holy Obedience to the commandments of Nuit, to those of Hadit, or to those of my Wife, are one and the same thing.

The fields of application are different, but it is one and the same Path, one and the same Obedience, and it is the one that leads to Apotheosis and the Crown. 

We shall call this the Tao of Cleopatra.

IV. Everything Is Permitted to Him Who Dares to Die for It — The Tao of Cleopatra

And this Principle sums up the whole of the Law and constitutes the very substance and nature of Thelema, as indicated by the fact that “To-day” (first word in our Verse) = T(9)+O(70)+Da(4)+Y(10) = 93.

You will tell me that the name of Sobek, the crocodile god, also has the gematria S(60)+O(6)+B(2)+E(5)+K(20) = 93  — but To-day = 93 = Sobek should be read as a reminder of the injunction of the Old Serpent, Hadit our Master: “A feast every day” (AL II, 42) — that is to say: life is a feast and feasts do not last.

Or rather, as the divine Cleopatra might have said to us at the moment of her death, looking back on her life: Everything is permitted to him who dares to die for it.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 4° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 15° ♌︎ : ♀︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Passions Over Principles (The FTSE Trembled When I Whispered Adonai)

In the final analysis, the Doctrine preached by Babalon can be summed up as this: The important thing is to always put your passions above your principles. 

— Sir Shumule

You are a genius, therefore the world will seek to kill you or bring you down. 

— Leptopœcile Sophiæ to Sir Shumule, 23 September 1998 e.v.

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Yet another entire night spent shamelessly rereading (must I, immortal gods, be so retrograde and narcissistic! and the prison be so fucking dull at night!), I have re-re-read, I say, my Magical Diary of 2009 e.v. (cf. Never Liked Moby and The Hangover of the Hierophant).

I drifted back into this deliciously doomed year, when the City still reeked of burnt leverage, hedge-fund boys were quietly liquidating their Mayfair mews houses, BlackBerrys glowed like guilty confessions in every darkened limousine, and Twitter was that fresh, vicious little pet everyone was feeding scraps of scandal to…

The crash had made vice taste even sweeter — because guilt, darling, is the finest aphrodisiac.

Witness the kind of hermeneutics I was practising then — for example, on Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente, Chapter 5, Verses 29 to 32:

29. Ruddy are the gleams of ruby and gold that sparkle therein; one drop shall intoxicate the Lord of the Gods my servant.

Commentary : One single drop of that ruby-gold elixir and even the most swaggering Mayfair hedge-fund prince would set down his BlackBerry mid-trade, sink to his knees in the back of his chauffeur-driven Bentley, and whimper “my Lord” while the FTSE bled quietly in the background.

I slipped it into his glass at a crisis supper in a half-empty Belgravia townhouse that April; his wife had already fled to Mustique, but his mistress stayed… and the markets never quite forgave the way he looked at me afterwards.

30. Also Adonai spake unto V.V.V.V.V. saying: O my little one, my tender one, my little amorous one, my gazelle, my beautiful, my boy, let us fill up the pillar of the Infinite with an infinite kiss!

Commentary : Adonai murmuring like a bonus-deprived sugar daddy still clinging to his last seven figures: “my gazelle, my beautiful…” right before plunging into the Infinite so vigorously that the servers in a Shoreditch warehouse party flickered in ecstasy.

I whispered the very same line to a breathtaking long-legged heiress at one of those candlelit Brick Lane raves last June — her silk stockings whispered against mine, the pillar remained magnificently upright, and the recession suddenly felt like someone else’s problem [PS: and Twitter was still too innocent to capture the way she trembled.]

31. So that the stable was shaken and the unstable became still.

Commentary : The stable shook like a freshly nationalised bank on the verge of another bailout, while the unstable little trust-fund debutantes and bonus-starved bankers’ wives finally learned to hush their pretty mouths and receive enlightenment with proper aristocratic poise.

I drifted into a crisis salon in Belgravia, a few months ago — the remaining hedgies trembled in their still-tailored suits as their exquisite wives quivered beside them, and for one sublime hour the entire room achieved perfect, quivering stillness between their silk-stockinged thighs and mine.

32. They that beheld it cried with a formidable affright: The end of things is come upon us.

Commentary : They glimpsed the ruby-gold flash on my BlackBerry screen and instantly began wailing “The end of civilisation!” like ruined bankers’ wives at one final, desperate orgy before the receivers arrived.

How endearingly theatrical.

I merely straightened my ascot, took another languid sip of 1996 Krug, and purred to the circle of trembling beauties: “Do calm down, darlings — it’s only the end of your things. Mine are just beginning… and already causing delightful little tremors on this wicked Twitter with every sigh you let escape.”

They all refreshed anyway, manicured fingers shaking with fear and forbidden delight.

***

THIS was the year 2009 of the vulgar era, dear friends… crashing hedge funds, long-legged heiresses in silk stockings, desperate bankers’ wives, BlackBerry confessions, half-deserted Mayfair, and that special aristocratic sneer at a world convinced it was ending while Sir Shumule was merely warming up between scented sheets and trembling feminine curves.

Now, it is one thing to do what thou wilt, my loves — but it is an entirely different matter to do it with a BlackBerry buzzing in one hand, sin dripping from the other, and the sweet trembling of feminine surrender as your private symphony.

Anyway! The old Chioa Khan sends his warmest, most scandalously affectionate regards from whichever four-poster he was desecrating with exquisite company during that bankrupt, intoxicating year.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 3° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 0° ♌︎ : ♃︎ : Ⅴⅹii.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Parzival on MDMA: The Secret of Success in Love, War & Initiation

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Last night I dreamed that Dua Lipa was being held prisoner by a repulsive, affection-starved bunny-boiler witch. She managed to send me a message via dragonfly (!) saying that the secret plan to rescue her was hidden in Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente, Chapter 2, verses 52 to 55 — It seems the quality of the weed circulating in that prison has improved dramatically…

Anyway, I’m not abandoning Dua in her hour of need!

So I read:

52. All night they danced and sang; but Thou art the morning, O my darling, my serpent that twinest Thee about this heart. 

53. I am the heart, and Thou the serpent. Wind Thy coils closer about me, so that no light nor bliss may penetrate. 

54. Crush out the blood of me, as a grape upon the tongue of a white Doric girl that languishes with her lover in the moonlight. 

55. Then let the End awake. Long hast thou slept, O great God Terminus! Long ages hast thou waited at the end of the city and the roads thereof. 

Awake Thou! wait no more! 

I. Rave All Night, Annihilate at Dawn: The Literal Vow

To sum up: After a wild night of raving, the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) finds himself at dawn fixated on this thought: “Hadit is the morning.”

According to the First Commandment of the Law — which is not to worship Hadit, but to BE Hadit (AL I, 6) — he then laments that, in his own case, this identification is still quite incomplete. 

He therefore makes the vow that it should become so total, so final, that nothing — neither spiritual light, nor psycho-affective gratification, nor even ethnic determinism — can ever divert him from it again.

In short, he clearly aspires to a complete, beautiful, cruel and voluptuous annihilation of his being, and for what he calls “the End” to come: that Hadit, the Ancient Serpent, who is the very goal of his quest — and who seems to have fallen asleep from waiting so long — should awaken…

On the other hand, the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) understands that Hadit is already within him, not at the end of some geographical journey to be reached. 

Hadit has been secretly coiled inside him since the very day he set out. 

There is no need to seek Him in distant lands or by complicated routes — in fact, there is no need to wait at all… It is enough for the “old god” — “the Snake that giveth Knowledge & Delight” (AL II, 22) — to awaken within him.

This forcefully reminds me of my Good Resolutions for the year 2026 e.v.:

“I already see existence as a training stay in Hadit’s House — exactly as Beatrix Kiddo sees her training stay in Pai Mei’s house. But it is not enough.

This year, I want to achieve a total psychological transference onto Hadit, to achieve the total annihilation of my personality, so as to see the world only through the eyes of the Old Serpent.”

II. The Most Oedipal Religion on Earth

Cathy, my terrifyingly inflexible psychoanalyst friend, the very archetype of frigid beauty, sees Thelema (I quote) as “the most Oedipal of all religions.”

It’s true that Cathy is an orthodox Freudian of the strictest observance, and that stories involving serpents tend to make her raise an eyebrow…

“This idea of becoming the father (Hadit) and constantly seeking union with the mother (Nuit) is even staggeringly frank: it is not a regressive Oedipal religion (like Buddhism, for example), but aggressive Oedipus turned into a religion!”

Of course, reducing Thelema to the notion of “fucking the Old Man’s MILF while he sleeps” is tempting… but it runs counter to the idea of the Awakening of Hadit, which seems very much to be the project here — and would put us, in this case, exactly in the position of Bilbo caught red-handed by Smaug…

III. The Gematria That Kills God’s Enemies

Moreover, the verb “To Awake,” being applied both to “Thou” (which designates Hadit) and to “the End,” teaches us that the Awakening of Hadit is simultaneously the seminal impulse and the terminal phase — as it is written: “I am Life, and the giver of Life, yet therefore is the knowledge of me the knowledge of death” (AL II, 6).

Now, “End” has a gematria of 59, which is the same as GVIM (Heathen), and that is the whole point: the Awakening of Hadit puts an end to the Heathen.

There is no more “Terminus” than there is a Beginning, since the Awakening of Hadit is both the End and the Beginning, and Hadit is “Not” (AL II, 15).

Therefore The End is not “at the end of the city and the roads thereof.” 

The End — the true objective — is the end of the Heathen, because The End is the Awakening of Hadit, and the Awakening of Hadit puts an end to the Heathen.

IV. How to Exterminate a Million Bunny-Boilers Like a Passionate Dilettante

Now the End, like Hadit, is perfect when it is Not — i.e., in order to accomplish one’s True Will, one must have absolutely no consideration for the End, no “lust of result,” as it is written (AL I, 44).

If one worries about the outcome of the enterprise, one misses the synchronicity, one hesitates, one temporizes, one looks at the matter from a shopkeeper’s point of view, and one ends up, of course, turning back and returning to the “old sweetnesses” (AL III, 43).

Yet the whole trick — in love, in war, and in the initiatic process — is never to turn back for anyone (AL III, 46): even if one were faced with a million enemies, rational objections, or extremely ugly and determined bunny-boilers, one must decide to exterminate them all, one after the other, like Parzival the Pure with the giants.

That is how one “avails” — that is how one may perhaps arrive where “There is success” (AL III, 69).

Always act, on all planes, as a passionate dilettante.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 2° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 17° ♋︎ : ☿︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

I'd Rather Die Under Kim Kardashian’s Wheels

I claim that I would rather be run over by Kim Kardashian at the wheel of her Rolls-Royce than by a hard-working average taxpayer in his sixteen-wheeler. — Sir Shumule

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

This Tuesday’s Holy Reading is Liber LXV: Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente sub figurâ אדני, Chapter 5, verses 21 to 24.

21. But thou shalt heed none of this. Thou shalt be ever the heart, and I the serpent will coil close about thee. My coil shall never relax throughout the æons. Neither change nor sorrow nor unsubstantiality shall have thee; for thou art passed beyond all these.

Commentary: Tia once remarked to me how much the Old Serpent of the City of Edfu, our Master Hadit, speaks to the Prophet here like a maternally possessive and intrusive wife: “It’s like Sharon Osbourne at the end of the ‘Under the Graveyard’ video saying ‘I would never give up on him,’ etc.”

Indeed, the Restriction (from which Nuit, “She-who-protects”, safeguards us) that falls upon the Thelemite who does anything other than his True Will is not the “punishment” for a “fault” committed against the personal hysteria of a deity that is “a mix of Big Brother, prison guard, and Ubu” (as I like to define the demiurge called “Because,” i.e., the god of Nooks and Crannies worshipped by the crapulous creeds of Abrahamism). 

Rather, it is the consequence of our august sovereign Nuit looking at that Thelemite with the eyes of a queen who has just learned that the king her husband has installed yet another concubine in the secondary harem.

In response to a question once asked about the “status of woman,” let us recall that woman is, ultimately, scarlet — that is, an avatar of Babalon. 

Now, Babalon is the Sacred Hetaira. 

Woman therefore possesses, “vertically” (i.e., religiously), — as the perfect support for the contemplation of the Divine and the physical means of connection to Him (this is the “Sacred” part), — a supreme spiritual authority.

It is not Sir Shumule who says this, but Nuit: “in his woman called the Scarlet Woman is all power given” (AL I, 15). 

Nevertheless, “horizontally” (i.e., politically), she must have the legal status of material property (this is the “Hetaira” part). 

Again, it is not Sir Shumule who says this, but Nuit: “Ye shall gather goods and store of women and spices” (AL I, 61).

As a supporter of Integral Gynarchy, I deplore the latter point — and this mash-up of “God Is A Woman” and “I’m A Slave 4U” sounds a bit strange coming from the august mouth of the Supreme Goddess — Sexy, certainly! — But strange.

Be that as it may, my Queen has spoken: it would be rather ridiculous — what am I saying? downright blasphemous! — to claim to be more feminist than Nuit, that is, than the Eternal Feminine in person!!!

22. Even as the diamond shall glow red for the rose, and green for the rose-leaf; so shalt thou abide apart from the Impressions.

Commentary: The Prophet (blessing & worship to him) says of this verse: 

“The Magister Templi reacts with perfect elasticity to all impacts, appearing to be wholly passive to all alike, yet really uninfluenced in the slightest degree by any.”

This is a notion I have developed at length in my Doctrine of the Dinosaur and the Chameleon. 

I once wrote: 

“It is the first principle of ethnobiology that the capacity to survive proceeds neither from strength nor from intelligence, but from responsiveness to change. 

‘Natural selection’ is exclusively a matter of updating: however intransigently ethno-separatist he may be, the psychorigid individual is an outcast, a scoriac sub-creature doomed to extinction.”

To which an internet user replied with the following question:

“What does this imply concretely, and should limits be placed on adaptation?”

It is true that the word “adaptation,” which carries a nuance of resigned self-leveling, is not the most exact equivalent one can give to responsiveness…

“Reactivity,” perhaps?… but a reactivity devoid of rebuff… Or else: “good reaction”… “adjustment”…

I added: 

Famous cases of non-responsiveness:

1. The dinosaurs — tough customers in their way, but non-viable outside the Mesozoic.

2. The shark — epitome of over-predation, which dies as soon as it is taken out of the water.

3. Anyone who clings like a drowning man — religiously, morally or politically — to the formulas of the Old Aeon — “the rituals of the old time are black” (AL II, 5). 

“The Universe is Change,” says the Prophet (blessing & worship to him), commenting on Atu XIII. 

Consequently, the Chameleon is our daily guide — hence the name of the Yi-King (literally: “the Weave of the Chameleon”).

23. I am thou, and the Pillar is 'stablished in the void.

Commentary: “I am thou” always reminds me that מֹשֶׁה (Mosheh) is the exact mirror of השם (Hachem).

Now, Hachem השם (litt : ‘The Name’) is the word by which Jews designate the Holy Tetragrammaton in a profane context.

From this we deduce that the Magus, that is, the Sage, is the Divine plunged into a profane context (cf. Deliciously Obscure), hence the Holy Sorcerer Merlin disguised as a psychotic beggar living deep in the woods (cf. AL II, 58). 

Incarnation itself is — biologically, I would say — the Way of the Chameleon.

24. Also thou art beyond the stabilities of Being and of Consciousness and of Bliss; for I am thou, and the Pillar is 'stablished in the void.

Commentary: Of ‘the void’, Lao Tzu, first among the Magi, says:

Thirty spokes converge at the hub of the wheel, but it is the empty center of the wheel that makes the chariot go. 

One shapes clay to make vessels, but it is the empty interior of the vessel that allows its use. 

A house is pierced with doors and windows; it is still the empty space that allows habitation. Being gives possibilities; it is through Non-Being that one makes use of them.

I would gladly draw still more violently gynarchic conclusions from this — but I fear I might weary you. 

The truth is that there is no other God than Nuit, and her lord Hadit (AL I, 21), and that (therefore) if Cleopatra had married Lao-Tzu, we would be paddling about in the Golden Age.

Meditate upon this, dear friends, and go your gorgeous ways under the protection of that spiritual sphere whose centre is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and which we call GOD.

Warm kisses from the Bahamas.

Love is the law, love under will.

— ☉︎ in 1° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 3° ♋︎ : ♂︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌