Rolls-Royce in a World of Nissans

You reproach me for my narcissism and then spend six hours in court talking exclusively about me! — Declaration of Sir Shumule at the Tribunal de Grande Instance de Cusset, July 2023 e.v.

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

Regarding yesterday’s post, while some rejoice that “finally, the foul [sic!] Candace Owens is getting what she deserves,” Soror K., on the other hand, reproaches me for “pushing the Commandment ‘be thou proud and mighty among men’ (AL II,77) to its very ultimate limits,” and I believe she misunderstands.

On the contrary, it seems to me that I treated the subject in a most hierophantic manner, i.e. as a sincere and conscientious interpreter of the Book of the Law.

Behold! It is written be thou proud, not be you proud, nor be ye proud (I proceed on the assumption that you are familiar with the distinction established, in the study of the Holy Books, by Thelemic hermeneutics between these three variations on the second person singular — otherwise, refer immediately to my indispensable text soberly entitled To Karl Germer in Esterwegen: My Lamp Is a Dead Aristocrat in Impeccable Shoes.)

1. Ye : As Sir Shumule, I have successively been described as a “perverse seducer who loves athletic women, flashy luxury, and sadistic violence,” a “lazy country squire with maximum alcoholic ancestry and suspiciously high inbreeding,” a “sadomasochistic Cheshire cat” — and the President of the Court of Appeal of Riom, right in the middle of a hearing, qualified me as “a mixture of Hannibal Lecter, Rasputin and Dracula.”

(The career that earns me these gracious epithets is sketched in the very remarkable post Confessions of a Hermit of Hadit, to which I refer you.)

All of this is devilishly cool & sexy — but to derive pride from it would, on my part, be banal narcissism — verging on attention-whoring, or pure hysteria… 

2. You : After my imprisonment, the former members of our blessed Abbey of Thelema (August 2019 — April 2022 e.v.), alerted to the terrible religious persecution of which I was the object, spent a year and a half organizing themselves into a clandestine Sect.

They symbolically established me as their Hierophant, solemnly conferred upon me the Beasthood, even going so far as to revive for me the unused title of ‘Chioa Khan’.

This is extremely gratifying — but there is no reason for me to feel particularly proud of it: to deserve so many honours, all I had to do was take the trouble of being incarcerated!

(Soror Jezebel once wrote: “What characterizes the Zuger sect is that our Hierophant is not a venerable patriarch with a ferule, but rather a precious child whom we must protect.”) 

3. Thou : On the other hand, I feel absolutely no discomfort at being a Thelemic god travelling through Old Grey Land — The perpetual sensation of being the Little Prince of Saint-Exupéry lost on the Planet of the Apes does not disturb me in the least — What am I saying? I strive to display as much pride as possible in being a Rolls-Royce in a world of Nissans!

This is very important: We, “Gods, which means Thelemites” (according to the immortal formula of Alostrael, 6th Scarlet Woman of Thelema), have been placed upon the earth like the stars in the firmament: we must illuminate the world and never descend into it — My pride is such that I would wish to be served only on bended knee, to speak never except through an interpreter to all that vile rabble called ‘the people’, and I detest everything that is not on my level.

Does this complicate my relations with the Heathen? — And even if it does? — I value the Heathen exactly as much as they serve me: I despise and even hate them as soon as they can no longer be of use to me — for then, having nothing left to oppose me but their disqualifying defects (cf. Liber Tzaddi, 25) and being nothing more in my eyes than fearsome, I must flee them as one flees ferocious beasts which, from that moment on, can only harm me — that is the meaning of “let the evil ones be cast away” (AL II,5) and of “we have nothing with the outcast and the unfit” (AL II,21). 

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 0° ♒︎ : ☽︎ in 15° ♒︎ : ☽︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Candace To The Lions

The Temptation of Saint Antony, Felicien Rops

Christian morality is a passive gay man who “forgives” a macho gay man for having rather brutally sodomized him the night before. — Sir Shumule 

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

Tia regrets that I didn’t, at the height of the controversy, “nail Candace Owens to the wall” regarding her morbid obsession with the crotch of France’s First Lady.

Well, I’m forced to make certain concessions to incarceration…

And in truth, I personally see only three things that are truly reprehensible about Candace Owens :

1. Her conversion to Roman Catholicism, which has completely devalued her in my eyes — I remember feeling, at the time, as though I had learned that the Queen of Sheba had left some sumptuous she-ass milk bath to plunge into a septic tank. 

More generally, of course: Christians to the lions! — But if she absolutely had to wallow in Nazarene filth, Candace could at least have spared herself the most grim and least sexy denomination of them all.

2. The podcast in which Candace directly attacks Thelemites — Even if her outraged shrieks about “the satanism of the elites” undeniably prove her Christian faith — there lingers in Candace Owens a whiff of old Père Régimbal — To the lions! To the arena! 

3. The total bad taste of her campaign against Brigitte Macron — and the fact that portraying her as a middle-aged transvestite tends to cool off, in my personal imaginary, the delicious idea I have of the French presidential couple. 

It is true, dear friends, that the arrival of the Macrons at the Élysée Palace in May 2017 filled me with an enthusiasm that worried those close to me: the presidential couple validated, normalized, the traditional taste of literary-leaning cocaine users for their French teacher and for mature women in general!

I identified intensely with the triumph of the brilliant Oedipal figure ravishing the MILF of a decrepit husband and, by doing so, usurping the summit of social hierarchies! 

All my prepubescent fantasies were officially receiving the homage of a rejoicing Nation!

Don’t forget that just a few years ago, the press claimed the cougar phenomenon was much ado about a few aging singers and their gigolos… and that in my youth, the raging desire — nay, the manic fixation — that the mothers of my girlfriends inspired in me caused me to be seen as a horrible deviant, borderline psychotic…

But thanks to Brigitte, everything has changed, and I will not tolerate some Christian wet blanket, follower of a shabby, groveling Galilean slave, coming to ruin my fantasy world.

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 29° ♑︎ : ☽︎ in 2° ♒︎ : ☉︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Everything that is not completely paradisiacal is a lie

The Temptation of Saint Antony, Robert Auer

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

My word! The party is in full swing here — it's a great success: a large country estate, solid security at the entrance, and a sexy dress-code “women in uniform” for the ladies :)

I will add that not personally having the keys to my suite and not (officially, at least…) having access to an iPhone rather tends to reassure me — me who, in the normal circumstances of existence, never opens the door to unexpected visitors who knock (if it's important, they'll break it down), nor answers the phone (I am the one who rings the servants, not the other way around).

Dear friends, today's Holy Reading is Liber A'ash vel Capricorni Pneumatici sub figurâ CCCLXX, verses 37 to 39, and Liber Tzaddi vel Hamus Hermeticus sub figurâ XC, verse 0.

37. But the progress is progress, and progress is rapture, constant, dazzling, showers of light, waves of dew, flames of the hair of the Great Goddess, flowers of the roses that are about her neck, Amen!

Commentary: Let us never tire of repeating it: 

You want to go from the non-smoking Albanian kolkhoz to boarding the ship for Cythera. The trouble is that the Heathen want you to go from boarding the ship for Cythera back to the non-smoking Albanian kolkhoz, and they call that progress — It's the same as with weed: it starts with dreadlocks, reggae and super Jamaican babes, and ends up being medically distributed like a neuroleptic by the government to a youth that lockdowns, curfews and economic collapse have driven completely mad — Magick teaches, in sum, only one thing: go back to the super Jamaican babe before it all ends like in The Shining. — Sir Shumule, 2020

Going back to the super Jamaican babe is precisely what our verse calls progress (especially since “flames of the hair of the Great Goddess” can be read as an allusion to dreadlocks), whereas — as we have said — according to the basic magical principle that in “negative force” the “negative” must be understood in the photographic sense, the Heathen call “progress” the exact opposite slide downwards — in the same way they call “principle of secularism” the imprisonment of Thelemite bloggers by militant Catholics.

38. Therefore lift up thyself as I am lifted up. Hold thyself in as I am master to accomplish. At the end, be the end far distant as the stars that lie in the navel of Nuit, do thou slay thyself as I at the end am slain, in the death that is life, in the peace that is mother of war, in the darkness that holds light in his hand, as an harlot that plucks a jewel from her nostrils.

Commentary:

I once deeply shocked a sociology student by revealing to him that I placed the escort at the very top of the human categories. — Sir Shumule

I love that Malkuth is described as the darkness that holds light in his hand, as an harlot that plucks a jewel from her nostrils, because, thanks to Babalon, I believe in the Sacred Hetaera:

Every woman who unites with me is an avatar of Babalon, a Scarlet Woman, that is, a perspective that GOD offers me upon Himself in response to the specific questions of the spiritual stage I happen to be at at the precise moment of the encounter in question — which, in my case, confers upon the Red Club of Zürich the status of a cathedral, even a basilica. 

“Did you know, Sir, that certain disgusting lobbies wanted, last year, to use the “pandemic” as a pretext to demand the definitive closure of Zurich brothels?” 

“What can you do, my dear? There is no religion anymore…” 

In general, do not joke with Babalon: a magnificent black escort, in a French provincial cork-bar, one night suddenly told me — in one single breath — my entire life story, and gave me the best advice I have ever received in my life, while we were finishing the thirteenth bottle — she was like Paracelsus: extra-lucid when she was seeing double. (Sir Shumule, 2021)

39. So therefore the beginning is delight, and the end is delight, and delight is in the midst, even as the Indus is water in the cavern of the glacier, and water among the greater hills and the lesser hills and through the ramparts of the hills and through the plains, and water at the mouth thereof when it leaps forth into the mighty sea, yea, into the mighty sea.

Commentary: Speaking of mighty sea, let us remember that, in the Jungian Totem Test, therefore in the collective unconscious of the entire human species, the high sea represents the vision the subject has of life.

I recall, moreover, that when asked “What does the high sea evoke for you?”, I myself answered: “I am lounging on the deck of a zillionaire's megayacht, right hand in the champagne cooler, left hand on Rihanna's ass.”

Later, once informed of the meaning, I nuanced it:

Travels are like poker games, and like life itself: we have had highs and lows… we had to endure fools, mediocrities and villains… but all things considered, we had a great time, and we are sorry when it ends… — Sir Shumule, 2009

But let us return to Rihanna's ass, that is, to the idea of delight: The word Delight obviously refers to עֵדֶן, Eden. 

We come from it, we return to it, and in reality we never cease to dwell in it: everything that is not completely paradisiacal is a lie.

Note that עֵדֶן — lit. Delights — has the gematria value 124, which is also the numerical value of סגלה יהוה “Peculiar Treasure of GOD” and of חוסן “an Oak”. Now Liber A'ash opens with the words: Gnarled Oak of God (A'ash, 0).

Note also [since Tia wants me to talk about runes, quoting Hadit himself : ‘who doth not understand these runes shall make a great miss’ (AL 2, 27) and the Book of Lapis-Lazuli : ‘write me runes in the sky’ (LLL V:48)], note also, I say, that the name of the rune Ak ᚪ, which on the Wonder-Tree signs the Ninth Sphere, called Yesod in Hebrew, means “Oak”, that this is the Sphere corresponding, on man, to the phallus, source of delights which, when it is hard and powerful — hard and powerful being said, in Hebrew, precisely חוסן — gives access to Paradise.

Finally note that, corresponding to Yesod,  Ak ᚪ corresponds to the Subconscious and to Helheim: a man's libido is his ipseity, that is, his divinity in symbolic form, and hell is Paradise disguised as a BDSM dungeon: we incarnate with disastrous karma for exactly the same reasons we go to see a horror movie.

✶✶✶

Liber Tzaddi vel Hamus Hermeticus sub figurâ XC

0. In the name of the Lord of Initiation, Amen.

Commentary: The Lord of Initiation is Heru-ra-ha, as it is written (AL I, 49).

Now, Heru-ra-ha is the Sun-God and, by virtue of the Arcana 666, GOD is to the All, and the king to the Particular, as the sun is to the Whole: it is the Mystery that Hermes Trismegistus, of blessed memory, sums up by saying: ‘One can only name truth the sun: after the One and First, it is he whom I recognize as demiurge’ (Stobaeus II, 14), but obviously “666” is even more succinct.

More succinct, indeed! while paradoxically being more developed, since the number 6 represents Tiphareth, we can also say: GOD is to the All, and the king to the Particular, as Beauty is to the Whole (cf. Golden Ratio = ideal measure of all things); or: GOD is to the All, and the king to the Particular, as Harmony is to the Whole, etc.

Heru-ra-ha is, as we know, the puer æternus (in the impeccably Jungian sense of the term): Donald Trump is a great king, because he fully assumes his inner child in his public persona.

Initiation therefore consists in becoming a child again — and that is the whole Path of Heru-ra-ha that I once detailed by writing:

The history of European man is coming to an end, because the culture of domination — i.e. the abandonment of the solar archetype in favor of identification with the ape — has led him into a dead end, and he is looking for a map that will show him at which crossroads he went astray: the sick man declines, turns to the past, and sighs for his healthy hours…

Now, our last truly healthy hours go back to Mû, fifteen thousand years ago, when we lived cradled by Babalon, the Great Callipygian Goddess — long before history, before armies, before usury, before phonetic alphabets and monotheism — always before, before, before…

If there is a future, it lies in the past.

We desperately aspire to find the paradise that existed “when man, beast and flower were one, and death was only a dream”… That is the meaning of the magical experience: to leave history and reintegrate eternity… We are seeking reconnection (in the most rigorously computer-science sense of the term) to truth… 

And the truth is that the ego is a phenomenon of pathological origin, that it disappears as one becomes a child again, and that this disappearance brings about the defeat of the culture of domination, of the herd instinct and of materialism.

'Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again' (AL 3, 20) : by ridding ourselves of the absurd dogmas of science, and of the morbid obsession with consumerism, we discover that there exist within us faerie dimensions and oceans of beauty, which belong to our being and constitute the most important aspect of our lives. — Sir Shumule, 2014

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 27° ♑︎ : ☽︎ in 19° ♑︎ : ♄︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Ahitha : A Thelemic Devotional Firework in Honor of Roddie Minor

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people, 

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

Today is January 17th, when we commemorate Ahitha, 5th Scarlet Woman of Thelema, Patroness of the Sexy Tomboys: may her merits protect Michelle Rodriguez, Gina Carano, Gal Gadot, and all the Badass Chicks of this world! — So mote it be.  

Today’s sacred reading is Liber A’ash vel Capricorni Pneumatici sub figurâ CCCLXX, verses 33 to 36. 

33. Now therefore thou knowest when I am within Thee, when my hood is spread over thy skull, when my might is more than the penned Indus, and resistless as the Giant Glacier. 

Commentary: Never forget: In the 90s, a few Belgian tourists — or Dutch, that is to say Belgians but worse — in ridiculous fluorescent outfits, inevitably fell into the crevasses of the Giant Glacier and, instead of thanking it — and committing to ritually sacrifice half a dozen skiers at every new season opening — they closed the Grand Flambeau resort. :( 

34. For as thou art before a lewd woman in Thy nakedness in the bazaar, sucked up by her slyness and smiles, so art thou wholly and no more in part before the symbol of the beloved, though it be but a Pisacha or a Yantra or a Deva. 

Commentary: An Ariana Grande jerk-off challenge video is the Holy Icon — It works with all phenomena of the universe, of course, but it is particularly visible in Ariana Grande’s case.  

35. And in all shalt thou create the Infinite Bliss and the next link of the Infinite Chain. 

Commentary: The world will have no more end than it had a beginning, and too bad for you if the Ummagumma album cover gives you anxiety. 

On the other hand, I once noted in my Magical Journal: 

Of this verse, Frater Achad said: “It refers to the Supraconsciousness obtained by this means.” 

The Supraconsciousness is Hadit, as it is written: “it is the light higher than eyesight.” (AL II:51).  

Now, who lives daily in the supraconsciousness, i.e. constantly with Hadit? — The Hermit, as it is written: “my friends who be hermits” (AL II:24). 

The Supraconsciousness is Aleph א, which connects Kether to Chokhmah. 

 

How does one formulate Aleph and become a Hermit? 

Hadit teaches us (AL II:24): 

on the low men trample — This refers to the chirik. It is the lower point of Aleph, corresponding to “stamp down the wretched & the weak” (AL II:21) and “Trample down the Heathen, be upon them” (AL III:11). 

in the fierce lust of your pride — Lust = XI = Teth ט (gematria 9) whose name means Serpent, that is Hadit, the upper point of Aleph, and Pride = גאה (gematria 9) which indicates accession to this Supraconsciousness, as it is written: “ye shall exceed the nations of the earth in splendour & pride” (AL I:61) and “let her raise herself in pride” (AL III:44). 

in the day of your wrath — Wrath is זעם gematria 117 (i.e. 9 again), numerical value of אלוף Aleph: it is the Vav in the middle of Aleph, which completes it (i.e. the Bull from which comes the Ox). 

Now, the “day of wrath” is the Ritual of Hud (AL I:61), as it is written: “The forest of the spears of the Most High is called Night, and Hades, and the Day of Wrath” (LLL VII:36). 

Therefore: the Supraconsciousness is obtained by rejecting what is low (Proclamation of Innocence) and being Hadit, i.e. the hidden Serpent (Hades) that speaks, at night (Night), to the Starry Heaven. 

36. This chain reaches from Eternity to Eternity, ever in triangles — is not my symbol a triangle? — ever in circles — is not the symbol of the Beloved a circle? Therein is all progress base illusion, for every circle is alike and every triangle alike! 

Commentary: If in the absolute there is no difference between Emily Ratajkowski and Angela Merkel, stick to the relative. — Sir Shumule 

That said, “Thrill with the joy of life & death” (AL II:66): life is mortal, and last year, on the occasion of this verse, I was able to explain in what way death is, for us, “a greater feast” (AL II:41): 

If I lose a loved one, I am affected for a moment, as when a sympathetic guest, in the middle of a successful evening, suddenly declares “I have to go to bed, I’m up at dawn tomorrow!” 

But then we drink one last glass and part with joyful laughter, unbridled effusions and enthusiastic promises to meet again soon! 

The phases of death and life follow one another like the four times of day, one of which involves temporary sleep, or like the four seasons, one point of which we walk on the Scorpion of Halloween — Now, Halloween is the most joyful, most unbridled, most enthusiastic of all the popular festivals of time — and have the Days of Shadow ever prevented the merry morning of Christmas from coming? 

If I wept for the disappearance of a friend, I would look like I didn’t know that ROTA, the Wheel, is TORA, the Law, explained by TARO, the Tarot, opening TROA, the Gate, of ATOR, the House of the Lord, whose name is, precisely, that of the goddess of beauty, music and joy, that is to say, precisely, of what a funeral feast should contain. 

Since I have, in the old serpent Hadit, the most excellent of Masters, I know all this and, since I know all this, I give the most joyful, most unbridled, most enthusiastic feast when I lose a loved one. 

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 27° ♑︎ : ☽ in 7° ♑︎ : ♀︎ : Vxi.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Passionate Peace

Nuit Hadit, by Marjan Šetar

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

“So,” asks my cousin Abigaïl (who lives on Summit Drive, at the BOTTOM of the hill), “if I’ve understood you correctly, God, for a Thelemite, is conjugal harmony…?”

Exactly! — Nuit says: “there is no other God than me, and my lord Hadit” (AL I:21) — That is why the Prophet (blessing & worship to him) would uncover himself every time he caught sight of lovers kissing.

In fact, Hadit calls the state of Ultimate Attainment “passionate peace” (AL II:64) — a disconcerting oxymoron that amounts to saying “frenzied Nirvana” or “zen Valhalla”…

And indeed, since God is a couple that never argues and is constantly making love furiously, “passionate peace” is truly the optimal Formula.

In Liber Tzaddi, the High Lord Ra-Hoor-Khuit deigns augustly to enumerate what prevents us from attaining “passionate peace” — or, to paraphrase his august words: what makes us lose the golden thread wherewith he guides us to the heart of the groves of Eleusis (Tzaddi, 23).

I have always deplored that Anger (sworn enemy of conjugal harmony) figures in this enumeration — mainly because Irascibility was, formerly, my principal fault.

Oh, the blunders that irascibility made me commit in this world!...

Have I told you about the evening when, finding the Saint-Germain soup too salty, and trying to take as witness the very beautiful young woman dining with me, I became irritated at receiving from her only soothing comments of the kind “Oh, you know, darling, I always find everything very good that is served in your château, etc.”?

In rage, I poured the entire boiling contents of the tureen over her head!

Well! Just after the SAMU had evacuated her to the nearest Major Burns Treatment Centre, I realised, while finishing my plate, that once slightly cooled, the soup was, in fact, quite edible…

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 27° ♑︎ : ☽︎ in 7° ♑︎ : ♀︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰ..

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

The Mark Of Cain or Why Sir Shumule Is In Prison

Eve, Gustave Moreau

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

An Anonymous reader deduces from yesterday’s post that I am, I quote, “a profound kabbalist,” and asks me: “How would you define your ‘uncompromising old Master’, the god Hadit, from a kabbalistic standpoint?”

Well, a Qabalist would say: Hadit is the divine Name that designates the Attribute of Ain Soph Aur, that is, GOD-insofar-as-the-secret-source-of-all-life.

As the secret source of all life, Hadit is therefore the Yod י of the Holy Tetragrammaton.

Hadit is personified by the nāḥāš (the Serpent of Genesis), and represented by the winged solar disk, etc.

— In that case, one might retort, why does the nāḥāš have such a diabolical reputation?

— Easy: Hadit is the Yod י, the Letter of the Hermit. Now the drama of the Sign of Virgo, that is to say of Intelligence, is that it is the Mark of Cain, which blesses the exceptional individual while dooming him to public reprobation.

And that is why Sir Shumule is in prison!

It reminds me of an absolutely savage email in which a student successively called me “selfish,” “eccentric,” “perverse,” “narcissistic,” “sneaky,” “manipulative,” “predatory,” “cruel” and “hypersensitive,” for the sole reason that I stood her up, having crossed, on the way to our rendezvous, a terrace where a karaoke contest was taking place, and the drugs I was full of that evening persuaded me that my true vocation was, in fact, to be the world champion of karaoke.

I had therefore spent the night howling Britney Spears while my disciple waited with her natal chart.

That email displeased me because it pretended to uncover on me some Wounding Truths… some scoops… Lol! Of course I am a predatory perverse narcissistic manipulative selfish eccentric sneaky cruel hypersensitive, dear ! — I am a Virgo native!!! :)

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 25° ♑︎ : ☽︎ in 24° ♐︎ : ♃︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰ.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Piak ! or The Call of the Mandarin Duck is the Foundation of the World

Mandarin Ducks in Snow, Koson Ohara

To Chloé.

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

I have just performed A ka Dua, “the holiest of all mantras” (Sir Aleister Crowley dixit), twenty-four hours non-stop! — Do as I do! Let us work in synergy!

The personal technique matters little here… Repeat it as your favorite cartoon character would repeat it, or as though afflicted with a Danish accent, or as an adolescent onanist hyperventilating while moaning “JLo, JLo, JLo” etc., or as a parrot, or as an old man muttering to himself.

Otherwise, today’s holy reading is Liber A’ash vel Capricorni Pneumatici sub figurâ CCCLXX, verses 21 to 24, where we read notably: 

These animals are sacred unto me; the goat, and the duck, and the ass, and the gazelle, the man, the woman and the child. — A’ash, 21.

Of this verse, Frater Achad said: “duck: I do not know why, unless it is a symbology related to its eggs.” 

To which the Prophet (blessing & worship to him!) replied that he did not know either.

Leptopoecile Sophiæ once told us: “The allusion in this verse is to the aix galericulata, the mandarin duck” — but as he did not elaborate further, his word initially slipped from my mind: it was only after his death in 2010 e.v. that I endeavoured to penetrate its meaning.

The mandarin duck is, above all, an ideal of conjugal harmony — The male and female are always attentive to one another, always gentle and kind in their manners, never noisy nor quarrelsome, but invariably calm and peaceful.

They form the ultimate model of abolition of the binary: wonderfully beautiful, totally imperturbable in difficulties, they remain together (being a wintering species) when all other birds have migrated and stay close to one another regardless of the climate.

Among the sacred animals, which, being seven, correspond to the stages of the Middle Pillar, it is therefore perfectly normal that the mandarin duck should be Yesod.

I therefore say, concerning our charming bestiary of a verse:

Goat = Malkuth, temporal power, matter, Capricorn, etc.

Duck = Yesod, then, for the reasons set forth above.

Ass = Path of Pé, the tragedy of existence and the obstinacy in following the vertical way at the Crossroads.

Gazelle = Tiphareth, that which the lion feeds upon, i.e. the solar principle.

Man = Path of Teth, the Adam’s apple.

Woman = Intersection of the Paths of Daleth, Venus, and of Gimel, the Moon.

Child = Kether, obviously, the crown of the High Lord Heru-Ra-Ha and the open fontanelle.

Technically, of course, neither man, nor woman, nor child are, strictly speaking, animals: but it is by acquiring what I would call “the four cardinal virtues of the Ceremonial Magician” (the ardour of the goat, the vigilance of the mandarin duck, the impudence of the ass, and the swiftness of the gazelle) that they become humans worthy of the name.

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 24° ♑︎ : ☽ in 13° ♐︎ : ☿︎ : Vxi.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Amor Fati : Sir Shumule’s New Year’s Resolutions

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

My sojourn in the Bahamas continues — to the point that some, — very well versed in judicial arcana, — wonder if it will ever end — and the plebs take advantage of it to write me anxious and deplorably bluesy letters (you know who you are…)

Drop this loser attitude! — The strong moments of existence are like pit bulls: they sense if you are afraid.

And none of this really bothers me… I have an absolutely supernatural capacity for resilience — it’s genetic.

Amor fati constitutes, moreover, for us Thelemites, a religious obligation, almost an identity marker.

A Thelemite is, according to the famous formula: “lover of Nuit, disciple of Hadit, servant of Ra-Hoor-Khuit”.

Now since Hadit said: “I am Life, and the giver of Life” (AL II:6), a man who feels bitterness or resentment toward life feels bitterness and resentment, not only toward the Teaching that Hadit imparts to him, but toward Hadit himself!

No matter how “excellent” his reasons may be — he cannot, under any circumstances, claim to be a Thelemite.

I insist: incarnate life IS “the Cruel Tutelage of Hadit”: the training residence you carry out under the direction of the Old Serpent of Edfu — Hence fundamental Shumulism: every ordeal is a compliment.

Apart from that — and in a wonderfully cheerful tone, on the other hand — Soror Neferusobek asks me what are my (I quote) “good resolutions for 2026”.

Here they are:

1. To love Nuit even more. 

Of course, I already rush into every Ritual as though it were a romantic rendezvous with the celebrity crush of my adolescence — and I devote to Nuit’s earthly representative — my wife Chloé — a cult whose fervour worries the prison shrink.

I mean: I think of Chloé 24/7 as Romeo Montague thought of Juliet, as Tristan thought of Isolde, as Don Quixote thought of Dulcinea — but it is not enough.

This year, I want to reach the state in which Majnun was in relation to Layla — to hear “Chloé” in every sound and see Chloé in every occurrence.

2. To be even more Hadit. 

I already see existence as a training stay in Hadit’s House, that is to say 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.

3. To serve Ra-Hoor-Khuit even better.

I intend to have, toward the Lord of the Æon, the relationship that, in his Hagakure, Yamamoto Jocho prescribes for the Samurai toward his Daimyo, but more fanatical.

To make myself methodically, each day, a little more fanatical in my Promulgation.

There you go :)

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 23° ♑︎ : ☽ in 1° ♐︎ : ♂︎ : Vxi

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

What Is True Will ?

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

The fact that in 2023 e.v., during my appearance before the Court of Appeal of Riom, the President of that court felt compelled, in the course of the proceedings, to describe me as “a mixture of Hannibal Lecter, Rasputin and Dracula” did not, a priori, indicate in that worthy magistrate a marked bias in my favour…

That said, his punchline confers upon me, in the context of my present sojourn, an aura of deliciously uncanny trouble, which I systematically abuse :)

For example, a very beautiful guard, — a young woman of sub-Saharan type, — came just now to bring me my mail, while I was immersed in the Holy Books of Thelema.

I turned around, stared at the intruder for a long time, then said in my least reassuring manner: “It is the hour of the Study of the Texts. The Old Serpent does not wish to be disturbed.”

The scene froze my pretty gaoler, to the point that I suspected the beginning of catalepsy. :)

Finally, after an abnormally long time, she handed me, with a trembling hand, an elegantly stamped letter, which came — since we are speaking of pretty Sub-Saharan — from my dear correspondent A.K., who poses me three questions, to which I propose to reply here, in a simple, accessible and punctual manner:

Question 1: What is True Will?

Let us never tire of hammering the fundamentals: True Will is the consecrated translation of “Thelema” (from Greek θέλημα, “irresistible desire”, “will in its pure state”), which means that you possess exceptional capacities which are absolutely unique. 

You are a masterpiece — and a masterpiece different from everything that has ever lived in the history of the world.

More than that, the precise instructions you need for your genius to reveal itself have existed from all eternity — they were already with you when you were not yet a guilty thought.

In other words, you have an “animic code” — a code of the soul — as rigorously personal as your genetic code. 

You can call it: the special mission you came to accomplish on earth; the divine blueprint that contains the secret method for being perfectly yourself; the master plan of what your heart desires above all.

There is an energy, a vital force, an impulse that is, through you, transformed into action. 

And because there is only one copy of you in the centuries of centuries, this expression is unique. 

If you repress it (or allow Choronzon — your ego wounds — to repress it), it will never exist again through any other medium. 

It will be lost to the world.

Question 2. How would you define the sephirah Netzach?

(I’m proceeding on the assumption that you have the basic notions: Netzach is the sphere of sensual life, in opposition to Hod, the sphere of intellectual life, etc.)

Netzach is generally summed up by the apophthegm: “Woman is external virtue and internal corruption”, as in the famous Helmut Newton photograph where the leg of a supermodel is X-rayed.

Philosophically, the idea is very Sardanapalian: however ultra-arousing Kim Kardashian’s body may be, it conceals a skeleton.

And psychologically, to quote the Prophet (blessing & worship to him): “With women, the deeper you go, the rottener it gets.”

I have always suspected this Mystery to be, whatever Jung may say, the true cause of the failure of Orpheus, of holy memory, to exfiltrate Eurydice from the underworld.

Question 3: Why does The Book of the Law allude to Voodoo?

The Book of the Law authorises Voodoo and even expressly refers to it (AL I:37), whereas it forbids and even curses Islam (AL III:52), from which we deduce that Rihanna should never have apologised [for her sample reusing words of Mohammed]: she is Barbadian, Caribbean Voodoo is one of the most formidable in the world, and judging by the ugliness of the Arabs who were threatening her at the time, she certainly had not hesitated to cast a spell on them!

The goddess Nuit tells us in substance: there is something with the Mambo Priestesses that you will no longer find, alas! in Janet in burka, nor in the beurettes of France, who no longer want to be called beurettes, but “fully-fledged French citizens with a recent migratory past of extra-European origin” — These people have no consideration for the porn industry: “Rocco Siffredi bangs fully-fledged French citizens with a recent migratory past of extra-European origin” is less catchy as a title…

But it is a good question:

In what way can Thelemites — who naturally tend to dress “like dandies”, to dine “like gourmets”, to behave like “hunting squires and young men about town” (Djeridensis Comment/AL I:51) — possibly be concerned by Togolese animism?

Well, a hunting squire, dandy, gourmet, man of the world, if he’s not a Thelemite, would reply: “in no way” — considering that Voodoo is the religion of sub-Saharan Africa in its most sub-Saharan aspect — that it is a primitive phenomenon, of cargo-cult type, practised by those Blacks who do not benefit from Catholic food aid, nor from Muslim organisations — that only obese American leftists, enrolled in a particularly gay university curriculum like African studies, define it otherwise — that Voodoo focuses exclusively, in practice, on excessive recourse to drugs, on the stabbing of crudely made dolls, on the kind of garish beads that Blacks (and magpies) love to collect, and on rape — that in terms of doctrine, it is clearly intended for beings whose IQ is room temperature — that the social function of Voodoo is to harm enemies (which in Africa means pretty much everyone), to contact deceased ancestors and to facilitate rape — that outside Benin, Haiti, the ghettos of Louisiana, and a few other hilarious lands where the iPhone has not yet replaced the tom-tom, it interests absolutely no one.

Yet I, who am a hunting squire, dandy, gourmet, man of the world and Thelemite, tell you: Voodoo is, on the contrary, an admirable and infinitely worthy-of-respect religious tradition.

Curious, certainly! at first glance, since in its pantheon, calm, gentle and peaceful entities are not necessarily beneficent forces, and ardent, turbulent and rebellious entities are not necessarily evil forces.

But this ultimately refers to fundamental Shumulism: The disease of kindness handicaps existence more than crack addiction.

By saying “the obeah and the wanga” (AL I:37), Nuit encourages us to remain vigilant in the presence of the calm, gentle and peaceful spirits in our lives: they may be agents of influence, of the Paul of Tarsus type, tasked with softening us in order to disable our action.

She invites us to let ourselves be inspired by ancient creator gods and goddesses, who forged, for play, millions of magnificent things using wind, mud, tears and lightning.

She enjoins us to draw from the furious aspect of our nature, the one that led us out of our mothers’ wombs at the hour of our birth.

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 20° ♑︎ : ☽ in 24° ♎︎ : ♄︎ : Vxi.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Like an Idle Dandy in a Snow Leopard Winter

 

A snow leopard is as beautiful as ten women, as strong as ten men, and as wise as ten astronomers. — Ladakhi proverb

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

The dear, the stamping, the indispensable Tia — who, spiritually, increasingly resembles a Halliwell sister suddenly leaping out of a late-90s television set — wrote to me last night: 

“The Solar Year that has just dawned is conjointly signed by the runes Othala and Wunjō — in 2026, you will be liberated, escaped, or burned alive at the stake like Giordano Bruno.”

Very encouraging.

She also reminds me (with a slight, light, autumnal nostalgia, a halo of mono no aware in the precise Japanese sense of the term) — since the daily Study (Habibi) these days is focused on Liber A’ash (The Book of Creation or of the Goat of the Spirit) — of the very first epistolary exchange I had, in January 2021 e.v., with the one who has, since, become our Beloved Frater CC.

In the blessed hours of our Abbey of Thelema, he had written to me:

“There is a gigantic gnarled oak in my garden, which makes me think of the one in Liber CCCLXX and which also makes me think of your teaching: its branches are so gnarled, so twisted in every direction, so knotty, so contorted, that no cabinetmaker could make anything with the wood of that tree: you are great and impressive, Sir Shumule, but unusable in practice.”

I had replied:

The snow leopard, which is the most perfected beast of the animal kingdom, as well as the radiant symbol of Attainment, is on the path to extinction because of the beauty of its coat: supreme predator, it is perpetually hunted by filthy Mongoloid poachers — Your oak has the better part in this world: immense, majestic, and unusable in practice (therefore without risk that anyone will want to cut it into slices).

This is why, as I once wrote: “Since the end of my studies, I have endeavoured to be as useless as possible.”

To be an idle dandy (a dandy who works is a dandy who derogates), that is to say an individual who is obsolete and totally useless, is a guarantee of serenity and well-being: the Rolls-Royce does not bother the plebs as long as they believe it to be a collector’s piece: it is only when they see someone driving it in town that they become hateful.

Social uselessness, the absence of avowable qualities (I used to write, as a leitmotif: “My only talent is my cock”), detachment from all worldly cares (fundamental Shumulism: “There are two rules for living happily. The first is to attach no importance to minor worries. The second is that all worries are minor”) are the three essential components of my θέλημα, therefore of my Path, therefore of my Doctrine, therefore of my Praxis — they are my religion.

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 19° ♑︎ : ☽ in 14° ♎︎ : ♀︎ : Vxi.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Blue Abyss of Wine: A Twelfth Night Hermeneutic

Manara Tarot, The Hermit

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

I spent the day voluptuously lounging while perusing the poetic œuvre of Jacques d’Adelswärd-Fersen, and I feel decadent-neoclassical right down to my fingertips!

I know full well that most people prefer to label my work “gonzo” or “luciferian,” but that’s because they haven’t the faintest idea what “decadent-neoclassical” actually means.

I would be better understood by saying that I did not find decadent-neoclassical at all the email from Frater Sicariōn — in which he reproached me for balking yesterday at interpreting Soror Neferusobek’s dream according to the strict modalities of the PaRDèS system of qabalistic exegesis.

“What part of ‘He must teach’ do you not understand, Sir?!!!”

He urges me to publicly repair this failing by treating, for him, according to this method, the excipit of verse 28 of chapter 5 of The Book of the Heart Girt with a Serpent, on which he is completely stumped, although he drew it eight times in a row during a bibliomancy session concerning the year that begins (or his impending engagement, I can’t remember which)…

Well, I don’t believe I’m getting a galette des rois with frangipane tonight… Might as well fill this Twelfth Night with holy hermeneutic elaborations.

So: “thou shalt transmute the earth into a blue abyss of wine.”

Pshat: Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver. — AL III:64

Let us set the context: 

The Holy Guardian Angel of the Prophet gives him a series of meticulous instructions, at once extremely precise (almost halakhic) and totally obscure, including the formal injunction to “transmute the earth into a blue abyss of wine.”

Clearly, “blue abyss of wine” would be a fantastic name for an elegant, hyper-sweet cocktail based on Curaçao and Dom Pérignon! — Typically the kind of thing one savours alone at the bar of some hedonistic palace around four in the morning, drowning one’s spleen to a lounge backdrop, cool jazz at a pinch.

Thus I remember one evening when, utterly depressed, I rushed down to the Hôtel de Crillon in a panic, took my beloved Bernstein suite, then proceeded to get systematically drunk alone at the hotel bar (mostly Champagne Flips, actually, and Looping Papayes)…

The barman at the time was the dazzling Ludovic — Paganini of molecular mixology, Solomon of Bartender Wisdom.

Well! Upon waking the next morning, I was already Sir Shumule the Joyful again! — Sir Shumule the Radiant! — Sir Shumule the King of Viscounts! — And I had only to tumble the pretty chambermaid who brought my breakfast to permanently reintegrate my usual state of maximalist euphoria!

For yes! luxury recharges — in the exact telephone sense of the term — and I tell this anecdote every time I comment on the 4 of Cups.

Remez: Through the second, gold. — AL III:65

Indeed, this is the very principle of the Thelemite Path: to transmute base earthly contingencies and the weltschmerz they bring (= spleen) into elegant, heady cocktails. — The old serpent, Hadit our Master, prescribes, in substance, as our exclusive way of life: party all day, love all night (AL II:42–43).

This is where I measure how profoundly right my answers once were to the formidable  “Totem Test”!

When Cathy, my orthodox-Freudian shrink friend — the very type of frigid beauty — asked me: “What does the high sea evoke for you?” (a question supposedly designed to unconsciously elicit a response revealing the subject’s vision of Life), I answered: “When a friend invited me on a cruise in Indonesia on his boat… We fished for shark, we had a great time…”

Then, seeing Cathy’s horrified look, I corrected myself: “Alright. Let’s say: me reclining in a deckchair on the deck of a zillionaire’s gigayacht, right hand in the champagne cooler, left hand on Rihanna’s arse.”

Today I understand how perfectly right I was: this is how the “awful Sea” (Cordis III:44) becomes the “Delightful Ocean” (Cordis IV:49); this is how the earth (= incarnate life), becoming high sea + champagne cooler, becomes “blue abyss of wine”!

Derash: Through the third, stones of precious water. — AL III:66

I realise that the formula “blue abyss of wine” has the gematria 397, which is that of AVR PNIMI, the Inner Light.

Impossible not to think of Ramses the Great, “entirely confident in his Inner Light” during the decisive battle where the enemies of Khem, fleeing at the mere sight of the Sovereign, screamed in utmost panic: “He is not human!!!”

In fact, AVR PNIMI is a Title of Kether — It is therefore a matter of transmuting Malkuth (“earth”) into Kether (“blue abyss of wine” = 397 = AVR PNIMI, i.e. Kether) — 397 being an elaboration of 19 (since 3+9+7), thus a reference to the Mystery of the Will common to Eve and Job: recovering the Lost Paradise.

It is the very Idea whose glyph is 397: the 9 secretly contained in 37.

For 37 is HBL, the “vanity” of Ecclesiastes — i.e. the reading of existence that contemplation of the Demiurge’s work inspires in Qohelet — and what is the point, indeed, of living under the tyranny of the Grand Vizier, where “vanity of vanities and all is vanity”?

Yet within the “mist” (literal meaning of HBL) of the Grand Vizier’s Decrees, 9 — the Holy Grail — is hidden (compare with the Hymn of the Pearl by Saint Bardesanes of Edessa).

In plain terms, the “cattle-men,” who appeared in the Garden of Delights “exactly like maggots on an apple” (cf. The Paris Working), slaves of the Demiurge, unworthy to serve Babalon, but having made the demon Choronzon (Restriction be upon him) their repulsive idol, undertook to transform Eden into Old Grey Land: “They have lowered everything that was great!” complains Thoth to Ra in the Coffin Texts, “They have proceeded to imprisonments!”

But technically, they only covered Paradise with gulags and watchtowers: the verse tells us: raze the watchtowers and you logically find yourself back in Eden — It has never been otherwise — This is the meaning of passing “beyond the bars of the prison that the old Slime of Khem set up in the Gates of Amennti” (Cordis V:44).

Sod: Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire. — AL III:67

It is written: “There are deep secrets in these songs. It is not enough to hear the bird; to enjoy song he must be the bird.” (LLL VI:14)

The hidden, esoteric and mysterious meaning of the Holy Books reveals itself only to him who does not content himself with spiritual nourishment from the connection to the Divine that hermeneutics allows, but applies Thelema to himself, in practice, in his own personal life situation.

This is what we call the Principle of Sucker Punch: considering every occurrence according to its eternal implications, according to the divine stakes it contains.

We incarnate only because the Holy Grail is hidden within the mists of the Old Grey Land of Desolation: the goal, in terms of “wine,” is to find the Grail without getting lost in the fog.

The Blue Abyss of Wine is therefore not a heady cocktail, but a bitter serum of truth — And we must, like Socrates — or Jacques d’Adelswärd-Fersen! — drink it “by the eight and ninety rules of art” (AL II:70), joyfully, to the dregs!

‘TRINC unto Nu.’ — Leptopoecile Sophiae

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 15° ♑︎ : ☽ in 21° ♌︎ : ☽ : Vxi.

𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌

Crikey! What a Subconscious! or The Altar of Babalon

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

The humour of the gods, sometimes truly sexy, arranged that a letter from Soror Neferusobek — one of those confidantes I wish upon everyone who loves truly hyper-beautiful confidantes — was delivered to me this evening precisely as I finished adoring Tum!

The Sistah informed me, in essence, that the previous night she had had a rather traumatizing dream:

She saw herself hosting a grand elegant dinner in her duplex in the Sixteenth Arrondissement, to which I had brought none other than Kim Kardashian herself, but by ruse:

Kim’s actual mission was to take Neferusobek’s father-in-law — a big fan of KUWTK — on a tour of Paris, so that I might have free rein to ravish N.’s MOTHER (who is the archetype of the Irresistible MILF — you know Bela Bajaria, the Netflix boss? — Well! Exactly the same, but with bigger breasts!)

N. confides that at the end of her dream, Kim suddenly burst back from her “walk,” outraged by the father-in-law’s pathetic advances, and lectured him thus: “Don’t talk nonsense, Hubert! Your wife is very fine! She has an ass that doesn’t go unnoticed!”

At that precise moment, I was in the process of unloading into the aforementioned wife, bent over the table — which made Kim laugh, as she added, for Hubert’s benefit: “My David doesn’t make that mistake!”

N. notes that my “growl” at the moment of orgasm “sounded like a bellowing,” and says that I then turned to her unfortunate father-in-law — who was (I quote) “pale and petrified” — and declared, by way of apology: “Sorry, Hubert… One doesn’t always control one’s baser instincts…”

“After which,” writes N., “Kim and you left laughing… I add that you had ejaculated at least a litre into Mum and that it was dripping from her onto my pretty tablecloth, and also that Kim K. said to you as you left: ‘You must be happy! All this time she’s been making you hard, that one!’”

Crikey! What a subconscious!

“I FORBID you to creampie Mum on the dining-room table!” concludes Soror Neferusobek, who insists that I subject this dream to an exhaustive analysis following the strict modalities of the PaRDèS system of qabalistic exegesis. 

It may be a touch too much to improvise tonight, in the context of my Bahamas holiday… All I can say for now, on the level of Pshat — apart, once again, from “Crikey! What a subconscious indeed!” — is that this dream nostalgically sends me back to a multitude of personal anecdotes, real-life events and autobiographical incidents to which, curiously, it makes me think…

No one is unaware, for example, that my very first awareness of the Divine came precisely through the intercession of an ‘Irresistible MILF’ — the mother of my girlfriend at the time (I was 15):

I had spent the night in the very beautiful home of her parents — a provincial doctor and a housewife of the big-breasted mature beauty type — and, attempting at dawn to slip away (since the parents were unaware of my presence in their daughter’s room), I was intercepted by the aforementioned mature beauty — who, after a half-serious, half-playful reprimand, insisted on proving she was still “in the race” by sucking me off right in the living room (her husband was sleeping just above): at the instant when my virility, rendered furiously turgid by the situation, was taken in mouth by this woman, I murmured, in an astonished breath: “There is a God…”

Also well known, alas! to most of the Paris social register of the early 2000s is the scandalous misadventure that earned me, for a time, the nickname “Hands-Free” — when, during an elegant soirée, I was suddenly seized by premature ejaculation and exploded in my white trousers at the mere sight of Mariah Carey’s ‘Loverboy’ music video playing on a giant screen, under the (perplexed) gaze of my girlfriend at the time AND my rival for her, who burst out laughing: “Wow! Your guy! Hands-free!!!!!”

Perhaps it is less known, however, that I made love to my wife nine times in a row after watching, for the first time, Fergie’s ‘MILF’ music video (which also features Kim Kardashian, by the way) — but the vibe is the same: the passion unleashed by the MILF and her devastating impact on the trajectory of anyone who suffers its consequences!

In Soror Neferusobek’s dream, the collateral victim of this passion is, of course, the unfortunate Hubert.

In the first autobiographical anecdote reported above, it is me — since I make it my First Mystical Crisis — the spiritual trigger that will ultimately make me the ‘helluvah holy guru’ that is known and, therefore, lead me to prison!

In the second anecdote, the victim is my Social Persona (“Ah! Ah! Ah! How ridiculous!” was the only comment from my cousin Abigaïl when she was told of the incident.)

In the third anecdote, finally, the victim is the cervix of my wife, forced to endure endless furious assaults to extinguish the fire that another had lit.

See? All victims of oedipal fury, that is to say: all sacrificed on the Altar of Babalon.

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 15° ♑︎ : ☽ in 21° ♌︎ : ☽ : Vxi.

Spiritual Catfight : An Epistle to Soror Sinthea

Bastet, by Milo Manara

Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,

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

The Ancient Egyptians, our masters in all things, had a marvellous way of exalting the quality of words.

Tahuti, Sage among Sages, who never errs, said: “He who speaks well is beautiful and good.”

On this subject, I must pay public homage to the most formidable punchline artist of our Sect — the dear Soror Sinthea — whom I call Soror Sin just to annoy her — who has just reported to me that she has had, online, a rather mortifying spat.

Last month already, a post of mine in which I praised, on the one hand, Sinthea by name, and on the other, female sodomy, earned her a comment calling her an “abominable fucked-up bitch” — But it came from a Heathen, whom she immediately crushed under a contemptuous heel, while comparing me to the Marquis de Sade in the Bastille, which proves the broad-mindedness of our Sister, or at least, so as not to cause confusion, her sense of humour.

Today’s affair is very different, since the barrage of insults comes from a Thelemite lady — a Thelemite lady of the “Pagan” persuasion, certainly, but a Thelemite lady nonetheless.

The disputation — what am I saying? the brawl! — what am I saying? the doctrinal catfight that apparently took place would obviously have been less painful — and finished much more quickly! — had it been against a Wiccan spinster.

(I have always hated Wicca, even back when it wasn’t woke: It just so happens that I prefer listening to Paganini’s Caprices or to an Offenbach opéra-bouffe to debating the historical nuances of Goddess worship; I prefer reading Noh theatre or Swords and Sorcery comics to reading a treatise on lithotherapy; and I would still rather — instead of approaching any spiritual subject with some adept of that cheap paganism intended for munters, social misfits, vegetarians and the poor, known as Wicca — I would still rather, I say, watch a page of adverts or an RnB music video: at least the girls are sexy.)

Precisely: Sin had published an admirable in-depth text on our basic postulate: Life is a Noh theatre play — and concluded, from my famous commentary on Liber Porta Lucis sub figurâ X verses 1-4 — quite rightly entitled Deliciously Obscure — that every Christmas romcom starring Lacey Chabert has the value of an initiatory tale in the Pythagorean, or Orphic, sense of the term.

It was grandiose!!!

Alas! A Thelemite ‘Pagan’ lady, particularly appalled by my Open Letter to Judge Aurélie Mahé, and even more (if possible) by my Responses to the Proust Questionnaire — felt she had to address a stinging remonstrance to Sin — lambasting even my way of reading Tarot and calling my post Pilgrimage to Cythera “clearly problematic”.

Sin is struggling to handle this conflict, and asks me how “As brothers fight ye” (AL III:59) applies in this case…

Answer: It is very easy.

My late mentor in Thelema — the most authentic Hermit of Hadit who ever trod the globe, whom we now designate, since the events you know, under the “Posthumous Magical Nickname” of Leptopoecile Sophiae (all this is narrated with sparkling pen in my tribute post, soberly entitled To Karl Germer in Esterwegen: My Lamp Is a Dead Aristocrat in Impeccable Shoes) — my late mentor, I say, deduced, through learned exegesis of the verse “Say you so? Fool! If he be a King thou canst not hurt him” (AL II:59), the following Principle:

When two Thelemites quarrel, it necessarily means that one of the two is not doing his True Will.

Consequently, the one who suffers from the collision caused by the other’s departure from orbit actually has the inertia of the entire universe assisting him.

By virtue of which, the matter, however trying it may have been at the time, cannot, in any way, harm him in the long term (i.e. include itself in Time).

Meditate upon this, Beloved Sister, 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 14° ♑︎ : ☽ in 7° ♌︎ : ☉ : Vxi.