Note:
I will not go so far as to ask you to listen to Mozart’s Don Giovanni while reading this text, but I would certainly see my advantage in it if, by any chance, the fancy took you to do so. — SS
Oh rejoice! rejoice! — Liber Liberi vel Lapidis Lazuli, 7:24
Dear friends, beautiful and happy people,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
You have not, I imagine, forgotten Laura — that sublimely magnificent fusion of Ellen Ripley and Trudy Chacon who reigns within the penitentiary brigade of Moulins-Yzeure — She glides imperially along the walkways of this prison as much as through the folds of my subconscious, and she has been the subject of much discussion on this blog recently…
Laura really should have married me: she intimidates me as much as she sets me ablaze (she intimidates me ENORMOUSLY) — In her presence, I become the Ideal Male Partner, i.e. the perfect combination of a henpecked husband and a passionate lover.
Well! When I suddenly opened my eyes this morning — emerging from entirely immoral dreams — Laura was standing in my cell, right next to my bed, like the Statue of the Commandatore!
She was talking about obscure legal technicalities, but — still half in the limbo of sleep and convinced I was still dreaming — all I could hear coming from her (ravishing) ultra-determined mouth was:
Don Giovanni, a cenar tecom'invitastie son venuto!
Oh, what a rush of adrenaline, dear friends!!!
Still wondering whether I was the victim of a punitive expedition, a hidden camera prank, or an acid flashback, I was about to stammer out quickly — in a tone of total surrender and sexy submission — something like: “What full confessions must I sign, Brigadière, for you to unfrown those brows?…” but the Stunning Apparition had already vanished from the cell before I could utter a single sound…
Like you, no doubt, I thought, as I fell back asleep, that I had been the plaything of my overstimulated erotic imagination, heated up by detention…
But no! Jonathan M. — my Sganarelle — swore to me that the cell visit had indeed taken place IRL, and that the physical body of Laura-in-uniform had authentically materialised beside my bed, like an Answered Prayer, at the exact moment of my awakening!
I do not know what I have done to deserve such a degree of benevolence from the gods, but there must be something I am doing right!
In any case, the incident filled me with joy for the entire day.
That is no small thing in the context of my current vacation…
See! The “old god,” the Serpent of the city of Edfu, Hadit our Master, has said: “if thou art truly mine — and doubt it not, an if thou art ever joyous,” as it is written (AL 2, 72).
Joy is the Mark — the very Symptom, one might say, by allusion to Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente 1:13-16, cf. God Is A Lethal Pathogen (But I Still Want the Kiss) — of connection to the Divine.
In the hyper-satiety of “wealth, and health, and length of days” which is the lot of the Thelemite (Tzaddi, 31) and which tends to make us a little blasé, as well as in the “danger & trouble” which are equally the lot of the Thelemite (AL 3, 11) and which tend to make us anxious, deliberately put on your happy face (as Destiny’s Child used to say) and watch over your joy.
I personally have performed the Ritual of HVD with as much joy in the Royal Penthouse Suite of the Hotel President Wilson in Geneva as I have in the disciplinary wing waiting cell of Moulins-Yzeure Prison.
This is a practical application of the essential principle of occult medicine enunciated by the divine Paracelsus, of blessed memory, according to which voluntarily assuming the Consequence necessarily aligns one with the Cause.
If joy is the physical symptom of connection to the gods — and sadness the symptom of the loss of that connection, as Hadit our Master teaches: “when ye are sad know that I have forsaken you” (AL 2, 56) — then strive, by any means necessary, to be “ever joyous” and you will automatically find yourself reconnected to the gods. Easy.
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 9° ♉︎ : ☽︎ in 12° ♎︎ : ☿︎ : Ⅴⅹⅰⅰ.
𓄿𓎛𓂧 𓇋𓈖𓏌
