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sat hat

Biochemical Balance of Blood

Posted on 2011.04.08 at 12:27

So now you know the damage that you are suffering from technology, cellphone towers, mobile phones, computers, &etc.

You also recognize in this video that there is a basic principle of piezo-electric energy affecting your body from proximity to a source emitting such energy. It is not only radio signal masts that have such an effect. In fact you would be surprised how the bio-electric generators known as 'people' also have this proximity effect, which is also used at range when controlled by a focus tool known as the Attention. 

My friend Kat was sick last night after drinking a bottle of Oasis. It is a fake fruit flavored chemical soup of poisons detrimental to health. Although the label states "No artificial colours or flavours', amongst other things the ingredients contain sugar, aspartame, acesulfame and phenylalanine. Nasty. What do these things do? Generally they screw up your immune system and weaken your bones and vital organs as well as reducing fertility. If you do your own research then you will find out for yourself. 

sat hat

Curse of the Mad Monkey

Posted on 2011.03.08 at 16:49

I loved my little brother.
He had a speech impediment.
Hammy av hfeef po-wum hammy ham-hay heff.
My parents eventually took him to speech therapy lessons when he was old enough, but before then I would translate.
Sammy has a speech problem Sammy can't say 's'.
When I was six or seven and Sam was four or five, Dad took us to stay for a week in a caravan in west Wales at broadhaven beach.
It was the summer holidays.

The Photo 
Dad was an art teacher and spent most of the holiday with a camera around his neck. The visual image is something I was trained to respect since an early age. I held a pencil before I held a spoon.

Walking along a bracken fern and bramble lined path between the beach and the caravan site, dad told us to wait still for a minute so he could take our picture. Sam and I were both wearing our new knitted jumpers that nan, my Dads mother, had made for us especially for the holiday. It is Wales, its cold here even in the middle of summer. Especially near the coast. I don't know for certain but I suspect that it was my paternal grandparents who had paid for the rent on the caravan so that we could have a holiday this year. The jumpers were identical apart from mine was slightly bigger and the color was slightly different, Nan had used a different yellow wool for the beach and sailboat but the sky blue was the same. People still ask us if we are twins.

Just as my dad was focusing one of the several lenses he used for his camera to get different types of shot, from zoom to widescreen, I decided to show the world how much I loved my brother. I put my arm around him and kissed his cheek. A lot can happen in the split fraction of a second that it takes for a camera to take a picture.

While the Iris is Open 
I had never before known malice, much less been the target of it. In the exact moment that I kissed Sams cheek and Dad took the fateful photo, I was struck. It was not physical although the attack put me into a state of shock. I was overwhelmed by bitterness

"Thank you, boys." said Dad, beaming with pride.
Sam ran off up the path while I stood in shock, trying to analyze what had just happened and watching my dad and my brother walk away.
"Come on, slowcoach!" said Dad.
"He how hoah" copied Sam. 
What had just happened? It was so horrible!

I am empathic. The way that I translated Sams speech was not only through audio but through feeling. My heart told me what message he was feeling and trying to say. My mind would translate the shape of the feeling into words for Sam. I would use his speech pattern as a guide to my translation. Thats how it works. I couldn't ever have explained that at the time because I had no idea that I was even doing it, much less words for these concepts and ability to communicate with adults about it. It just seemed natural to me, like breathing and drinking and following your own way as you go.

I was overwhelmed by a shock of nasty. The hatred, filthy loathing, was something deeper and more toxic than anything I could ever have imagined. The smell of burning circuit-boards is how t feels, sick and wrong and shouldn't be. Every cell of my being and every mote of my soul rejects and feels polluted by it. When I read Lord of the Rings for the first time I saw only a pale reference there to this terrifying darkness that left me deeply affected. I was utterly alone and afraid. I have been this way ever since.

The translation in my mind of the poison feeling leaping through my heart was that my brother hated me with abject venom, my father was a bad terrible man, and I was worthless, utterly pathetic, pointless, my existence was less than shit, I was an abberation that should not be.

I can explain now, that this darkness did not originate from within me, it passed through me. But I absorbed it as it went. It was so fast! Faster than anything I had ever known. It appeared to the limit of my senses to have come from Sam, although I know now that it only appeared to do that, and that probably it passed through him the same way that it passed through me. It was gone in a flash. All this happened in the instant during which Dad took that photo. But I was left with a sick, twisted feeling that has lasted a lifetime. An emptiness that sucks in all hope. 

So painful was the experience of loss; of my brothers love, of my trust in my father, knowing now how much he loathed me, and the awareness that such a dark thing could exist in a world I had known only to be beautiful, even in its cold and wet and rain and wind; damaged me for life. As I write, age 33 years, I am still not recovered from it. It was many years before I could even cast my mind back to remember this scene at all. I was shocked, and frightened. I could not look at the photograph for many years after without feeling an overwhelming sickness.

I read a lot of books. My reading ability was advanced for my age. School did tests. I was gcse level (16) by age 12 and off the top of the chart by 13. I read Ursula Le Guins amazing A Wizard of Earthsea. It was real. The shadow that Ged summons; I knew. Because I had experienced it myself, that day at the beach. I cannot explain it any better. Like Ged I had to travel beyond death, to confront and to assimilate the Shadow. It is very Jungian. I am only ready to do so now, so many years later. After having been diagnosed as a schizophrenic. I am believing that the writing of this healing story to be a part of my therapy. Whatever happened that day at the beach cast a long shadow that has left me deeply affected, deeply disaffected; scarred. And as time and events played out, as I was able to remember and digest the information I experienced, I began to learn the story of what had happened.

Hourglass Eyes
I was living like Raistlin from Dragonlance in my nocturnal tower; insomniac, cannabis addicted, incapable of socializing, even of going outdoors. One reason for this is because every time I did, something very out of the ordinary and usually very bleak would happen to me. For example being beaten shitless by baseball cap and hoody tracksuit wearing gangs of teenage 'blads'. Thats what its like living in Zooport, especially if you have dreadlocks. It doesn't matter, its only me and I don't deserve to be here polluting the planet and wasting resources. My guilt over this was atrocious. I was disfunctional. 

On rare occasions that I did go out it was often to get involved in humanitarian socialist projects. I was handing out flyers protesting against animal cruelty. SHAC is a grass roots anti-animal abuse organisation dedicated to closing down Huntingdon Life Sciences. If you had seen the videos made secretly inside there, of beagles and monkeys being tortured and beaten, experimented on in grotesque ways... which is still happening now even as you read this, despite animal cruelty laws made by the same uk government that are funding the organisation ...then you would feel as I do; that handing out flyers as part of an underground information campaign is precious little against the tyranny protecting abuse.

Part of the problem the protestors face is that the policY enforcers and uk government consider animal rights liberators to be terrorists. They did blow up a car of a financier of HLS although nobody was hurt, and they regularly make telephone threats to the abusers payed by HLS to do these experiments. SHAC (Stop Huntingon Animal Cruelty) campaigners are notorious not only for targetting the HLS workers but also their families. The hate runs deep. The founders are all behind bars themselves now. For the record, all I ever did was hand out flyers and sign the protest.

The Hunt
My relationship with Dad has always been problematic ever since that day at the beach where I saw that he would rather be with Sam than myself, that I am irrelevant to him, more of a problem than anything, his inferior son, his regret. He pushed me hard against my will to follow in his footsteps and suppressed my own instinctive drive to be myself and go my own way. 

There was a huge 'fox hunting' issue advertised by the tv and newspapers as we were growing up and into my teenage years, especially during the political elections. Dad keeps chickens and foxes are a problem. The animal liberation warriors are trying to have fox hunting banned because it is a cruel sport. It is; after traumatizing the poor animal for up to several hours by hunting it, the pack of hounds tears the fox to death. Ripped to shreds. My dad and I could not see eye to eye about this issue, he vented anger like a viking berserker. I couldn't ever understand why he got so enraged over the issue. The man has shot more foxes than anyone I ever met. Surely he would agree that a single bullet is quick, and is enough to protect 'the countryside', and most importantly is so much more preferable to the agonizing death of being torn apart alive by hounds after being chased by a mob of hooligans, most of who live in the city and whose horses cause damage to the countryside they are protecting by churning it up and smashing hedges. It's a passionate issue with an obvious answer, that was used to create a class war and hatred in the people, animosity between police and proletariat and to flush out the 'terrorists' before the two factions could unite against a common enemy, the uk government and their policY state, in terms of common lawful rebellion which is happening now a decade later. But Dad didn't like my opinion nor my smart-arse foresight. Dad didn't like a lot of things about me, for example my cannabis addiction. 

Sins of the Fathers
'Sins of the Fathers' is a line from Beowulf, perhaps the most famous Norse epic from the sea-faring people called the Vikings. It has stuck in my mind like a puzzle ever since I first heard it. Grandpa was a sailor, during world war two he was posted on an aircraft carrier. All through my life he was into boats, he had a nineteen foot yacht parked up on his driveway when it wasn't at the marina. His dad was blown up in the trenches and taken POW in world war one with shrapnel in his leg. The German army medics fixed it enough that he could escape, limp to the coast, steal a boat and sail it all the way back to the harbor in the little fishing village he grew up in on the east coast of england. So sailing is in the blood; we are of Norse descent paternally. The image of a boat on the wooly jumpers of two little boys with white sunbleached hair, knitted by their Nan, resonates through many layers of meaning, as symbols do.

After the war Grandpa got a job as a bank manager. The very last time I saw him he told me that he had been HLS bank manager. I stopped talking with him after that. I didn't see much of him throughout my life since he lived so far away; in Huntingdon as it happens. I asked him about the animal rights protesters; he laughed and called them irrelevant troublemakers. He said he never saw any signs of animal abuse when he visited HLS. I told him I had seen the video's. He asked me if I was stoned when I watched them. He didn't much like that I smoked cannabis either. 

Frozen Moment
It was after that I began to remember and assimilate childhood trauma's. The shape of the connection between Dads wrath at animal rights and the victimization of families of HLS workers; activated something in my own memory system. For one, why I had got beaten up by a gang of animal rights protesters on one occasion, just to make a change from the blads doing it. 

I remembered back to the day at the beach. There had been something, lurking in the bracken. I occasionally felt it but it was so silent a hunter that it had remained hidden in my blind spot, for all these years. Creeping alongside us through the shadows of the undergrowth, until such moment that our guard was down.

A simple kiss. A moment of giving, of sharing, adoration and Love. A gate moment. A moment frozen in time for all to see. 

Dad was so proud of the photo of us boys, they all were. He made a frame for it and gave it to Grandpa and Nan as a gift, a thank you for hiring a caravan for our holiday. It hung in pride of place in their kitchen on the wall opposite the front door for many years. First thing you see. I suppose that it was Dad who took it down after they both died. Nan died of Alzheimer's disease. She went crazy, and bit and scratched and swore and cussed like a wild thing. "I lived with her for sixty years and I didn't even know she knew that sort of language" Grandpa had said about her while she was ill. He loved her so much he didn't want to see her go into a care home, but he needed the break and was finally persuaded. He stayed with her until the end.

We have now discovered that tetra-hydro-cannibal, THC, found naturally occurring in cannabis is a preventive and cure for Alzheimer's. The 'essential tests' done on animals that will 'medically help humanity' have still not proven anything of the like. The uk government have outlawed cannabis and they fund unnecessary animal testing. 

Black Light
As time went on I remembered more of that moment.
I had seen it!
I had seen the shadow.
It was very fast and moved like a black lightning, a streak. And its form, its shape...
It leaped off of us, in the same instant that the aperture of the camera was open it attacked and leaped and it streaked directly into the camera. That is what I saw, when my mind was sharp and fast as a childs is, in admiration of something that could exist at such a high frequency, and with frozen fear that something so evil could exist. It was too much for a childs mind and I had blanked it for so many years. 
Its shape was that of a monkey. 

The Gaze and the Gate
Its funny, that I could never bring myself to look at that photo on the wall in my Grandparents house. It subdued me. I wondered, I could feel how much of their time the old folks had spent staring into it through the years, filled with pride at their grandchildren. 

And every time they looked at it, the energy of the angry monkey spirit that had latched onto Grandpa when he visited HLS, that had followed my father and us boys, had stalked us, biding its time, waiting, seething, loathing, until the time was right that it could make its strike. Did you ever see David Attenborough nature documentaries about monkeys in the wild, cautiously hunting their prey? It waited until its targets were embraced in a peaceful, loving moment of distraction, a compassion that it had never itself known, having been torn from its mothers love and grown up fast in a cage in a laboratory where the atmosphere of torture and abject cruelty, and the pain, is all it knew. It waited with vengeance as a spirit monkey and transferred itself into the camera, onto the film, into the picture. As it did, catching myself and Sam and Dad up in its spite, the bitterness that it had felt in life perverted our family unit. My childhood innocence was lost there and then in that moment as I experienced in a single split second, all the emotions and sensations of a terrified torture victim, polluted to death by microwave radiation chemical tests. I felt the tests being done to me, smelled the smell. There is a very similar Matthew Broderick film that made me cry for weeks because it was so real. 

Slowly over years, as people who had gained from the financial exploitation of the poor simian were absorbed in feelings of love and family invoked by a photograph of cute sweetness; it fed. In exchange, because all energy is in a constant process of exchange; its dirt, the negativity, the crazy fear of an animal being hurt, understanding what is happening but not why; its hatred affected the people living beneath the photo's gaze. It seeped into them, slowly, to make sure. 

I phoned Dad tonight to ask him what had become of the photo, because I am writing about it. He says I can have it. He even offered to post it to me with or without the frame. 

I would appoint pre-teen children of non-capitalist indiginous peoples who do not use money as ambassadors, since GHANDI is dead.

sat hat

Serpent Culture

Posted on 2010.11.01 at 00:15
snake rbg 1

I have recently been accused of being in a cult because I have been talking about use of exactly this same symbolism on a website. Incidentally since my account has been hacked and the password changed, I no longer have access to that website. Also that the information that I originally typed into that website has been altered and much of it deleted, without my consent and permission as the legal copyright holder. I am currently involved in a legal battle where this has become an issue.

It was in court that I have been accused of being a cultist for the purpose of character assassination that has put my children at risk of being placed into care, based on the precept that a cultist might be dangerous to childrens education, despite the Human Rights Act stating quite clearly that I have a right to worship, and despite many different religions being allowed to have children by Law including those that use circumcision.

As it happens, I do not believe myself to be in any such religious cult so far as I am aware, other than to discuss a specific series of symbols and the ramifications of comprehending what these symbols are associated with.
snake rbg 2

I am now officially establishing that IF people who use this type of symbolism are in such a cult, THEN this means that the national botanical gardens of wales are also members of the same cult; because they use the same symbolism. See pictures.

That the river/serpent motif is associated with 'Life' in many cultures all over the world, therefore humanity shares common concepts and associates common symbols to them, as written about by Karl Gustav Jung.

That therefore humanity is a shamanic species because all of this symbolism is associated with and defined as being 'shamanic'. This symbolism underpins even the formal masonic symbolism found within mystery schools, the masons, religions, of different nations and subcultures; as can be seen on buildings all over the world both of this current era and of both the recent and the ancient past. Nor is it used exclusively by them since it has 'primal roots'.

That therefore the historic symbolism is still actively in use today because mainstream humanity uses the same symbols/concepts today (as proven here).

That therefore humanity is a shamanic species and shamanism is an integral part of human culture.

That therefore a person aware of and using such symbols and claiming to be a shaman may do so 'officially' and without ridicule or prejudice against them for their spiritual beliefs.

That therefore such beliefs are not 'extremist' or 'unusual' or , but are rather to the contrary; quite regular and normal and mundane, given global cultures.

snake rbg 3

I make these statements in the name of anthropology (the study of humanity) of which I am a student and apparently a teacher to some extent since I am actively making these photographs and statements as proof of the truth of my beliefs, and for others to be influenced by.

Welcome to the human race. We are a magickal species.

snake rbg 4

I am not simply talking about 'homo sapiens modernus' here. I am talking about 'Humanity' which is a different thing; the qualifier is Humane behavior ('being' as an adjective denotes action; the action of being humane. This is simple common sense).

To this extent as I have encountered Humans wearing animal bodies, for I have witnessed animals acting humanely toward other animals. I am sure that I am not unique in this observation.

snake rbg 5

None of this artwork nor the biodome of the national botanical gardens are my responsibility, nor am I there creator.

sat hat


Posted on 2010.08.27 at 23:14
had a vision 2 nights ago that has taken me 2 days to get my head around....
I was in the kitchen and I watched certain items 'dematerialise', destabilise into their component particles; 'unbound of form'. I had been reading about the CERN black hole generator that will destroy the material planet just a few years from now. but it cannot contain 'faster than light' particles. the REAL laws of physics governing 3D are that matter=time. this gives a localised time tempo (BPM) unique to each object. when its component atoms are harmonised it is free of the gravity well. this is how ghosts & ufo are vibrating higher than 'our normal vision spectrum'; because they exist in a different time zone (their own) rather than the shared one.
What I saw 2 nights ago is the material world dissolve & then I was back in that place of soft whiteness where the pain goes away & all is love. I last went there during an OBE. when the soul leaves the body it leaves time; so that we all enter 'heaven' (whitespace) at the exact same moment. so there is no rush to get there, relax! immediately I understood all this I was back in the kitchen again.

did I simply recreate the world in its same image as before? was I in control of this or was it something other? did it happen to the whole world, or only to me? I know now that if/as/when nuclear war or black hole or whatever (world blown up), then theres nothing to worry about because it is necessary for reality to do this, to drop all the nasty heavy shit into the black hole so the rest of us can float up free above it into 5th space, the new realms where positive psychemotional energy, loving thought vibration, manifests as the world around us; much like with a controlled lucid dream.
the experience felt more like I was accessing this level of experience to teach me how reality works, because the ascent of spirit/material reality is not smooth; it is ups&downs with a gradual incline, mostly to do with who has their hooks into us and where they are at at the time. this one brief moment, nobody had their hooks in me & also I was full of love&light*
at which time I worked it out. this is the 2012 galactic energetic alignment portal that the mayans and pleiadians are telling us all about. this is why we study herkimer & rose quartz, why we LOVE love love all forgive all teach this heal everyone because the negative is dense & the positive is ascent.
I have to share this with you all because it really is real. A very great teacher from Andromeda taught us that; "Pain is the Love we withhold."

People who are broken; they fear and they doubt and they need to control other people which reveals their own insecurities, their own lack of self love.

All of them are going to fall into the black hole. They will exist in a dimension where their own preconceptions create a dense material reality.

The ones who Love, will become a part of the light. It is an elegant, smooth transition. The light is not a religious definition of 'god' lol its nothing to do with that. It's acceleration, its like breaking through the water surface tension. Into a place the White Zone where the laws of physics are more dreamlike, insubstantial; and we can then really begin to learn, what it is all about, what we actually are when we aren't in a body of one form or another, when we aren't in time.

This is death consciousness speaking through me.

spring/summer 2009

sat hat

white cones

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 23:12
Through the top of our heads, our aura extends like a white tube all the way up to the atmosphere, where it funnels out at the top. The energy helix swirls up through us, our bodies share the space that are the root of this cone that extends to the edge of space.

Our eyes are on the side of our bodies, not the front. We have eyes in the back of our head too but they see into radio/telepathy spectrum, they 'look' more like lacewings of insects, made of light. We 'hear' through them into the middle ear, or 'sense' vibrations through them; it is a 6th sense.

The flower of our true self is made of light and stretches high, but some people are shut off from this, blocked and need healing. I do not even remember this is real when negative people are linked onto me, focus their Attention grip on me. But with some people of the light I see more clearly and now I know for sure what the next series of art I must produce is to be. I have felt in in me for years but I see it so clearly now, what we really look like.

The body is only the physical root, our arms are roots, our legs are roots, for moving and manipulating particles of stuff to interact and weave and get our energy. But our true body is the one made of light, a cone or funnel stretching high up into the air. This light has rainbow chakras in its root that grip and manipulate the body, but the higher spectrums are like standing stones and stone circles (70% quartz) are, there is a vortex, a grid mesh with celtic knotwork weaves of leylines up spiralling through it. We are this cone, when we are free from confusion.

When we are totally open in our chakras and Love flows through us, this is the flower opening. Our minds eye or third eye is somewhere up there, when we let go completely the ego and look down from the psy~space of this cone. The top of the cone, I think they weave together with the atmosphere and connect us to others.

Through this we can access Argelles rainbow bridge which is a telepathic network but also we can travel this bridge using the chakras too, our light bodies; because attuning our chakras to the precise spectrums and disengaging from the body/material/time, harmonising with the waveforms of frequencies of the rainbow bridge, the same way as we harmonise to the star barcodes of distant stars (radio spectroscopy, William Herschel). Learning to come into and out of the body, to relax our grip of it to travel to other places that we can access; the Dream worlds. Damn other people have entered my zone and their ripples affect my waveform, I lost the flow.

Time to edit this essay & post it...


Now perhaps you will begin to appreciate and understand the beauty of the egyptian light cult with reference to djed pillars. The thousand petal lotus of the indian culture that grew from it, the buddhist and the early christian teachings that grew from it, the purity of islam before it became a religion which also stems from egyptian priesthood. The jaguar priests who also founded 'the egyptian afterlife of plenty' that accurately describes the mesoamerican (mayan) high culture which was much less evil and bloodthirsty than its christian conquistadors misrepresentation of its symbolic arts, that sadly has become its reputation. They used graphic symbolism because as a people who were bonded with the earth they understood the powa inherent in the earth. Snakes are waveforms, blood is Life. The orthodox buddah school that also emerged influenced by egyptian light cult teachings. All religions today are fragments of the scattered source religion; the Light Cult.
I am a serpent priest of the light cult. I am of the shadow clan, the naga; a serpent of the light & shadow cast. It is akin to Lama priests. The light cult is typified by Jaguar priests. My symbol is black panther and cobra. My master is Pacal Votan who is Wodan who was Tutankhamun.

I use HERKIMER DIAMOND to open the crown and third eye chakras, it is high grade quartz. and I used a big, rough hewn chunk of ROSE QUARTZ as a curative for depression, to open my heart to LOVE and to help me channel love to the people around me. By giving them love energy they feel their mood lighten and are nicer to me, you should try it. Both of these types of crystals are inexpensive and readily available.

I must include here about Water; Our bodies are 70% water; we are filtration systems. This is the conduit for the electrical. Water is associated with our emotions. We all are made of the same ocean. EM ocean, electromagnetic ocean. Our language hides secrets of spiritual wisdom.   White Light has nuances within it. It is not as einstein~minnowski are misquoted to have told. They said IF ... THEN about c (steady constant) being 186K mps. These nuances are visible as energy spiraling up through the vortex. 



sat hat

rainbow in the dark

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 23:07



The ancient Egyptian symbol for the letter 'I' describes and also translates as feather, blade and tree; is the same hieroglyph. Evidently this is to link the three themes into one multi~layered concept. I meditated upon this and came to the following, seemingly obvious, conclusions. A feather is the quill, a tool for writing, a pen that is dipped in ink. A blade is a tool for cutting the tip of a feather to make a nib, and also for engraving into wood that printing blocks are made from, or for cutting papyrus that Egyptians use as paper. In todays western culture sawdust pulp from trees is mulched into paper.

This symbol refers to all of this industry, that of the Scribe and therefore it becomes apparent why the Ibis is used to symbolise Thoth the Egyptian Scribe God, who taught humankind the sum total all of our knowledge from only one of his forty thousand books of wisdom. I can guess at Ibis feathers made the finest quills known to the ancient Egyptians.
I was taught from another tradition that a feather symbolises dreams. Certainly people put soft small downy feathers, too little and not reedy enough for making into quills, in their pillows for a good nights sleep. Thoth is from where we get the word Thought so you can see the theme as a whole construct.

Thoth later became Hermes the Alchemist of the Greeks and Romans; so as it develops, as we follow the thought, we can read further insight into its development, as the story grows.

Here we are dealing with Crows, a species of bird common throughout the world in its many guises and known also as Raven. There are many legends and myths of Raven from many different cultures. This account is of my own dealings with them as well as some cultural folklore.

1. the vanishing crow

One morning in 2007 I decided to leave the flat and go for a walk. My head was full of cobwebs and a jaunt out into the fresh air of the nearest park would do me some good. The path along the side of the park is next to a stream, a drainage system, it is sunk down somewhat and there are many bullrush's (reeds) growing there. I sat on the bench at the far end of the park for a while until I felt that now was the exact proper moment that I should move. I did not feel it was time to return to the flat but knew that I had to start walking anyway. Why this precise moment and not later I could not reason but my instincts were telling me strongly to start moving.

There is a tree which several months previously I had climbed and tied a bird box which I had found in the street, figuring it would be better placed somewhere useful than in the street. As I walked beneath this tree, remembering my previous incident with it, time seemed somehow to slow. My attention was drawn up as if by reflex and I saw a huge crow swoop down from the trees and fly very steadily straight toward me above the path, level with my head. I was stunned and froze on the spot. My mind had enough time to notice the creature, realise that it was about to fly right into me, and feeling excitement came came into a sharp focus, bracing in preparation to defend myself. It did not feel that it was going to attack me. I felt time slow down, and simultaneously accelerate, something like watching ink poured into water suddenly reaches that point where it dissolves so the water is no longer two liquids meeting in the same jar, but one blended solution. I have experienced this sensation quite a few times and now believe it to be ‘when two time~streams are syncronising’.

A few meters in front of me our eyes connected, for the flash of a moment.

And then it was gone.

It did not simply change its direction or altitude and fly off somewhere else, and neither did it stop mid~air and flutter. It dematerialised. I took a few steps forward to the place where the crow had vanished, my head now occupying the same space.

I looked up, I looked around, and finally I looked down.

On the grass at the side of the path, just next to my feet, lay the longest crow feather I have ever seen. Forty or fifty centimeters long. I stooped down and picked it up, and discovered two things about it. First, that it is wet from the morning dew. In Wales uk we get a ground frost, as the cool air comes down the moisture in the air freezes and leaves a frost on top of everything it touches, which then melts when the sun rises. This can be extreme enough to kill off saplings as gardeners know. That the feather is damp from the ground frost signifies that it has been there all night long. Secondarily this is backed up by further evidence, that a snail has slithered its way all over the feather and left a silvery trail. The snail was obviously dizzy because the trail is swirls and spirals and squiggles all over the feather. So I knew that the feather had not just dropped from the vanishing crow only a moment ago, but had been there at least for several hours.

In a daze I took the feather and sat back on the wooden bench to go over the incident in my head. Then a thought struck me. The bench is made of wood and painted black. It has a seat and a back, opened like the pages of a book. As well as the marker~pen and pocket~knife graffiti carvings, there are silvery snail markings all over the bench. The snails have been busy with their writing here too. I remember something that a goth~witch friend told me in college years ago when explaining her paintings, about ‘the silver thread’ being ‘the mortal coil’ that connects us to life; I think it was after a poem by an Edgar Allen Poe.

2. Watchmen

Some time after the incident in the park, in 2008, I went to visit my friend Basket-Feather-Owl, who owns a shop selling blades. Outside of her shop on this day was a huge crow. He had been sitting above the door all day and could not be persuaded away from it. As I arrived he hopped down to the floor. We watched the crow and talked of this for a while. I explained that Crows are, just as in the famous Brandon Lee movie ‘the Crow’ (which if you look closely in the background is full of chalk symbols from the Egyptian Hermetic tradition) the Watchmen, who guide souls through Life and death; intermediaries and servants of the Ferryman Charon, boatman of the river Styx, the river of souls. I told her also of my experience in Shaftsbury Park roughly eighteen months previously. I searched to find if there were any other hidden layers of meaning within this experience but could not find any, nor have I since.

In spring of 2009 my Mam wrote an entry on a website called Facebook about how a crow had been seriously attacking her vehicle. It had been at it on and off it all morning, scratching and tearing at the roof with its beak and talons as if trying to get in. I told her that crows are watchmen and that this must mean something significant.

I have just recently met my life partner Kat and us both being goths, I was reminded about the incidents from my past involving crows, since they seem to be following both of us quite a lot recently. I remember my mentor Bryan Charliewood, a very beautiful gothic man teaching me in a park in 1999. The teaching I recall is that he searched around for a few moments beneath a peculiar tree that grows at a 45 degree tilt to the North, and then picked up a specific leaf. This he held up in front of us, having led us away from the tree so that the leaf was precisely covering the tree in my line of sight; so that the leaf matched the shape of the tree perfectly in tilt and veins/branches. I can still feel that moment even now. It feels bluegreen. At that moment my perception of time slowed and it froze. I looked up to the source of a profound peace whose aura we were basked in of a sudden; two crows glided in parallel like train tracks above us toward the west.

2009, May 26. Last night through Facebook I met an Egyptian shaman with whom I have been discussing spirit allies. He told me that crows have been following him recently.

I always know when Kat is focusing on me because I am soothed and it feels bluegreen. We are planning to go to Egypt. She phoned me today and I jumped through the window of my fathers house where my internet console is, to speak with her in the garden so my father couldn’t eavesdrop on our private conversation. I heard the sound of a crow crowing directly above my head and I looked up to smile at it. Then I looked down at my feet and discovered a long crow feather here, beautiful with its greenblue sheen. Nearby I found a second long crow feather, the same greenblue sheen.

3. Bran the Blessed

Kat & I both live in south wales. Wales has a legendary historic figure called Bran the thrice blessed. Kat is from the west; I am from a region near the town Cwmbran which translates into english as ‘Well of Bran’. The Ogham is the Celtic triple~spiral, which like the Buddhist Ohm (it is pronounced the same) refers to a source of energy, a spring, as well as it being the name of the druidic tree script.

After his death Brans head was taken and kept safe. It was awoken many years later by the pagan druids who asked him questions of the changing political state of the states now collectively known as the British Isles. Bran is divinatory, foretelling of that which is to come, and on this occasion he gave a detailed quatrain, something like those of the famous diviner Nostradamus. Bran spoke the poem in secret symbolism known only to the druids and so although we do have a translation copy of events yet to come (which at this time of writing we assume have already happened), nobody can really understand much of it any longer because the christian conquistadors killed all the druids, burned all their wood carvings; so nobody remembers any longer how to interpret what the poem actually is talking of.

Brans head is one of the powerful magickal items of Celtic Britain, along with the Welsh Ceridwens cauldron, a spear of healing taken to Germany during the second world war (Hitler who like Churchill was visited by the magi Aliester Crowley two months prior to the war officially began, was collecting such artifacts); several other mystical items of the proto~British tribes which in general terms relate one each to the four elements, the same symbols as used in the tarot suits; cups, wands, coins, blades.

Brans oracular head is currently protected by the Monarchy of Britain kept locked in the Tower of London on White Hill, which I guess to be a barrow mound. Oh yes do the ruling elite of this nation of nations know full well and guard with military might, in this case the famous Beefeaters, the powers of such magickal items.

Brans sacred spirit animal is the Raven, the crow. There is a legend told that ‘should the ravens ever leave the tower of London then England will fall’. What the public are not generally informed of is that the only reason the Watchmen would stop nesting in the eaves of the tower where they are fed by the Beefeaters, is because they follow and are guarding Brans severed head.

There is an Arthurian legend of the Green Man chopping off peoples heads which I had assumed to be an initiatory story about the death of ego so that true sight can be known, thus true action; the mark of manhood as opposed to childhood. In druidry this can happen at any age although most of the characters of Arthurian legends are middle~aged men.

sat hat

lizard & vine

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 23:01
This true life story happened in 2005.
First time I held hands with Vine was in a big city nightclub. I didn't even want to be there but I had to, instinct duty overiding me, or something very similar to that. Will and Intent, focussed into a particular form, affecting me. I had to. Many fatherly/brotherly protector instincts were surging through me and I had learned the only way I could answer the question of why this should be was to follow the story through, by living it.

Vine was hanging out with the wrong crowd and I was trying to sort her out. Quite why I felt that I had been charged to do this I can’t answer other than witchcraft is involved with this story, several forms of it. By ‘the wrong crowd’ I mean people who meddle with fate, play with other peoples lives, practising witches a coven of some great powa & ability who have not yet seemed to realise or care how often their workings of magick, the weaving of threads, goes wrong; because they are idiots to not be trusting the natural flow. Every weave they make creates ripples and kamma, has consequence that they are too selfish to deal with. Consequences that damage innocent bystanders. I have seen it too often. hanging out with the wrong crowd myself, I have seen it too many times. This is a story about all that.
I saw Vine drawn into this scene by the face value kindness and promise of a rapid rise to powa through social and energetic echelons by a twisted old witch Lose who I know from experience to be a mean soul bitter with a vengeance. There are three people within ten km of here all with the same name (obviously I am using a pseudonym for all of the characters in these true life stories) and all of whom suffered exactly the same disabling physical injury, all three within the same moon. Lose and the other two women who I know and who both have the same name, now both have the same paralysis. Paralysed down the left side of the body. Two from stroke and one from being crushed in a sporting accident. Thats is a powerful symbol.
Whatever form of magick was being practised that did this to the three women (darkmoon magick?); it went wrong. I believe this to be what happens when idiots meddle with powers greater than their understanding; when spells are cast that are not specific enough in detail and precise in their working. Spells that backfire because the spellcaster is a powa~gamer seeking to cause a greater change to the natural flow than they are able to contain. It is beyond their vision to contain and steer all the elements, all the threads of the weave as it manifests. I guess that somehow, more complexity got into the weave than was intended and this muddied the casting, that the outcome was messed up. That is my understanding of it anyway. I remember with this incident that there is the wiccan lore of three by three, which is usually translated to mean a slightly different thing than this but then the consequence that we have seen here does highlight the lore quite obviously. They say that twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern. Thats a powerful teaching. It is all about belief structure. In criminology and psychology alike, when discerning the mentality of a psychotic, follows specific procedures; and such applies here to the workings of the magickal mind. What we are dealing with here is the Wiccan religion as practised by members of my immediate community. It is the fastest growing religion in Wales.
Understanding the intensity of the affect it had had upon her, Lose immediately became a devout practitioner. I should point out here that for all her nastiness, I believe that Lose is the victim of that particular working of magick, the results of which set her on a particular path in which even darker magick users are involved. I understand that when a situation changes, it is wise to find out who benefits from the overall outcome. This is likely to be the key player in who caused the change in the first place. It is an ancient strategy. By way of balance in the universe, and the nature of energy is of course to seek balance; Win became her teacher in the arcane arts, just as he has been my own to some extent. He takes a very backstage role in this current story as I wish to tell it. He simply drove the van, fell asleep, woke up and drove us all home again (to my perceptions at least). To where and for what ends, is the revelation that this story unveils.
The temptation... the lure of Lose’ gifts, offers of kindness & seemingly wise advice to a lost and adventurous young girl so as to draw her into the tribal elders diabolical schemes and manipulations... I should say now and here that I have seen Lose skin crawl and her teeth change. Not regular human teeth but inwardly curled and demonic. Most of the time she looks like a sweet, pretty woman but there are occasions when the surface veil breaks thin, especially when she lets open her power and revels in feeling her lusts flowing through her. In my opinion there is nothing wrong with unbridled passion even when powerful enough to cause physical shapeshift, although with Lose when she shows her true nature it is not into something beautiful like a butterfly that she turns. I quote; “I see them young pretty women dancing and having a good time and i want to make them suffer. Does that sound wrong to you? I really don't care.” The hatred in her voice told the full story where the words were mere labels. ‘want to make them suffer’ was spoken in the undertone of; ‘and now have power to do so, and intend to.”
Next time I heard her speak softly inviting me over to meet her new young friend Vine fresh out of school. It was Lose Intent that had brought us to the nightclub. I was explaining to Vine how this is a temple for so many people, the original temples or what we later came to call temples being places of gathering communion, music, partnering up and dancing in celebration of Life, probably taking drugs back then in the day just like some people do now. I was drug free by now having given up that life for my health and sanity; I had only gone back into this zone again to try & free Vine from it and teach her why I sought to do this; the result of my lessons, my own experienced wisdoms. About how at face value the existance of weekend clubs is for many people a hedonistic release from a boring week, but the actuality involves a shamanic awareness of daemon worshipping witches using drugs to make zombies in their voodoo rituals. The same applies to street dealers with sigil~carved athaema for dope cutting~up knives as it is for state psychiatric pharmaceutical chemical drugs endorsed by control~state capitalist established regime. Shamanism, voodoo; is human culture through all levels, always was and for the foreseeable future probably always will be. Ethics aside here we are dealing with facts of cause and effect, perceptions stripped clean. But you have to live through it to know and recognise it and thats where I was at, knowing it, having lived through it and come out the other side with a resolute mind, a healing body & a clean future. Even in a club full of everything I could walk like a haji, a holyman, a pilgrim blessed by the gods to be moving through a temporal zone untouched by it and the allure of hedonism. I was twenty~six. It was thirteen yeas since my first spliff.
There was a guy in the club dressed up as a lizard, with lizard eyes. I had seen this before with a fiery redhead I had known many years ago when I myself was fifteen. She was sexy like a vampyr goth girl and the last time I saw her, she turned to me as she entered a nightclub to seek the bloke she had been chasing. Beneath the ultra~violet light of the club entrance lobby her normally human almond shaped green eyes turned into yellow slitty cats eyes. Her demeanor said goodbye and I never saw her again. That was my first introduction into the real power of witchcraft as a teenager, and an insight into how so many of the cultural mythologies taught to us are not based on fiction but on real things, hidden from the mundane world of tv brainwashed zombi state~fed herd perceptions. I guess you could say that I have been on the lookout for such things ever since. And here it seemed I was picking up on a similar thread, as symbols that are the experiences we live through once more returned to the same page of the book of tarot. This time however I was no longer playing the role of the fool card but some other.
What better disguise for a lizard person just like the ones in David Icke books than to dress up as a lizard in a nightclub. His eyes were not contact lenses because so far as I am aware contact lenses are not advanced enough to dilate the pupils. Fantasy ranges I have since researched are plastic with a design printed on and they do not change like real eyes do. Although I have seen some on Torchwood, the Doctor Who spinoff tv series, where they have advanced digital recorders in the contact lenses and I am sure these can be built using technologies available Now; so I  assume that there are people who already have such toys. A lizardman perhaps would have access to such advanced technologies although they would assumedly be used more to give him a human guise rather than as part of his double~bluff lizard outfit. I saw his slitty feline lizard eye pupils dilate and it wasn't just the lighting in the club or confused thinking on my part because I was staring him in the eyes at the time it happened. He had been following Vine through the club and in the moment when Lose had me occupied talking, young Vine was spoken to by the guy.
Always he enters into the gap between the frames of my perception when my Attention is otherwise engaged. I ignored Lose who is big enough to look after herself and watched as the Lizardman blew a vapour into Vines face through a tube  he carried, a white straw. She slumped woozy. Stepping forward to catch her arm to steady her from falling, I held Vines hand for the first time and took her downstairs to a chillout room near the club entrance which had fresher air in it. Lose was safe because she was talking with her friend anyway, she had mentioned that they were going outside soon. together and that I should stay with Vine. Babysitting in a nightclub, not much my good idea of fun but there you go, this is the  role I had been charged with this night by the apparent fates.
The Lizardman followed us. I threw up a ward rune in the air around us but my Attention was distracted by some hippychick asking me if I had any rizlas, “oi mate you got any skins?” in her Bristol accent (birr~zul or bristle); and in this gap moment during which I established in my head that the hippychick did indeed mean rizla's rather than condoms, both of which are called skins; and denied  possession of either item because I had given up both sex and smoking, one recently and one a few years ago; the Lizardman was back on Vine again and blowing more vapour stuff into her face through a straw. This time she collapsed, her head on his lap.He began doing weird shit with his hands above her head. I studied him, as he did this, never having seen a genuine rieki or siechim energy healer acting in this way before and deciding that what he was doing was far from a healing.
Thankfully I was sitting right next to Vine as this happened and so I stared at him strongly enough to distract his Attention from his freaky activity. I could feel my presence move and envelop both Vine and the Lizardman. What I saw and felt from him about his actions of blowing knock~out vapour into young girls faces, was no remorse. He did what he did because it is what he does. Pure will. Pure confidence. Powerful. His ego~aura was demanding that I had to respect it, admire it, and at the same time that such a gloss would slip through the fingers of my mind, that I would instantly forget him, he is invisible to me as my distracted attention picks up on some other line of thought. His flash~instant judgement decision that I am not as sleek, either perceptively nor as is evident from my clothes, personality wise. (I don’t even care nor remember what I was wearing, probably camo~style combats and a black or grey hoody top; this was before I did my dreadlocks).
I realised that the analysis that I could taste as I was receiving it was all about looks and image. The energies swirling about us as I squared up to him, as our two worlds pulsed into one shared moment. An energy exchange, information bond. Energy seeking a balance. A power game between two alpha males. I hate this shit. Especially where women are involved. Its all ego crap and women who sucker for that aren’t worth hanging onto. Time slowing down because where I sent my own Attention was expanding the moment into which I was looking, in which I could analyse every nuance of data filtered through my perceptions, which for once seemed to be working quite well at the moments when I drew a clarity together. Or perhaps it was merely that my focus sharpened as I entered the lizardmans energy field, his sleek and fast~witted aura. I noticed that was picking up on his confidence and feeding on it, feeling myself become so confident. I'm empathic; I can do this, analyse people by going into them and feeling their emotional range, what I call psymotional (psychic emotions) range. the correct term is telempathic; telepathic~emotions.
This guy was a lizard. And full of drugs of some very expensive clean sort that I could not identify. A designer drug, no doubt a vapour. Expensive. One he is used to, relies upon. For a flash I hear him question himself in response to my questions of him, as to whether he does too much of this focus~sharpening chemical. He replaced the doubt instantly with a self~affirmation. This guy is elite. Clever. Not much real personality in there though, not compared to the complexity of the rough and ready sorts I am used to dealing with. Just a sleek Will and no morality about methods of acquiring a fuck for the night, nor even if she is awake & aware to enjoy it. Tiny inner laughter from deep within me at what a slave this sleek lizardman is to be so overwhelmed by his base drives; and an astonishment at the heights he has achieved in developing his methods to sate them.
‘You might be a lizardman,’ I thought, ‘but I am a brujo trained by many brujo; who has been through so much shit this life that you ain’t getting away with acting like that, not within my field of perception, not to my tribe sister. And you do need to be told this, that there are ethics in this world and that you are, in my opinion, within my immediate influence, breaking them. And it’s wrong.’
That is the assertation I sent into him while staring into his eyes.
I spoke allowed; “It is wrong.”
Smug on my own holier than thou ego~trip.
He replied reflexively, instinct~awareness converting subtle reaction into affirmations to steer the telepathic exchange; ‘your ethicss mate and although we could discusss ethicss, I can’t be bothered because you don't exisst.’ He looked away. By primal law of the jungle this means that I had outstared him and therefore I had won, although I had no proof that lizardman is playing by the same primal laws. Actually he looked straight back at Vine who was groggy but opening her eyes with her head on my lap.At some point while I was hooked into lizardmans psy she had transferred her head from him to me, symbolic of the energy game being played here.
“Itss a massage.” He told me. That's when his eyes dilated.
“Thats my girlfriend!” I told him and I pushed him with energy.
Lizardman did not appear to see the relevance of any relationship I may or may not be having with the girl, nor the relevance of me. We could both see that she was quite willing and open to the experience of being vapoured by a lizardman and wherever that could lead. Which was half the problem I was having with looking after her.  I had lived my whole life up to this point thinking that there is a behavioral code amongst cohabitors of this world regarding personal liberties. I mean, there are human rights laws and stuff to underline the common consensus. Lizardman got me questioning this  my assumption as he stared at me. I looked down at Vine. The sort of women I prefer to spend time with would have kneed him in the happysacks by now. An example to my mind of how naive young Vine is and that answers why I had been sent to be in this scene with her as a protector. I had also noticed that every time I asked myself why am I protecting her? is when the lizardman was approaching and so the idea of just ignoring her completely and going off to the dancefloor by myself to see if I could pull a slinky raven haired & dirt~eyed woman of my own age, selfish behaviour that it would have been, was a part of his control aura that I was picking up on. When I claimed her with the energy blanket, of my Attention, Lizardman receded.
Vine woke up and between making mmm ah baby sexy gaspy breathy sounds, said that she felt strange. I put my hand on her shoulder in ownership of her because she was from my tribe and I felt I should be protecting her from lizardmen with chemical vapours for breath. She wasn’t my girlfriend in the kissy i~love~you holding hands romantic definition of the word but technically as a female friend... I knew the witch Lose had set this scene up to try and get me together with Vine; and that I did not want to play into any more of Lose devious schemes much less allow her to choose my partners for me. I didn’t even want to be here this nightclub but had agreed to it because of the way she had been talking about Vine when she mentioned going to the club a few days ago. Vine was 15 and this is a hardcore techno club with all sorts of craziness going on in it. Besides which Lose had already abandoned her so she could go off and get loose with her new friends in the alleyway as she does and has on previous occasions I have been out with the crew. Considering what she Lose been through, what happened to her with her diablement, the learning curve that she has been through, I for one really cannot judge her for wanting to go out and live her life to the fullest as she sees it; with wild abandon and no stupid ethical code to bind her & limit her freedom, to deprive her of enjoying herself. If the theory of balance is such that we have to pay a tithe to the universe  for our privaliges then the losing the use of half her body is it; she is owed.
In the chill room of the club the atmospheric tension was receding and I was tuning up again. Many instincts telling me to go and sit with Vine by the wall, away from the through~way. First of all because a group of people had just made a space over there by standing up to leave the room, this group were trying to find footspace to walk to between all the seated people and in doing so they were forming an effective block between us and the lizardman who was disappeared by the time these people had cleared. Also because as my psychology was relaxing and reeling and swirling I experienced something that I quite often have done as I try to find my own headpsace in a crowded zone of partied up drugged up people; listening to the sounds and overwhelmed by them, sounds all around and sounds within me balancing, so that I can hear one random word from everybody who is speaking all at the same time in the area and all these words line up and turn into a constructive sentence offering me advice or perhaps it is my thoughts being spoken from the mouths of all the people around me, alienating me from all of them while simultaneously trapping me into this cycle until I stop overheating and the pressure drops.
Vine was looking up at me by now and I was thinking the same as what the stream of dissassociated voices that made linear sense to me were saying; 'go and sit by the wall, that space has just opened up just for you ~ because you are that special!' As I stood I entered a different headspace. I caught a flash vision of walking into the main dancefloor room as if I was seeing the world through the eyes of a parallel dimension version of myself, one who had abandoned Vine to the lizard and gone fr a boogie and to scope out the talent. Then I felt the lizardman leave my mind to concentrate on the new headspace he had just walked into and I realised that I had actually caught a glimpse of the world through his eyes at that moment.
It was later that I had a fantasy of reporting to the cops about the incident of Vines disappearance if I had not been there, had I took my eyes of her again for a second; “yes she was abducted by lizardman just like the ones in David Icke, he was dressed up as one but his eyes gave him away. I don’t know his age it’s hard to ascertain when dealing with shapeshifters. somewhere between eighteen and thirty I would guess thats in human years. No officer I am not on any drugs myself, really. etc.”
I asked Vine how she felt.
"I think we should go and ssit by the wall over there." she tells me; "it might be lesss confusing."
"Yeah that's just what I was thinking. Can you stand?"
"I feel horny." she said.
By the wall is less brightly lit and more secluded. Time for a reality check. I am involved with several layers of reality overlapping here and all happening at once. Different versions of the story I am living; from my point of view, from Vines who is currently wasted, from the general onlookers, from lizardman, from Lose who is I assume by now outside getting frisky in the alley with some random guy she has just pulled, from Win who I assume to be sleeping in the van, from whichever spirits are looking down upon and working through us all here to whom I am trying to do the right thing in the eyes of, by protecting this girl who I am succeeding in feeling chaste towards despite the fact that her own actions are laughably sleazy when I step back to look at it. And I am questioning myself as to whether I actually want to be leading a spaced out & horny young girl into a secluded spot in a nightclub.
Of course such an experience would be awesome and lush but somehow it feels exactly what I dont want to be doing at his moment. It feels very wrong somehow, I can't explain why. At any rate I can feel that this is exactly what Vine wants me to be doing, and some part of me wanting the same but a greater and more spiritual part of me doesn't want to be there at all at this moment anyway and doesn’t actually find this young blond chick all that attractive anyway. Questioning my own motives, questioning myself, digesting psychic attack from the lizardman and the shifting ego~confidence~paranoia balances of the rooms occupants.
There’s an interesting older woman next to the clear spot by the wall and when I reach out with my senses to feel my way into the next moment, to learn how to move forward into it, I feel that she I are going to have an interesting scene. I am  noticing how easy everything is when I follow the waysigns and take reality one step at a time, making the choice to do the right thing every moment where there is a reality gate. Around me the room is shuffling as many people move through their reality gates to whatever paths are leading them. In a moment I know the room will calm again and the vibe will tone, will harmonise, and everyone will feel comfortable again and less sketchy after the scene shifts.
Vine will be safer in the dark spot by the wall. I pull her to her feet. We blink and are instantly sitting together by the wall where it is cooler and the air flows. As if by magick, as if no moment had passed between. I do not have many memory blanks in my whole life but this moment is one of them. Another was when I stepped out into the road and got hit by a bus and then after feeling and hearing ever so gentle angel wings, I was standing on the pavement again. Another is when I sleep and don't dream. I hate that. I hate to lose consciousness. Another happened later and also involves Vine and Bristol city, when I was running in the opposite direction from her because she had pissed me off so much and I wanted to go home and catch the last train. I left her in a coffeehouse with her friend. Something weird happened that night and suddenly I was not running in the opposite direction but rounding the corner back into the coffeeshop. I can't explain that one much either.The only thing I have found similar to these incidents is from Carlos Caseteneda books when the Nagual pushes him through a door in one town and he falls through the airport of another country with absolutely no recollection of what happened in the time between. Carlos Casteneda who taught me that a Warrior Acts Impeccably, Don Juan Matos teachings, and my head was full of them this night as well as I was trying my best to look after Vine.
An open window above us. The elder woman smiles at me. In an instant an energy deal has been done. I instantly like her. Blink! and we have had a massive conversation that didn’t need wording. She is chanting Jewish prayers over me and making hand gestures above and around me. I assume it is protective. I am still a bit sketched out from the whole evening so farbut the Blessing is welcome, I can feel the good heart in it and the cold logic required for a genuine light~working, the clinical analysis and precision involved with tonal & gestural magick of Enochian. I studied Dr John Dee and recognise a master practitioner of it when I see one. And am also praying that she gets the words right. I felt cleansed and calmed afterwards, all the pieces of me in their proper places; empowered from being balanced.
‘I told you this place is a temple!’ I think at Vine who is swaying groggy in and out of her woozy hornyness next to me but is totally unbothered by lizardmen at this moment. I relax. I remember the part of a great book called the Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield in which the characters learn how to see auras; they see the energy of Intent as it moves from person to person, following their Attentions, and they can read each other from this. When people are giving and when they are taking. The book was right about many things but should have mentioned how every individual flavours energy differently, we are all unique.
The elder woman is chanting, Jewish prayers, seraphim. I recognise a few words of her speech from my studies and feel respect and gratitude to her but I am also digesting the lizardmans protective meme of ‘none of what this person is doing is relevant’ so I am questioning if the prayer is actually affecting my lightbody and for how long. Because its all a part of her perceptual reality & not necessarily therefore of my own, even though we are in this together. I watch Vine who is curiously looking at what is happening to me now. she feels it is safe and goes back into her fuggy haze. I thank the elder woman, the priestess, even though I am unsure if it is Vine that she is protecting me from. Onlookers working on the assumption that the 15 year old girl I entered the room holding hands with is somebody I am actively dating and regularly shagging, or intending to. After the angelic energy cleansing I feel that I have been bathed by refreshing water. A real healer, a studied one at that. Jewish magicians often are they have a very gritty reality about them because, what they have had to go through, and what they are plugged into, is so humane and accepting that its texture feels coarse even in its smoothness.
We talk for a while & decide that we all three of us need fresh air. Another flash in my minds eye; we are sat in a car for a scene in some parallel reality that for a split second overlaps with this one, as she later recalls this exact moment and I feel her strong recollection of it piercing into both my time & my  perception. Her Attention is very sharp and strong to do this; such as her tradition enables and requires. I question if Jewish whitelight magick involving Angels is any more pure or morally superior to dark Celtic witchcraft or lizardman vapours, or whatever ethics my delusion is full of. It all depends into what we put our trust and what we act upon. Relying on others to perform our own decision making process for us rather than utter self reliance, which is pretty hardcore approach to any reality especially the allegedly socially based one of a nightclub. Into what do we put our trust? Instinct. Then are stood in the alleyway outside the club, the three of us. Cold out here. I am still holding hands with Vine. Having led us to a place to cool down after the intensity of indoors the Priestess who still has work to do inside the club wishes us well and returns indoors. She did leave me with a lingering thought too; ‘you need it’. I regret not having taken her contact details so I could become her student. So do the Fates weave.
I honestly don’t know if she meant the thought in relation to Jewish magick or the girl I am holding hands with the theme of sex wrapped all over her like an oil from the lizardmans vapours. I look around. Lose is stood just over there talking with her friend; the witches Attention fits perfectly like a jigsaw into this next moment after the Jewish priestess returned into the club. Step by step the threads weave. Perhaps Attention and Intent creates this, as I suspect, or is it that we are now walking the path of one frequency, one clockwork linear process of reality unfolding, some mechanism of the angelic prayer spoken into my aura this night and the natural clickety~clackety syncronising of all the people, all the segregated waterbodies, drops of an ocean, swimming and finding their places and amplifying electrical energy that creates particles waveforms as everyone lives their fantasies here this night, dreaming our experiences. My eyes are flickering like strobe and I need to rest, I am exhausted.
Outside the club while I was holding hands with Vine again to keep her steady on her feet and to stop her wandering off someplace, asking if she is okay and wondering why in everyone else eyes it looks like I have just pulled this  young girl who I am looking after whilst in my own mind I wish she hadn’t led me through such a bizarre experience as this night has been and wishing that I was back in there dancing to the music & chatting up sexy raven haired dancers of my own age. But tonight was not a night for that, it was a night for me being acting out a role in someone else's fantasy, here because fate had sent me here; Fate or witchcraft, and I was afraid to leave this young girl to the devices of evil lizardmen and bad old witches.
I am struggling against the limitations within me, placed upon me, this is what I am trying to explain with regards to witchcraft meddling with other peoples lives. It inhibits our freedoms. I want to be free and to go in there and let loose and feel happy but I am living the path of protectorate to a girl who is a pain in the arse yet nevertheless I am holding her hand and sexy women giving me longing looks are writing me off because I am obviously attached already. Sweet injustices! I come to these realisations as I stand here in the street asking Vine if she is warm enough. I have her jacket in my free hand because shes a dizzy head and would have forgot it. Just breathing in cool air and waking up a bit.
At this moment the lizardman found us again. He told Vine that he wants her. I imagined the bollocks it takes to walk up to a couple and tell the girlfriend that you want her and walk away again. In Wales people get kneecapped for acting like that. In Bristol England just on the other side of the Severn bridge there are lizardmen walking around openly out for whatever they set their minds on, young girls specifically. I just looked at him as he walked away back into the club.
Vine squeezed my hand, the first sign of life in her and the first sign of her actually thinking which was a good sign. ‘
"Here’s your jacket." I say.
Lizardman left a lingering thought in my mind; ‘ah, but that is between him and her, nothing to do with me at all.’ My mind is in overdrive and I see that the inflection of this statement works both ways. He wants her; that is private between them. And the same thought meaning in another level, he is giving up on her because she is apparently with me.  read it twice from both points of view. I take this statement as his last comment on ethics. Sleek bastard.
Hang on, I'm the one with the girl in my hand.
And me being a regressive monkey begins questioning my own sexual ethics and watching my mind opening to visions which I blame on telepathic immoral lizardmen in nightclubs of chemical induced orgies with underage girls with no guilt and fun for all. Sick. I realise that I am old fashioned. Damn it. Jewish prayers of purity and spirit moving around me and I tune up to the angelic spectrum through which I had evidently plugged into thanks to the healer, a spectrum that I had been chasing all night. And then Lose is walking toward us. "Come on" she says "Lets go wake him up; its home time now."
Back at Wins flat after they had both gone to bed, Vine who is staying the night on their sofa, asks me before I leave if I like her. What she means is do I fancy her and do want to fuck her. It was about two weeks before I saw her again to give her an answer, by which time the moon phase had changed significantly.
I have a lot to thank Vine for. She showed me my limitations. She taught me my breaking point. But that came later. The last time I saw my tribe sister Vine was when she visited me six months ago in early 2009. She has been living in a van in a forest.

the strangest day
catpains log, additional: 06.08.09
the following is also a true story. Hey I am a truthsayer, my spiritual creed is 'we see as we say' which is to say, honest heart is honest eyes, tell no lies. Incidentally I recently read a beautiful line in a great book;
"we have one eye and two hearts"
~Barbara Hand Clow, the Pleiadian Agenda
Vine and I were sitting on the northern slop of a sacred Celtic barrow mound. It has a druids ring grove atop it, a wild grove. The place is important to me, there are buzzards there amongst all the other creatures, foxes, rabbits, squirrels, insects, many types of tree including those pines on the brow which once I crawled on my belly as a seven year old child beneath and still got the lower branches stuck in my hair; now I have to jump high to grab the lower branches. No longer able to see out over the world from the vantage of a climbing frame hidden in the trees, from which a child could peek out above the forest; now the place has a very different atmosphere, and still I know every ivy vine and facet of this place, every special tree mutated into elf land by the quartz temple of stones within the hill, hidden safe.
Vine & I could spend time without speaking words, attuned to vibration & primal awareness together we didn't need them. It can be like this with some people who also seek truth and with whom a great deal of quality time is shared. One of our many stories should rightly be called the Strangest Day.
I looked at her and she at me. And there were people seeing through our eyes. The eagles called.
"This is how it is. How it works."  thinks Jim as he stares at Pam. She stares back at him in wonder at this strong psychedelic substance he has introduced her too. LSD~25, and I am assuming its the Owsley batch he sent his minions to acquire from the Grateful Dead, Ken Keseys bunch in San Franscisco. Owsley acid was legend; according to Tom Wolfe the band practised in the day to drown out the sound of their acid making machine. They left the lid off and the dust blew down the stairs and out into the street, kickstarting the whole hippy movement. Bless them.
I made a load of notes about this, an exact transcript of the conversation they were having through our minds. If I ever find these notes i will copytype them into here. For now, here's the tip of a ragged wing. 
This is real, this is a true story. Today I came across the video above. I have previously heard an edited version of the dialogue from An American Prayer album which was compiled from recordings discovered in the studio after Jims disappearance assumed death cover up. He had made them alone with a bottle of whiskey unbeknownst to anybody & the band overdubbed some music to extracts of his poetry. Hearing this reminds me of the story I have of a sacrifice made by one of the buzzards from the hill fort, part of my spiritual path, my medicine journey, in which I communed with Pacal Votan the mayan snake king. He took me and we traveled with both the spirit and warm body of the broken~necked buzzard to a place of power, a mayanesque temple where a building was returning to nature, overgrown with vines, peace and quiet and vibrating higher than the world around it, so that I could learn some mayan rituals. But that dear friends is a story for another time.
Jim Morrisson, the Lizard King. I believe him. He has shown me the truth of it.



sat hat

thin red lines

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 22:57

the millennium, 2000 ad.
I was living in Cheltenham and hanging out at the Axiom Art Centre.
This place was brilliant; vegan restaurant, bar, nightclub, art gallery, studios, theatre space.
A haven for single parent mums, aging hippies, creative and alternative types, stoners, beatniks and the underground movement in general.
Sadly the government sent agents in to shut it down (allegedly, ahem) because of what it represented to them;
a socialist threat to their right~wing control regime, as it was meeting place where ideas, knowledge and spirituality were promoted.

One of the artists working there had a lot of troubles.
Mind troubles, like many creative people encounter as they inhabit a world aside from the one considered ‘normal’ by the tv brainwashed mainstream.
This guy came out of the local rest~home and took up residence in the studios upstairs.
The building was beautiful, an old mill~house, it had a peaceful atmosphere.

“This series” he explained to me “I have had to paint the same picture thirty times. It is two tones of blue, and between them is a thin line of red. I had to paint the picture so many times because I couldn’t find the right tone of red.”
Abstract expressionism.
Knowing a little of Toms past I intuited immediately how this picture was about his state of mind, the violent slash that separates one soft world of the sky and one slightly darker soft world of water.
In symbolism these representing knowledge and emotion.
Or so it meant to me, he was very shy about it and didn’t offer his own explanation apart from a gentle prozac~twitching shrug.
It was a clever painting and it got me thinking about a few things.

Six years later I was living in Newport, an hour and a half drive away from Cheltenham, and still hanging out with fringe artists.
My friend Tim had been having a lot of troubles, and I caught up with him in the street a few months after he had been released from the local rest~home.
We talked of conspiracy theories for a while, his research and activism in this area is one thing that had driven his own perspective far from the consensus held by most people, a cause for his feelings of alienation because most people are not yet ready to believe what is going on in this country.

“I have been painting again!” Tim tells me excitedly, his eyes glazed from the prozac he has been taking.
“I had to paint the same picture ten times. It is two tones of blue, and between them is a thin line of red. I had to paint the picture so many times because I couldn’t find the right tone of red.”

It was not just the words, but the way that he was saying the words.
Exactly the same intonation as I had heard six years previously.
For a moment I wondered if it was me, if I was stuck in some loop cycle where I had to relive the same information over and again.
I gulped as I realized the consequences of the information I was digesting.

“Oh” I said “that sounds interesting.”
My mind was racing with revelations of this.
I decided it would be impolitic to explain to my friend how I had heard his story on another occasion in the past.
My mind flooded with imagery from episodes of the Prisoner TV series.
We chatted for a few minutes longer before we both had to rush off on our missions.

The other place I have heard an example of this is when speaking with an air stewardess.
I told her how frightened I was of turbulence, considering that strong winds buffeting a sliver of tin~can as it roars through the sky gives me the shivers.

“Oh, it’s not turbulence you should worry about, it’s the take~off and landings.” She joked in a comforting voice.
I asked her three times about this and every time she replied the same stock phrase in the same tone of voice; “Oh, its not turbulence you should worry about, it’s the take~off and landings.”

Exactly the same, with her eyes glazed and inward looking, followed by a chuckle and a change of subject.
Look out for this.
In your own speech also; how many times do you open your mouth and the words that come out are merely stock phrases, easy to use as reply because you don’t actually have to use your mind; robot autopilot speaking for you so your mind can sleep numbly.
So much the better to program you with...

English is such a poetic language, the range of expression is wonderful, don’t you think?

sat hat

silver serpent

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 22:48
Silver Serpent, Green Tree, Red Water

“Blood is thicker than Water... but Water is purer than Blood” ~Vine

It came to pass that I was walking out of the city with my sister Vine. It came as something of a rescue for me who had been trapped locked into a box like my unworn pair of shoes or a chipped nail rusting in a coffin. As we walked I told her again of the folk-rock legend the Levellers whose music is so cool! Their folk-lore memory of the Battle of the Beanfield where in the 1980s Thatchers british police trapped the traveller community, the Convoy, into a field on their annual pilgrimage to Stonehenge, a celtic holy site built for festivals, and beat the living shit out of them and their vehicles. Of Men-An-Tol whose haunting atmospheric sound speaks peace deep from the collective soul of pagan peoples and the sites we cherish. Of the girl from fifteen years ago who hasn’t gone away, and of words such as “Headlights, White Lines, Black Tar Rivers, travelling aorund this country as it withers”.

We walked the fume-stained dusty cracked concrete pavements and we spoke aloud of Music, Journeys and Symbols, of Metallurgy, Alchemy and Life inspiring Art.

Vine has been in a car wreck and bears the scars. That she can walk at all is nothing short of a miracle. Her body wears scars and it has left her hard and hurting.

On the farthest fringe of Zooport City near a roundabout roadworks site is a strip of forest yay deep and twisting with pathways where kids from the local deprived and desolate comprehensive school come to get drunk and experiment with sexuality; where flytippers too mad to travel the same distance to the free county skip drop caches of black binliner garbage to rot and feed imaginations of what innocent animals hide here.

As we crossed the road to walk alongside these pockmarked woods we discovered a full bottle of nasty chemical red Oasis juice drink. I won’t touch the stuff because its full of toxins but Vine was proud enough to carry our free gift from the universe, just in case we got thirsty in our journey and because as she pointed out; “You should never look a gift horse in the mouth.” I answered that the word Gift derives from Germanic ‘Geft’ which translates to English as ‘Poison’ and asked her if she had heard of Troy. Quote Data in the Goonies; "Yeah we know Troy, he's that shit guy." Nevertheless the bottle was by now necesarily imbued with enchanted qualities and become a part of the story of this journey, which as time has seen is memorable.

A little further along the path we found a secret little route into the woods and hid there, revitalising and feeling the fresh of this place. We pissed and giggled like the Invisible People from John Booremans wonderful masterpiece, The Emerald Forest. After having recently made our way through the grisly and depressing city we were glad to get a chance to spend some time energising ourselves in nature, and spend some time together for it was a while since we had shared a scene and not properly since her accident. It was here that we encountered the Silver Serpent lurking in the green.

Okay so it was not actually silver, since technically it was a cheap metal alloy entangled around from an unwound roll measuring some sixty feet in size and far too bulky for us to carry whole, our being keepers of such interesting finds; magpies always with some planned use for the things the universe provides us on our travels. The metal was half a foot wide and serrated sharp like a violent cheese~grater. We cut our hands in handling it and Vine especially so for her desire and determination to win this thing was great enough to suffer pain and pay the blood sacrifice. Eventually we wrought enough of the beast free of undergrowth and packed it using sticks and polythene into our pack.

Vine is multilayered and has designs, in metaphor and certitude to create a scultpure of this wire; reformed by fire into a liquid pourable to a mould. Vine was studying sculpture at the time in Carmarthen where Merlin the Enchanter is known to have been born. We have previously together shared time in forests all across this land and found upon Tabernacle Hillside a freshwater spring which we spent several afternoons cleansing of broken glass that had found its way to pollute the holy natural water, considering it our druidly and dryadly duty to perform such act of kindness to a beautiful place. So many shards could at 700 degrees in a furnace be fused into a window, sharing scenes perhaps.

The artists mind is mad with fires of potential when encountering such symbols, which to any other person is disguised as a soggy cardboard cutout labelled; ‘normal’. Time transpires is frequency based, not linear. So when Time sees a projection through into a form, material becomes Artifact worked into new appreciation. That is when a Journey sees completion. Often, all we are left with is snakepaths and memory scars to offer clues. Vines shoulder bears the mark of the Celtic cross, or a christian fish, depending how she flexes her arm.

The Oasis bottle, red liquid that I associate with the blood we shed teasing scrap from the wildwood. This went undrunk and ended up back in my haunted old flat in the city until I threw it out when I finally moved away from there.

Of the bitterly biting silver metal coil we had wound and bound into a bag, I still do not yet know what happened to that dangerous stuff. I am hoping that her sculpture was successful wise and useful. She had been speaking of a cauldron grael, where I had envisioned a journey snake; but thats another story.


sat hat

black cat

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 20:13
Tales of the Black Cat
yesterday, friday 13, 2008; I bought the Counting Crows album ‘recovering the satelites’ cd from a charity shop for 50p on my way to pick up my new van. it's great having money, I didn't have any at all for half of last year because the dwp dodge their paperwork, so between begging borrowing busking & starving I took them to court and they were ordered to pay up by a kind judge. three months later the money came through. I haven’t heard this album since I was made a copy of it by a woman who got me drunk then raped me when I was a teen, my first sexual experience with a woman. prior to this I had only been raped by a guy after he dosed me with something sleepy, which is how I know that I am heterosexual but that's a different story.

my new vehicle bought through ebay from a really genuinely lovely guy called Nick. at 1am I tried to chug up the slope on the village common outside my dads place to park the vehicle out of public view and it ran out of gas situated right next to ‘the tump’ in which is buried a celtic queen, a few meters from the smallest christian church in the region. the van had exactly enough gas to get her to exactly where she needed to be on a journey she is supposed to be making, almost as though somebody has written this into the pages of a fayrietale that I am living. something mystic in all of this connections, considering the ongoing war of assassins between self righteous and misinformed christian conquistadors against the naturalistic/supernatural pagans. i looked at the church and considered that she may be a vampyr van unable to cross onto consecrated ground. the whole village is on sacred celtic turf and my allegiances are pagan! i was humored today (st valentines day) when the christian priest & his wife could not get their own car up the slope to park next to the church as they usually do because the van was blocking it, but that's me picking up on small minded belligerent small community dogmattitudes. what is funny about this will make more sense as you read on.

today by sunlight I noticed that the vehicle has a big black lion silhouette sticker on the barn doors at the back. it also has one on either side. I didn’t see this from the pics on ebay. three big black CATS. of course black cat is my spirit totem; it is lucky when one crosses your path. there is a legend that black cats seen skulking around christian cemeteries are the devil who is also known as old nick, plying his trade.

tonight my dads gf arrived back here & told me that she had just seen a black panther as she arrived into the village, it crossed before her car and melted into the shadows of the hedge.

the region in which I live has a place named Cwmbran which means ‘fountain of Bran’. Bran the Blessed is a Welsh Celtic legendary hero. cwmbran council have erected a huge metal sculpture featuring three RAVENS or perhaps they are CROWS. these are the spirit allies of Bran whose oracular head is now situated in the white hill upon which is built the tower of london. ravens live & are kept here because they are protecting Brans head. the legend says that when Brans head leaves this site, then ‘england will fall’. three, because Bran is thrice blessed. three, because the celtic triple~braid also known as Ogham, symbol for the druidic tree~script and pronounced ‘ohm’ exactly the same as the buddhist chant ‘aum’. it means ‘well of life’.

when I was about 17 years old I spent some time in Germany in the Black Forest region. here, I remember the name of a town called Magdeburg where they held the famous witch trials, where the vacuum was invented and a Void first recreated by scientists who were then murdered by burning because the Void is considered ungodly by CATholic christian conquistadors. although I cannot definitely say that this town is where this church building I am about to describe is located, it is in the region somewhere around there and Schoenebeck. but there is a church in Germany which has a huge cast iron black metal gate on it. I photographed this gate because it is awesome and inspiring. I photographed this gate because a voice was guiding me to do so and telling me that it is part of my life journey in such a way that I would more fully understand later in life. having read steven king's Dark Tower series I am now really beginning to understand quite a lot of things about life that didn't make sense to me as a kid.

the gate
when I returned to uk I made a crude lino cut and from it lino prints of the  unusual german church gate. lino is a fun tool to use because it is easier & safer to carve than woodblocks. for this image I used black petrol based ink to make my prints. I don’t know what happened to the photo but I still have both the lino and one of the prints I made from it. it was in my folio when I was accepted into university to study Art.

the gate attracted my attention because the handles are unusual organic shape similar to the hr giger designs I so much admire. there is an image on this gate of two creatures. one is a black BULL, the other is a black LION. the bull is stomping the lion when the gate is shut. it reminds me so much of the yin~yang that in my mind, I read the symbols on the gate to mean that when the gate is open, the black lion will be stomping the bull.
another time I went to Germany was with a very special lady friend who I have not seen for ten years. together we danced the processional walkway of Ishtar the Love&War goddess of Babylon city, the city was excavated by Germany prior to world war 1 at the dawn of the twentieth century and taken to the Berlin Museum. the spectacular site has 3D relief ceramic tiles in yellow on a blue ceramic tile background. the walls of the walkway are lovely. the two motifs on it are a stylised yet studied bull (my friends astrological sign is taurus) and an equally stylised DRAGON (my chinese horoscope sign is year of the snake, and snakes aspire toward dragons). there is more backstory here, she lives in the county of Somerset (Somer as in Sumeria as in Babylonia, Assyria, Set as in Seth or Sukhet, the Egyptian / Assyrian SNAKE God). layers and layers of meaning rippled through the processional walkway as we danced. our relationship ended when we were split up by christians jealous of our shamanic powa. since I was driving through taunton, somerset (tau or tao being an important ideology in our beleif structure) I stopped off to see her yesterday, a surprise visit after so many years. she wasn't home but her boyfriend has the same buzuki as I do and we spoke of folk~music and egypt, he has also spent time there. it was great to catch up with her family, meet her black cat (of course) and to have a cup of tea half way back, I haven't driven in ten years either and it was a journey of many leagues. 

in autumn of 2007 I traveled to usk to visit my mother and to go spend some time out in the forest there. she drove the car and as we traveled I explained my theory of symbolism and multi~layered reality, how this is relevant to human psychology and our understanding of cause&effect. how different people interpret the same event in very different ways, depending upon their own personal paradigm & symbolic association system. I believe that such experiences where lived events are full of mythical symbols, are what the ingenious creators of the TAROT are explaining to us. this in itself is taoist philosophy. certainly, real egyptology relies upon a good understanding both of mythepoesis and of multiple layers of meaning within a single symbol.

“for example” I waffled as my mam patiently listened while driving through the night. “in front of us is a black car, the tail lights of which are red and shaped like fangs of a creature. and between them is a white symbol that means ‘life’. to us knowledgable 21st century people we know that it is a clever car design to attract the subconscious buyer toward purchasing the vehicle based upon imprinting of primal patterns. no doubt the driver associates with and feels like they are a deadly night time hunter of some type.” my mam continued driving and continued patiently listening to my waffle. “and yet to a medieval person, such as a scryer seeing into the future, they would not understand that it is a vehicle, they would see the symbols and decide that we are chasing a DEMON of some sort that has black chitinous armor and red fangs dripping with blood and a life sign like a yin in the center of a yang. this is why medieval scryers saw in their future, which is our now, that humans would become enslaved by demons. they did not know what computers are, etc. it is the same for us now when we look into our future.”

prep sketch from 'thirteenth moon' series

when we arrived at my mams place, we stopped the car and were amazed because standing outside the shop next to her witches cottage is a huge black HORSE with a white dash on its forehead. in my mams shed at the time is the black wooden UNICORN head carving I had made from a tree root rescued from a bonfire.
[insert pic of unicorn carving]
 (my mam borrowed the unicorn horn from this sculpture)
it was the night of the autumnal darkmoon (new moon).
I took my backpack and walked into the fields and forests. I asked openly to the place, which way do I go to find the spot where I can camp? and within moments I saw a black cat plodding through the field, jump through a gap in a hedge that led into the forest. so I followed its route and through the forest came to another field where I made my camp at the edge of the forest. I did not need to light a campfire because I was plenty warm enough doing my buddhist yogic breathing exercises. later in the night I tried to kindle a small fire but it would not light and I gave up & cooked my cous~cous on the portable gas stove instead. but before that happened, I just relaxed and star~gazed for a timeless while. I really needed to shed the chaos grid of having been living in the city for too long and my thoughts gentled into the natural darkness until I was at peace.

this meandering zone of relaxation was broken when I realised that only four meters away from me is a very confidant and very sexy black PANTHER. she pauses in her silent stride to look at me and smile. now physically the black of our eyes did not meet. had they, we would have been freaked out and we would have gone feral and run or fought. I saw her eyes glowing white like pure electrical torches, like stars, lighting up the space into which she looked. and then I was locked inside my minds eye. I saw the core of her eyes and she saw mine, totally unblinking, inside our minds. the blackness all around me, totally absorbed me, is all i am made of at this moment, all there is and I have met the core of my soul, it is blissful. her soul raced up through me from the kundalini points in my base chakra, perhaps an inch either side of my perineum. I saw... here is where language is insufficient. I was, I am, we were, both together, existing and experiencing as, white light; shooting up through my meridians and out of the top of my head. electrical and lightning. then we were both up in the sky together making love. it was not sex, it was Love, unity, completion that took us beyond time and far beyond flesh. this experience is how I Know that astral travel is real. it is the sweetest most pure beautiful honest sex I have had and the most deeply penetrating, it was four rays of light twisting together and our heart was one heart. our minds were the same mind and for weeks after this incident we held telepathy with each other as pure and as loving as true real love is. she was inside me for a long while and when I feel for her now as I type, I sense that we still have the bridge. many changes occurred in me thanks to my feline lover. she was amazing. and then I am in my body seeing through my bodies eyes feeling like I did when I smoked DMT, as she smiles at me and happily resumes plodding into the forest knowing utter safety in my presence and I in hers.

later I found a film that has a clip describing this thing with the electric lightning flashing up through the tantric points. also I discovered Hypersthene a man~made metal crystal that is very erotic for the effect it has on the nerve tips in the skin.
[insert hypersthene vid clip]

as she walked away my eyes readjusted focus. I enjoyed discovering the new way that I can use my heightened senses. I stared at the outline shape of trees directly in front of me above where she had stood. behind and penetrating through these trees are two white lights from distant hills a few miles away. the trees stand up above the hills on the horizon and it looks like a black cats head with erect ears and the body of a snake coiling around me. I think she is sitting watching me as I watch the horizon. I trust her too and we feel happy together. we speak together in our heart that is our mind.

how did a wild black panther come to be roaming around the border between south wales and england? there is a well documented colony of them living somewhere on Bodmin moor in southwest england. they are thriving; their being black creatures of the night and unafraid of humans, also no trouble at all to humans for they hunt only small wild animals for food and stay far away for the urban human world. 

or could it be something more mysterious yet?

one of the very best books I have encountered about Mayan culture and Shamanism is the brilliant ‘Mayan Shamen: Travellers in Time’ by Patricia Alloe Mercia. her research involves discovery that during the time when the boy king tutencaiman was taken to Paris in the19th century for a big egyptology exhibition, there are newspaper reports stating that dozens of people had seen black panthers in the streets of Paris whilst the boy king’s mummy was there. the research done by egyptologists into verifying this fact with egyptian scripture has made a conclusive understanding that the black panther is the spirit ally of king thoth~ankh~amun.

my own research has made many connections between egyptian and mayan spirituality, for a start both of them are the JAGUAR priest~hood (that gives the game away). they are both focused around transmigration of the soul. Patricia explains that King Tut is the very same soul as the snake lord, king of the mayans tombed in the temple of Palenque; Pacal Votan. the priests identified him because his left foot bears snakeskin patterns. Pacal Votan is also Wodan in Norse mythology. these links are the tip of the iceberg; there are many stories here for another occasion that further verify these connections and add a lot of proof to what for now we will simply describe as mythepoeis. needless to say that the black panther is also the spirit ally of Pacal Votan the snake lord.

the round table

the Saxon word ‘Mercia’ by the way is one Arthurian legend name for what is now parts of wales and of england; the old kingdom of this area of the world in which Merlin was born and lived and traveled and fought to hold a kingdom together despite foolish kings. the events regarding Mercia as a kingdom occurred around a thousand years ago.


I am fortunate enough to have traveled through north france and although I will not reveal to you the location, there is indeed a site hidden in a very mystical forest with a hand carved wooden sign advertising ‘le tombeau de Merlin’. of course the site is exactly like the one mentioned in the story, a tree growing out of a large rock. I have just looked this up in google. the photos are of a modern site obviously for tourists and is not the same location as the one I remember visiting when I was a kid. alright I will give you a clue, to get to the site from the uk ferry to france, you have to travel through ‘le ville du chat noir’.
the whole region is covered from horizon to horizon in big foot long rusting metal shells of anti~aircraft bullets beneath a thin inch of earth. the guns were a constant barrage. this entire landscape is forever scarred by the second world war. it boggles the mind to contemplate the massive scale of it.
although I am not nazi and do not encourage nor endorse nazism or fascism of any sort, the following link is interesting and has relation to the story at hand. my own experiences with nazism are rather more than I would like to confess to. they are useful to be on good terms with when you have information such as the address of a known male rapist; nazis don't like pedophiles. also I have a friend whose dis~owned grandfather was a very important member of the uk nazi party. what david icke says in his books is the very tip of the iceberg. the technology that exists, and the abilities people have, are far, far beyond what the state encourages us to believe is even possible. but again, these are stories for another time.

 cLick Giger's pussy for Vril
for a few days a voice has been whispering in my ear to learn about the Vril Society, so tonight I typed the name into google. I find this info to the Vril Society interesting, being a spiritualist myself and having recently been compiling information that involves a very similar idea to what the vril society were discovering about reality and which science has since then called 'dark matter' as an aspect of quantum THEORY. my own research into practical use of QT to enhance the Magickal Universe as evolutionary development is largely based on stone carvings I have seen inside sarcophagus that are also the source of seichim (egyptian reiki) methods.
ftr, for the record, I really don't care whether or not you believe a word that I am saying here. I know heart of hearts that all of this is absolutely Truth, because I lived through it. I am experientialist. the very first translation I made of Egyptian hieroglyphs is 'we see as we say'. it is to remind us to be honest and this is the foundation of all spirituality. I treat this as a religious discipline.
only by being True ourselves do we know what Truth is.
that's taoism
captains log 16.2.09 supplementary:
today I noticed something on the back of the van from when somebody was once using it as a business vehicle. the stickers have been peeled off from where they had their telephone number on it as advertisement. the number has 696, which is the celtic triple braid, followed by 77. I was born 6.9.77

I had this poster on my wall as an art student

sat hat

spirit teachings

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 18:47
This post entitled Spirit Teachings was removed from a christian spiritualist-church forum in facebook for being too dark. It was intended to kick-start a discussion about interactions we have had and lessons we have received from the spiritworld. 
Spirit Teachings

To begin, I will tell a tale. This is a true story it happened to me at gregorian New Year of 2008. Following my way signs I traveled to the south coast to meet up with a clairvoyant friend, a powerful witch. I stood facing the sea, the French channel and I realized; the only way forward from here is back.

We sat in her room with the television on the ghost channel, white noise to cleanse our minds. We had just listened to a dvd of her old band, she's a drummer. They were pretty good; a lot of European rock music is but never reaches the uk. By degrees we became aware that spirits were in the room with us; I get flash-sight in my minds eye to augment the instinct-emotion response that I use to locate them and communicate with them, as well as clairaudience.

The spooks had indeed been spooking us all night, they had been trying to attract our attention in all manner of vile ways which to be honest I find best to deal with through lewd humour. When I asked within they gave me some imagery and I realized then what was happening and what the spirits had planned for us all for this night.

I laughed and realized that I had to settle my friend. Her eyes were focused on an orb inches in front of her face, I couldn't see it but I could hear its tone. Holding my hand close to it, the orb moved upwards away from the silver Mexican air&water ring I wear. Her eyes followed the orb, as did my ears.

Our eyes met and we took a moment to readjust ourselves. My friend looked beautiful like a lost child full of ancient understanding. Our hearts were throbbing with excitement edged with fear.
are you ok yes are you ok yes

They’re over by the kitchen, I said, hearing the high-pitched tinnitus like tone of the spirits moving around the room and settling still. I know she replied, I saw it move, an orb. Later this evening I saw the orb myself; the first time I had seen one. They move at a strange speed that takes the mind some adjustment to attune to their visual spectrum.

What do they want? My friend asked. I asked them. By now I was visualizing. I had never before had such a strong experience at channeling while remaining in control of my senses and I realized the spirits really wanted to be involved with this.

There are two of them, a guy and a girl. They are very patient. They are thinking. The depth of the dead as they think, is poetic and vast, is something terrible and beautiful, tragic and timeless and very romantic. As they think, they have all the time in the world. Their stillness is calming almost beyond anything I have known, peaceful.

I laughed as I received the answer. It was obvious what they wanted by the images they were sharing with me and by their behavior. They had quite a punk attitude and I began to understand what their unlife is like. The female spirit returned, she had been moving around the local buildings watching what people were up to.

I began to see how bored these pair are and what they do for entertainment. The possibilities of such a life amaze me, what it must be like for them. So I began to ask them questions. My friend was watching the female orb move through the room, she seemed to be sitting close to me, but it was the male sitting by the kitchen area of my friends’ bedsit who I was speaking with most clearly, verbally.

I asked who they are, their names. They told me that 'the long term dead do not have names'. I asked them what they want and they told me. My friend at the same moment asked me what they want and I had to make a reflex decision. Explaining it as succinctly as I could, my attention split between the spirits and the need for verbal dialogue with my friend to calm her, for her nerves were beginning to jangle as though sensing we are on the build-up to something.

Rebirth, I said, in the calmest voice I could manage. It seemed the most eloquent way of describing it. The tension in the ghosts at this moment, if spirits can hold their breath then that is exactly what they both did.

My friend is heavily in to the metal group slipknot and stonesour and she screamed with excitement; that's the name of a joey jordison song! I have the cd!

I laughed at the synchronicity, knowing that somehow all of this is related. Turn the tv off I’m going to play you the song! She said. I was happy that she seemed less startled by having something to focus on other than their adrenaline in her nerves. I was feeling this too but thriving on it for the connection with the spirits seems to require the nerves to be in a certain state of heightened awareness that is similar to fear.

At that moment the tv turned itself off. My friend and I both stared at it and then each other, smiling with wide-open eyes; our mouths open, feeling really special to be experiencing this together. The spirits were laughing also.

We played the music and the lyrics are amazing. They describe it so well that immediately I knew what the band members had been through, how similar to what we were experiencing that night. I knew that whoever had written these words, it was channeled, written by ghosts to wake up the living.

And as sound is frequency and frequency is energy, playing certain sounds is equivalent to opening a gate to certain other frequencies. My study into Egyptian hieroglyphs has taught me much of the physics of this. It is the physics of the ghost world that I am especially interested in learning about. I mentioned this to the spirits and they contemplated it in silence for a time.

Tell me of the light, I asked again. The spirits told me in an ancient word that my senses translated. The meaning becomes a few things, and this in itself told me of evolution and context, of how now many different meanings stem from one source. The light is a trap, they told me. It would be equally as true to say, material reality is a net. Or to use the word cradle.

I was seeing patterns within this, like layers of ivy growing in knotwork from a single source. The void is timeless and within it is the crucible. I began putting some ideas together and the spirits watched my thoughts, my understanding. I remembered a Jewish symbol, the menorah...

Yes he sees it like that too says the girl ghost, about the boy ghost. We aren't sure, they finally agree. But it seems this way. I asked of the big bang and they told me it was before them, before they were as they now are. We had to shrug off a lot of other subjects to stay focused on the pure teaching, but the girls emotion, the gentle loving knowing, we shared a lot in a single moment of understanding, it reminded me of rose quartz. Seen from the depth of aeons, historic tragedies of our history books become forgotten blips as souls progress within and around the creation

So the light... light is part of the material world, because it is within time, although the same words... the light is also faster than time. Their physics are wrong, the girl says. He’s close. I get an inkling for their relationship, the years of shared conversation and empathic sharing of ideas; revelations, understanding, and I admire these explorers, grateful for their teaching. I thank them. And I share their humour at the fallacy of language... that is why we use empathy to talk; the signs are deeper and truer, you need to go back and you need to go further inside yourself, have patience

All of this happened in a heartbeat, and my friend could see I was deep into something, asks; what's happening? She looks alarmed. Sorry... I begin because I feel I have ignored her, and wonder how to explain what I have just learned, when...

The texture of the room changed. My friend became alarmed, asked me what is happening. She looked nervous. It is Shadow! She said. She had mentioned this to me before. Shadow is scary. But I was tuned, in the zone, I was a world apart from the world of fear because tonight the spirits were giving me respect, and I was seeing truly, not from the ego of a mortal mind but with awareness, of our own temporary mortality and of the infinite journey.

I had been asking the spirits if there was such a thing as this tunnel of white light that I had heard of, but they were reticent to answer, shrugging and looking cagey as though they had overcome the embarrassment of it and won their immortality from god. They frowned at me when I mentioned god, it is not something they had ever encountered, and they told me that it would be nice but they are existentialists. We are what we are. And spirituality is about non-judgment. I agree, this is my way of understanding also.

I felt the great overwhelming presence of something awesome move around behind me. It felt like water that I have drowned in. I could hardly speak nor move. My friends’ eyes followed it around the room. She is sat on the bed and I on a chair, like the tip ends of the move a rook makes in chess. Shadow stopped at the point where the L-shaped motion bends, right next to her.

I visualized protective runes and techniques all around her as best as I could. She seemed the same as me. I could not look directly at the space occupied by Shadow but I could sense him, and in my minds eye see the outline darkness around his core. I speak of him in masculine but I don't know if gender applies to such a thing. And so I began to analyze Shadow, to learn more of it. As I did this I continued my dialogue with the spirits.

What are they saying? My friend demanded from fright. You’re okay I told her its safe, they're telling me about Shadow. I’m sorry, imp learning a lot here very fast and its hard relaying it all to you. Shadow is harmless. They are telling me that it, he, Shadow is a gate, and they use it to travel. I was surprised by how long we were extending this moment, the energy configuration we were all in together.

Shadow is a source and as old, ancient, as time itself. And alive, he has awesome mind, he is kind though, he understands in a way that we cannot and he is cold. What frightens us of him is not any danger, but the ancientness. Shadow has seen the Suns form.

The spirits hold Shadow in high regard. He is a tool, they say, and a teacher. Their love for him is wordless, too deep for me and I pull back into the moment, seeing with my eyes. My friend is looking nervously around the room. I nod my head and smile but am unable to reassure her verbally, I am drawn back into the inner vision.

From the corner of my minds eye I look over toward shadow. What I see is his head turn toward me, and I see it as the head of ... you will best know it as Anubis though there are other words for other aspects of this one, djmutef and a secret name that I’m not allowed to write here.

We are from the same tradition, I say to my friend. Well of course we are, we all are. All the different teachings all over the world at this time affecting our culture, for thousands of years into the past, they all describe the same thing, we are all of the same source. African spirit lore.

The depth of Shadow overwhelms me. Inside him are stars; he is like the monolith in 2001 a space odyssey by Arthur C Clarke. He is tall, eight to ten foot tall as he appears. And I know him at once as an old friend. My friend sees me relax; she begins to relax with him also but remains wary.

Other names he has are Charon the boatman of the river Styx, and erroneously the Grim Reaper, although there is no such thing as the grim reaper beyond biker’s tattoos, cheap horror films and medieval European tarot cards. To the Mayans perhaps it is the smoking mirror Tezcatlipoca; although that may be another thing... so many of these symbols have multiple meanings.

The power in Shadow is great and we have after millennia yet barely scratched the surface of its meaning. He also is Time and Timeless, the most profound sense of calm as I realize that we need never worry, everything that happens does so in its own time so there is no need for haste, and that we are on the paths we are on, the trajectories that we have chosen, that we need not worry no matter what events we may be facing, for all is good with such a strong guide to help us.

I say to my friend; I am asking these spirits to watch out for you (we do, says the girl). They help you. I am pleased that I have been here and helped make a friendship group stronger. I say to my friend; these are allies, Shadow will help you now, and I laugh, you don't have to worry it is all-good, everything is good. she looks at me strangely.
I have a memory blank of what happened next.

After these night’s events, I stayed another night. the next evening was even stranger and equally as supernatural. But that is a tale for another occasion...

As I am finding words to describe and write this account and the spirits are back with me, they are telling me, that I have to go back and that I have to go further, we have to go deeper into our understanding. I’m not sure if they are reminding me through some program they inserted in my lightbody while I was there at new year, or if that was in realtime today... sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.

My friend has just recently returned to the UK. According to the reviews the drums on slipknots new album are outstanding.Perhaps it is time I go and visit her once more to continue our research.

So that is my story and what sharing I have of spirit teachings learned on this occasion. My tradition is laid bare and yet, there is so much more knowledge yet I have to impart, and so much more yet to learn!

Everything happens in its own time. As my beloved mystery-school spiritualist mentor told me on many occasions when I was studying with him as a teen;

"When the time is right"



sat hat

on tesseracts & unicorn

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 17:54

a tesseract is described wonderfully as ‘a fourth dimensional hypercube’. it is a mathematical theory, a construct existing as a self~enclosed world. in exact maths it is self~contained and terminal; it has limited duration. this is integral to its nature, to its existence.

in homeopathic (holistic) alchemical theory a hermetically sealed enclosure is by necessity of limited, therefore potentially liminal particles. we can locate the particle and measure the duration of every facet. existing within such environments as are symbolised in my mind by the helix nature of crystals are waveform based entities. a quartz wand symbolises both the tesseract and the unicorn horn. within this limited, liminal environment we quest, striving to create a balance by which self~sustainability can become and extend our lifespan indefinitely.

there is a story in Celtic mythology of Anwyn the dark elf lord of the underworld who heads the Wild Hunt. once every year, for the ‘five days out of time’ existing between 360 day long years that is measured by the week of Halloween, the elven host enters the world and hunts the White Hart, a horned beast of rare purity. In some versions this is a White Stag, signifying male and female aspects of the same creature. when the two horns of the deer are twisted into a single fusion, then we have a mythical creature of similar description, a horned white beast; the unicorn with its one horn growing not from the temples but from the third eye chakra. it is my understanding that the power of a unicorn horn, it being visionary, containing a command over manifest reality and hardwired into the creatures mind, forms a crystal helix; forms an ocean through which waveform can take shape; forms a fluid structure that is the world surrounding it. thus the tesseract.


such are my thoughts as I sit in the autumnal forest at night with my mind full of sacred spirit mushrooms, playing to ghosts and watching the Life~fire spark grow as tall columns within the neural system of trees & their bodies, hardy to the frozen cold. each tree a single entity, a tesseract, and yet forming a web, the forest, greater than the sum of its parts. this representing, illustrating to me All of Life; we the individuals as it, whatever shape body we wear and with whatever senses. there is sorrow and there is acceptance. there is darkness and there is light, coldness and joy. I met other forest creatures this night but theirs is a tale for a different time.

the charcoal illustrations here are from a 15min rough sketch design for a woodblock. I was especially happy with this image because a few things came together in it for me as I was making it; a revelation that the Hermetic tradition uses the same astrological symbol for SUN as describes the ORBS seen by spiritualists. of course! in French the word is Sol, meaning both sun and soul, is taken from Egyptian... this sitting on the right shoulder of the figure representing a Wayeb (spirit guide) who whispers and relays information, contrasts with the image on the left shoulder representing Shadow, here represented by a crescent moon (a silver thread of the mortal coil that binds a soul to a body) and which is sat upon by a flying black cat... further and more personal symbolism.


on another level this polarity simply represents the light and the dark, sun and moon, which balance a point of focus between them. right and left hemispheres unified as the third eye. the triple~braid often referred to by the Celtic Ogham sign has three threads, of the light, the dark and the chaos that goes between. the white at the base of the image also works on several layers of meaning; it is a tree ring, it is a ripple, it is meridian rings around a core. at the top this simultaneously becomes both a singular point of focus where light becomes faster than time, while also refracting outward as the petals of a lotus or the branches of a tree. the Dryad's Ru shape is reminiscent of an African tribal mask, a self~contained reality which teaches a form of reiki healing where energy spirals up from the root through every thread and fiber of our being, cleansing all blockages before culminating at the Apex.

the charcoal picture is from a series entitled 'Thirteen Moons'

sat hat

serpents ring

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 16:56
A Tale of the Serpents Ring
being a chapter from ‘the Auriglyphica of Snakeappletree’
This account is a true story. Tonight the moon is a few days past half moon, waxing. In honor of our Celtic tradition I will record here for posterity the associations. Not the regular celtic lunar waysigns of the white wolf and the black raven; tonight for purpose of our story we shall instead use romantic alternate designations of black cat and silver snake, for these are the powerful symbols which tonight have guided us.

Two spirits as seen in the moon, their heads dancing together in a clear sky full up of purple ultraviolet glow, a sign that we tread into the fifth dimension. A sacred time of potential and creativity in which the waves from our minds and our hearts reach out and find manifestation as events. A time during which kamma plays its role within our experience, to guide and teach us on our path. At precisely eight o’clock in the evening on the 7/11/2008, such an event occurred. To understand it in full magnitude we must first backtrack a few hours to some other related events, also loaded with symbolism and mythology.

There I sat upon my digital lizard console, a scrying pool of electric rainbow, a communication tool by which I had just been reunited with an old friend after several years apart. As a wise old mentor used to say to me; “when the time is right...” Well tonight the time was right, blessed by the Spirit. The reason I had not previously been able to find this friend is because her surname has changed from White, to Whie. The loss of the Taoist symbol for wayfinding had not been lost on me because having studied many mysteries I now generally associate myself with the snake path. So highlighted here are the letters S and T. A snake of course is curled around a cross in common symbology and from this we derive many layers of meaning. I am grateful to our mutual friend who has put me back in contact with this white witch; the same ally who once spoke cryptically to me about a white snake. At the time I had no idea of what he meant but the symbol has stuck in my mind for years; and now reveals itself as a key.

Whie, modelled after the Saxon word Wy, from which derive the words ‘wicca’ and ‘witch’. It means ‘to go into chaos and draw forth form’, or more simply ‘to question’. I have been writing much about this very subject recently. Having schooled upon the banks of the river Wye on the border between England and Wales, I remember the teaching that the river Severn means Sea Dragon; ‘Vern’ being Saxon for ‘worm’, referencing a type of dragon, the Wyvern, a serpent with two wings and two claws depicted upon the original Welsh flag, rather than the imperial version known today.

In the same way that water seeks bedrock and so flows around hills; snake trails take a roundabout way of telling and this is justified as a part of our heritage and traditions. So I return now toward the main focus of our story. For now be it known that my elusively named and long lost friend has upon her digital face the image of two black cats.

Tonight I walked beneath the moon with a young witch. She wears upon her fingers many rings, one of which is of silver and forms the shape of a snake curled around her finger. We walked to a shop to buy chocolate, which cost us gb£2.30, expensive but necessary. We chose the darkest chocolate in the shop for our cookies.

On our way out of the shop our attention was drawn to a kitten with eyes huge and glowing a spectral tone of green. The cat was hiding beneath a parked car. The carpark of the shop is large, it being a motorway services. The timid animal peeked up at us and my friend the young witch made yowling sounds which brought a smile to its face. I have seen her call cats to her many times, a creature she has deep affinity with. I felt sorry for the kitten because there are no houses for miles around and it looked skinny and underfed. I questioned whether it was lost and as we walked away, I felt something strongly calling me back. So I returned and discovered the kitten nearby, eating a half burger somebody had dropped from the fast food outlet at the service station. I sat and watched it for a while whilst the young witch lingered elsewhere in the background. As I watched, I questioned myself; what am I doing? Why am I drawn to this scene? Obviously there is some lesson that I have to learn here, an event as yet to play out and reveal its secrets. I returned to the young witch who was swinging around a metal railing, holding onto it and somersaulting around head over heels, landing on her feet. I laughed and told her about the cat. Then for some reason I can’t explain I wandered back over to the place where the cat had been. This time there was a different, smaller kitten, licking the buttered roll that had accompanied the half eaten burger.

Again I returned to the witch and told her that there is a feral colony of cats here in this place where humans drop food to feed a litter living beneath the bushes in front of the motorway services. I explained how my long lost friend had once told me about her idea for having feral children, and having seen a photo of her two cats on her internet site, it was amazing that now here I had just encountered two feral cats. My friend the young witch was playing with her snake ring as I explained this and at exactly eight o’clock in the evening, she managed to snap its neck and break its head. Immediately she sat down grumpy and tearful.

The magnitude of this story is even more greatly pronounced, the enchantment enhanced, at the readers understanding that there is a very ancient African story which, although it has mutated through different cultures, is remembered most strongly by this writer as the Egyptian papyrus scroll version bearing its symbols. The Cat uses a ceremonial blade to chop off the head of a Snake beneath the sacred Ished Tree, and the Apple of the snakes blood waters its roots. The ished tree branches interweave as they grow like Celtic knotwork.

This is the First motorway services you will encounter upon arriving in Wales by road, having crossed either of the bridges over the river Severn. Both of which incidentally are owned by a French company and on both of them you have to pay to get into Wales, despite many locals claiming it should be that you have to pay to escape.


Egyptian Stellae photographs from the temple of Hathour in Dendara south of Luxor,
courtesy of Kerylos E. Aziz.


please look at this forum

I asked the young witch why she was so upset, had she bound powa into these trinkets; which obviously she had. She tearfully nodded. I hugged her and told her that in this carpark, a place of scattering, the energy bound may now be unleashed and that she would find freedom from it, as the threads surrounding her would now find their new weave, and be bound naturally into new form. In fact with deeper understanding the story can be seen to mean an evolution, a progress, as we enter through a gate (cat) into the next cycle of the spiral. My logic did little to console her and she pulled all of the rings from her fingers and cast them to the ground! Dutifully I scooped them up in case she should regret their loss and desire them again in the future, and we walked home.

Upon a roundabout above the motorway we stopped momentarily and I looked at the shape of the story; the roads we were traveling upon, snaked from our home at the tail of the snake, around in a ring at the roundabout, to the shop and carpark at the mouth of the snake where these events had happened. The young witch is currently on a metal sculpting course and where we stopped upon the roundabout, at our feet, a torn and rain soggy newspaper flapped up at us the word ‘smithy’. I laughed as the connection knitted in my mind that she should go from this and weave her own serpent ring cast to replace the broken one.

I sit and record this story as the young witch prepares and bakes cookies. With any joy she will have added the secret magickal ingredient, a pinch of chili, to the chocolate. Ah, but there is more to this tale. There is a memory rendition of the Greatest Swordmaker in the World from the book of the Princess Bride by William Goldman. And a clever interplay between this and the art of biscuit making, in which we learn that every energy no matter how subtle, the mental and the emotional, are also an essential part of the mix. In fact one Egyptian symbol for Bread is the same as that for World.

Then there is the story of an Egyptian guide who contacted me through the internet to translate a complicated hieroglyphic scene that turned out to be an evolved form of the very same story of snakeappletree already mentioned, with whom I also spoke again today for the first time in several moons. So there is a deepening understanding of the threads and their symbols which guide the paths of our lives. And there is the realisation that so many true signs and understandings of Life are missed because of such hidden factors beyond our knowing. It comes down to recognising the links, that there is a connection there.

As we walk home that I remember that the rune ‘W’ is associated with the rune ‘B’, Berkana; the Birch tree which druids and Wiccans alike have told me symbolises Growth & Rebirth...

Blessed Be

sat hat


Posted on 2010.08.27 at 16:17

Amongst its numerous wisdoms, the Cthulhu mythos of HP Lovecraft teaches us various levels of consciousness through Jungian symbolism. In this it is highly romantic. Lovecraft himself was a famous recluse. His inspiringly in~depth knowledge of the world, her mysteries and hidden histories come from his education having grown up reading his fathers library. Lovecrafts father was a member of the Egyptian branch of Freemasonry and a scholar, owning many rare books. Lovecraft used these esoteric teachings as the basis for his mythos, which formulated over the years he spent researching and trying to understand as holistic a model for reality as possible. The scope of his vision is both shamanic in its world view and prophetic.

Lovecraft used a very simple format in his storytelling structure, often repeating the same pattern so as to emphasise the point. The reading of his works therefore becomes a mantra, a guided meditation. The symbolism of the stories is evidently psychological and this is emphasised by the characters facing the brink of madness, frequently being plunged far beyond it as they encounter wild alien things that they were previously unprepared for. Through a series of repeat journeys, delving deeper each time, the reader is prepared for the darker truths which Lovecraft is stylishly revealing. His style is hedonisticaly decadent, flamboyant and extremely evocative. Without doubt it is a masterwork of horror fiction. Through this he teaches a cosmology which is epic in its scale.

By following the footsteps of the Cthulhu mythos, by retracing the steps of its characters to pursue my research into these insightful extracts, half~obvious hidden meanings of beguiling promise, the pursuit of knowledge and understanding becoming obsession driving me to forsake a normal regular life, alone I have followed the path. It has taken me to many nations on my journeys, to see for myself these locations spoken of within the tomes. To Egypt, where I read for myself the ancient books carved in stone, the hidden secrets etched in lost times into the interior of a granite sarcophogus in which a priest~king once lay sleeping. Journeys to learn a symbol series, an ancient energy teaching... such hints and pieces fit like a jigsaw together for my understanding of reality, so different to those of the mainstream consensus around me that I have been branded schizophrenic for my world view, a mad one amongst man; for even accepting Lovecraft to be a reality at all. Yet nevertheless his stories speak eloquently of real truths, of our past, of our way of being and of our future.

Phonemes of Cthulhu

Etymological research has associated the Great Old One Cthulhu with the deity Uluru (ayers rock) in Australia, the most holy of holies of Mother Earth. This also is symbolised throughout Australian Aboriginal tradition, as well as global shamanism and the masonic tradition, with the female serpent as life giver. Other associations of the word through etymology link it with the Thule society, which is the contemporary neo~nazi reiteration of the Thelemic secret school, a foundation training ground for the Illuminatii. The phoneme is found also as Shai~Hulud in Frank Herberts Dune. It correlates to the word Zulu, who taught their ancestor worship to the Phoenician traders, who taught it to the Celts. It seems likely these early roots explain the Assyrian interest with the same matters and their use of similar language; as is also found in south American Aztec~Mayan nations and with north American/Canadian Indians. Indigenous peoples of the world over have a common system of understanding these issues and use the same lingo to explain themes. Another association is the European tradition of Yule~tide, a turning point in the ebb and flow of seasons, associating once more the Cthulhu with the natural cycles.

After this, as with so many facets of such a complex mythology, I specialised in my research; I delved into the entity of Nyarlahotep. Where I live in south Wales, Britain is one of three locations mentioned in Call of Cthulhu linked to this vampyric otherworldly entity; I have bathed in Melincourt Falls near Neath, a temple of the Celtic arch~druid Merlin. As well as this I visited the Nile, the name of which has the same source and therefore there is an association between Nile and Nyarla.

Nyarla is the old Egyptian word meaning ‘catfish’. As a symbol it has several honorary definitions beyond the evident reference to an actual creature. An essential part of the teaching is in acquiring the perception of recognising these associations, making the link, the area between one identified [item] and another. This is the mythos, the world view of shamanic understanding, fertile ground for creative interpretation of the real. That we are dealing here with amphibious entites who exist in the swamplands, that evolutionary step between fish (creatures of water) and lizards (creatures of land). You only have to look at a catfish to see its physical association with Cthulhu. The Egyptian reverence for cats is famous, temples of Bastet whose name derives from Bes~Thoth. A chimera; a creature combining a cat and a fish, predator and prey, causes instantly a schism in our understanding of its nature. It is this schism that becomes the gap between, the unifying paradox that is a dynamic engine. An evolutionary niche.

Nyarlahotep also contains the word R’lyeh; nya~R’LAH~otep, that forbidden manuscript that appertains to the fabled lost city of the same name, deep beneath the sea in which Cthulhu lays dreaming.

Hotep is an Egyptian word meaning Priest. Some interpret this to mean King. To understand this we must learn that in ancient times, this was the same thing. In Mayan the word sorcerer means King, Priest and Teacher. In Egyptian the word pharoah means far~seer (far~ru). We venerate those with insight. Even in christianity is retained the word Amen, referring to the Egyptian word for priest. Amen of course is the same as the Tibetan cleansing chant Aum, ohm, linking it directly to Celtic Ogham (pronounced om); the triple spiral that means both weave and well. the priest is the one of purest vibration and highest clarity, hence calling them the Ohm.

As further example of the tentative links we make between epochs and cultures; there is a complex in the Egyptian desert which is both a fish processing factory and a bakery. The Egyptian loaf is ten feet tall; symbol also means ‘braid’ (as in ‘weave’), ‘story’ and ‘world’. I wonder if the ancients had the same folk~wisdom kept alive today, “we are what we eat”. The fish remains found at the site are catfish from the Nile. Presumably this facility prepared the soup which fed the workers constructing the pyramid. It reveals a certain story from the new testament in a new light. The schism between one cultures interpretation of a symbol and the culture preceding it, offers insight into the transition, the shift between epochs.

All this from a simple word. That is the powerful allure of researching, of turning back the pages of time and sifting for clues to describe the hidden mysteries. The Cthulhu mysteries are full of such, and although I am currently deeply involved with learning firsthand the developments of the third site mentioned as relating to Nyarlehotep, that my darkling children must remain a story for another time.

-Snakeappletree, 27.10.2008

Additional, 27.08.2010;

Neath is Niet or Nuit, the Egyptian female deity of night, depicted as arching her back like a cat over the world, her body full of stars.
I am now living relatively near to Melincourt, and equidistant to Carmarthen where Merlin is claimed to have been born... I am living with a witch whose maternal family name is Neather...

Additional, 09/11/2010

"And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences - of electricity and psychology - and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished; for the small hours were rent with the screams of a nightmare."
-Facebook Nyarlehotep site

yep, sounds about right.



sat hat

about snakeappletree

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 15:17

Snakeappletree is a south wales uk based shaman constantly striving to educate people about the cultural heritage both of this region and the ancient traditions of humanity in general. Persecuted for his belief system by the academic, authoritarian and pharmacology funded societies alike, he spends his writing time working on books for teenagers concerning ecology, sociology, psychology and shamanism.

Snakeappletree is a qualified councelor with a degree in fine art. It was during his university course that he began to understand primal symbolism. A follower of Karl Jung, Eric Berne, Carlos Casteneda and Frank Herbert, Snakeappletree believes that our transition toward a global scale sustainable culture must incorporate practical worship of Gaia (mother nature) as lifestyle. Ecology is paramount, and becomes the learning tool for more advanced explorations of perception, awareness, communication, sociology. The transition toward permaculture begins with ourselves.

Snakeappletree's understanding of science is based upon ancient teachings which correlate to contemporary rediscoveries of scalar technology. His own experiments with eigintones, granular synthesis and sacred frequencies as healing tools are incorporated into electro-acoustic folk music. In his spare time he translates symbolism such as hieratic hieroglyphs of ancient egypt, working with scholars around the world to make light of the hidden multi-layered meanings within these books. Snakeappletree occasionally works as a spiritualist since developing an ability to channel after very much training (for example the same techniques applied by the SAS and tools developed by the CIA) and living education, which is the stuff of many stories.

Snakeappletree promotes personal responsibility and free liberal behavior within our community. The biggest problem we face in social terms is that so many humans believe that it is correct behavior to inhibit other peoples freedom. We have inherited a culture of control-obsession, with citizens who are technically suffering from a form of psychosis, sociopathic behavior of endorsing slavery. This is evident in many human relationships where a person uses stress, typically aggression or emotional blackmail techniques, to control what other people do with their bodies and energy. The consequence is a culture of widespread add (attention deficit disorder) and adhd (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) with neurotic inhibitions restricting achievement of the full level of potential that any of us are capable.

Evidence for this is all around since it is built into the mainstream control system that many humans are now preparing to step away from, returning to a more loving and empathic way of being. No-one's slave, no-one's master. Aliester Crowley coined the phrase; "Love is the Law, the law is for All." The application of this is absolute forgiveness and absolute freedom and sharing complete enjoyment of your loved ones happiness. This state necessarily comes about through understanding, which is why use of storytelling is such a major part of shamanic cultures. In this, the transition toward sustainable culture is guided by the notion of Archaic Revival.

sat hat

legal disclaimer

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 12:07

'waevehands' illustration ©2008 Snakeappletree

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(from the HOPI language)