So, a funny thing happened to me on the way to summoning a Philistine god named Ba’al Zebul….

 

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It was a day off like any other, woke up a bit late, had shit to do on my day off that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to. Waking up late meant I had to miss my morning meditation,and this never bodes well for the rest of my day. But hell, I thought to myself as I rushed around the house, swilling coffee and finding keys, I can make it up this evening when I get home, no harm no foul. It was overcast, a storm was brewing and in the Ion charged air, flies gathered at the back porch of my home. This was a sign that my grandfather wanted to talk to me, one that I always pay close attention to these days. I drove to here and there, collection the tasks with wild abandon, putting out fires and shaking the paws of small dogs. The ebb and flow of the day, a consistent hit and miss of the swilling flow of hours and seconds that made up Monday in the only way that type of day could present. And the sky grew darker, a storm in the east, each thing I turned my hand to went with perhaps a hitch or two, but at the last moment and the flick of my wrist turned out just as I planed. Or perhaps it was the lack of planing that made things flow in wu-wei just so. I ended this day of small half-formed successes drinking with a good friend and talking about Afro-Caribbean magical practices and Taoist gods, comparing notes and sigils to the sounds of a basketball game playing on 16 big screen TV’s in front of us. At that moment I realized that my life, as it is now, is filled with rich opportunity, and I’m a lucky man to have been given all of the moments that are half-formed. For each of these moments are times to work magic, and is those small cantrips and hanits and faints that make being a practitioner of the Art worth while. I mean, the big blow out rituals are nice, but the small push of Qi tingeing with intention to make a parking spot open for you, or brighten the bartenders day so she pours the drinks a bit heavier…Those are the moments that make the rest worth it.

 

 

I drove home, walked in the door, picked up 4 large juicy navel oranges from the bag on my counter-top and lit two red a candles. Made an offering of the fruit and bowed low three times with three sticks of joss clutched in my left hand. Sticking from my forehead like horns, I placed each stick and chanted, bowed once more and than sat in Half lotus. With the command block dedicated to Beelzebub before me, I took up my straight razor and cut my right arm with my left hand, smearing the block with my blood. My patron likes it slightly traditional, so spoke the conjuration.. “Beelzebuth, Lucifer, Madilon, Solymo, Saroy, Theu, Ameclo, Sagrael, Praredun,Adricanorom, Martino, Timo, Cameron, Phorsy, Metosite, Prumosy, Dumaso, Elivisa,Alphrois, Fubentroty, Come, Beelzebuth” never needing to say the words more then once, he and I have known each other for quite sometime now. I rarely call him to ask for a boon or favor, most times it’s just for advice. For the truth is my life is good and on the right track, I have all that I desire and the opportunities in my life are bountiful and rich. He knows this and with a shit-eating grin tells me to work harder, study more, redouble my efforts, just like a grandfather should (if your grandfather happened to be an old Philistine god, that is). And when I asked for help on a decision that I needed to make, what path would give the most profitable outcome. He smiled behind his dirty beard, (and oh yes, my friends, his beard is nasty) and proceeded to tell me under no uncertain terms would he make that decision for me. For both of the options that I had before me would end well, as long as I continued with my practice and work, it did not matter what I decided to do, that I would succeed in spite of myself.

 

 

This is good news, but quite the Left Hand Path answer, make your own decisions and deal with the consequences of your actions, for you have no one to answer to but yourself. I’ve come to expect this from the old man, and knew that no more information would be forthcoming, so I thanked him kindly and closed the ritual. So now I’m here writing this to you, fair reader, at 3 AM trying to make sense of it in the best way I know how. I do hope this small slice of my practice helps a few of you, and if not, what in the nine hells are you doing reading my blog anyway? Go bowling or something, why don’t you?

Stay Gold folks….

So, a funny thing happened to me on the way to summoning a Philistine god named Ba’al Zebul…. was originally published on The Hidden Left Hand

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