The God, The Witch and the HGA

The one thing I have always felt protective of, and prideful of, was my relationship with the Divine. I’ve always had an intimate connection with God and always will; in fact, it was that connection which drove a split in my first ever relationship. The one thing that bugged me was why this connection meant so much, and why it would tug on my heart strings like it did. I needed to find out how the Gods would interact with me, and why they chose me.

Growing up in the family unit I did was pretty typical. We went to church or synagogue on Saturdays, shunned bacon eating people who worshipped on Sundays, and made sure that our connection to a big white guy in the sky was direct and shared. For some reason, the images of Jesus never resonated with me. I never understood how he was the biological son of the Christian God, but nonetheless I had to follow what my family insisted. It must be an old British thing, “Children must be seen and not heard.”

I used to have alone time to reflect on things, or if I was bad I was “sent away to think about what I had done,” into my aunts room. She is a very classy lady, only expects the best. Designer things everywhere, but she was a strict and modest matron, who ran things like the God fearing woman you witness in old Victorian novels. There were images of Jesus everywhere. Jesus on the cross; Jesus surrounded by thorny roses, and even Jesus sitting on a rock surrounded by children. I would often hope or wonder, if I stared at these images long enough he would jump out and bitchslap me for being a naughty girl. He never did, and that sparked my interest in who he was as a person and Gnosticism. I should say, my idea of Jesus being the son of God is a little strange because I believe he was a witch in his own right, one of the early Hermeticists (without realising) and I also believe his mother was told she was going to have a child of great importance as far as spiritually and enlightenment goes. In that sense, everyone who is willing to ditch conventional religions and give up being a slave to these man made and “access-only-through-mechanical-means” religions is a child of the Universe. (Obviously if you can find like minded friends like Jesus and Buddha, even Mathers and Crowley did, never let them go!) live free.


I found witchcraft a few years later… (I think 2 years later? I have a funny feeling this all happened that year I fell down Dunn’s River Falls… I’m pretty sure I was 9?), meh. I did all the typical things any budding academic witch did. I collected information from early websites and bought books after weeks of saving my pocket money, but believe it not, the one area that has been the easiest skill, never seemed important at the time. That skill or gift was being able to equate myself with deity. It was a few years before I even worked out a way to let deity into my life, without the use of magick. I guess those early years could be seen as my theoretical and lazy days. Some years later my bond with God grew to volumes I didn’t expect, and it has been an intimate journey since.

I fell into studying Buddhism, which lead me to understand that I needed to look within to find myself, but mostly to find my inner Buddha. What hit me almost straight away, was the notion that the Gods resided within me and within everyone else. The whole idea of connecting yourself to the Universe (thanks to yoga!) just made God seem more like the life essence that actually lived and vibrated in everything within and outside the universe. For me that meant God wasn’t a big guy in the sky, it was my heart, my finger, my breath. The grass, the trees, the puppies and the tiny molecules holding ice together. I guess, I’ve always looked to the Gods for inspiration and lessons, but my greatest lesson so far has come in the form of my HGA.

Now, I haven’t made actual contact with my HGA, or at least I don’t think I have. I didn’t even understand what one was until a few years ago. Just a reminder for the newer Thelemites out there, (I’m a beginner too), the Holy Guardian Angel is the angel we are all born with, it’s our higher self, rather than a literal angel with wings. It’s with us our whole lives, and it even plans what your personality and outcome in life will be, long before you were even fertilised. Think of it as The Fates little workers who reside with us. Your HGA (from what I gather so far) also guides you with any Magickal endeavour you do, and help you use and understand your consciousness and subconscious sides. You don’t even have to be Magickal to find it.

The other day I was sharing my most recent ideas with Mr Vamp about a ritual I am currently updating, but also to check my progress as a student. I told him how I believed that my HGA would come to me in many forms over the years, and I hadn’t realised how or why until now. At first it was Cernnunos, with his constant lulling in dreams, wanting me to follow him and understand where he came from. He was the first fertility deity who made me understand the non-literal side to magick. I found myself questioning if fertility also meant something else, rather than just baby making and gardening. What did fertility mean? I quickly summed up that fertility meant growth, whether it be spiritual growth, Magickal growth or academic growth. He came at a time when I needed him most, a time when I was growing up too fast, but he held my hand through it. I kept my head in books and took daily life and it’s struggles the best I could.

When I was fertile enough, he gently slipped away and sent me into the world of ancient Egyptian, Roman and Greek paganism, where I formed more bonds with deities over there. As most of you know, the most prominent were Sekhmet, Anubis, Apollo, Ra and Zeus. All of which I still work with today! More than anything, like Jesus, I didn’t see them for the beings they were, I saw them as facets of my HGA, elements of my being, lessons I needed to learn. I believe all this time, that the Gods came to me with the help of my HGA, sort of like a personal assistant or publicist, making sure only the correct deities cane into my life at valuable moments. That’s what made my magick raw and pure; I made it a personal mission to understand the base understanding of The Ultimate One, that drove me into the world I’m in now. I still remember that first spiritual ascension or initiation. When I feel good, bad or Magickal I only need to look inside, and draw in the extra forces from outside. The Universe may be big and mind blowing, but It left a part of itself in us. We only need to tap into it to see.

That’s also what helps me reaffirm my pantheist views. If any of you can get get hold of the preface to Alice Walker’s The Color Purple you’ll catch a glimpse of what life was like for me, and many folks around the world.

Sorry it’s so bloody long!!!


One of my Crazy Creative Moments

About an hour ago I was chatting away with Mr. Vamp, one of my dearest friends and fellow Thelemite. Ever since I found a firm grounding in my magickal lifestyle, I have slowly learnt to let go of my inhibitions and become the young woman I am to be. With my slightly ‘close-to-the-edge’ mental instability I am able to come up with plans for the future, and short and funny anecdotes. I am a writer by heart, soul and hopefully career, but tonight was weird and random.

With a certain few people I have the pleasure of knowing very well, I can let go and just be my crazy self with them. Mostly because they love me either way, and won’t insult me. Its nice to know you can breathe perfectly around those folks. It creates a sense of sentimentality, that you would literally break your heart for. As for Mr. Vamp or Mr. Lestat as I call him on this blog at times, he is miles away (well, over the Irish sea) but we always have time to chat about Thelema, Crowley love, poems, education and my hopeful plans to become a member of the OTO very soon. Tonight was like any other night. We talked about rubbish, stood up for Hymenaeus Beta and I briefly mentioned an idea I have put in one of my forth coming books about how to get families and children involved with their parents pagan/occult religions or lifestyles, as they are often never thought of. I won’t divulge any plans here as I would like to see my plan come to light in a few years once I get my teaching degrees. However, I share random stories, ideas, poems and scenes with Mr. Vamp and I wrote the following within seconds.

Set the scene:
A mother, me (in a few years) has just arrived in a hotel lounge in London to pick up her two children, and check out. She has spent the most part of 2 nights attending a Thelemic mass/ritual/sabbat celebration of some kind. There is a kids club type place where occultists’, Thelemites etc send their young ones to meditate, hear pagan stories and learn about magick in its simplest form. Think of it as a glorified pagan babysitting centre. A typical and very short anecdote occurs just as the mother meets her little ones:

Mother: “Hi sweety! What did you and Aurelia do at mass club?”

Zeke: “We did some colouring, and we sat and listened to stories about Egypt!”

Aurelia: “Yeah! And we did a meditation! And said aum!”

Zeke: “And we prayed to the Gods asking them to help is be better people and stuff, it was fun!”

Aurelia: “Yeah and Zeke and this other boy farted really loud!”
[zeke hits his little sister]

Mother: “Zeke! That is rude! Say sorry! Or else Bartzabel won’t be coming for dinner tonight!”

Its short, doesn’t make sense to a lot of you, but I just had to blog it, plus I wouldn’t summon spirits around children. I am very creative, and think of stories on the spot. Funny thing is, until now, my creativity has been a secret. I only ever blog and vlog, as I know most don’t know about me. Its my little secret I share with myself and friends at times. Sadly, I don’t have anything major to give to the pagan community, I don’t have a business or anything. Just a lopsided smile and fingers that write.

Ciao for now, 93s x


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A. Crowley | Every Woman is a Star

I am on a bit of a writing spree today… Be aware there is profane language used below.

I have recently subscribed to ‘ozzzz156’ on YouTube thanks to my inspiring friend and Thelemite Mr. Lestat, because I have been reading Book 4 and really studying its texts when I can. I have grasped the symbolic meanings behind a lot of what Crowley had written and suggested, but when he wrote about women it awoke something in me.

I am not a feminist, yet at the same time I am. Thanks to the wonderful Caitlin Moran, I consider myself a strident feminist. One who moans at other feminists who want equality yet still feel that their men should constantly buy them gifts and flowers, yet they won’t see and buy a nice Rolex for their man. I won’t go into too much detail about that argument, but you get the gist. over the recent years, the media have shown us the profane words being used in today’s society, and through that helped claim the use and in some cases the rights/connotations of those words to the people they were originally aimed at. You hear black/Latin folks singing and rapping about “You nigga this, you nigga that,” in a manner that empowers them. So long as it is spelt with the letter ‘a’. In time I hope the word “Cunt” will only be used and claimed by the people who actually posses one, which would be women. To this day it is the most profane word in existence, yet I have one and no man I know does so it’s mine and I am claiming it. Along with that, the word “whore” sums up so many images in my mind. Firstly, a whore is usually referred to a woman of the night or someone who likes to have fun using her bruised flower. Secondly, as it’s a word that is supposed to be derogatory then why not claim it? People often put women down and call them these nasty words, yet when the push comes to the shove it’s the woman/whore you need is it not? Don’t contradict yourself dear.

Now this video is a reading from a text, but if you listen and really think about the words you should be able to pick up the message. As much as people try to discard us, y’all need us like we need you. Enjoy!

Thelema – Every Woman is a Star

93, 93 / 93 x


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The Leaves Came Falling

I’ve looking up my old notes on experiences I’ve been meaning to share with you folks for a while. Experiences with the Divine in its many aspects, which also stands as my reasoning behind believing in more than one deity who makes up the OTG. More of my understanding of deity falls under the ‘Pagan’ ‘Wicca Lesson’ ‘Witchcraft’ tags. Here is another experience, one I had the subtlety to share with Apollo. I have written up dreams I’ve had in which Cernunnos and Cerridwen have both visited me in my very early days on here too, in case you are interested. More shall come, including the spiritual interviews I have been conducting. Enjoy!


When I was around the tender age of 17, I went to Spain to see friends and family who are made up of mainly Catholic Christians. Nothing ever escaped them, but they weren’t overly keen on the idea of being devout, considering I was very much a hardcore practitioner of magick back then; although these days, not so much on the practical aspect due to laziness and how the weather affects my perception. If it isn’t super hot I can’t stretch or do highly ritualistic magic. If it isn’t super cold, I can’t focus my deepest energies into the workings I do around autumn and winter. However, back in Barcelona it just happened to be a very hot summer’s day in the middle of august. My uncle had informed us that he was going to take us to the beach for a few days just to soak up some sun, relax and visit the galleries that had information on Catalan history and art.

A few days before we left, I ran up to the room I was staying in to start a bed time devotion but realised one of my notebooks was missing. It was full of my thoughts, concepts and excerpts from various magickal books I had been studying from for some time. As you can imagine, I was freaking out in silence as I didn’t want anyone to know what I was getting so worked up about and more importantly, what I was getting myself into. I tipped out my bags more than once, checking the nooks and crannies and found nothing. I even checked the bin by the window, the balcony, the laundry basket and under my bed and still found nothing. My heart was racing; the anxiety was building as my ever increasing worry was torturing me. I couldn’t remember where I had put it for the life of me, and I vowed never to leave Spain until I found it.

I managed to write up a quick incantation which is below (do not judge! I was 17 and still very stupid as far as syntax went!):

“Morning star awoke at the beginning of the day, Apollo the light bringer dawns in my heart. Forever the doves fly in the sunshine, and prepare the day for night. Hades throws his essence in the air welcoming the Lady as she arrives fair. Night falls upon me and I become one with a star. Look after me and mine dear Gods unless I do not yet see clear. [Then I stated the things I’d like in prayer form, and in this case it was to find my journal] Blessed Be.”

I closed the circle, stood up and put my items away. When the room was fairly clean and most of the incense had blown out into the breeze I rolled into bed and drifted off with tears on my cheek. I was devastated I had lost my journal, which was full of notes, silly rhymes, badly written poems and small spells with terrible grammar. At this point Apollo was already in my life. He came to me when I was in Spain before actually, swimming out in the sea and just made me feel like I could trust in him above me and what felt like Poseidon beneath. There wasn’t much I could do.

The next day, exactly 1 night before our beach day I met the family for breakfast and we sat and woke each other up with talk of my uncle’s horrible nasal impressions and the heat. When breakfast was over I went out to the lovely olive tree which stood by the front door to tie a little ribbon on it. That day, the tree for some reason looked more beautiful than it used to. Bright, busy and bursting with the lives of the insects living on the trunk and I remember smiling. On the ground just beneath it was a small broken branch so I picked it up and decided to keep it. I put the branch on my little desk in the room and finished packing my bags for the trip. That rest of that day I don’t think I even thought about my journal that much. Even when I went to bed that night I didn’t do a devotion or a prayer, I just had a shower and went to bed feeling better.

We went to the beach for a few days and I swam in the sea when I could asking the water spirits and even attempted to call on Poseidon to look after me, but I don’t think he came. However I did let go and totally relax and let the water take me where it wanted. I would look about and watch the rough waters heading toward me, but when they came close it was as if they would calm and pass by me. When I looked at the beach, I could see I was quite far out but I wasn’t scared at all, I was safe. The way the sun was heating my skin felt spiritual. The water would stroke it and remind me of the Gods touch on my heart and on my soul, it was definitely magickal. I remember closing my eyes for a few minutes and muttering a little incantation I made up on the spot asking for Apollo to guide me to where he would like me to be in life, and inviting him to visit me whenever he felt I needed a lesson to learn. These were still early days for my relationship with Apollo and Cernunnos was just leaving my life. After my little swim, after quite a few hours my cousins and I swam back to shore, dried to drown each other a few times and checked out the popular hair styles that the men on the beach wore. I didn’t cast any magick after that day as I was too swept up in having fun.

The last night we spent in the hotel I had a very vivid dream. Over and over I kept seeing the olive tree. I remember, and also by reading the crappy notes I quickly jotted in my journal that I’m just referring to, the area I was in was bathed in orange light. I kept seeing a hand pointing to the tree and the leaves were falling off. Then the dream changed to something entirely different, focusing on feet walking on a dusty road in the dark. It felt like it last a few minutes and to this day I still don’t understand the second part of the dream, but the first part made me focus on the olive tree. When we got back I ran up to my room, grabbed the already dried and pristine branch and headed out to the garden. I felt I had to take the branch back to the tree as it wasn’t mine to take, or at least that was what I felt. I noticed more leaves on the ground around the tree, except one area at the base of the tree. The ground there looked a little different. It wasn’t the lovely yellow soil that worshipped and fed the tree; it was black and leathery. When I bent down to see what it was I jumped for joy. It was my journal! It was sitting in the shade, under the tree where I left it. I remember writing in it about Apollo and must have left it when I was called in for dinner before we were supposed to go out when the siesta was finished. Thank the Gods it didn’t rain! And thank Apollo for guiding me.

I picked up a few of the leaves, washed them and put them in the bath with me. At the end of the night I was preparing the floor by the doors that lead out onto the balcony to do a small secretive devotion when my uncle’s wife knocked and came in. I jumped up as quick as I could to greet her when he gave me some candles she found in the kitchen, and said to me in broken English “Candles for your witchcraft. It is okay, my mother was a magic person also.” She sat with me for a while and told me about her mother, who lives in the south, about her memories of seeing magick as a child. When I asked her how she knew I was into magick, she said she was in the garden below the balcony the other night and saw what I was doing. Since then she was trying to find a quiet moment to come and chat. After she left, I did a better devotion following a method I had written in my journal and used my new candles, thanking Apollo for showing me the way.

We still talk now, and it was through her that I started reading up on Santería, Spanish folk magick and how to be Catholic, but with the latter I just grit my teeth and smile when she informs me of the Bible and its doctrine. This was just one small way in which Apollo has touched me. In a major way, when I look at my old journal entries I realise water and sunlight play a huge role with my connection with him. I often call on him when I’m in the shower… don’t ask. Like father, like son. He always fills me with inspiration and helps me whenever I need him.

What are your experiences with Apollo?

Sy x

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Their Eyes Met: Short Story…

The lights were a dull orange, the music was loud and pumping. Her heart couldn’t keep up with the bass on the track. All she saw were dancing bodies jilting one another in a rythmic trance, sweat pouring off their bodies. They glistened under the tiny garden lights hanging off the ceiling and walls. She had to find him. He said he’d be here if he truly loved her.

She waded through the crowd, dancing as she went so she wouldn’t stick out. A hand groped her there and another groped her here. She didn’t mind. The music pumped its way through her cavities and she found she was loosing herself to its spell. His hand creped up on her back, slowly mimicking the small pulses that outlined her untouched body. She turned around to see him, staring deeply at her. Their eyes synced and the music took them away….


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The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss – Celebrate Diversity and Mindfullness

The Sneetches, by Dr. Seuss
Now, the Star-Bell Sneetches had bellies with stars.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars.
Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small.
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches
Would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.”
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort
“We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!”
And, whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
They’d hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Star-Belly children went out to play ball,
Could a Plain Belly get in the game? Not at all.
You only could play if your bellies had stars
And the Plain-Belly children had none upon thars.

When the Star Belly Sneetches had frankfurter roasts
Or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts,
They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches
They left them out cold, in the dark of the beaches.
They kept them away. Never let them come near.
And that’s how they treated them year after year.

Then ONE day, it seems while the Plain-Belly Sneetches
Were moping and doping alone on the beaches,
Just sitting there wishing their bellies had stars,
A stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars!

“My friends”, he announced in a voice clear and clean,
“My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean.
And I’ve heard of Your troubles. I’ve heard you’re unhappy.
But I can fix that, I’m the Fix-It-Up Chappie.

I’ve come here to help you.
I have what you need.
And my prices are low. And I work with great speed.
And my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed!”

Then, quickly, Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Put together a very peculiar machine.
And he said, “You want stars like a Star-Belly Sneetch?
My friends, you can have them for three dollars each!”

“Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!”
So they clambered inside. Then the big machine roared.
And it klonked. And it bonked. And it jerked. And it berked.
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked!
When the Plain-Belly Sneetches popped out, they had stars!
They actually did. They had stars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start,
“We’re still the best Sneetches and they are the worst.
But now, how in the world will we know”, they all frowned,
“If which kind is what, or the other way round?”

Then up came McBean with a very sly wink.
And he said, “Things are not quite as bad as you think.

So you don’t know who’s who. That is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends. Do you know what I’ll do?
I’ll make you, again, the best Sneetches on the beaches.
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.”

“Belly stars are no longer in style”, said McBean.
“What you need is a trip through my Star-Off Machine.
This wondrous contraption will take OFF your stars
so you won’t look like Sneetches that have them on thars.”
And that handy machine working very precisely
Removed all the stars from their tummies quite nicely.

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout,
“We know who is who! Now there Isn’t a doubt.
The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!”

Then, of course, those with stars got all frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star was frightfully bad.
Then, of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean
invited THEM into his Star-Off Machine.

Then, of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,
Things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.
Off again! On again! In again! Out again!
Through the machines they raced round and about again,

Changing their stars every minute or two. They kept paying money.
They kept running through until the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew
Whether this one was that one or that one was this one. Or which one
Was what one or what one was who.

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie packed up. And he went.
And he laughed as he drove In his car up the beach,
“They never will learn. No. You can’t Teach a Sneetch!”

But McBean was quite wrong. I’m quite happy to say.
That the Sneetches got really quite smart on that day.
The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches.
And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches.
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether
They had one, or not, upon thars.

— This is a brilliant poem in prose. It kinda reflects my life in a way… Had to share x


I Went a Little Crazy With Free eBooks… A List

My dear and unfortunate successor,

Thank the Gods I’ve read most of these books already but I was sort of ‘against’ the idea of electronic books due to weird lighting that just adds fire to the flame of my brain aka migraines. Over the past few days I’ve downloaded a bunch of free eBooks available for the Kindle, from the classics list. I’m a huge nerd! I only went to check out prices for the Edgar Allen Poe poems and found them to be free. You know how you see something and add it to your basket, or you click to check the product out, and at the bottom is a selection of recommendations? I’m a sucker… I just kept clicking ‘Buy Now’, and what makes things worse? They were free!

Imagine what I’m like with money…. (no don’t… ¬_¬)

Anyhoo, some of the books will appear on my blog later on in life, as books that define my life in some way. For now the books marked with * are books I’ve read and loved.

Ta da….

  • Allan Quatermain
  • Lair of the White Worm
  • The Fall of the House of Usher*
  • Oedipus Trilogy
  • The Book of the Dead*
  • Legends of the Gods The Egyptian Texts, edited with translations
  • The Symbolism of Freemasonry
  • The Metaphysical Elements of Ethics
  • Crito*
  • The Literature of the Ancient Egyptians
  • Dracula’s Guest
  • The Mystery of Edwin Drood*
  • The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates
  • History of Julius Caesar*
  • Life on the Mississippi
  • A Midsummer Night’s Dream*
  • The Scarlet Letter*
  • Thought of Marcus Aurelius
  • Tacitus: The Histories, Vol. I and II
  • Edgar Allen Poe’s Complete Poetry Works*
  • The Religion of the Samurai a Study of Zen Philosophy and Discipline in China and Japan
  • The Phantom of the Opera*
  • Madame Bovary
  • Ethics
  • Beauty and the Beast*
  • Ancient Rome: From the Earliest Times Down to 476 A.D.
  • The Book of Were-Wolves
  • Introduction to the Philosophy and Writings of Plato
  • The Man Who Knew Too Much
  • The Life of Buddha and Its Lessons*
  • Dairy of a Nobody
  • The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse*
  • The Odyssey*
  • Tess of the d’Urbervilles*
  • Northanger Abbey
  • The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci Complete
  • Little Women
  • The Legend of Sleepy Hollow*
  • A Christmas Carol*
  • The Jungle Book*
  • The Illiad*
  • Guliver’s Travels*
  • Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
  • Pride and Prejudice*
  • Treasure Island*
  • The Adventure’s of Sherlock Holmes – I’ve read most of them, The Baskerville Hound is my favourite!

At the moment I’m reading:

  • The Picture of Dorian Gray
  • Dracula (for the millionth time!)
  • Frankenstein
  • The Lost Symbol
  • The Vampyre
  • Moab is my Washpot
  • The Historian
  • Complete Grimm’s Tales
  • Complete Works of Lord Byron

Told you read more than one book at the same time…. only to read them again! NeRd!

Yours in profoundest grief, Sy x