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Another dream about Gabriel. Only in this one, I was having a very bad asthma attack-literally dying; and my parents refused to take me to the hospital for it. I was choking and gasping, and then I heard Gabriel say, ‘I’ve got you’. He literally hefted me in his arms and carried me into the ER. I remember in this dream I was younger, so we went into the Children’s ER.

We had a little bit of a fumble, though, when they asked him to fill out all the check in paperwork. He stood there with a pen and was trying to figure out what to put down for ‘name’ and ‘address’ and he looked like a kicked puppy. But he somehow managed to get me checked in, and then he vanished (I remember thinking he must have gone back to heaven). But I remember them hooking me up to a heart monitor, I heard it beep a flatline, and then the dream ended.

Aaand, that’s all I remember.

So. Second time in less than a week Gabriel has stopped by. Very rarely do my dreams, even with Lu, come in that rapid a succession to one another (featuring the same being). I feel like Gabriel is either trying to get my attention or tell me something very important. Or both.

Not quite sure what to make of this. It’s also a bit weird because ‘Gabriel’ is acting a lot more how I’m used to Raphael acting; right down to flirting with the hospital nurse. T>T  (Then again Gabriel and Raphael, upg disclaimer, were inseparable. Like chocolate chip cookies and milk. So maybe it’s not as out there as I thought). This is one of those ‘wat do’ type things.

(Gabriel before the other day was always female in my head. I used to tell people Julianne Moore was hir to a tee. I guess Gabriel likes hir recent Hollywood nod, though, because Speight Jr. is how s/he’s been showing up. S’how I know it’s hir.)


Last night I ended up laying awake for a good long while before I fell asleep. . . but once I did I started having a series of very vivid dreams. In sequence, with the same person [being] in there. And the dreams were very pleasant.

Gabriel was a feature. It’s been a long time since I dreamed of any angel outside of Lu. I don’t remember all of the conversation, but I do remember we were both in a classroom full of what looked like kids that had just gotten into Highschool. Gabriel was telling stories, and some of them were absolutely hilarious (I actually woke up laughing; twice!). Gabriel was wearing a guy!face (I know people have seen Gabriel as both male and female, so I’m always prepared for either), and one line that stood out in particular is when he was saying to me, “Remember the time when you said you would never have kids of your own?” and I just kind of rolled my eyes and laughed. There’s a good reason for this; shortly before my daughter was born, a friend of mine at the time had a dream about Gabriel, and Gabriel told hir my husband and I were going to have a kid. At 10 weeks along into my pregnancy, however, I nearly miscarried  my daughter. While we were waiting to find out whether or not I had, my husband and I were devastated. We prayed every day to Gabriel [as the Angel of Childbirth], and offered up a promise; that if our baby lived, we’d name it Gabriel in the Angels’s honor. Throughout a difficult pregnancy and an early induction, she did indeed live. So ‘Gabriel’ was what went on the birth certificate.

I have a lot of feelings about this, which is my whole reason for posting it in the first place. As mentioned, outside of the above incident when my daughter was born, I haven’t spoken to any other angels outside of the fallen under Lu in a long, long time.

Back in 2003 I started school for Massage Therapy. I’d quit community college because I was disillusioned with the way the system worked. I’d also become disillusioned with my original thought of becoming an English major and going on to teach, outside of the Philosophy and Anthropology majors I dabbled in. I’d decided it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life, and so I was at an impasse, and had no idea where I was going to go.

But I love helping people. Always have, always will. Back around that time, Lu was showing up to me under a different name, but I was still very devout in my Christian faith. I went to mass and took communion every Sunday, confessed every Tuesday, and did a lot of charity work. When I’d begun my studies into Angelology when I was about thirteen or so (maybe a little after-14 ish? Prior to that, I’d only even read a little here and there-I’d seen the movie ‘Michael’ when I was younger and that had stuck with me, I wrote to “Michael” for a couple of years in my journals before I wrote to “Saint” [Lu], so I was already started down that road ), I’d read the story about Enoch ascending to Heaven to become God’s Scribe Metatron (or that he already had been, just come to Earth to visit for a while) . . . and later that St. Francis of Assisi might have met a similar destiny. I had it in my head that this was the path that I wanted to take, and being pious seemed an important part of that. I prayed for it every day, did whatever I thought I needed to do short of becoming a nun to meet that same destiny.

Part of that was praying, and asking God for a sign what he wanted me to do with myself. To this day I don’t know if it was him that answered, or if it was Lu trying to get my attention. The day after I prayed for this, a flyer came in the mail, unsolicited, for a Massage Therapy school in the area. The tuition was affordable for me, and after trying out a few of the classes and learning not only the practical anatomy and physiology side of it, the healing work, but also learning the energetic modalities, I was sure that this was the path I was meant towards; being a healer for people. Not just their bodies, but for their spirits, too. I threw myself headfirst into my schooling, until my Grandfather passed away the fall following when I started school. I was devastated, so my schooling took a backseat for two semesters. I finally graduated with my professional certification in the summer of 2005.

I remember one of my teachers was actually a senior student; and as part of our second-part internship at the school itself, we were encouraged to learn from the experience and examples of other students. I remember he was doing some body/energywork on my shoulders to help alleviate some of the symptoms of my [severe] asthma (he was really good, too. To this day I wish I’d paid more attention to him). As he was working, he said to me, ‘You have a friend’. Since we talked often during his work, I was intrigued and said, ‘oh?’. He went on to tell me one of my spiritual companions [guides?] was an angel named Raphael, and did that make sense? I’m not sure what about this revelation to this day made me cry, but I suddenly broke down in tears, it made me so happy. I took it as a sign that I was right where I was supposed to be. A few weeks later, the teacher of my class said something very similar. When she was doing some work on a lot of us, interpreting our energy and describing what she saw, she related to me that she saw a Caduceus; of course, this being a sacred symbol not only of the medical arts, but of Mercury and-you guessed it-Raphael.

As I mentioned, I took this as a sign I was right where I was supposed to be, and that I was on the right path. Unfortunately, following my graduation, the economy tanked and there was literally no work to be found in the field. My first job working as a massage therapist was working for a high-end salon, where I had equally high end clients such as the PR rep for the Sacramento Kings. The salon charged upwards of a hundred and thirty an hour for my massage work, more depending on the modality, of which I got a fifty percent commission. It didn’t last long for me; I quit after only a couple of months, because in my mind, I hadn’t gone to massage school so only  overly rich, snobby people could afford bodywork and massage therapy. So I went back to working retail, and started volunteering at a hospice. That burned me out fast; I can’t even begin to talk about how hard it is to come in one week just to ease a terminal patient’s pain for just a short while, only to find out they’re gone the next week. Granted I should have expected this, but I started to feel more like a death knell, and I couldn’t handle the pressure. From that point, I tried to find work in a Chiropractic or a Physical Therapy practice, but there was little to be found, and those that did want a therapist around didn’t want to pay an hourly or salary wage, but rather wanted me to file taxes as an independent contractor, and wanted to bill patients at similar rates to what the salon had been charging. I wasn’t OK with this morally.

Looking back on it now, it’s a bit ironic and almost funny, especially since several years later I went back to school to get my EMT. Three nights ago, I was sitting at home with my roommate, and we got a knock on the door. It was my next door neighbor, and she was in a panic. Mind you, I’ve not run a call for the Fire Department in several months because of the political walkout. But anyway, my neighbor was in tears, and she said her and hers had already called an ambulance, but that her niece was downstairs, had likely swallowed something, and she was choking. I grabbed my kit and ran downstairs; I ended up intubating the baby with a nasal airway (a finger sweep of her mouth didn’t get anything out, and neither did compression) and helped load her into the ambulance. Because I live in a low income area, this happens a couple of times a year; people are afraid to go to the hospital because they can’t afford the bills, so while they wait for an ambulance, or before they consider calling one, they’ll often come knock on my door; and since I’m protected under Good Samaritan law when I’m not running, I’m only too happy to help; in the three years I’ve lived here, I now have a baby save under my belt, and two heart-attack saves and one stroke case. I’ve also checked out several infants for things like fever and sickness before I instruct their parents to go to the hospital (which they have; there are two febrile cases in there, too). . .

It’s given me a reputation around my complex. I run my errands in the day and I come home in the afternoon to waves of ‘hi Doc!’ and ‘Bones is back!’ (I’m called both). Even the local Fire Department has stopped me and thanked me (since the service area for my complex is different than the station I’m registered with). It’s always been an amazing feeling. But when I was coming up the stairs yesterday, the mother of the baby that went to the hospital stopped me to tell me that it was a penny her baby had swallowed, and likely my intervention had saved her life. She said then, ‘you’re an angel’.

I came home and I cried.

Firstly: I’ve been accused by people on social media platforms, IE Tumblr, of being racist because of a particular misunderstanding that came around last year. This baby was black. And in the face of everything happening in the media lately, it’s very important to be recognized as an Emergency Services person who is there to help period, with no stipulations. I’ve always said that I don’t look at color when I look at a person, and people have accused me of being ‘color blind’ as a basis for the accusation of racism. It never seemed to matter that in particular I meant it in the context of treating people of all walks of life without regard for anything other than saving them, helping them. I love people. It’s that simple; and it brings to mind the incidents I heard about in Ferguson, and my reaction when I found out what some of the 911 Dispatchers were telling people when they called for help. My husband and I actually discussed my taking my jump kit down there and treating people for injury just on merit at the protests, but in the end we decided we didn’t have anyone to watch the baby while I was gone, and we didn’t have the gas money (and only one car) to make the drive anyway. But being a face around here for my community, and being recognized specifically as a person anyone can come to means a lot to me. It means a lot to me that people call me ‘doc’ even though I’m only treating in support of other healthcare providers; not in place of. My husband told me yesterday when I was telling him all of this that he was proud of me for the fact that I was helping people who were so worried about their own financial situation that they even debated before they went to the hospital for live-saving medical treatment . Even for their children. And if that doesn’t point out a VERY VERY SERIOUS problem with both our Healthcare system and the state of this country’s people here in America, I don’t know what does.

But secondly, it got me thinking about how when I was eighteen, nineteen. . . going to church and sitting in those pews, and praying my hardest. I wanted to walk that same path that saints and scribes before me had. I wanted to earn a place as one of the Host. And I tried my hardest. Oh how I tried. And it couldn’t not strike me as funny that it was Lucifer who told me to go back to school for my EMT certification, and that now when I do, when it comes to spiritual matters, it’s him I pray to and ask for wisdom, for the talent in the skills I need for my trade, for the gift to be able to know when I can help and when I need to act quick to save somebody; when I don’t have those skills. It reminds me of all those nights spent with bent knees and folded hands at my bedside where I prayed as hard as I could muster with all of my soul to be an angel. And when everything fell apart; when my faith felt as good and useful to Him as toilet paper . . . it was Lu who answered.

This all has a point, I promise; and that is, I always felt so close to the other angels during that time; all those times I prayed, and studied. I called them ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’. Raphael was especially a brother. Gabriel the same; Michael, I looked on as a beloved teacher; a sagacious figure to protect me and help keep me strong when the shifts at the hospice made me come home weeping. Even before; I remember one time, I had an older gentleman I was working on, break down into tears on my table. Naturally I was alarmed and asked him if I had hurt him. His answer was that no, I hadn’t; but nearly a decade before, he’d lost both his wife and child in an accident of some sort; and he’d spent all the years afterwards alone, without even so much as a hug. On his way out I gave him one, but afterwards I had to have another student take over my last appointment for the day, because as soon as my patient was gone, I closed myself in the office, and spent 20 minutes crying for him. At the end of the day I was emotionally exhausted, and it marked me in a way I don’t think I can really accurately convey with words.

All the angels felt close to me. But after my faith in “god” fell apart, the ‘line’ went dead. I didn’t hear Raphael any more. I included him in my stories, remembered him fondly in, but there was never really any substance to it. Gabriel was nearly almost totally hands off, save for the issue with my daughter. Michael? Out of the question. I partially blame some bias gnosis of Michael that I heard in my time in the angelic community for this. . . I’ve since come into different opinion/theory about him in recent days that differ drastically from what some of my former group [ex?] friends think,  but that’s a story for another day. Point being, it was like being disowned from the family. Out of everything, including god’s silence, feeling like despite all my devotion and love I was written off, even ignored. . . that hurt the worst. That would always be, likely, what drove me to stay with Lu the hardest. I still blame god for that, in part. I don’t think it’s looked on kindly for the lights and shinies to associate with any being that has dealings with Lucifer, myself included. Which seems a tad ridiculous to me; family is family, but I thought for a while I must have been the only one to think this way.

Apparently not; because when I questioned Gabriel about it in the dream, that was exactly what he said. My words were something to the effect of, ‘Gabriel, you know, you could get in serious trouble for talking to me’. Gabriel’s answer in turn was pretty much a puff of hair and a handwave. ‘That’s fine, I don’t care. Family is family’. 

Of course keeping in mind that there are at least two times noted in Angelology that Gabriel ‘fell’ from Heaven, or at least was in exile for a time. The exact nature of the oust from heaven, apparently, was never specifically mentioned by early church founders, only that supposedly while Gabriel was in exile, an angel named Dobiel took hir place as the Angel of Birth and Conception.


Gabriel was jovial in the dream; we hugged and talked; both to each other and to the ‘kids’, as though we’d never been separated. He addressed me as ‘brother’, and as mentioned, I actually woke up laughing at jokes he was telling; twice-(and I’d actually resolved not to forget what was so stars-damned funny when I did, because I wasn’t just smirking, I was full on LOLing) and it felt like I’d just found a significant chunk of something I didn’t even know I’d lost.

It’s a good feeling. I may not ever be able to move past everything that I feel ‘god’ has put not just me through; but Lucifer, too-and even the rest of the angels upstairs; because they lost people they loved too. By some accounts Michael and Lucifer were even brothers; or mentor and student, in that kind of Qui-Gon + Obi-Wan kind of way, before things went south. What happened was devastating for everyone involved. But this feels like the start to something resembling healing. Maybe only for me, and for Gabriel. But I hope he visits again. I was happy when I was with him. Clearly, he knows how to make me smile.

I plan to work on a poem for Hir this evening in honor of the occasion; either in a journal spread, or a painting, or even just a post. It might segue into one on other angels for that matter, since I’m up to the ‘family’ question on the polytheist meme anyway. But I wanted to share this. Because it just seemed that important to put down.



“Indifference, Father… ?” Lucifer couldn’t help the forlorn tone in his voice. “If it were Michael standing before you… if it were Michael whose voice came to lift your spirits… would you have him at his word… .?” His voice cracked like a thunderclap.  “Would. . . it then be good enough for you …? It always was.”

There was a sigh of resignation in his voice. Inward collapse, like a star in it’s death throes.

“I preferred your wrath. At least you were stirred to care for the things that you had made. To lift a hand to defend what you say you treasured. Instead you leave these feelings to me, while you dismiss us all.”

There was a long moments pause before he added, in softer tone. “I shall care for what is left. As long as we desire to endure. With or without your blessing.”

“You can not possibly know what you are asking of me. What it takes to subdue this dark thing in my breast, My Darling.”

“It doesn’t matter [Lu]. I don’t just want bits and pieces of you. I want all of you. What’s good. . . and what’s evil.” 

~August 26th, 2003


Stumbling onto yet another significant day for Lu (and myself, apparently) for the month of August. Seems the whole thing is getting to be very important that way. From the 1st to the 7th. . . and now the 26th, marking eleven years that I’ve been working with him, and even before that, since his earliest recorded words in my journals harken back to the year 2000.

But the above words were jot down in a hurried scribble in one of my tiny, pocket sized Moleskines that I used to carry with me at work to-you guessed it-jot down these ‘inspirations’ and ‘muse mumblings’ as they came to me. As I was contemplating what I wanted to write this evening (I almost even dared to touch the Polytheist meme that I’ve seen making the rounds. . . I felt that lackluster with any subject I’d thought I might broach. . . ), I came across the above sentiment shared between the two of us in that journal, and noticed the date, and thought, all things considered, it was a bit ironic.

With regards to Lu, and my  pathwork, and everything lately. . . I’ve been doing a lot of work on the pop culture side of things and working with a friend to develop a system to that end, which has taken a lot of the wind out of my sails; that, and a bad summer flu. I actually haven’t had much wind in my sails since my relapse back in May. It’s very hard to stay inspired when you feel you’re basically talking to nothing besides a wall. I asked myself over and over again, what did it matter? Even when I had visiting company for the summer, I spent a large part of it in isolation. I didn’t want to face anything. I felt like so much used chewing gum; once my flavor was gone, the community basically spat me out on the sidewalk, and I was useless to anyone and everyone. To any community I might have had, and especially  to Lucifer himself.

I’ve been pulling away from him. Not intentionally; but I’ve watched myself now for a few days and I realize that a lot of my avoidance of issues concerning him and my label as a Luciferian has to do with the fact that I have seen what ‘community’ has made of itself in his name, and frankly I’m nothing but disgusted by it. I want nothing to do with it. This really struck for me today when I stumbled on a group post touting, and I quote, “Luciferian Solidarity!”-with a lot of people pumping their fists in the air. Of course a lot of the people doing it are the same people that were either in on the whole bullying scene, or by act of omission and silence, simply allowed it to go on in people that were their “friends”. This is a clique, I realized. Another means to organize a group under a common banner, and this time the banner just happens to be his name. And what if you’re not one of the “cool kids” or they just plain don’t like you? Well then you’ll be lucky if they just ignore you. Else you’ll get hate messages and posts telling you to kill yourself. *eyeroll*

I’m bitter, yes. I feel I have every right to be. There are people who aren’t even Luciferians doing this little cheer and in this little ‘clique’. And who still feel obliged to police everyone else. I stay away from it all. I pulled out, I pulled away. If this is what ‘Luciferianism’ is. . . count me out. I am not a bully, and I don’t allow my friends to bully other people, either. I don’t care what tradition they come from; but especially for a Luciferian, it’s reprehensible; especially when you’re in denial about it. “Oh I allow them to do this because it’s just their opinion! *I* don’t agree with it!” or “but they have good information!” -I’ve heard all these excuses and then some. And frankly, I’m sick of it.

Let me be as clear as I possibly know how to be. I am by no stretch of any imagination a saint. First off, I am thin-skinned, as I’ve mentioned. I have a long fuse but a bad temper. I hold my friends to what some people might consider to be impossibly high standards. I give a lot of myself, sometimes (though not always) in the hope that one day the energy and feeling might be reciprocated. When it’s not, I blow a fuse. I prefer one or two good friends to 20 because I’ve found with more I run around trying to please everyone, get frustrated, stomp off, and end up making an idiot of myself. It’s happened a good five or six times and I suspect it will in the future again at some point when I’m stupid enough to buy into a sob story and offer up my friendship and even my home to someone who has no intention of ever paying the love forward. It’s the reason I hate people as a body. And I absolutely despise ‘popular’ opinion and groupthink. Often times I’ll take the stance of the devils’ advocate not because it’s a position I necessarily support, but because I’m trying to get people to think about things in a different way-outside of their comfort zones. This has also landed me in hot water; it’s got me branded as everything from a nazi-sympathizer to someone with an issue with people with mental health problems ( . . huh? . . .). The world, and it’s conjecture, spins on.

And it might be stupid of me that I expect people to understand that; and either they’re just that honest to goodness dense, or they willingly don’t want to give it any of their attention, any thought. Which is how these “communities” and cliques get started. I made a comment elsewhere on another post that I’d been doing a lot of work recently on political and social issues which are very important to Lu as of late. . . and yet I wonder how many people amidst the cries of ‘solidarity’ are doing anything besides tittering behind their computer screens. I wonder what causes Lucifer has inspired them to take up. This is where I get to the part where I remind my readers that I struggle not to judge other Luciferians, and this is one time where I fail miserably. I know Lu will understand; I’ll speak to him, and he’ll no doubt have some kernel of wisdom to drop that might not make much sense now but will later on d own the road. I’ll learn and grow from it, I’m sure. This is just one circumstance where I find myself restless and frustrated because I know I can’t be the only person who sees this going on. . . and I wonder how so many people can just sit on their hands and not bother to say anything about it. Either I’m such an anathema to people that everything I say falls on (mostly) deaf ears anyway (HEY-doesn’t THAT sound familiar. . .?), or people are just that LAZY. What do I do? I can’t force people to care about these things. I can’t force people to take responsibility not only for their actions, but also the actions of those social bodies with whom they choose to associate. And what’s worse, when these groups do these things, say these things . . . they’re doing it behind the “shield” of his sacred name. 

He’s a god. He’s an angel. Insert that old tired speech again; I’m sure if it really bothered him, he’d put a stop to it. But I’ve come to realize, it bothers me. It bothers me because he’s had enough hurt and pain and smudging of his name over the ages. I’m tired of people using him as the be-all-end-all bad guy. Conversely, I’m tired of people justifying a Luciferians emotional struggles as, ‘oh what did you expect, he’s Lucifer, he’s going to hurt you’. I’m tired of the high-n-mighty attitude that so many exhibit and market as Luciferian ‘taste’ when it’s nothing  of the sort; it’s a parade, a farce; a pretty apple on the outside hiding a rotten, worm ridden core. You can claim beauty and aesthetic all you want to in the name of the path you walk, but when you use it as an excuse to act better than everyone else, that doesn’t make you devoted. . . it makes you an asshole. 

And that’s where I find my seams coming undone where my practice is concerned. I am simply standing back, watching it all with this feeling of numb shock; of dismay. Of, dare I say it; embarrassment. He is so much more than this. He is so much more than the petty bickering and finger-pointing and accusations and cliques. I know there are people out there who have seen him and felt him the way I have. Maybe they’re just afraid to open up about those experiences because of that other pervasive attitude. . . and I’ve discussed that before, too.

Here’s my deal. I don’t know every single scrap of lore about Lucifer there is out there. I’ll never claim to. I know him the way I know him, other people might see him differently, and that’s OK. I speak with him in a way that’s different from other people; I rely on my art and my writing to reach across the distance that separates us so that I can hear him. For other people it’s going to be through something else, and that’s just as valid as my approach. As a matter of fact, I think it would be amazing if we COULD all get together and celebrate our differences. Like if we could all wave  magic wand and have a portrait of what is is to us, we’d have a gallery full of art the likes of which would blow peoples’ minds. Lu is so beautiful, so incredible, it just staggers me to think of what we all have to offer one another. . . but rather than focus on that, all that seems to matter to anyone is how many followers they have from day to day, and who writes the best ritual for whatever, and who pissed off  so-and-so this time. It’s all so  . . . dull. So tedious. So uninspiring that I just find myself standing here, looking at a metaphorical blank canvas with only white paint to use on it. What’s the point? Nothing can come of this. What am I doing here? I could just as easily sing his songs in front of his altar every day. . . write in his books, silent and unobtrusive, and no one would ever have to be privy to how I know him, how I see him, what he says to me, or the nature of our relationship. I wouldn’t have to face those judgmental people and deal with their naysaying, their attitudes. What does it matter? What do matter?

I’m not talking about to him. I just mean, why am I here? Why do I maintain this space? Eleven years I’ve been sharing my stories. And what good has it really done? What purpose does it serve?

But I can’t stop. That’s the problem. I’d bellow his praises out to the whole world if I could. He’s that amazing; he’s that important to me. But I don’t think he is to other people. I think people are using his name as a fad for internet cliques and popularity contests. And that makes me just want to tear my hair out and scream. That’s worse than calling him evil, in my opinion. That would be right up there with putting a dildo on an altar for Diana. I’m being facitious, but I think you get the point. To me it’s almost sacrilegious.

I’ve never prayed to Lu before to actually go forth and make an example of someone. Never seriously. I might have rolled my eyes a time or two and said ‘well, if they wanna be stupid’ . . . and let it go at that, with the assumption that he’d deal with it if he was bothered.

Today saw that change. Right now I find myself desperately thinking, (like I did as I lit incense this evening in front of my altar), ‘Lu, please please PLEASE do something about this’. I’m so tired of people thinking he’s a fad. I’m so tired of the little ‘holier than thou in unholiness’ clubs, or whatever. I’m sick of people treating the name ‘Lucifer’ like it’s a secret handshake to a club only certain people are allowed into if they’re “good enough”. BZZZK, WRONG. That’s not his book, or are we so quick to forget that part? And I hope he makes them remember. For once, I pray that he loses that gentle veneer. That the cold that is so freezing it burns comes into play. And for every slander they make against My Prince, that like a flower touched by frost, everything around them wilts. I hope he does ‘do something’ about it.

Because it hurts me. As his wife; it hurts me to sit back and watch it all, and all I can do about it IS get mad.  Part of me wants to dismiss it as not even worth what energy I’d have to exude to curse it all. It’s not. Because I’m so ridiculously tired that it’s really not energy I have to spare.  But damn it all to the 8th circle. It’s got to stop somewhere.

“Only one rule. Make a deal. . . . keep it. There’s a reason we don’t call our checks in early. Consumer confidence. This isn’t Wall Street. This is Hell. We have a little something called integrity.”

-Crowley, Supernatural (hitting the nail on the head)

I’m starting to see more and more Luciferian blogs off-wordpress being shut down. Mostly, citing toxic ‘community’ conditions [and people] as the reason. . . and this is just sad. On one hand I’m a bit relieved that I’m not the only one. Call me sensitive or thin-skinned, but there was only so much of it that I could take before I had to clap my hands and say, ‘hey, tag out’. But aside from that; that it’s happening to others is indicative to me that there is a very clear problem going on here.

It goes without saying that being a Luciferian-and telling people so-is going to generate a certain amount of negative attention. And I think, most of the time, individuals prepare for that. What I don’t think they’re ready for is the flak they face from others. Not just from other Luciferians, who think they’re going about their practice in the “right” way (?), but from other pagans, too.

It may be a bit derisive of me to say so, but I don’t think that anyone who doesn’t walk the path really had a right or a place stipulating to those that do what constitutes “right” or “wrong” with regards to how they go about that practice. A Hellenic Polytheist, for example, or a Kemetic, doesn’t have a right to step in and say to a Luciferian, ‘ no no, you’ve got this all wrong’ . . .

. . . and really neither does another Luciferian (I’ll admit; I struggle with this a lot), because the path holds as it’s only tenet that is is so individualistic. This might be hard for a lot of other folks to grasp, too, because a lot of us like to cling to this idea that somehow we’re something special and got it “right” when everyone else gets it “wrong”, and therefore elevate our status as a figure of whatever-ness in front of our peers. I think it’s important that we all evaluate this idea and ask ourselves why it’s so important. After all, the only people our perceptions of the afterlife effect is us. . . other people as sentient beings have the right to choose for themselves how theirs is going to be. When you start making arguments that people are too stupid or shortsighted to choose for themselves, you start venturing into dangerous territory. I’ll leave you all to think that notion over, and everything that can come of it for a moment, before I move on.

With all the vitriol being thrown by pagans at other pagans, we’re killing something grand before it even has a chance to flower. There are a few blogs I was very sorry to see had fallen by the wayside. . .people who wrote beautiful poetry for Lucifer; people whom I feel understood him in a profound way, and who in turn inspired my practice as I hope (one day) to inspire others in theirs. And now those sacred spaces, albeit online . . . are gone. Gone because of trolls, or hate, or whatever. Gone because some short sighted individual didn’t know when enough was enough, and kept pushing, and the person maintaining that space felt the negative aura about it was worse than deleting the space itself.

So many pagans who encourage, even by act of omission, these acts online are failing to see things from the perspective of, ‘do unto others’. After all, if I walked into your house and peed on your altar, I doubt I’d elicit a very good reaction from you. Am I right? I’m firmly convinced that coming into other people’s spiritual spaces-online/virtual or no (for some people, out of reasons of safety or practicality in their homes, virtual shrines are all they may be capable of having, for the moment) and spewing foul mouthed taunts, name calling, ect. is just on that same level of disrespect. Not just to the person who manages that space, but to the god as well.

And on this note, there’s another disturbing trend I see. “The gods are capable of handling it themselves, if they’re really there, they’ll deal with it”. Well yes, this is true; and I’ve even said that myself. However, when used by the other side of things, it sounds almost like a brazen dare. And invalidation at the same time. “Oh I don’t think so and so REALLY has that gods ear, or else they’d DO something about it”-and maybe out of the hundred times you do it, even if you’re only wrong once. . . once might just be enough to land you in really hot water. And this is just  my personal take on it, but if you’re stupid enough to even try just that once, you’re not just a fool, but you’re asking for more than just a whack upside the head. You’re asking for the ten plagues of Egypt, if you follow my metaphor.

In summary. I doubt this behavior is going to change any time soon; no matter what I have to say about it. In the meantime, my Brothers and Sisters, stay strong. It’s hard, it really is; He knows that. But we can’t give up, no matter how much we may want to. We didn’t decide to walk this path because it was easy; but because He’s worth our love and devotion.

I posted this piece over on my art journaling blog, but because it’s pertinent to my spirituality, I’ve decided I’ll post it here, too; and discuss a little bit the meaning behind it, and just how important matters of spirituality are to me.

For those of you who don’t know, I struggle with Self Harm, as caused by my Major Depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I covered this back in May when I was triggered into a major relapse, and emphasized not only how serious it was, but also about the unfortunate stigma that it carries with it. People don’t give two shits about your mental health, I realized. Because even when asked to stop, rather than actually, you know, stop with the words and behaviors that went on to triggering me, instead they were openly mocking. They denied my mental health issues and insinuated that I had somehow faked it, and of course, because I was “faking” it, also used it as an excuse to persist in that behavior. And they struck at me right in the center and heart of something that was very important to me; and that was with my relationship to Lucifer.

Before I elaborate.  . . that is real blood on paper, yes; although don’t panic, I actually took it from a scraped knee when my dog tripped me (I didn’t cut myself for it). However, I thought real blood on the images of the scars on my wrist would make this ink sketch even more profound. Quick FYI, this isn’t the first time I’ve put my own blood on paper in my journals. I actually did it during the relapse itself (TW: Self Harm, TW: Blood ahead:)


It might seem wax poetic; maybe even a bit, it is. I rely so much on my writing and my journals when I’m in a funk. Blood on paper has an even more profound effect then ink, when you consider you’re literally pouring your life out on paper. For me as an artist, it’s important to have that connection. But also, it speaks a lot to the pain that I was feeling at the time; the pain that I do feel when all I want to do is feel anything because I worry I’ve become so numb and indifferent to the world and I’m just gliding through it and not actually living. 

But the first picture harkens back to the events that happened when I made the second, and that is, the day I was triggered and cut deeper than I ever had before. When things were quiet and everything was relatively back to normal, Lu and I spoke. Of course it was a long conversation, but one of the big points was when he said to me, that I worried him when I cut. And his words were, “Darling, I love you. Please, stop . . .”

That was a hard week. A hard month. I’m still recovering from  it. It’s not an exaggeration when someone says ‘I’m in recovery’ with relation to their last self-harm episode. You go through each day with this weighty feeling of shame like you not only failed yourself but you failed the people that care about you, too. If you’re a godspouse or similar, it’s the final cherry in the pie; you shamed and disrespected your god. How could anyone take you (or them, by extension) seriously?

Here’s the thing. And I say this now in the wake of a Hollywood death due to suicide. People who feel this way? Don’t walk around LOOKING mopey. I remember when I went back to work with my bandaged wrists the FIRST time I relapsed a couple of Novembers ago, everyone kept saying, “What YOU?! No way!” or “But you’re always so happy!”. The worst ones are, “Oh well things will get better, just hang in there,” or “everyone gets sad, you’ll pull through” . . . as good as the intention of these statements may be, they actually do more harm than good. It serves to alienate, because it’s an easy brush off. It’s a (maybe unintentional) hand wave away of the deeper emotions that are at play here. If you’re one of the people that’s never had to live with that sort of pain day-to-day. . . count your blessings and consider yourself fortunate. Yes, there’s such a thing as being “sad”. It’s something completely different when you wake up every morning and you feel so alone all you can do is make your body hurt just to verify that you even exist. . . because you smile to avoid making people feel uncomfortable. You smile because you know they’ll just wave away that suffering, “it’ll be fine eventually” “what are you crying about, there are starving children in India that have it a hell of a lot worse than you!” (<–This was my favorite that my parents used to throw at me). Some of it has to do with brain chemistry. Some of it also has to do with past trauma. Sure I don’t have it bad  now. When I was twelve and literally watching both myself and my six-month old brother starving nearly to death, wasting away in front of my eyes . . . .that’s different. Much different. Things I don’t even remember happening but that I still somehow have nightmares about.

You can’t presume someone s just “sad”, nor that they’re “faking” it. It’s a dangerous game to play. Even a smile may be a cry for help, and you might be missing it. I’m lucky in that Lu is a god that understands, probably better than most I’d venture, what it means to endure in a hell that YOU made for yourself. I see him as a champion for people who wrestle with depression and self harm that way, and it’s an aspect of him I’d be FASCINATED to see more people pick up on. When I relapsed, and yelled at him, Lu didn’t respond with rage or anger or even crushing disappointment. He responded in a way that spoke of his understanding; he said, ‘I care. I care too much for you to see you hurt yourself. You’re too beautiful. You’re stronger than this.’

That hurt the most. But it’s also freeing in it’s way, and that’s why I made a homage to it in my art. For the antithesis of the Christian god, he’s remarkably forgiving. Maybe he’s so free with it because he knows what it’s like to be held in that stigma. I remember when the whole situation went down and I was triggered someone came to me (and had the audacity to say), ‘Well what did she expect? She should have known better, it’s Lucfier.’ And I’ve thought a lot about that since then. And the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me, wouldn’t that be exactly what everyone would want to say? Would want to think? ‘Oh Lucifer’s the devil and he can get away with hurting people if he wants to, he uses them/discards them/ect/[insert accusation here]’. I thought. What a stereotype. What a. . . handwave. It’s so easy for everyone to say that Lucifer really is this evil and manipulative traitor to the throne that everyone assumes he is. It’s so much easier that way than to consider the fact that he actually takes personal responsibility and accountability for the health, welfare, and well being of each and every single one of his followers. Maybe that’s why in every version of him I’ve seen when it comes to his Theistic followers, he’s so protective and affectionate of them. Being the antithesis, he’s not some faraway god who occasionally comes to pat ou on the back for doing good or smite you dor doing wrong.  No no. Lu walks beside his people because he understands humanity in a way that “god” does not. He doesn’t bellow brimstone and hellfire when one of his people makes a mistake because he understands that it’s normal and human and that we’re not supposed to be perfect. He understands that there are some of us out there-or maybe even most of us (we’ve discussed his preference of follower types in the past) that walk with him are, in our own unique ways, profoundly and maybe irreversibly broken. And Lu understands what it’s like to have your pain waved off. Lu understands when someone says, ‘Oh it’s not that bad’ or ‘just don’t be sad!’-he’s heard it a million million times in a slightly different way . . eg, “Why doesn’t he just tell God he’s sorry if he loves him so much?”

The day before yesterday, I got a phonecall from my biological father. Yes, the one I’ve not spoken two in nearly five years now; the one that wrote me and my husband and child off. He called me, of all reasons, to tell me my sister was having her baby. But then gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him back (yesterday).

I agonized over it for hours. I cried. I screamed into a pillow; and yes, I almost cut again. In the end, I didn’t call him back. Why? Because, as my roommate said it best; he’d find a way to justify his actions. It wouldn’t ever be his fault. It would be all mine. No matter that he had every ounce of power to make things right; even if he and I didn’t get along, my child never did a damned thing to him and he could have left her out of it; but he didn’t. He wanted ME to call him? He clearly knows how to get ahold of me. Why do I have to be the bigger person for a man that nearly killed me when I was a kid and then disowned me when I got older because he didn’t like my choice of who I married and what career (firefighter) path I chose. My Roommate was right; I know exactly how that conversation would go. If only I’d  been a good girl. If only I’d gotten that divorce, gotten this job, stayed here, did this; then of course he wouldn’t have had to stop speaking with me. If only I’d chosen him over my husband and my daughter. If only *I* would have *kept trying* to call over the years, ect ect.

There’s a point where you have to take a step back and realize, you can’t win. It’s not being stubborn, it’s cutting something toxic out of your life. And I realized as I was putting my blood on that paper that this is exactly what Lu must feel. He’s not ‘not going back to god’ because he’s being “Stubborn” and prideful; although it must be easy for his opposition to make a propaganda out of that assumption.

But no. Lets stop to consider. Maybe god is that toxic person. Maybe Lu would rather suffer through the pain of being away and being gone rather than endure under an unhealthy home, an unhealthy roof. Maybe Lu is just as broken as me, as some of us are. Maybe that’s why he’s so sympathetic to us; because he knows that sometimes the only road that you can take out is the one that hurts less; some people don’t have the option of support. They have to make it on their own, and sever those ties before those toxins literally kill them. The damage may already be done, but at least we can mitigate it once we’ve stepped away from those atmospheres.

“Why won’t he just apologize to god if he loves him so much?” -because god is probably a toxic asshole and *I* don’t want forgiveness from *my* dad, because I didn’t do anything wrong, besides just walk away to take care of myself and my own family. And I won’t let him have any part or say in me and mine. Lu probably doesn’t either. He wants us to try and heal. He wants to try and heal. Deep scars never really fade; but after a while they become stories that say,  “I made it through this, I survived.”

I do it with Lu right beside me, and out of all of this, I’ve figured out why he didn’t get mad that day. Why he didn’t turn me away.

Because he gets it. He understands.

This blog is a safe space.

If today’s tragedy has shown us all anything, it’s that the people who laugh the hardest, smile the brightest can truly be suffering inside. Here is a collection of links I’ve compiled to help anyone struggling with depression, self harm, or general mental illness. Please never be afraid to reach out for help. You’re beautiful, and you’re loved.

So this happened today, in a post meant for pop culture pagans:

Supporting bandwagon witchcraft? Lol. Pop culture is mainstream which is the essence of materialistic capitalism. Nice oxymoron.

My (snarky) response was this:

OH GOOODIE. I love these types of posts! 

“LOOKIT. IM SO ANTI-ESTABLISHMENT. I HAVE ANTI-ESTABLISHMENT IN MY ANTI-ESTABLISHMENT.” -and yet you don’t realize the irony in the fact that  to broadcast this opinion you’re posting on a popular social media platform which relies on advertising revenue to keep itself running, which is owned by one of the largest search-engine companies in the world… in order to mock a spiritual/social minority as invalid to elevate yourself in the pecking order social construct by appearing to stand against the idea of mainstream culture in a post made by the only active (to my knowledge) practitioner of said secular practitioners’ built from the ground up path.

I mean. I can only speak for myself. But I’m honestly not impressed.

I wanted to add it’s even more ironic when you tack on the fact that being Luciferian, staying away from group think and hive-mind mentality? Sort of a thing in principle. But since this was over on my PC Pagan blog, that last didn’t feel appropriate to bring up, so I omitted it. But I confess that I do feel a bit satisfied at being both a Luciferian and a Pop Culture Pagan ™ and literally watching everyone else that’s not PCP literally have a conniption fit. The traditionalists, the piety pagans, and especially the ones that like to say ‘NO, it’s popular culture we don’t like that EWW!’

. . . you know. As if the gods and spirits and such give a ding dong damned about what you have to say about it.

Well I mean Lu aside. What’s that? Try something new and innovative? Honk some people off while you’re doing it? ‘And now the question becomes, what are you waiting for?’

In the past my not having a ritualistic structure has sometimes been a bane for me,  because I feel like more of a ‘fly by  night’ pagan. Except in circumstances like this, where my practice is so secular I don’t have to worry about anyone elses’ ‘tradition’. I can do what I want, and that makes me happy.

Via  Cosmologics

Alright, pagan and polytheist communities. It’s time for ya’ll to sit down and have a chat with your friendly neighborhood Luciferian, who’s about to lay some hard truth on you guys, because I’m a jerk like that. Also it’s sort of a mandate for me to let ya’ll know you guys are being jackasses. I’m aware that I might be poking a bear with a stick here, but you know? It’s about time. I’ve sat back and watched these goings-on for a while now.

To start off, let me refer you all to the post that spawned my not-so-non-snarky rebuttal.  The post is by a user here on wordpress by the name sacrediceland, and can be found here: the post itself is titled, “Religion vs. Fandom”, and to give you all a quick bit of background, it essentially is (YET ANOTHER) rant on the appropriateness of using Marvel’s Loki (and actor Tom Hiddleston) as a model for Loki as opposed to the one that actually comes from Norse myth. Now, mind, I’m no expert on Norse myth. Not at all. It’s not in any way shape or form my area of expertise, but I am literally surrounded by Lokean godspouses; those I knew even before the whole Marvel fallout (yes. There were a LOT, before Thor even premiered, so don’t even get me started on that argument), AND after.

I’ll let you read the article for yourselves to get caught up on what the author’s opinion is. Go on, I’ll wait.


You back?

Alright. Lets get started.

Firstly. Here’s the problem that I have with these sorts of ‘purity pagans’ that post these sorts of things. Completely leaving aside the fact that, for all we know, Loki decided to don (a redhead, for pete’s sake) the guise of a Hollywood face-either for his own cosmic Norse-myth whatever ordained happening, or the spirit-verse equivalent of a frat party with good beer-I think that the idea that gods can’t pick how and when and why and under what circumstances they choose to come to their follower? Is frankly ridiculous.

Those who have been to this blog before can just do a little bit of scrolling (or read under my general pagan tag) to know that this sentiment of mine isn’t anything new. I’ve been saying from day one this blog was established that I think that people who spend so much time policing other people’s practice need to stop, take a step back, and evaluate their priorities and their choices. I feel, straightforward with no holding back, that people need to spend not-so-much time harping on others about how “real” or “serious” their practice is and instead if the merits of image mean so much to them, direct the energy elsewhere; namely, into setting their idea of a “good” example  of what a follower of their path should be. You garner a lot more respect that way as opposed to instead making yourself look like a judgmental moron in the face of everyone else. I can’t speak for anyone but myself-and maybe this is a bit ironic for a Luciferian, but Holy Stars, I sure hate people harpin’ on me and being preachy. Waving over bearing “truths” in my face. . . . no thanks. I did my time.

I often find myself wondering what makes people feel so entitled that they can just randomly go through the internet, read people’s posts, and decide right there on the spot if there’s merit in that person’s faith and devotion, or not. Granted this is something that humanity as a body does all the time, however as individuals we have the means to rise above our desire to make conflict with one another and see the bigger picture. Religion, and spirituality, of course, are a means to just that; and so there are always going to be people who say, ‘well I’m better than so and so over here because of this’, or ‘this person doesn’t actually follow a serious path because Y’-and honestly, I can’t fathom anyone who has a serious practice having the time to do it anyway. I remember when I was first mingling with other Luciferians I use to sit back  and think to myself, ‘oh they see him this way, it’s not the same’ or ‘oh they claim he said this, that doesn’t sound like him’-however earlier this year I cam to a profound realization in the course of my own pathwork that changed my perspective on that entirely. Light bulb over the head, kind of thing. Since then the notion of who sees who how and when doesn’t mean much to me in the context of taking someone seriously in their faith. I’ve found that a person’s behavior is more important to serve as a focal point in interacting with them as a spiritworker than anything else. If someone sees Lucifer as Mark Pellegrino or a white haired bishie ball-jointed doll, if they still seem respectful and devout in their practice, I’m going to be inclined to hear what they have to say in regards to their information and their opinions. By contrast, if someone sees Lucifer the same way that I do, but they go out and hurt animals or people, of course, I’m going to disavow that they have anything to do with my path. You see the difference between the two there? One isn’t hurting anyone at all, and even if the depiction stems from the media, if it enriches someone’s life and makes them happy and nourishes the substance of their soul, there’s absolutely no precedent for me to come in and stomp all over that. The latter, you noticed, is actually hurting someone. And that’s the key difference. If no one is (intentionally or by illegal precedent) hurting someone . . ? Then if there is no organizational tenants (such as an established church) for that god or that path to speak of/you’re not a regular attendee of the same, then you don’t have the right to throw them under the bus just because you don’t like the approach they take.

This is not to say that you can’t raise an eyebrow here or there. But if I can have a good conversation with another Luciferian who uses Pellegrino as a representation/depiction of Lucifer, it can’t be too hard for everyone else. Said person I’ve spoken with has a beautiful altar that they’ve put a whole lot of time and energy into, not to mention their devotional prose or the E-shrine they work really hard on for the same. While at the same time someone can say they’re a devotee of, let’s say Gaia, and then they turn around and go mow over a section of rainforest. . .well. Who am I going to take more seriously there? I don’t care if the ‘Gaia’ devotee has the Earth Mother pregnancy statue on their altar or whatever instead of a picture of the Fantasia sprite. The point is, one person is acting with a respectful approach to their spirit work. The other is clearly either pulling someone’s leg or not even trying. Who knows.

I am a pop culture pagan. I’m not only a Luciferian, but I also follow another path that doesn’t intervene in my love and devotion for Lucifer in the least. I keep spaces to both. Does one mean I’m less serious about the other? Of course not. Some days I might hot foot it from one blog to another, but everyone gets their days, everyone has their offerings served and poured, no one gets excluded. I’m not any less of a Luciferian because he shows up in my dreams either looking like an English gentleman of name or the multi-winged white haired androgynous being I saw him as for years beforehand. It doesn’t affect anything when I pour his wine, say his prayers. And I highly doubt for a Lokean who found their way to him through Marvel it does either. As a matter of fact, if the face serves to inspire the prose and dedications and art and songs. . . I don’t understand why people aren’t celebrating that. That’s something beautiful and amazing.

AND. While we’re on that subject. Let me just say this. When I first came into paganism, there sure was a lot of boo-hooing over ‘dem mean ol’ pushy Christians’. Let me ask you something. When  you shove this drek in people’s face and completely invalidate their experiences, their path, their journey. . . just what in the holy 9 hells and Caina do you think you’re doing? Because it’s not inviting other pagans over for a game of Twister, I can tell you that right out the gate. For all of you that are doing this: the purity pagans, the piety posse, whatever they’re callin’ ya’ll these days. Look. I try to be live and let live. But the more I see these ideas going around-‘Oh they’re only here because of  Marvel Loki’-the more I just want to stick the pointed end of a three prong pitchfork straight up where the sun don’t shine and use it to roast you over a classic brimstone fire. It’s petty, it’s insulting, and most of all, it makes you look like a hypocritical moron. Because don’t tell me that somewhere down the line  you didn’t stumble onto something that sparked your interest and creativity and led you down the path you walk. Don’t tell me ‘Freya’ just “magically” popped in your head one day, because I very seriously doubt it. Especially if you’re white middle-class American. I don’t care if you first were enchanted with the gods with their myths when you first picked up a book and imagined their epic battles, their loves, their lives, their losses-or if it was the TV, or the radio, or a film. They came to you in a way they knew you would respond to. So by nitpicking at everyone else? You make yourself out to be a complete idiot. And you’re only lying to yourself, and anyone and everyone with half a brain in their head can see right through you.

So do yourselves AND your image-both as individuals and your larger communities-a favor. Take a look in the mirror. And ask yourselves if the people you’re leveling those ‘rants’ at are really worth your animosity and your derision. More than likely not. And then once you’ve taken that good look, put that energy into something useful; like your daily rituals, or a little extra ‘oomph’ in your prayers. Piss or get off the pot. Be what you want to see in others, or otherwise you’re just talking out of your ass, and you’re making a total fool of yourself.

Carry on, darlings.



You might think you can come to this place,

And bring your faith with you.

No no no.

Leave it at the boundary.

Beyond the sea,

before the ice and the show

and the lack of arctic cold.

Put your back to the wall,

and the light,

and all those things that are above,

except for the solitary star,

that chases it all away,

and gives us spun sugar dreams,

like when we were children.

So the internet was having a day the other day.

For those of you who are not pop culture savy, August 1-7th marks the pop culture celebration of ‘Croatoan’ week. This has it’s basis from the television show ‘Supernatural’-where humanity’s end has been engineered by Lucifer and a demonic virus that makes people, essentially, zombies (think the rage virus from 28 Weeks Later); and according to the TV show, it kicked of August 1st, 2014.

So the entire day say folks marking themselves with the word ‘croatoan’ on their arms, or elsewhere on their persons, in chalk on walls, that sort of thing.I mean, the sheer number of people that got in on this even was, to say in no short way, utterly staggering. This was EVERYWHERE, including getting attention from Misha Collins, the actor who plays the angel Castiel.

I watched the whole thing with a bit of interest and amusement; given that at the end of the episode, Dean Winchester meets up with Lucifer ala using his brother as his ‘vessel’. Mind you I make it a point to keep tabs on these sorts of things, obviously. And the moment in the show, featuring Lucifer dressed in white, flashes of lightning (good job producers, I wonder how many people actually caught that reference) and roses, in the garden of a sanitarium. . . the whole thing was rife with imagery. It was all very interesting the way that it was put together.



It was a whole day that essentially celebrating Lucifer’s engineering of the fall of man. A whole week, even, and it’s still not over. And I’m sitting back, watching the whole thing, and I’m thinking to myself. ‘This is clever. This is really clever.’ -and boy did the Lucifer tag get busy.

August 1st. Bit of a weird day to pick. Bit of a weird week to pick. Also a bit funny, considering on the pop culture side of things, another entity I work with has two special days in August; the biggest being on the 15th, and then again on the 19th.


So I’m pretty sure that solidifies things. August is the month were I’m going to have to set up some rituals. For Lu, for the week  of August 1st-7th, and then for my pop culture entities on the 15th and 19th. Of course it’s a bit late for me now, on the Lu side of things, but I’ve been thinking it over for a few days. And Lu is his usual self; smiling quietly in the background with that expression that says, quite clearly, ‘well I’m not going to force you to or decree you do anything.’ . . . but of course, I said to him, “Oh Lu. I c wat u did thar. . . ”

He has a very roundabout way of confirming he likes when people give him attention. T.T

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About this Blog

Online Shrine and Devotional Space dedicated to Lucifer-Helel, The Mourning Star, The Lightning Bringer,and the Aeon of Air.

Blogger is Danyel, Pop Culture Pagan, Godspouse, Spiritworker, and Witch.

Member of The Internet Defense League

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