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Given this being brought up in the tags and then by someone in another conversation this afternoon; I’ve decided to discuss this a little bit, and hopefully share my take on the situation, if it helps anybody. And of course, I always encourage geniune, relevant discussion on these sorts of things when they come up.

I’ve thought about this a lot, of course-think about this a lot, because I’m one of those sorts of people that likes to throw myself into an existential hair-pulling fit practically every other day, for only TMS himself knows why. I’ve gotten this question before, but needless to say, my response to it didn’t get taken very well. I’ll see if I can spare the sarcasm and self-depreciating humor this time in order for it all to make more sense. And, of course, this only applies to me … not to any other Luciferian. That should go without saying, but there you have it.

The simplest way for me to state what I feel happens is, ‘whatever your god wants’. Or, if a person doesn’t believe in a god, whatever you feel is accurate to what will happen. I think that every single person on the planet has the ability and capacity to choose their own afterlife in a way befitting their belief system; that they may choose their own state of being after death. Whether that choice is to give up their choice (EG Free Will) or no. I don’t believe that there is any faith on the face of this planet that has all of their canon 100% accurate; nor do I think there’s one that has it 100% wrong either. That’s not for me to say, obviously; my experience of the Divine is going to be different from the person’s sitting next to me.

When I was a kid and going to Sunday school, I heard the priests mention that saying from the bible a lot; ‘God created man in his own image’. Of course, when I was younger, I took this pretty literally (and figured god must have looked like an old grandpa, like in the pictures in my bible). I rather suspect a lot of other people do, too, and that’s a large part of some of the excuses for bigotry and intolerance in more radical fundamentalist sects of different faiths, but that’s a whole different idea to explore on another day.

But later, as I got older, and even before I took my formal oath(s) to Lucifer, I began to see that saying from a different lens; the lens of a painter, an artist. That whatever Divine had given breath to humanity (when I do indeed believe in a Divine. Some days, I don’t, and I’m constantly at war with myself over this, but again-different topic, different day) made us with the capacity to be creators in our own right.

And I don’t mean biologically, of course. but rather that the combined powers of our imagination, hopes, and dreams, turned into inspiration, can come up with all kinds of wonderful (and sometimes terrifying!) things. And even, if you want to take that a step further, that the energy that we put into some of those things and thoughtforms are even capable of assuming their own lives and energy, given enough time and power put into them.

I often refer to two works to reference this idea; the first being the Robin Williams film What Dreams May Come. This film illustrated wonderfully, to me, the means by which human beings have the ability to fashion our own afterlives; that our most precious dreams become our Heaven, and that our most dark and deepest fears and nightmares become our own personal Hell … and that eternity is plenty large enough for each person to have their own. The second work(s) I reference is Piers Anthony’s On a Pale Horse, of the Incarnation of Immortality series. In one scene in this book, a novice death goes to collect the soul of an Atheist; only for the Atheist to tell him in his final few seconds, for which the ‘clock’ is stopped, that he does not believe in a heaven or hell. That he believes that “death” is just a hallucination of his dying mind. True to his idea, when Death starts the clock again, the Atheist’s soul simply rises up before dispersing like smoke into non-existence, never to be seen again. That always stuck with me, long before I was honestly serious about my spirituality.

So, to me, what happens to a Theistic Luciferian in their afterlife has a lot to do with the sort of afterlife they expect to have. For me, if I’ve done good by the oaths I’ve made to him, I’ll have a permanent place at his side… as his wife. Because that’s what he approached me for, though of course, that has responsibilities all it’s own. However should I fail him in these duties and in my responsibility, to me, it would mean another incarnation as a human being on earth. Which is not something I want or would even look forward to.  I’m tired enough as it is.

But of course, that is only *me* and what’s written for *me*-and it certainly doesn’t apply to the next Luciferian. Their success in whatever afterlife endeavor they aim for might mean a paradise in perpetual spring break in Malibu on the beach; their hell might be an eternity of blackjack with Nicholas Cage. Who knows! But I think that in some spiritual and religious systems, you *do* sign up for a specific afterlife, when you take whatever oath or pledge you do (EG baptism at an age of *informed* consent, ect) to become a part of that system. I don’t believe a Luciferian HAS this stipulation. We make our own way, our own oaths, we shape our own destiny. That’s the inherent beauty, and also the inherent danger in walking this path. Sometimes it’s hard to draw a line and say ‘this is what success means, this is what failure means, this is what my afterlife in the case of both is going to be like’. Because it’s so personal, so Gnosis based. Failure in and of itself might simply be never figuring it out.

But that’s a risk we take. And in that, we are free.

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As an addendum, I really need to finish going back and re-tagging everything.

That’s gonna take FOREVAR. DX

Lately there have been a lot of graphics of roses going up on my path blog(s).

There’s a reason for this.

In the past I’ve attributed more lavender (and vanilla) gentle scents-as well as the obvious apple and pumpkin and pomegranate-to Lucifer. As far as florals go, anyway.

But not long ago I was looking up graphics of roses for a totally unrelated reason and stumbled on a picture of frozen rose hips, which looked like a star.

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Frozen Star by emillemily on Deviantart

Lucifer’s actual element has always been winter to me; winter, frost, snow. Some fall-ish stuff in there, too, but mostly winter. This probably has a lot to do with how he’s portrayed in Dante’s Inferno. 

But then I got to talking with another friend of mine, and the story arose between the two of us; that God, loving Lucifer as he did, created the rose to give to his beloved angel. But Lucifer, being of cold and not fire like the other angels, went to touch it, and it froze as he did. Lucifer was so disheartened that God placed a star inside the flower to remind Lucifer that no matter warmth or cold, even in a killing frost, that he was still beautiful to him, and always would be.

I loved this idea so much that I decided I plan to incorporate it into my practice; divinely inspired? Who knows, but maybe he’ll love it, too.

say you’re an angel cast down from heaven.

(not a fallen angel, who chose to abandon their post and ally themselves with lucifer, or a corrupted human soul, which is a different animal altogether, but an angel who was called before the tribunal and found guilty. Dishonorable discharge. And maybe you wished you’d jumped, instead of being pushed, but the sentence is handed down anyway—)

…and then you’re just human. Sort of. Because the thing is, they can’t turn an angel into a human—you aren’t water, humanity isn’t wine. The best they can do is strip you of your wings and spirit and teeth and surety, and reassemble you smaller, blind, with poison in your joints. They best they can do is make you into a uncertain fleshy thing, hollow on the inside where a soul should go. Neither human nor angel and they were being merciful, you see. Better a thing than unmade.

but your body is new, fresh out of the box, and it doesn’t know how to be in the world any more than you do. You find yourself vomiting up food because your stomach doesn’t understand what digestion is; you wear sweaters in mid-July because your blood stubbornly refuses to go above room temperature. You have shadows like bruises beneath your eyes.

you smell wrong. When you pass, animals cower as before a storm.

(some nights, you dream—you were allowed to keep your memories, in stunning technicolor detail, but some of the parts that don’t fit in the human brain have gone blurry around the edges, metaphorical and soft-focus. You can’t remember the certain bits of string theory you need to get home, for example, or what ultraviolet looked like. When someone says, wings, you think of feathers and updrafts and that’s not right, it’s not right, but you can’t remember why)

you spent that first day in a church, trying to plead with your father to reverse the ruling. You have never known such profound silence as greeted you there, and it shakes you to your (new, runny) marrow. it will be a year before you dare to shout into the abyss again.

(no wonder humanity spent so much time looking up, looking out, looking at each other. How lonely, to be shut up all alone in your skull)

but you live in the world because there is no other choice. (that is very human too, you learn.)

~Not because of Victories on Tumblr

I put this here because this is the most accurate alliteration of what it feels like to be an Angelic that I have possibly ever encountered (and it made me cry).

I JUST FOUND THIS ON MY OLD ARCHIVED LIVEJOURNAL AND WHAT THE EVER LOVING–

I AM SO FREAKED OUT RIGHT NOW. SEND HELP.

This is a repost of a dream i had in May of 2005:

  The dream started with me in a very sheik looking, business building. Very tall, very glamorous. I don’t know what I was there for or how I got there. Something buzzed in the back of my head about the apocalypse, and blah blah blah “prophecies” that seem to be rampant that were coming true… I was deeply sad, in the dream, that kind of weary sad that doesn’t involve any tears, when you’ve cried so much you can’t cry anymore. There was someone with me,  a very handsome young man dressed very Alfaniesqe white suit, with light sandy blonde hair that was cut very stylishly long and was cropped just around his ears. I’ve never seen this person in my life, but he seemed very familiar to me.
I stood there staring at him for a long moment, before he took my hands, which I then noticed were chained together. We were walking past people, out of the very modern building, and when we went outstide, he stopped and sat down for a long minute, and, even though he didn’t say anything, he leaned over with his head in his hands. When he looked up at me again, there was conflict written all over his face.
” Why are you doing this?” I asked him gently. My voice was my own, but I suddenly didn’t feel like myself at all. It was like I was another person.
” You know I have to. I’m sorry.” he said to me.
I stared at him for a long stretch of time, and the dream suddenly became so real I wasn’t sure if I was awake and actually experiencing this, or if I was still asleep. There were small, decorative trees planted along side the walk where we were sitting- you know, the generic kind of trees that the grocery store plants in the parking lot in order to make things neater. The dream was so strong at that point, I could feel a chilly breeze on my skin, see the leaves rustle gently as the wind blew softly through them. It wasn’t a sunny day, tho- it was very damp and overcast. I remember I suddenly felt very cold, and I starting shivering.
I blinked, and it was long, like time stretched and made everything move in slow motion.
The young man ran a hand through his hair, and smiled with a sad kind of look. And suddenly a frightening, icy truth made itself known to me. The young man who held the chains that bound my hands together…was Lucifer …

Does this sound familiar, guys?

No?

HERE LET ME HELP YOU

image

Last night I had a dream (one of many-but most of the rest of them didn’t make sense) that stuck with me.

In the dream, I couldn’t actually see anything. But I did hear two people/beings/whatever talking about me. Cut for angelic things, as more people have been requesting I talk about that sort of thing anyway.

Read the rest of this entry »

Debating on the merits of a separate blog for posts specifically about experiences [as an angelic], to keep them distinct from my pathwork blog,

Thoughts? Leave ’em if you got ’em!

So here is obviously a subject that I’ve been dancing around for a long, long time.

Any  time you start talking who’s the ‘good guy’ vs. whose the ‘bad guy’ in any kind of spiritual capacity, you risk offending someone. Which is actually fine for me, because I offend people all the time; but the general gist of what I’m getting at, before I get into the actual subject of this post is, I have my own cosmology under which I operate; and as per the standard disclaimer, I don’t expect it to really hold any water with anyone other than myself. Bonus points if it works for someone else, too; great. Whatever feels true to you? Run with it. But this is my take on the being bearing the name, and his relationship to Lucifer in whatever limited fashion I may or may not understand it.

But first a little personal background on the situation. If you’re ready for some steep reading, lets carry on, shall we?

Read the rest of this entry »

Expecting the devil not to be a jerk when he’s teaching you how to play viola is like expecting common decency out of Bill O’Reilly.

“Your fingering is atrocius.”

“That was terrible. I almost soiled myself. It was that awful”

“Have you considered surgery to insert a rod into your spine? It might help your posture.”

“I wouldn’t even call that a ‘G’. I don’t know what that was, but it sure wasn’t on any alphabet I know.”

. . . . .

T.T

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.

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