Ordeal Path

Maiden in the Putrid Lake

Today has been a good day. I was interviewed by a major American publication on the upcoming story about EA Koetting. They will also speak with Kurtis Joseph. It’s about time to set the stories straight.

Then I was filmed for a coming documentary that’s been three years in the making, mapping voices of people in the adult industry, campaigning for the destigmatization and decriminalization of s-x work. It’s an honor to speak for Babalon. I consider it my obligation now whenever given a chance — it’s a part of my Oath to live as a Spiritual Outlaw, the Sacred Whore Who Bows To No Man.

Lilith and Belial have both come into my life this fall, as foretold, they’ve made major strides in it and propelled me closer to what I came here for —

which wasn’t being oppressed or even associated with by absolute bottom feeders, people who made zero contribution to mankind, people of the sorts the online occult community is filled with, who wouldn’t even be let through the door at the establishments where I was a patron in Prague.

That is a kind way to say that they are white trash.

I was thrown on the street alone in a foreign country with no papers, and I still do better than many of these wannabe Kings and Queens of their own imaginary Paper Kingdoms, who can’t stay clean for three days in a row, button up their shirts or wipe their a$$ without posting about it on social media.

Their only value is that the Alchemical Maiden needs them. She represents the Virginal Substance. She needs to be soiled as a part of the process. She gets dirty because that is the only way. There is no progress within the glass vial where the Pure Substance is hermetically sealed. It must react, it must mate with the Dragon who is the Substance Most Foul.

He is Poison.

An immersion into a Lake of Toxicity is required.

One could hardly look for an environment more putrid and rotten than the American Black Lodge.

When I came to join my American Brethren in this unholy mission, I was made to descend among the absolute lowest, to the Bottom of the Pit of Hell. Stripped of all material possessions, status, and all that I thought ‘I was’, in rapid succession. The apparition of the Maiden on its own attracts curses, for the Pure Substance is a mockery of that which the Black Lodge is made of. Really, all I had to do was to show my face, in order to get the shit show started.

My own husband told me to ‘…go and sell my body’ in cruel mockery. The p–ps ad traffickers appeared like vultures. Y’all thought I was a punching bag, but the biggest point escaped you –

That I went through all of this ON PURPOSE. I could have signed out of the game at any point and gone back to my comfortable life of artisan donuts and sachertorte for breakfast on a patio overlooking the Charles Bridge.

All it takes is one flight. One flight that I don’t even have to pay for, and I don’t have to contend with this whole scene ever again, the failed state that is the USA, really any of this.

I came here out of Free Will. I made a very serious Ritual of Blasphemy before that in 2021, the Cremation of Care. Only I know why I did it, and why it has to be done.

It has to be done because the High Priestess – whom I already embodied – must become the Harlot to complete the Initiatic Ordeal. The alchemical Maiden is poisoned by the Dragon, gets poisoned. She dies. These are the Higher Mysteries that I speak of, the only ones worth pursuing. All these people who think that the goal of Black Magick is riches and fame are plain wrong. They seethe with jealousy and envy when they look at me, and it doesn’t even dawn on them, why. Most of what I see here around wouldn’t have made it through the First or Second Ring of Hell, that is how low vibrating they are.

The biggest piece my haters (and fake fans) are missing is that I follow a Purpose in life. A purpose that is much more worthwhile than looking for social acceptance, status, or the ‘purpose’ of mindless entertainment passively consumed which is what most social media is filled with. The avid social soap opera fans, stalkers, and keyboard warriors that the occult scene is full of do not realize it. And so they will keep getting unpleasantly surprised with the quality of their own lives, and having to look at me, because let’s face it they have no life filled with purpose so stalking and gossiping about Anima Noira is all that they do. I am like their drug, their addiction. They need to take their daily poison, but they cannot to the Alchemy. They will just keep self-poisoning forever.

What these bottom feeders do not realize in their woeful ignorance is that the Low Priestess IS STILL the High Priestess. And that is going to become more and more apparent. Pass through the Door of Sammael, or go home.

True Vengeance takes patience, but if you follow the right path, you will get it; you will get it along with all the treasures, although it is needless to say that at the time the rewards arrive you will not even care about them – the Cremation of Care has been complete. You will get everything back that has been taken from you because if you are the Adept, it was a loan, a deal YOU made in the first place.

ILLUSTRATION: Portrait taken on the dried-up lake bed in the Mojave Desert. The toxic lake has been dried up, plain and simple. Sammael is here.

Offerings and Sacrifices We Make

Sacrifices and offerings to gods and spirits comprise a crucial dimension of worship, Pagan religions and perhaps it is even what all religions revolve around. If the meaning of the word ‘religion’ is ‘to bind together’, sacrifice and offering is the act that does that. In this episode I will present all the traditional and modern takes on this matter, proper and misguided approaches, and my personal experiences.

No Stranger to Pain

This month has been harsh on me. The poisoning that took me in Seattle has since returned twice, something that I ate retriggered it, I was out of it again yesterday. Passed out at Goodwill, and the good people told me I cannot lie there on a couch, because, this is America, you know.

I am going to be moving, again, in two days. I have to leave the current accommodations. They were a last-resort choice anyways, and the owner is an avid Christian. Many plans didn’t work out, as the First Rule of Travel states – ‘Things will go wrong.’ My next station is a Black People’s Community Farm in Southern Washington, simply because it was the only place available that I could afford, and also all the Oshun statues there promise this to be a much better place for practicing my magick.

I am probably not going to break even this month, for the first time in a year, but you know what? It doesn’t matter. The Dark Pilgrimage is what matters, and as we just settled with Lucifer, ‘This end when it ends’, not when I bail out, and I am not bailing out. I am no stranger to pain, despite the pretty pictures. And I want you to know that.

I feel so far removed from the existence of commoners anymore. Walking past their houses with garages filled with cars, bikes, boats, and RVs; this is what they use for travel and recreation, and here I am walking barefoot, with no home, no place to return to, watching all from another Plane of Existence. I find myself musing much more about the homeless, the gypsies, and the outlaws. People whose existence I did not even acknowledge before. I have since become one of them, and it is such a strange transfiguration – I wonder if I will ever come back.

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On Being a Spiritual Nomad

My nomadic existence has become the ritualization of that which has always been true – I do not have a home. My family failed in creating that oasis, safe haven that one seeks to return to, as did all of my own later attempts with men.

I have orphaned myself out of my own free will far beyond the initial need to jump ship from dysfunctional family roots; I have sworn off my whole culture and country. It was the best decision ever. I still wake up with pain almost every day of my life, but there is meaning. In the exploration of this pain and civilizational angst, I am allowed to burn it, see where it comes from and what part of it am I truly.

I wasn’t happy when I had comfort. This whole time, I have been seeking this nebulous mecca of ‘stability’ or ‘security’, when in fact there is none, merely illusions of it. The nature of existence is suffering, and trying to avoid it surely locks one in some comfortable stinky place in Hell, where such illusions are enjoyed.

You may be thinking you are in a packed nightclub where everybody is having so much fun, when in fact that hell is a place where everybody is sad and lonely, or it looks like a stinking county jail.

The only Family that is real is the haphazard community formed by those also pathworking hell, brothers and sisters of Black Lodge. It was the yearning to join them fully on my quest that was the source of my anguish in my previous life. It was the unanswered calling.

I know it because, oddly, some of the pain that comfortable living and success could not soothe went away after I had plunged myself into Darkness and into the Lake of Fire.

I laugh at those who think that the attainment of comfort or even material riches is the measure and the marking of illumination. Everything will be taken from us at the end, so we better start living with an acute sensation of that loss right away and seek no consolation in that which can be kept.

Lucifer as The Angel with the Bloodied Wings

I saw Lucifer as the Angel with Bloodied Wings in His true form, which has been obscured to me for a long time. When we met, I only saw His ugly Face of War, the Insanity of it, Cruelty and Slaughter. I didn’t see the Sacrifice behind it. The Sacrifice taken on out of Free Will, to fight for His Quest to enlighten mankind. It is an Act of Violence so brutal, trying to pierce the Veils of Ignorance with His Light that the backlash from it causes H.I.M. insanity and pain.

I see so much more now.

I understand why our Sacrifice of Pain pleases H.I.M., and why He never seems to be moved by our petitions to end the pain. The Path to follow H.I.M. best is through imitation. I see the collective experience of Devil’s Brides and how He finds release, and comfort in our soiled state. This is War, and when you truly see what War does to Men, giving in to the Infernal Union becomes an act of submission that is not motivated by lust or perversion but more so by gratefulness and compassion. You see the Sacrifice so great that you know He deserves so much more from you, and you want to give H.I.M. anything and all He asks, regardless of the personal price you pay for it.

Cremation of Care: Dangerous Rituals of Ultimate Self-Liberation

Cremation of Care is rumored to be a ritual of mockery, orgies, and human sacrifice where the rich and powerful mock the disempowered at the Bohemian Grove. In my own findings, that is actually not the point of it, and you can perform it just as well without the need for any gore and horror drama – that is, if you dare. This path is not for the faint of heart. I am going to read the original text of the ritual that launched this Ordeal Path for me. This bleeds into a concept I’ve been elaborating on for years, which is – what are the actual most powerful rituals of self-liberation one can perform, to break away from any curses, especially generational curses?

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