祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
taylor price
hello vonnie
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Sade Olutola
Kiana Khansmith
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Not today Justin
titsay
d e v o n
todays bird
almost home
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
★
pixel skylines
Xuebing Du
Three Goblin Art
NASA
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@flamingkorybante
There is an aspect of frivolity to esotericism. Every esoteric text implies that someone had the time, energy, and knowledge to write that esoteric text. This is why esotericism tends to flourish when you have a large class of out-of-work intellectuals.
Love magic doll, 4th-Century clay figure with 13 bronze needles, discovered with a lead tablet engraved with a binding spell [3337x5001]
This appeared right next to a @houseofgord post on my dashboard and I swear to fucking god
plus ça fucking change
“You don’t know whether people relate to the breakfast program, because you’ve never fed anybody. You don’t know anything about the free health clinic because you never asked anybody. You don’t know anything about the good that a gun does you, because you never tried one. And we say that if you was born and if you said you didn’t like pears and you never tasted pears, you’d have to be a liar. You don’t know whether you like pears, but you can’t claim that you don’t like pears. The only way that anybody can tell you the taste of a pear is if he himself has tasted it. That’s the only way. That’s the objective reality. That’s what the Black Panther Party deals with. We’re not metaphysicians, we’re not idealists, we’re dialectical materialists. And we deal with what reality is, whether we like it or not.”
— Fred Hampton speaking about how you must practice your theory, or else it’s irrelevant, 1969.
how life feels when there's a sicko on the same disgusting freak wavelength as you
I have been doing some really intensive eating disorder recovery work over the last few months and I have come to the conclusion that it’s ridiculous to attribute political and mystical power to the radical transformation of the body in flagrant violation of hegemonic standards for trans reasons while continuing to be afraid of becoming fat. The anti-trans propaganda and the GLP advertisements and the narrowing and narrowing and narrowing of the cage of standards of respectability are part of the same project, and I have spent enough of my one wild and precious life dumping energy into trying to stay out of the target area of that project. It feels scary to hit post on this picture because you can see that I have a tummy but more importantly you can also see that I have a hammer and if anyone tries to tell me not to have a tummy that is grounds for being hit with a hammer. May we be so blessed as to have bodies that become and to learn from that becoming the secrets of being impossible to control.
im just so happy i live in a time period where actual meaningful biological transition is possible. even if we lose rights or the ability to exist in public, nothing can turn back the clock on that, and just by having any sort of access to that our lives are made immensely better. millions of our sisters throughout history would never have dreamed of a day where they could have what HRT does for us.
please don't lose the plot of this. if you're a trans person on HRT you're a living miracle, the dream of hundreds of millions of your ancestors. your lives are all deeply meaningful no matter what anyone says.
A prayer by Kalonymus b. Kalonymus ben Meir that appears in his poem ספר אבן בוחן, יג Sefer Even Boḥan (§13), describing the author's wish t
Cursed be the one who announced to my father: “It’s a boy!"... ...How could he twist the course of the stars so much? How could he have erred so in his astrology? A lying tongue, a fool’s mouth it had given him For he foolishly transformed justice to poison He altered the law and transposed the lines
Oh, but had the artisan who made me created me instead – a worthy woman... ...I would say "how lucky am I"
Father in heaven who did miracles for our ancestors with fire and water... ...Who would then transform me from a man to woman? Were I only to have merited this being so graced by goodness...
What shall I say? why cry or be bitter? If my father in heaven has decreed upon me and has maimed me with an immutable deformity then I do not wish to remove it. the sorrow of the impossible is a human pain that nothing will cure and for which no comfort can be found. So, I will bear and suffer until I die and wither in the ground. Since I have learned from our tradition that we bless both, the good and the bitter I will bless in a voice hushed and weak: blessed are you [HaShem] who has not made me a woman.
I think I'm gonna go lay down for a little while.
Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness
REVOLUTIONARY LETTER No. 29
by Diane Di Prima
beware of those who say we are the beautiful losers who stand in their long hair and wait to be punished who weep on beaches for our isolation we are not alone: we have brothers in all the hills we have sisters in the jungles and in the ozarks we even have brothers on the frozen tundra they sit by their fires, they sing, they gather arms they multiply: they will reclaim the earth nowhere we can go but they are waiting for us no exile where we will not hear welcome home 'goodmorning sister, let me work with you goodmorning brother, let me fight by your side"
Reading up on Saturn in preparation for making him a lil "thank you for dealing with these malign motherfuckers for me" and
...
...
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D......dad??????
has anyone figured out how to turn off the thing where you love your pet so much it slides inexorably into grief-borrowing
“For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”
We have had a mysterious and creepy occurrence
Background is that back in like 2010/2011 there was a man who did not treat me right (this was back when I was living in Brooklyn).
After all of the stuff that he did came out, he left New York and was gone for a couple of years and then in 2015 I heard a rumor that he was coming back and I did not want him coming around or talking shit so I did a binding spell borrowed with some tweaks from @theheadlesshashasheen
And I can't remember exactly how I disposed of the poppet, whether I buried it or gave it to water or left it at a crossroads or what, because it was 11 years ago, right, but I found out after I did the spell that he had tried to kill himself. (I found this out because his wife called me from Minnesota and said he had left her a note that said he had booked a hotel room and was going to dehydrate himself to death and she wantd my help trying to find him.) (I said I neither could nor would help with this.) (It appears he did not succeed because he is currently alive and making a podcast about star wars.) (And my experience of learning that this person, that I had spent so long believing that if he died I would stop hurting from what he did to me, was perhaps going to die, and that it did not make it stop hurting as I had been led to believe it would, and perhaps that meant I had absorbed some misinformation about how suffering and healing and punishment work -- that's what led me to learn about transformative justice and set me on the career path that I am on at this moment.)
But anyway yesterday I was setting up tables for an event on the downstairs patio outside my bedroom window and I look over at the outside windowsill of my bedroom window -- a hundred miles from where I was living when I did the spell and disposed of the poppet, eleven years later -- and I see what is unmistakably that poppet.
Here it is before being bound, December 2015.
Here's the picture I took yesterday morning.
What the fuck how did it get here. How and why did it get here from brooklyn and how and why did it get onto my windowsill.
Our jeebies our thoroughly heebied. I have reached out to a local comrade and practitioner to ask for a reading because this is stratospherically above my pay grade. In the meantime I have surrounded it with a circle of salt and put a jar over it like a fucking wasp because I do not want that thing going anywhere else. What the fuck.
@satyrmagos do you perhaps have suggestions on good offerings to Saturn, or placating rituals? wondering if there is some kind of unintentional debt there, and I know you have expertise in planetary workings. no pressure!
(curious about others' thoughts as well)
That is fucking HOG WILD, my dude.
I'd have the heebie-jeebies, too!
Honestly, my first move would be to consult a skilled diviner, because ... damn.
I'm going to put a little more thought into this, but off the top of my head:
a funeral (or at least, highly formalized disposal) for the poppet is probably a good place to start
my go-to Saturnian offerings are cannabis and benzoin
common Saturn propitiations include charity donations and cash for panhandlers/homeless folx
i would get Hekate involved, if she wasn't already
I don't know about debt, intentional or otherwise, but I would also consider the possibilities that:
the appearance of the poppet is "just" high strangeness
the appearance of the poppet is a sign that the dude in question is No Longer Anyone's Problem and the poppet has done its work
the appearance of the poppet is a sign that the dude in question is planning a comeback tour but the poppet has run out of juice
I have asked a skilled diviner for a consultation and in the meantime am giving cash to every person I see asking for it. Thank you so much for your insight 💕💕💕💕💕
Thank you to @satyrmagos and @thegodwhocums for the advice, I have gotten some insights that suggest I can interpret this to mean the magick has run its course and is no longer needed, and that I should be making some offerings to Saturn for all the help he has given me.
I will do a more extensive write up when I'm at my computer but for now: the question of "how the fuck did this happen like, physically?" is not answered and will probably never be, but the magick has been wrapped and I am not under any kind of threat.
💕
To be honest with you I'm not deeply invested in the concept of sin but
okay huge shoutout to our not jewish belovèd who was messaging someone jewish and wrote "RIP me" but then changed it to "may my memory be a blessing" - this is genius and we think it needs to catch on
can you believe it? sping has spung
I just love this poem so much
Walta Borawski, 1987
Saint Sebastian. 24 x 18 inches. Oil on Panel
