I Burned Them All: An Experiment in Frustration

So, I had a bad day. My lover and I went to the local casino with an associate of mine the other day. It was very spur-of-the-moment, and so I went, thinking this might be an opportunity in shouldn’t pass up. The idea I get is that the magick can happen in any fashion, probably something coincidental, and usually totally unexpected or unforeseen. With that in mind, though the person is now a mere associate and not a close, personal friend, I chased the rabbit in hopes to snap up my heart’s desire.

The mission was fruitless (and I am now completely of the mind that I should steer clear of betting houses all together), and we all left with less what we had arrived with. I’d wandered around with starry eyes, clutching my red flannel mojo bag in hand, looking for any sign that stuck out to me. I didn’t want to admit this then, but I didn’t get a read off of those blasted machines at all. Not a single vibe or tingle. Not so much as a tickle. My inability to face the truth further blinded me, and thus I wandered more. I did eventually see symbols that gave some semblance of recognition, images of certain spirit animals I have seen in visions, and others of various symbols that inhabit my bedroom. I clung to these as one seeking solace in the desert from the blasting sun.

Alas, there were no gains to be gotten that day, and we made our empty-handed way back to my car. This whole event put me in a mood of sorts, which I tried to sleep off but met no respite in that act.

I had already made plans with a friend for the next day, and was subsequently scheduled to grocery shop for the upcoming Ostara/Easter day feasting. I forced myself from my boudoir cocoon and out into the clamoring world, hoping to shake off my brand of the blues. This was also apparently to be a day where I succumbed to my desperate feelings, which gave way to bad moods and sharp words. My shabby attempts to become personable collapsed on contact. I ended up spending most of that day alone with my two children – who at once had no choice but to be with me and wouldn’t have chosen otherwise. Evident unease and bristled responses to his questions about it drove my sweetheart to the solace of some of his more sociable chums. I attended my pal’s function sans sweetie, and sat, chatted, and looked around for thirty minutes before I scrambled to leave. I couldn’t sit still very long with my energy simmering like a crock-pot.

Yada, yada, yada. At some point after playtime, dinner, and more playtime, I am finally completely alone, in my room. Disillusioned and disgusted, I paced about the space and considered my fate. You see, while waiting for my acquaintance to spend the last of her casino funds, my mate and I engaged in an enlightening conversation about “Lust for Results”. It had been my discovery and opinion that the reason why I left the modern-day saloon with no winnings was due to Lust for Results. This of course lead me to wonder how I could undertake anything I wanted to accomplish without a Lust for Results. My reasoning being that I actually want, desire, or need the thing I seek, so that would ever be present with me, especially in situations that could potentially lead to the thing’s fruition. I was reminded of a talk I heard Alan Watts give. In the YouTube streamed monologue Watts spoke of Buddhist adherents who were advised to eschew all forms of desire. But in their efforts to avoid desire, they desired even more. Desiring not desire – sounds a lot like trying not to think of a thought or trying not to get water wet, perhaps. All cyclical activities with no beginning or end, and pointless to boot, except for the fact one will inevitably arrive to the conclusion, as I did with the help of my guru-in-disguise, that the original condition cannot be avoided. Water is wet. An idea of a thought is a thought itself. And desire is a part of the human condition. My honey said that we must simply accept the fact that we do desire, and then decide not to let it rule us.

Instead of being inspired by the wise words, however, I felt despondent. I was depressed about the prospects of my situation. How would I ever successfully complete a magickal working for something I really needed or wanted since I could never be rid of the stalker-like Lust for Results that seems to accompany every desire? In a fit of vexation, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, I did something I would not have normally done. I stalked about the room, cigarette in mouth, puffing out my worries, when I spied my pile of sigils-in-waiting on my altar. The stack contained some sigils that were at least five months forgotten, and some that I’d scribed only weeks prior. I dropped the whole mass of square and rectangular yellow Post-It notes into my small brass cauldron and set them ablaze. Just for good measure, I threw in the remnants of a few sticks of incense leftover from previous workings. “Might as well get rid of those too,” I thought sullenly. The paper’s flames grew high. The white smoke from the burning incense smelled of myrrh, sandalwood, and dragon’s blood. I watched the whole spectacle absent-mindedly, lost in the beauty and ferocity of the fire while contemplating its creative and destructive properties.

The blaze died down, then out, and I awoke from my reverie. “Dear lord, I wonder what that’s going to do?,” I pondered aloud. Frater X had advised against firing off a bunch of unrelated sigils all at once – his response to a video submission of some questions I’d submitted to his YouTube channel months ago. While he did not explicitly state that no desirable results could be achieved, the presumption was that such scattered energies would render the outcomes unpredictable at the very least. I do remember some of the subjects of the sigils. But I would not, under any circumstances, have been able to match a statement of intent to a picture of any of the ones I burned that night.

I suppose it is pure coincidence that the next day I got into humongous fight with one of my housemates. She thinks anything magickal or occult in nature is entirely evil, and my lack of firm adherence to my Christian upbringing has damned my soul to hell (this, on the heels of me hiding a homemade witch bottle intended to protect my children, spouse, and self from all harm and ill-intent on the property). The blow-up was actually about something completely unrelated – a minor snafu, really – that occurred due to poor communication on both ends. In the end, though, some shocking truths were unearthed, and now we are all in agreement that she should no longer reside under the same roof with us. I know one of the sigils was about being protected on all planes of existence from harm, destruction, and evil, or something along those lines.

Another synchronicity I am experiencing: New information about formerly seemingly unknowable topics has come bounding into the light. I have gotten new insights and discovered previously overlooked data sources for an überstrange dream I have been trying to decode for nearly a month (of which I will blog about in an up-coming post). And just the other day I remarked that I wish I could find a guru to take me under her or his wing and teach me all that I could learn about meditation and magick. Well, I didn’t find the guru. But I had a funny thing happen during a recent meditation session that inevitably lead me back to the oracle, Google, which in turn lead me to the website of Dr. Tan Kheng Khoo. Folks, if this man is not a guru, then I obviously don’t know what that word means at all. The website contains a wealth of information on meditation, and even more articles on other topics in which I also have interest. It is perhaps purely coincidental that one of the sigils was about meditating more and progressing in that, not only for the personal benefits of peace and well-being, but also for the oomph the mental fortitude gained from the sustained practice will add to my magickal workings.

In conclusion: I am eagerly watching for other oddly coincidental synchronicities, while not hoping for outcomes of any particular fashion. Desire will be apart of all my wishes, always. Otherwise, desire it would not be. There’s no use in trying to get rid of it. However, that doesn’t mean I have to let my idea of how and when I want a thing to come to pass have ownership over my outlook on life. I can choose, instead, if I so will, to focus on being present in the moment and allowing life and all its wonders to unfold before me. This, in my experience, is usually the more pleasant and peaceable route, as opposed to trying to force life to exist within my narrow-minded, limited human perspective. If I could go backwards in time, then perhaps I would choose to fire those sigils off in the way I originally planned, one at a time and according to some linking correspondences. But the scientist-seeker-explorer in me says “Experimentation is the spice of life.”

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