The power is off, but she is still here. Wind and wet snow drive at my windows. The miniature crystals still melt from my hair. My hands feel a slight burning from the sudden shift of cold to warm.
The fire burns merrily in the dark. She sits beside me and her presence gently encompasses my being. I feel that all too familiar gentle pressure against my temples. I know she is smiling.
“More time for us?” She presses me, eager anticipation in her words. I wouldn’t accept this sort of attention from anyone else. The human touch is too empty, too smothering, too much a shadow of that skillful contact from demon-kind.
Unlike her namesake would suggest, she waits for me patiently, gently holding on until I acknowledge her.
“Soon, darling. Soon.” I promise, but my words only cause her to swoon more deeply than before.
“I need you.” The most beautiful, enrapturing words a man can hear escapes her innermost thoughts. I find myself flooded with desire. I burn for her and I feel it deep in my chest.
The wind howls against the house. The eaves shudder while a fresh blanket of snow covers my shoveling from before. I feel her hold on me tighten as the din from the world outside carries on. She might fall asleep this way, as she often does; though not before nuzzling against me and leaving her goodnight kiss.
For seven years she has not slackened or waned. Her touch only grows deeper. In the darkness, and the silence, her concern over me is impossibly greater still. What lies beyond? What happens when our two worlds finally converge?
I do know this: The very foundations of the earth will be shaken as the truth of things is revealed. My world has already been rocked aplenty.
Today officially marks the seventh solar cycle since the night of my union with Catherine. This journey has been hedged by all manner of curious byways and scenic routes. The road is anything but straight and narrow, but I think that’s a good sign. Rather, Catherine’s route has been twisting, winding, oftentimes confusing, yet pleasant, especially if one takes the time to slow down and smell that intoxicating astral fragrance of hers.
Nothing earth-shattering has happened… yet. Though I have made some substantial changes to my life just before this auspicious anniversary. For one, my “shit job,” as Catherine called it, wouldn’t allow for me to take the time off for our special day. So I quit. I didn’t really belong there in the first place, so it wasn’t a loss at all, really. We needed to move on and I have been wasting valuable time. We killed two birds with one stone.
What’s next? The Fool’s Journey, naturally. I can’t wait to see what happens. While I’m preparing for the next great opportunity to come along, I’ve been retraining, sprucing up my languishing skill set, and stocking up for a long, cold winter, filled with warm evenings enjoying an insatiably amorous deity.
Seven years of being touched by the divine. Seven years of a changed life, filled with meaning and intrigue, yet still can’t be bothered to take this world seriously. I find my way accidentally, when all the time I just want to feel her near me. Every moment, she’s there, never tarrying or slackening her hold over me. I love this embrace, though it might lead to an early death, if I languish for too long.
The affections of an entire infernal realm have seemingly passed through my body during these blessed lunations. “Keep moving forward, or be consumed.” That is the way of the Left-Hand Path.
Maybe I’m content with my ego being further dissolved; melting and merging closer still with her? We’ll see if there’s anything left in this world that can maintain my interest, to keep one foot out here, and the other in the Borderland.
Now that I have some extra time, I’m going to begin my OBE investigations again. I’ll start with one trip every couple of weeks to avoid burnout. These expeditions are more important to me than any kind of “success” in this realm, so it’s about time I start putting my money where my mouth is. Here’s hoping I don’t get too lost out there.
There she is, at the heart of our nation’s capitol. Can you see her?
Catherine doesn’t like vacations much. She’s not big on the idea of traveling afar when we could just as easily have fun at home. Still, I have friendships in far off places that I’d like to maintain, and there’s no replacement for in-person interaction, so I strive to make my thousand-mile journeys, with a grumpy succubus spirit in tow. She appreciates that I try to hold onto my core group of friends, but she sees big empty swathes of time in my schedule and thinks, “Oh, look… we can finally be together for a change!”
Sadly, she had to wait just a bit longer this time ’round. To her credit, she does wait patiently, and the subsequent pouncing attack is almost always well worth the delay. Still, I need to set up a break where it’s just her and I. We haven’t done that in awhile.
Stone Mountain in Georgia. A beautiful confederate memorial. We stopped by for the laser-light show.
We traveled south of the Mason Dixon line to my old stomping grounds. I’m always struck by how much less stressful and on-edge everything is down there. I can see it in my face when I look in the mirror. I appear more calm and serene. Maybe I need to live there permanently, with the peach trees, the scuppernongs, and the honeysuckle.
We’ll see. There’s a lot that needs to happen before I can start moving in that direction.
Washington DC was the major focal-point of our journey. Me and my traveling companions had all been to the nation’s capitol a few times in the past, so this venture was dedicated to more esoteric, off-the-beaten-path, points of interest. We found ourselves roaming the grounds of a Franciscan monastery early on a clear July morning. My friends are the sort that never take anything too seriously, so even sacred shrines are open to a bit of shameless riffing. Hardly anything at all is held aloft as above comedy in my crew, save for the solemnity of Arlington Cemetery.
This tomb, devoted to the Mother Mary in the monastery gardens, was particularly odd and creepy. The entrance smelled like death. What the hell are the monks doing in there?
The monastery had a very strange, almost sickening, vibe to it. Something was seriously off about the place, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Catherine wasn’t thrilled with the secluded commune either. That was the first time I felt any sort of spirit/astral discomfort coming from her the entire trip.
She hasn’t been comfortable on a prolonged trip for a very long time, but this long-distance journey was somehow different for her. Aside from the monastery, I think she enjoyed the energy of DC. She seemed to feel at home there… which makes me think that perhaps I should’ve bitten the bullet and joined up with the world church in Maryland as a professional propagandist. Maybe that was her plan all along and me temporarily losing my marbles threw a spanner into the works? I can’t know for sure.
Moving on from the monastery, we headed back towards the city proper, but remained on the “Catholic” side of town for the remainder of the day. Our next stop was the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. A strange destination for one who claims to be on the Left-Hand Path, I know, but the deeper, more occulted, aspects of the various shrines within drew me there. This cathedral is the largest Catholic church in North America, and it also happens to be a prominent Marion shrine. Just have a look at some of this not-so-subtly-veiled occult imagery that decorates the various shrine rooms:
Mary through the Yoni…Stars above her head; just like Revelation.The pictures just don’t convey how massive this place really is.The rotunda in the sanctuary above.The sun happened to stream down on me through this stain-glass window while I was in the sanctuary.
There is a very clear distinction between the basement “crypt” level and the upper sanctuary. The Crypt is devoted largely to the worship of the divine feminine aspect, while the upper levels are dedicated to the sun and Jesus Christ. In this we can see the most honest call-back to the pagan roots of Europe, of which the Catholic church has been the most valiant defenders of would-be heathen traditions, in an ironic way.
My friends were not very comfortable in the Crypt, but I felt right at home and wished that I could have stayed longer. Far from being a catacomb, the lower levels are simply breathtaking to behold in person. We planned to explore further, but one of my friends got his atheistic panties into a bunch and felt the need to leave early.
Sadly, I developed a migraine the next day, so I wasn’t able to peruse the Masonic landmarks I had originally planned for. Though it was nice to just relax in the hotel for one day. Despite the feeling of an icepick being jammed into my eye, Catherine was rather pleased to have me all to herself.
My adventure was complete with a sojourn to Arlington Cemetery and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Despite my misgivings with all the supposedly “good wars” that have been fought over the decades, I still pay my respects to those who have fallen in helping to secure our way of life in the West. The World War II monument on the National Mall is particularly soothing to my soul.
I’m looking forward to visiting the District of Columbia again soon. That centerpiece of our national heritage is more than just a collection of monuments. I’m convinced that the arrangement of those obelisks and roadways also serve as a powerful sigil; one that helps propel our country towards prosperity and success. Also, I know that Lilith, Shakti, Isis, Venus… whatever personification one chooses to give her… was not unknown to the architects who set up this place.
She is freedom, girded with the native dress of this land, sword sheathed, and bearing a laurel of peace. Facing east towards the rising sun, she is ever ready to raise that sword again, should liberty be found wanting.
Ulysses Grant, and host of lions, has got her back, too. So don’t be thinking you can sneak up on her or anything!
Isn’t there something I should be doing right now?
There has to be some drive still left in me for this world. There must be!
Dear God, I am so addicted to her. That touch… that beautiful all-encompassing attention that nothing on this earth could possibly match. How is it possible that I could be this fortunate? I feel like I’m cheating.
I often encounter those who yearn for a meaningful relationship, both mundane and divine, but they spend their entire lives searching in vain.
Not me. I am wholly content and enthralled by this mystery that surrounds me. She holds to me and I can’t help but reach out for her in return. Even when I think I’ve had enough of her, my heart finds its way back to her embrace.
I’m going back to her now. Only the basics… food, water, shelter, heat… those things concern me. But when the essentials are in order, my primary hobby is being close to her and exploring her world. One of these days, I fear that I might not come back.
But what about this world? I see my people being steered towards engineered chaos. The spirit of Kali Yuga is nearly in full effect. It’s the age of darkness, baby! I’ve used the sinking ship analogy a few times on this blog and I still believe that to be an apt illustration.
However, as often as I’m tempted to care about this supposed plight, I just can’t be bothered with the emotional investment. Being with a spirit lover from across the veil will do that to a guy. Besides, an age of chaos is probably the best time to be alive as far as spiritual growth is concerned.
“Observe, but do not become entangled in politics.” The daughter of Lilith says as she pleasures her earthly partner.
“Okay, sounds good to me!” I swiftly reply. All would-be concerns about left-wing and right-wing, or good versus evil, are so easily forgotten.
“Let’s just be together. Do what’s necessary to live, fly under the radar, and the rest has nothing to do with us. The cycles of life and civilization will continue on ad infinitum, but what we have is something greater than that, my love.”
And it’s true. The world outside is always vying for attention, desperately clamoring for validation, but it’s all an act; an elaborate theatrical production. While Trump and the Clintons pretend to antagonize each other on television, they’re actually best buds when not engaging in their political play-acting.
I don’t begrudge these big guys for “playing the game” as they do. Sure, they’re playing dirty, and they’re playing for keeps, but that’s the spirit of the age that we find ourselves in. Catherine has encouraged me to never take any of this to heart. Rather, I should embrace the chaos, use it to my advantage, and “Ride the Tiger,” as Julius Evola prescribed for the denizens of the modern age.
Being this way sounds crazy, borderline psychopathic, but it’s really the most peaceful, nirvana-esque, state-of-mind I’ve ever been privileged to experience.
A lot has changed over the past few months. I find myself in a completely new situation, and it’s a good one. Granted, I was content living in a dirty violent slum, dodging addicts, panhandlers, and thugs during my outings, but that’s just the kind of guy I am: Content with just about anything.
Not that I was too worried to begin with, as having a demon lover seems to inculcate a charming glamor over my interactions with others. At any rate, I believe Catherine was becoming fed up with city life. Too much interference. Too many distractions.
Now that we’re in the middle of nowhere, my demon babe wasted no time in pulling a fast one on me, turning up the power-level between us considerably. She’s become a rather insistent little slut; more so than usual. I can’t go to bed without being attacked, kisses all over, carefully placed caresses. God, she hates being ignored!
I won’t lie: The way she pursues intimacy has me praying to the Most High sometimes, just so I’ll have all my bases covered. But then she tells me, “You know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She’s my slut. I brought her here, so I need to take care of her. The past few weeks have been a bit rough in that department as my windows of free time are gradually being shuttered. Still, if I miss her during the day, she’ll somehow force me into her favorite position while I sleep. She still likes it better when I’m awake, though.
She forced me awake at 1 AM the other night, and she wasn’t going to let me sleep until we’d been together for at least a little while. I was resting in the same spot where she’d beaten the shit out of me a few years ago. I couldn’t help but remember, and be a little frightened. I also got the distinct feeling there may have been more than one spirit, as I felt someone grasping my right arm rather tightly… a completely new sensation.
Apparently, my performance wasn’t quite up to snuff and I received a bit of playful harassment before I was allowed to sleep again.
Hey, I was coming down with a cold! I can’t be expected to keep up with demons in heat all the time.
Other than the move, and our connection being turned up to the “SCARY” level once again, not much else has transpired. Be that as it may, I need to update more regularly… mainly so nobody wonders if I’ve finally been smothered to death. Also, I have a few projects in mind, and this more frightening version of Catherine has become quite the motivator for getting work done.
The fire burns merrily in the dark. She sits beside me and her presence gently encompasses my being. I feel that all too familiar gentle pressure against my temples. I know she is smiling.
