I have decided to give an online Treat for this Halloween two online versions of masterpieces written by Bram Stoker. This was supposed to be in the original Dracula. But for some reason, Stoker took it out. I think that was a monumental mistake. Because without a doubt this was so good that it should have been a book in and of itself.
It’s a short story talking about Jonathan Harker’s journey to Castle Dracula. But…..he fucks up, majorly. Because he journeys there on Walpurgis Night, a Night celebrated on May 1st by Devil Worshippers. It’s actually the Christian’s version of the Celtic Beltane feast. They claim it belongs to St. Walpurga.
But according to legend, satanists supposedly congregate with the Devil and his demons on this night. Which also means that the dead rise. A sort of Halloween in Spring kind of deal. And to make matters worse, Harker takes a charming stroll into a cursed town on the same night. How does he survive? Listen and find out!
Here I give it to you, read by a YouTuber named HorrorCraft
For some weird reason I seem to be amped up. The Moon in Pisces has me chillin. It’s like I drank Moonshine. See what I did there? Anyways, I am dropping some astrological and astronomical links here for everyone.
Today at Temenos Oikidios, we celebrated the Thargelia, birthday of Apollon and Artemis.
We used this ritual format, as we’ve been doing for our Zoom-facilitated festival celebrations. For things like the pharmakos portion of the ritual, for example, we used the chat feature to communicate the things we wanted the pharmakhos to purify.
Our Oracle Bones divination was very fitting for the current times, and also encouraging:
“Pythian Apollon – Stay, do not act, obey the words of the Radiant One. In the future, lie in wait for your chance, but do nothing now. There are obstacles ahead, but you will complete that which concerns you” (Dervenis, 2014, p. 145).
We each used our own thusia and theoxenia offerings in our homes. This has been working well, and we hope to continue with a blended practice once we resume practicing in person, so that those who aren’t able…
Many in my personal life who read this blog are already aware of this. But last Tuesday my grandfather Juan had passed away. My grandfather did not have an easy life. He had a life marked by pain and by isolation. John Donne said that man is not an island. But with respect, he never met my grandfather.
And while his poem praised human unity, very few humans ever lent him a hand. He was born out of wedlock to a Babalawo and to a white woman of Spanish blood. A woman with a deep interest in the Occult. She loved her Babalawo despite the fact that he was a married man. The two conceived my Abuelo Juan.
His uncles hated him. Because his father was biracial, they told him he wasn’t really a part of their family. Instead he was a “negro they found in a hill somewhere and took pity on”. This was Cuba before the Revolution. My great grandmother had to hide him on that farm with her uncles and mother.
A child born out of wedlock and born of two ethnically different parents. It was a scandal and a shame for the family. And especially for early Cuba. My grandpa had to go through beatings and emotional abuse until he became an adult. His grandmother to her credit, loved him.
And didn’t care that he was mixed. She loved him and took care of him and defended him from his uncles. And was always making sure that he was alright. His mother would visit him on the weekends. He always blamed his father for everything.
Said his father was too much of a coward to tell him who he really was. My family said that his mother kept his existence a secret. She was afraid to ruin his father’s life. My grandfather spent a lot of time alone. He had his friends but he loved his solitude.
He absorbed himself in books, in poetry, in history and politics, and in writing. He was a bit of a ladies man and seduced many woman. He even warned me to be careful with any Cuban girls I date. Because they could accidentally be related to me. Which would put a dent in my dating life to be sure.
But despite all the womanizing he did, there was one person he seemed fixated on since his early years : my grandmother. In his youth, he fell in love with her. She was 17 and he was 14. And while she didn’t pay attention to him at the time, he always vowed that one day she would be his wife. She married a violent and corrupt Batistiano Captain of the police.
He beat my grandmother and was responsible for war crimes against the people before and during the Revolution. My grandfather was a soldier of lower rank under this man. He waited for the bastard to drink himself to death so that he could approach my grandmother and propose to her. And she said yes. Something I don’t think she ever thought she would do because of the age difference.
They were both involved in the failed Counterrevolution on the island and ultimately divorced. But he still loved my grandma. So much that before she died he almost seemed to sense it. And he said to my mother,
“Hija, if one day your Mother should die, please don’t tell me. Because I know I’ll fall apart if I know. Just tell me she’s still alive,”
Unfortunately, he did find out and he went into a state of shock. Which led to him having two strokes and developing Alzheimer’s. Just as he told us, my grandmother’s death undid him. He seemed to go into an accelerated physical and cognitive decline in just months. He was rapidly turning into someone else.
Each month was like a decade for him, and soon the man who helped raise me as a child was disappearing before me. When I was a boy, my grandpa was one of the best and greatest people in my life. He defended me from my father when he got abusive. And asked my mother what the hell was going on and what she planned to do about it. He warned me about the dangers of cult brainwashing.
You see I was raised in a Fundamentalist church and he didn’t want me to blindly follow the doctrines of men, disguised as ‘divinity’. He claimed to be an agnostic, and once said that he believed,
“In the God who created Heaven and Earth. But I don’t know who the fuck this Jesus guy was. He was probably a delinquent and that’s why they crucified him,”
To my very Christian and very horrified mother. He also “shit on the Seven African Powers” and “Shit on every Saint in Heaven!” whenever he was angry. I always laughed and he couldn’t help but laugh with me. He would also write vulgar poems about Christian people, including a certain sect that knocks on doors to preach the good news.
“The Jehovah’s Witnesses say that soon Armageddon will come, but I laugh, I dance, and I shit on the Mother of God,”
I remember that when he took me out to eat at a Cuban diner. It was the very first memory of him I have. I think it was our first outing. He gave me an unlit cigarette and put it in my mouth and said,
“There, now you’re a man damn it!”
I think I was 6 or 7 at the time. My Mom went apeshit when she found out. It was awesome! Since that time we would go together to Little Havana where we would hang out with his friends on the side walk. Where we would work together on the farms with the animals. We would even make deliveries to places of bird food and sometimes the unsavory deliveries of animals to be sacrificed by Santeros.
Something I vehemently oppose to this day despite being a Santero myself. I would actually wake up at 5am on Saturdays to go with him to have a good breakfast and to plan out our day. We’d go to a Santero Botanica where I would go to help him bring in merchandise. We’d go see old friends of his, which included a couple that got married thanks to him (long story). Other times we would meet random strangers and talk over cortaditos about random things.
Oh, and then there was the Cuban-Chinese Restaurant. He’d go there not to eat Chinese food. He went there because they had “the best rice and stake he’d ever eaten,”. My mom used to tease him about it. “What? It’s true,” he’d say.
Mostly it was the solitude we both enjoyed. I loved talking to my grandpa about everything. We had no secrets. He quickly learned that he wasn’t so happy by himself after all. I was his partner.
I remember spending an hour eating cold pizza in his old truck. The windows down, the breeze of a nice day. The grey skies that promised a dark and stormy day. Oh how we both loved that kind of weather. Or at least I do.
Maybe he just enjoyed it because he knew I did. I remember when he bought me my first black leather jacket for the cold. I wore it even until the leather went bad and when I was hot. People thought I was crazy or that I was trying to be a punk rocker or something. But really I just enjoyed it.
When it was cold and early in the morning we would go to a diner and have a good breakfast. Then just enjoy the cold weather with a hot cafe con leche and eggs and ham. I knew all of his friends and they knew me. But despite that, he was silent as a tomb about his most private affairs. I dare say I probably know more about some of the things he went through or experienced than most people.
Only my mother knows more.
As a teenager, he loved the cemetery for example. He would spend hours immersed in the silence and the solitude. He’d even go there after school to do his homework. It was also one of the few places where he felt truly at peace. Death didn’t really scare him.
I’m sure like a normal man he feared the pain. But the act of being freed from this world did not bother him. What he feared if anything, was a life un-lived. That gusto for lifetook the form of travel, strange adventures with friends, the occasional brawl (even with younger men, he always won), affairs with younger and older women, and a lot of laughter. He even had an affair with his land lord’s wife.
I remember facepalming myself and going “Ay Abuelo tu eres tremendo,” (Oh Grandpa, you’re something else). I figured he’d end up having to find a new home. But as it turns out that is not what happened at all. He discovered that the man was beating his wife. So one day in their kitchen with both present he promptly said,
“She and I are together now. So, I don’t give a fuck if she’s married to you. She’s not your property. If you touch her again, I am going to crack your skull open and you’ll have a closed casket funeral,”
He said this nonchalantly while both the man and his wife where in the room. The story was told to me by her. That’s how I even know it happened. My grandpa had many flaws, but he loved you and was loyal to you. And he defended you with no care to what would happen to him.
Needless to say, while they were together the beatings stopped. I remember how bizzare that relationship was. That this guy had a tenant he knew was sleeping with his wife. And that the wife treated my grandpa like her husband instead of him. She even cooked breakfast or special foods for him.
My grandpa really seemed to like her. He once told me that talking to her he felt better than if “he fucked the princess of Spain!”. And he meant it too. Which made it funnier. This man could write poems in old Spanish verse yet that’s how he described his personal life.
One time, after he was already sick and looking like a corpse, my mother was “dating” some asshat that had a reputation for hitting women. She didn’t know that when she decided to give him a chance. But grandpa sure did. He sized this guy up, literally looked him up and down. So he looks at my Mom and says,
“Hija what is your size and weight?”
She replied and he said,
“Good! If some piece of shit ever lays a hand on you, you take your fist and you hit him as hard as you can under his chin and fuck up his jaw. He’ll live to regret it,”
The guy laughed nervously. He knew my old man had him pegged nice and good. And even while he was so weakened from his first stroke, that one hard gaze was enough to make even a younger man think twice. This was my second father. In many ways my real father, as he had influenced me in ways that my own could never do.
I remember visiting him at the retirement home for the first time. I took a Lyft to travel from Sweetwater to Miami Springs. I remember it was a beautiful sunny day and I actually enjoyed the little trip. But no one told me, no one warned me about what I would find when I got there. I liked the building, I thought it looked nice from the outside.
I searched for his room in the hallway. That rancid smell hit me all at once. That smell that lets you know there are elders who have not bathed yet. Like a smell of dust accumulating. People who can no longer move on their own.
Who need constant supervision. Then I found his room. He was sharing it with three other people. How can I describe seeing him turn from a strong man, despite his age, into a living corpse? I was shocked to say the least. Holding my emotions in was no easy task
That first day when I got to the Home he had to be placed in and saw him in that bed I hardly recognized him. I’m not exaggerating when I say he looked like death itself. He had lost so much weight, his skin grew so pale as if no blood flowed through his veins. And to make it worse, he couldn’t even stand up anymore. Now he required a wheel chair and a diaper.
Most of his friends weren’t around. He had fallen out of touch with all of them by this time. But not me, I’m your partner remember grandpa? Till the end. I stayed with him all day as he slept. I only left to eat in some little Restaurant around the corner.
I came back and I stayed until 5 or maybe 5:30pm. I knew it was late because night was breaking through. I took another Lyft home and felt mixed up inside. Confused. So, so confused.
I took pictures of him and shared it with my uncle and with my sister. For three years almost without fail myself, my mother, and my sister visited grandpa every weekend. We would bring him Cuban cafe, and chocolate pudding. Sometimes jello. He would devour it and then sing lewd songs aloud.
Mostly he would change the lyrics of Guantanamera to “Juan Cagalera” (Juan Shits alot). He would also sing about a man taking a shit. And that he saw that he had a small gun and a sack with two bullets. My mom was trapped between being embarrassed and laughing at the same time. I’m pretty sure he did it to piss off all of those old society ladies in the home.
The ones who wore fancy pearls and thought they were Spanish aristocrats. One of them was named Daisy. She came up to us to try and complain about my grandpa. My mom quickly defused the situation.
“My what nice pearls you have Daisy!”
“Why thank you child, I’ve had them since I was a little girl,”
Then my grandpa said,
“Coño (damn) they must be over a 100 yrs old. Quick! Run to an Antique Dealer, you’ll be a millionaire!”
My mom, sister, and I tried so hard not to laugh. We went red in the face. And Daisy walked off so pissed we thought she’d have a stroke herself. Gradually, this became the new normal. And my mother said seeing him like this was even worse than watching my grandmother die.
We never thought this would happen to him. We never thought he would end up in a home. We are a family that takes care of our elders. All my other grandparents lived with the family. With their children and grandchildren.
We wanted Abuelo Juan to live with us too. But he was so stubborn. He didn’t want to be a burden on us. He lived on his own and had his own place. But with his cognitive decline, the owners of his building began to tell us that he was falling asleep in the hallways and forgetting where his apartment was.
We never thought a retirement home was where he would end up. It was unheard of in our family. But with each stroke and the growing Alzheimers he needed help only professionals could give him. He’d more or less become accustomed to his new surroundings. He believed it was a new apartment building.
He’d talk with other people but it was just small talk. The only people he really talked to were younger, attractive nurses. He would hit on them and make them laugh with his jokes. And would speak gibberish that he claimed was Arabic or Russian. But he only really came alive when he saw us.
“Pepito Carajo! Que bueno verte,”
(Pepito Goddamn it! It’s great to see you).
He was the only one I allowed to call me that. Pepe is my father. And I hate being seen as similar to him in any way. But somehow my grandpa changed the meaning of the name for me. The last peaceful memory I have of my grandfather was the last time me and my mom visited him.
My sister had already moved to another state. It was a calm Sunday afternoon. Sunny outside and the light coming from the window cast shadows that made it look as if the room were under water. You know what I mean? Like the reflection of water from a pool. He was already almost immobile by this point.
He never wanted to get out of bed now. Although he seemed more alert and happy strangely. He stayed awake talking to us for a bit and asking me how old I was now. And as usual, when I said 33 he would be shocked. He remembered me as I was in my teenage years.
He thought I was 15 again. He started drifting to sleep. And then we left. And that was the last time I saw my grandpa alive. Because then the pandemic hit.
And his retirement home was shut down. My uncle and mom were able to see him through the window and talk to him. Or sometimes talk to him through the phone. He started developing a cough and we began to get worried. We suspected it was the Coronavirus right away.
But they assured us it was a case of pneumonia. Nothing more. They took forever to test him, if that is what they actually did. And claimed he tested negative for the virus. My mom breathed a sigh of relief for the first time that day.
So imagine what it was like the next day to be ordering dinner and finding out that he passed away. My mom said she had felt a heaviness in her heart. That she knew something was going to happen but not what. She had left work earlier that day to give him a visit but no one answered from his room when she called out. Not even a nurse.
Not his usual protests of “shut the fuck I’m trying to sleep!”. Nothing. The nurses claimed they came in with his food and found him dead at 5:30pm. I had to be the one to break the news to his friend from his old job that he possibly died of Coronavirus. The assisted living facility we took him to, had apparently had 106 cases of Covid 19.
We learned about all these cases nearly a week after he died. We were starting to get grounded. We were starting to come to terms with what had happened. Only to watch Univision at 11pm for one of their daily Coronavirus reports and see this.
— Adventures of a Mage in Miami (@MiamiMagus) May 2, 2020
My rage, my pain, my anger. So much hurt in so little time. This had to be the shittiest week of my life. Nothing else could ever compare to this. I used to think my ex leaving me was bad.
I wanted to marry her and have a family. But this was far worse. In fact it set the bar for just how much worse something could be instead of a breakup. Someone you dated leaves you? Big Deal. There’s someone out there for everyone.
You just have to go out and find them. But there are some losses that one never truly gets over. Losing someone that you have loved since you were born, the first person who held you as a baby. That’s a fate worse than death. Or perhaps it is a death of some kind.
It’s as if my life force had been sucked out of body. As if something in the Universe just went cold. I feel numb and almost cold inside. I have had to keep myself from crying and grieving because my mother needs me. She just lost both of her parents now.
She’s not going to see them again for a very long time. Until her time comes to depart as well. I’ve been sleeping on the floor of her apartment so she wouldn’t be alone. And today I heard her talking to her husband (who is stuck in Honduras now). I pretended to still be asleep.
And I heard her crying on the phone. Telling her husband that she’s worried about her brother. Because their Dad’s death has so deeply effected him. That he blames himself for his death. Because he had power of attorney.
Because he trusted the scum from that facility to care for his Dad. That he would be safe and cared for. As mother’s day nears, it won’t be quite the same. For all intents and purposes she’s an orphan now. They have a cliche for this kind of thing.
You know, the one that says that with a person’s passing, the world gets a little dimmer. Well, it’s not a cliche. It’s truth. In Judaism, God is believed to be this gigantic swirling pool of light.
And all of us come from that pool of light. We’re all pieces of Adonai’s great cosmic soul broken down into human form. So when we die, our souls or our light, returns back to the Source. And that Quantum Source is God. Or comes from God.
So when we die, we are dimming the world. Because our light flees this place to go home. We leave the world dimmer and darker than when we first started out because our presence made it a better place. So the dead are not whom we mourn, but ourselves. The dead find peace (usually).
As long as they are remembered, as long as they are not forgotten and the proper rituals and prayers are offered, they are well. It’s only when they are forgotten and unloved that they suffer. No, we mourn ourselves because just a little bit of that light left our world and went back to it’s source. And we are left in a world far less bright, than that which we lived in before. How did I do Abuelito?
Did I succeed at condensing your long, eventful life, into one gigantic post? I found it hard to do. I feel that the Earth has shifted underneath my feet. That my hold over everything is lost. That I am lost. But I won’t mourn you Abuelo, I’ll celebrate you.
We will take our time to grieve yes. But not to feel bad about ourselves. Instead, to heal and to move on. To honor your spirit and your memory. To cherish all the fond memories we have of you.
And to light your way so that you may be with the ancestors. Adios Juan, hasta la vuelta. Until I see you again grandfather. I love you.
Happy Feast of St. George the Dragonsayer and St. Mark’s Eve! Today we commemorate the Warrior Saint who defeated a wicked Dragon to save the People of the land. Modern Christians say the Dragon is just symbolism for the Devil. I leave you to make your own conclusions. St. Mark the Evangelist is one of the Apostles of Jesus Christ. And like George who is shown with a Dragon, he’s shown with a Lion.
This is connected to the story that John Mark was traveling with his Father and two Lions had found them. The Father begged his son to go save himself. He was prepared to die for his son. But Mark told him Christ would save them. He prayed and both Lions fell dead in front of them.
What’s interesting is that he is linked with Pagan iconography where the Lion has wings (a Sphinx). Others say the Winged Lion motif looks a lot like the Shedu or Guardian Spirits from Babylon. The prevailing Christian argument is that it’s an Angel with the head of a Lion. And yes there are Angels like that. But they also seem to be related to these entities.
Now I could go in and make a longer history. But that’s not what I want to talk about now. The best time to do magic of any kind, positive or negative alike is on the Eve of a Saint’s Day. St. George and St. Mark’s Eve are prime examples of that. And all sorts of weird folklore is associated with these days.
For example Werewolves on St. George’s Eve. Or Divination done to know the future on both George and Marks’s Eve. The Eve of John the Baptist is said to be when Werewolves in Louisiana congregate and have a ball on the Bayou. So I am announcing that for those interested I am doing a divination today and tommorow. I will be channeling the awesome powers of these days to divine things even from the past.
The Eve of St. George is said to be a scary time. It’s a time when evil spirits seem to be ready to come out of the woodwork to terrify humanity. Even Bram Stoker, in his novel Dracula, had mentioned it. People also used it to divine. They would venture out at night, knowing the risk of the wicked spirits coming at them to find treasures.
It was believed that Will-O’-the-wisps would appear and hover above lost treasures buried deep within forests and lands. Some say those are the Ghosts themselves of those who buried the riches. Others don’t know what’s going on. My belief is the Veil becomes thin during this time time as it does on Halloween. Which makes it perfect to see things that normally are hidden. That’s why I focus on Divination.
Others talk about St. Mark’s Eve being even stronger. In the old days, people would hold a Vigil for St. Mark’s Eve. And those who were brave enough, would venture to a Catholic Church and see the Ghosts of people who hadn’t died yet. People who would die before or by the end of the year. There are still Paranormal Groups who do this to try and get evidence.
Technically, St. Mark’s Eve won’t start until the stroke of Midnight on Friday. But, today is the day after the New Moon. This is the original Astrological Nones of this Month. The Nones in Ancient Rome were originally calculated like that rather than having set days. The Nones are considered bad luck because as with other cultures, the New Moon is the time of the dead.
And wicked or dark spirits can be out to play in our world. What makes it worse is that the Nones were not ruled over by any Heavenly Deities. Unlike the Ides and the Kalends of the month. So we have a strong Cthonic Pulse from which to draw from if you know Necromancy. To make it even Stronger, St. George’s Eve was yesterday.
And Saturday which comes right after, is a day ruled by the Dead and Gods of the Dead. There are lots of possibilities for magic here. So for those who wish, I’ll divine for you. In the meantime, please enjoy these links!
Since the Babylonian year starts at the Spring Equinox, the period starting from the Winter Solstice could contain from three to four months. The lunar months of the Babylonian calendar have to fit within the solar year of equinoxes. The fourth month (intercalary) was usually inserted by a decree from the King.
In Sumer, the twelfth month was called “Sekigku,” (The Month of Grain Reaping). This was the time of the barley harvest, which happened everywhere in Mesopotamia. The Festival of Barley Consumption started mid-month and ended at the full moon. The Grain Goddess, Ashnan was given offerings, and the Beer Goddess, Ninkasi was praised. Ninkasi, the Babylonian Goddess of Beer Modern Sumerian Polytheists will celebrate with bread and beer, giving thanks for both Goddesses. God of the Month: Ashnan of Babylon
In the Standard Mesopotamian Calendar, the month is called…
Last night I had finished the last of calender alterations. I carefully calculated each of the Sabbats. I had taken the time to place each of the holidays I celebrate in the proper days. Even noting the times they began and ended. And I noticed something : Everything in 2020 looks different.
I mean okay, I’m sure this orange ass hole will still somehow be President. I am sure the colonial political system of the US will continue to be fucked up. But, a lot of holidays that focus on Spring coming early and the light being empowered are happening sooner. Vasant Panchami which is a Hindu Spring festival was usually in February or even March. It’s going to start this year on the 30th of January 2020.
I’ve never celebrated one that was that early. It almost seems strange. But it seems that since this year was to remove all the negative energy from last year, we are getting an extra dose of light. There are so many holidays happening sometimes two months earlier than before. At least Astrologically and Astronomically speaking they all seem to be happening faster.
Extra doses of extra light. So as our year comes to a close, I see everything with a great dose of optismism and even being refreshed. The Gods and spirits have done all in their power to give to us these blessings. It’s all up to us now. What do you plan to do with these new year blessings?
Now normally, when July comes around, most people don’t view it as a dark time. Most people think of the scorching heat of the sun. But if you have been reading my studies and my weird little exploits then you know I am not most people. For starters, in the Ryukyuan Islands of Japan, the entire month of July is their version of Ghost Month. If you don’t know the story behind that festival, you can read about it here :
But this Month has started out cthonic even astrologically. Both monday and tuesday start out with a New Moon. New Moon’s are considered the time of the dead and times of bad luck in Hinduism. Tuesday also has a solar eclipse in the sign of cancer. The day after the new moon in the old Roman calendar is the Nones which is dedicated to the dead and considered a bad luck day.
On the 7th of July (Sunday) we have Mercury going into retrograde which now joins Saturn, Pluto, and Jupiter in their retrogrades. Then on the 16th of July (Tuesday) we have a Lunar Eclipse in the sign of Capricorn. Then there’s the feast of the dead saints Saints Cyril and Methodius on Friday July 5th. And if you notice, we end this new month the same way it begins : with a New Moon between the days 30 and 31st with the Feast of Joseph of Arimathea. So either way, it seems we’re bound for a lot of change.
And a lot of dark influences.
As always, stay in doors during the solar eclipse, any offerings you’ll make to the Sun Gods must be on altars to the dead to their underworld aspects. On Lunar Eclipses, you can stay outside to make wishes. But only for as long as the conjurations last. Then immediately go inside. If you are sick, or a woman who is pregnant or on her period, really not a good idea.
Liminal times like these will hit you harder than a man. Speak your wishes over the offerings and leave them outside before the actual events. You’ll still get your wishes. And remember : leave offerings blessed with prayer for the dark dead on crossroads or cemeteries, bodies of water like rivers or ponds are also good. They’ll channel themselves into animals in order to eat in most cases.
Also feed your land and house spirits to be safe and protected during this time. Now is the time to do a lot of cleansing and cleaning of the home. Also on Sunday we have the Tanabata Festival of Japan (Qixi in China) the Star Light festival of the two lovers. We have a bunch of holy holidays of light including the Slavic Kupala Night (the final Summer Solstice festival) which also ends Sunday. So we have a balance of light with darkness.
Update : As a matter of fact I may do more updates in the future.
I did my Soothsaying as usual. I did offerings to the Gods and entered a trance. I began to perceive days and weeks as energies. And then I marked my astrological calender with notes. Which I found something odd.
In fact I have never done this before.
Apparently, I pointed out that there is a vortex forming. Almost like a strange weather pattern of the spirit world. It started Monday to Tuesday this week with the New Moon and Solar Eclipse.
What I learned is that the vortex seems to be connected to the astrological phenomenon. Some kind of doorway in our skies is being opened. What, I have no idea. This could be for karma. This could be due to the Ryukyuan Ghost Month which is every July.
Or it could be something else entirely. I am still doing my research. What I also discovered is that the magic involved is influenced by the power of four. It creates a kind of square or perhaps a cube.
I noticed another phenomenon. Light and Dark seem to be going back to back with each other. We started the month dark. Tomorrow the feast of Cyril and Methodius we begin a light energy. It seems to be solar and rises to prominence from the 6th-7th which is Kupala Night. Then on the 7th Mercury Retrograde we have the Star Festival.
The light changes from solar to starlight. Night reigns but with infusions of holy light. Then around the day 9 to 10 it begins to clear up. A “Dawning” begins. But rather than Sunlight, I spiritually saw a large moon rising to illuninate everything at the 11th. The Full Moon isn’t until Tuesday the 16th, the same time as the Lunar Eclipse which adds a weird power to this.
The Eclipse and everything else sort of creates a spiritual vortex that feels similar to the Bermuda Triangle. Only it’s a square. And then I realized it’s actually a Cube. I just haven’t pinpointed yet where the last two points of the Cube are. Or what they are.
On the 11th the monthly energy is illuminated with lunar energy. That is the Dawning. But by the 17th it darkness till the end of the month. Oh and guess what? The regular Chinese Ghost Month starts next month on the 1st and ends on the 19th. So that means we have two cthonic months.
I wondered if I hadn’t found the other two points of the Cube, because they were for next month. And I was correct. Mercury going direct on the 31st is one point.
The last is Jupiter going direct next month on the 11th which is a master number. And Zeus or Jupiter as the God of Gods is a true master.
I’ll wait to do any other predictions for next month. It almost looks like a Hurricane path. So what I get from all this is :
Light Vs. Dark or Light working with the dark.
Lots and lots of spirits, light, dark, and neutral but mostly light or dark coming through during this timeframe. Ending sometime after Jupiter goes direct.
Possible increase in violence.
Potential for peace, though it will be hard.
This month is tricky, good and bad vibes mixed into one. For protection from the Hungry Ghosts (I believe in India they are called Preta) you should have sacred charms with protective blessings or spells. Crosses, Stars of David, images of certain Gods or even holy books placed in corners of the home will shield it. Also place salt all around the outside of the home and salt the doors and windows from both sides. At the same time, you can charge the same charms with good energy from this month.
I would call this a Yin and Yang month. How will you put these energies to work for you? Oh and by the way. After I finished my update on what appeared to be a spiritual vortex, I saw this over my home in Miami. Sweetwater down the road from FIU to be precise. It’s not there anymore but I saw it.
They were taken with different phones. The originals were mine which is an Android. The lighter ones are from an iPhone 6. Notice that in every snap of the iPhone they seem to change in color. Interesting that this happened after my reading.
Apparently what I saw, was seen all over Florida. Even by people out to sea. This video shows at 10:13 that it could be seen off the shores of Florida.
Since then, the strange Earthquakes in California have been happening. Quakes that many residents are saying are not the norm for them. Could the “spiritual storm” I foresaw be something major happening?
I will put the remaining updates on this twitter thread