That morning I was just meditating the way I normally do. Nothing special. No incense, no chanting, no performance. I was just sitting at my desk, upright, breathing, letting things quiet down. My focus was on Yagrush — not as a god outside me, but as a godform inside of me, as i deepened my pathworking with Ba’al. for those who dont know, yagrush along with Ayyamaru are the two weapons that Ba’al Used to defeat Yam.
And then it happened. Out of nowhere. The room didn’t change, but suddenly there it was in front of me: a golden object, hanging over the desk. At first it looked like a mace — upright but upside down, with the handle above and the heavy head pointing down. It wasn’t floating like a balloon. It wasn’t supported by anything. It was just there, like it had been inserted into the space.
It didn’t shine or glow. The gold wasn’t flashy. It was dense, heavy, final. It looked like fire that had burned itself out and hardened into solid form. It didn’t feel like a weapon ready to be used. It felt like something already finished, like a verdict that had already been delivered.
The shape was strange. Sometimes it looked like a mace, sometimes like the head of a spear. And oddly, it also looked exactly like a bowling pin. Not in a funny way, not as a joke. Just that simple, blunt shape. Like it wasn’t about looking sacred or impressive — it was about weight and purpose.
Then I noticed hands beneath it. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Thin, dim, almost smoky, reaching upward. No arms, no bodies. Just hands, frozen mid-reach. They didn’t move. They didn’t touch me or the object. They just reached and stayed there, like the dead who had tried to grab it but never succeeded. Not suffering, not punished — just stuck in that unfinished motion.
And I realized: I wasn’t reaching. I wasn’t trying to grab anything. I had simply sat, been still, and the object appeared. The hands showed the difference between trying and aligning.
Then a voice — not in my head, not imagined, but in the space itself — said: “You may hold it.” It wasn’t warm or emotional. Just a fact.
I didn’t move. I knew holding didn’t mean grabbing. It meant the bond was already sealed inside me. The object wasn’t separate anymore. It was part of me.
Then the second sentence came: “Name it.” And I understood instantly: it needed a name, not for power, not for control, but for recognition. For the bond to be complete. The name came to me, perfectly exact, and I said it inwardly.
The moment I did, everything locked into place. The object didn’t vanish. Nothing faded. It just was. Fixed.
After that, I lay down for my usual Yoga Nidra. Nothing else happened. The event was complete.
When I got up, I lit a cigarette. Not as ritual, not to dull anything — just to return fully to the surface of reality. Breath, smoke, body, silence.