In my next trick I will stretch a healthy and simple time frame of two months into nine months, for seemingly no reason at all.
Yes, it took me another nine months to reach out to the next Jinn. “Life got in the way” is the widely accepted wankers euphemism for stuff like that, no?
So, life got in the way. Not at all, actually, I found plenty of time for a load of other things.
I could not wrap my mind around the cause for my sudden slack regarding this project. “Maybe its just not for me” I was chirping while happily devouring different sources of middle eastern magickal practice at the same time.
Maybe, deep inside of myself, a lesser retarded part of me knew what was about to happen and that I wouldn’t be able to go back after a certain point. And maybe this lesser retarded part of me was already frightened, here. I was only about to find out how right I was. 2022 happened and everything after that happened and all of a sudden you are concerned with a completely different scale of chain reactions, compared to your manageable and limited sphere of influence.
But before I’ll get to that, lets switch to early February 2022. The good part of February and the rest of 2022, it seems.
Arhbh. (ارهبة). Back then I almost broke my wrist while trying to write out the arabic letters for that one, it came out so bad that I am still surprised that this spirit showed up at all instead of looks at smudged writing on the paper “Arnold”.
As with Hamran, I could hear this one before perceiving him in other ways.
“The light is annoying”. I had a tiny lamp going on because I was struggling with the letters so much. I switched the light off and got pulled into the next visualization.
This time I found myself sitting in an old library, according to the faint noises it was raining.
Arhbh entered the library as well, a black smoke shaped like a human figure. Looking closer I found that the smoke consisted out of fine black lines and threads. He was wearing a broken white porcelain mask in front of his face, no ornaments or other “personal” touches.
He came closer and I started to ask him about the unlocking. The next thing I know: two hands around my neck, pressing together firmly.
Aha, he IS upset about butchering his name was one of the many things that went through my mind while he continued to squeeze my throat shut.
The chokehold lifted eventually and I wondered if that was the unlocking, already (and if yes: weird).
I apologized for being so unprepared for our meeting and asked if he could help me out.
“You have attachment problems.” he simply answered. Yeah, no kidding.
I asked if his unlocking could help with that, already imagining how his rough treatment opened my Vishuddha, lifting my ability to express myself into unknown heights, shaking off the chains of self-imposed limiting beliefs and-
“No, I’m merely pointing out.”
He turned around again, leaving the library obviously without me.
Before he left he pointed to a bookshelf beside him, stating “You should make use of those more often.”
Arhbh had a point; while basically telling me to fuck off he made sure that I would make use of the abundance of knowledge that was more or less laying out on the streets for me.
I would like to think that his unlocking made me more receptive towards certain literature.
This or he simply enjoyed a good choke in the evening.