General healing working on own body and mind notes before I drifted off to sleep:
I was able to see the embodiment of what I would describe as every ailment (physically, mentally) that I’ve ever encountered over longer periods of time in my life. It wasn’t a monster or something scary. It was a very much human like being. Noting down the importance of green silk clothes here, for further researches if I need to.
I could feel the healing of this embodiment starting when it was approached by a tall Ibex. I watched them contacting each other via touch and I felt a sense of peace and comfort here. The sickness creature-person-thing started to transform into a healthier looking version of itself, with each passing second of this exchange.
'Attar/Athtar (عثتر , therefore I would pronounce it “Athtar” instead of 'Attar)?
…and off you wander into the wondrous world of adult living, fam.
The landlord is convinced that this dude is old enough to move into his own living place (together with his house parties and away from my need for rest), after he had a talk with the father. The landlord will give out one formal warning before removing the entire family and renting out the apartment for a bigger amount of money to a different kind of clientele.
5 months and some-ish days sober today, despite many good and legit reasons to hit the liqueur cabinet the last couple of weeks; every single bottle remained untouched, except for offering reasons to spirits.
I don’t miss that shit anymore. Leraje, you’re an absolute legend. I thought I wasn’t ready for this, guess I was wrong.
Dragging myself through some dreaded yet overdue Svadhisthana exploration at the moment. I wasn’t sure if I would be stable enough to tackle this task in addition to getting and staying sober but I feel confident that now is the right time to do this.
Some years back Leraje urged me to stay away from a certain medication that belonged to my household staples of stuff that the docs prescribed me out of habit. At the end of 2020 I finally agreed and threw the medicine in question into the trash can. My body changed quite a bit after that and by now I am fully aware that this medication didn’t actually treated but masked a condition that was there the entire time but that wasn’t profitable enough for the docs and my healthcare provider to be…well, treated? A realization that made me incredibly angry at first, a realization about how my body wasn’t mine but some sort of property of some lazy physicians decisions for years. I realized how unheard I actually was, how I had no say in the treatment plan back then and how little regard was shown towards my very legit concerns.
Thankfully this is all currently changing, as I am educating myself and get to know my real body and its real and unmasked reactions to its environment. I have also received an additional private insurance from my employer that lets me use a completely different pool of professionals and specialists that aren’t in the plan of my regular healthcare provider (thank you, Buer!!).
Since I am convinced that I should align my energetic body to my new treatment plan I’ve finally took first steps into healing my Svadhisthana as good as I can. I’ve learned recently that its suggested that a heightened stress response in childhood can trigger epigenetic changes in the body to a harmful extent. In addition my own childhood trauma has been stored away exceptionally strongly in the Svadhisthana, so I plan to get some work done in that regard until the new physical treatment plan can work its scientific magick.
I took some meditational deep dives into the sacral department and I wasn’t surprised with what I’ve found. Some very uncomfortable sessions will lie ahead but I know that this time I am sitting in my own power, with my own knowledge at my disposal.
Yesterdays Svadhisthana working focused on the role of shame in my childhood and later adult life. There was one event in particular that came through to symbolize how I was made to feel shame and secrecy over something I had no control or power over, something that was ripped away from me by the people that should have protected me from such things in the first place. One of the lessons learned: “It wasn’t your fault. Like, really.”
The chakra point in question flared up in a crimson red before it decided to switch into what I would probably describe as “sunlight”, but from a very child-like angle.
My blood tests recently came back and they’ve been showing what I’ve expressed towards countless physicians for several years already but what was never visible because of the medication changing certain stats long term, while the root of the problem stayed undetected and festering. While being brushed off and being treated like a mental case although I simply knew that something was wrong with my body
I feel free after 17 years. I had a little mental breakdown from the lifted weight and the confirmation that I wasn’t crazy. Not now, not back then. I was crying with anger and relief behind the wheel of my car for a bit.
Leraje, you saved my life with your counsel and I don’t say that to sound dramatic. Maybe two or three more years before the irreversible damage would have been done to my organs. I can’t express how grateful I feel. Also, Buer: thank you for letting them finally see with their own eyes and for letting me pick up on all the important clues and research work. You made me advocate for myself in a system that is filled with blind eyes, deaf ears and big pockets. I will do everything in my power to take care of myself and to value the “its not too late” moment, that was given to me.
Currently preparing a road opening ritual for my dying great uncle (today) and his wife, who was brought into the ER with a stroke (last night), in case they need to find each other quickly. I wonder if they made a silent appointment with each other after he was released into hospice care last week. I want to believe this. I wish none of them the grief to be without the other one, no matter how brief that period of time might be. I want everything to align for them to the right time and it looks as if now is the right time. I kinda hope they can do this journey together, no matter where they will end up.
(Saturn is busy in this family)
I am finding myself back inside of a tall hall with dark blue tiles all over. A stream of water is running in a clockwise direction inside a small artifical tiled channel on the ground and close to the walls throughout the entire hall. I had visions about this place earlier this year, when I was working on my Nafs, when I started to use the names of Allah on every Latifah inside of me. Back then the hall was empty and I wasn’t sure what to do with that vision or that place.
Now I am back and I find two shrouded bodies placed on the ground, a third shrouded one already in preparation on a stone table. This is a morgue, my personal hall of the dead and the third body belongs into the “soon to be dead” category of this family as well.
I open a door that leads into some sort of dining hall; I can see members of my family gathered there. One of my cousins notices me and asks me if I could make the waters turn backwards again. I tell her “No” and inside of my mind I add “not for you, that is.” Fuck her and most of them, mate. I will exercise my duty and not a thing more.
Before I had this dream I had a vision about Leraje and me standing on the rooftop of some sort of base. Missiles are starting from where we’re at and I can see him grinning underneath his neck gaiter as he tells me “Hagalo, (Name).”.
The vision stretches into the very thin before-falling-asleep-consciousness. The last thing I see is a white missile that we have loaded. Three red hebrew letters are written on it; I can not read hebrew but my ears translate these bits as “Ahad” (“Al -Ahad” is 67th name of Allah, “the sole/indivisible one”, not sure if this will be important for further Lataif workings). Before I fall asleep I scribble the heard name into my notebook, together with the hebrew letters as good as my memory and sleep will let me.
In the morning I discover that my scribbled BS is almost correct and that the missile was indeed reading 'echadh. “One”, semantically equated with being many parts, yet one. Like a unit thats made up from many bits.
TW for the squeamish ones around body fluids and functions of the female body
I used a combination of lower chakra workings (Svadhisthana and Muladhara) and a bit of spirit help to force my body into early menstruation, the other day. An upcoming surgery in a few days would have been exercised at the same day where my red visitor would usually drop in and to be honest: I couldn’t imagine to feel that miserable on such a day I thought that I could certainly help it in some way, so I asked Leraje to kickstart the whole process when my lower chakras would be ready enough after a meditational warm-up. He and I have a peculiar history around spontaneous flood-like red occurrences since our earliest days and by now its a beloved running gag, “You remember, that one time when I profusely bled my guts out on my new sneakers in the basement of my coworker because of you?”, and then we both laugh. I went to the ER that day because I thought that I was going to die. Good old times.
Less gore, more focus now. When I felt both of my chakras getting “softer” (I can’t quite describe it in a better way) and flexible I asked Leraje to do his weird trick. In my minds eye there was this glass sphere hanging from a ceiling, filled with dark red liquid. I could feel something shooting a little crack into the bottom of this sphere, like a small rock that was fired from a slingshot. The dark red liquid began to drip through the tiny fissure, slowly.
Three days later and six days too early (which is not typical for me) I felt glad over the soul wrenching pain and the physical manifestation of this working. I won’t do this too often, since I don’t want to fuck up my cycle and my hormones. But at least I will not experience that dreaded “first day” on the surgery table and it makes me feel much more at ease. I am also a bit proud about the well timed manifestation of energy manipulation
We decided to pull the plug from my great aunt, today. My great uncle had a very fleeting moment of consciousness beforehand, mentioning how he would “shoot himself” if he would have to wake up without her. He slumped back into unconsciousness, treated for his pain but now without life-prolonging measures. We are currently waiting for their bodies to sync up, so to speak. I will try to ease both of them into their new journey and I hope that their essences will be able to identify, find and hold on to each other. I will ask Zuhal to oversee this process and to gently pull up the veil in between them and us.
She made it. She passed at the same time I was shoved into surgery myself; before the sedatives hit I was having some kind of feeling. Yesterday the cards told me who would go first and it was her.
My great uncle will follow soon, either tonight or tomorrow. He will not live to feel the grief and I firmly believe that he knows. I believe that it will make him pass more freely, without being afraid that he has to “hold up” for her sake.
I will heavily work with Zuhal for this burial because I know that my family will make an absolute shitshow out of it. They are comically afraid of death and everything that touches that topic. As most of them are next in line I hope that this kind of corny way to leave this life will somewhat nudge them into a more sober mindset.
The third dead man walking must find a way to accept the concept of mortality, his mortality. Maybe I can include him in a way that starts this acceptance.
Done. I hope that I will be physically more in shape by the second week of November, to strengthen the current endeavours in that regard. At the moment I am insanely frustrated about the amount of rest I am forced to have. Intellectually I understand that my body still needs its resources to heal the surgery wound and the anesthesia remnants but one can only lay around in different rooms of the house so much. I am a bit sulky because I couldn’t use the large fire bowl outside of the house for todays rituals; I am not allowed to take stairs or to stand for too long. (I can’t wait to have the suture removed, I can’t meditate fully relaxed like this )
Thankfully, burned bay leaves smell exceptionally nice to me; I burned them in my altar room, pulling the harvest of my work and my endeavours towards me and mine. The name فاروق / Faruq illuminated my mind all of a sudden while I inhaled the scent of the burned leaves. I suppose that this should serve as a reminder that I am always obliged to tell right from wrong when dealing with personal material matters.
Being in a shoot-out with a man that started to go on a killing spree from seemingly one moment to the next. After having my right hand torn into shreds by the impact of a bullet that he was shooting at his daughter I was able to overpower him eventually. When inspecting the dead body I found a grimoire-like book. It was written in spanish, but not in coherent sentences but in words that had been pieced together randomly and without relation to another. From certain sentences I could see other sentences floating over the sheets; I couldn’t make out the language but the words had been written in spirals, with red letters. The spirals stood out to me the most and I think that they somehow activated the behaviour of the reader.
The father of the dead man was flipping through the pages briefly; he changed almost instantly and tried to attack the remnants of his family. I decided to take the book with me, to prevent any further damage. Sadly I can’t remember any of the sequences regarding the spanish words.
Approx 1 hour of spontanous out of body session. I could feel my entire body while walking around in my own bedroom; I could even feel the stitches and the bruised areas on my foot with each step. I stayed inside the house with that session because I didn’t want to risk to walk around in less forgiving areas with the injury. But I find it peculiar how my foot was feeling the pain and how it didn’t bring me back into my body; I could carefully check back with myself laying on the bed but I could also return to every other spot of the house. I haven’t meditated or prepared anything for that. Maybe my energetic body is confused over whats going on with my physical body.
While I am still in recovery from the surgery I was told that I wouldn’t be able to operate a car until well into December; therefore I asked my family to arrange the funeral of my great aunt and great uncle around one single week of December where I am not able to get to the funeral because I’d lack the designated driver (my partner), who is on a business trip in another country during that week. The burial place is several hours away from my home and there is no way I could make it in time with the little public transport infrastructure around this godforsaken place.
I might or might not have mentioned that my family consists mostly of absolute cunts and that I avoid them as much as I can for that reason.
So. Of course they pick the exact week for the funeral where I would not be able to attend; I wasn’t able to attend the funeral of my other great aunt this year because my parents decided to hide the date from me until very shortly before. They “forgot” to tell me. So this time I told them that this is not possible and that there should be a different week for the funeral to take place. My father (who hasn’t inherited the house of my great uncle, thats what you get for being an absolute cunt ) simply tells me that if I couldn’t attend its “unfortunate” but also that “it is what it is”. While using my name as a bait to get a hold of an eulogist who wouldn’t travel that far for a job if it wasn’t for me. Or my affiliation with the deceased.
They clearly want to keep me out of the loop; its not as if they haven’t stolen inheritance money from me before and I suspect that they are currently trying to weasel their way into whatever is written in my great uncles and aunts testaments.
Meanwhile I haven’t told them that my partner suddenly got the info that his super important business trip will be postponed until somewhere in January for some reason (some reason = I had a little thought implant session towards his employer, to see if I could broker some days from that trip towards myself).
I will not let myself be kept away from my own duty in this whole situation.
But I will “forget” to tell them that. Surprise and stuff.
If I had to strictly categorize it, with a gun to my head, I would probably answer something along the lines of dollarstore thaumaturgy and spirit work.
Honestly I have no fucking idea myself, though. I take something and see what it does
It seems very powerful and coming deep deep inside you. I am always impressed with what you can achieve with your magic and love particularly your style in your journaling
I think that - as little as I contribute by the means of experience or deep knowledge or meaningfulness, unlike many other people of this community - my rambling participation can serve as a tale of hope. If Pariah can do it, basically everyone else can. I think thats pretty neat.
Marking a half of a year of being sober. I would usually say “6 months” but rawdogging this reality for one half of an entire year sounds more impressive in my mind. In the meantime I had some experiences that could have easily pulled me back into the bottom of a bottle but I didn’t cave in one bit. I was a bit worried about soon to be expected festivities and its impact on my endurance but after basically speedrunning almost the entire “could lead to a relapse” Bingo card I feel very optimistic. I am actually looking forward to waking up the day after without the physical remnants
Thank you, Leraje. I don’t count the days anymore but every single one without that stuff is owed to your interference in the first place. This generational illness can fuck itself, mate.
I thought that I could certainly help it in some way, so I asked Leraje to kickstart the whole process when my lower chakras would be ready enough after a meditational warm-up. He and I have a peculiar history around spontaneous flood-like red occurrences since our earliest days and by now its a beloved running gag, “You remember, that one time when I profusely bled my guts out on my new sneakers in the basement of my coworker because of you?”, and then we both laugh. I went to the ER that day because I thought that I was going to die. Good old times.
) simply tells me that if I couldn’t attend its “unfortunate” but also that “it is what it is”. While using my name as a bait to get a hold of an eulogist who wouldn’t travel that far for a job if it wasn’t for me. Or my affiliation with the deceased.
