Saturday, March 5th, 2:44 AM
Two nights ago or thereabouts, I was searching my collection for a nice black feather as a ritual focal point. I have a few crow feathers but could not find the one I was looking for.
Tonight, I picked up my Asmodeus, The Lord of Lust hardcover so I could use it as a mousepad while I played video games on my laptop in bed (don’t judge me). Before setting it down I went to flip through the book idly, and it opened to a page bookmarked by a perfect black crow tail-feather.
This poem/chant ends,
I vow to journey along the path of my will.
– Orlee Stewart ©
Thanks Asmodai 
Now I think on it, it was a good start, but using the crow pinions I have might be more… targeted.
Sunday, March 6th, 2022
When everything is said and done
To looking for answers, if only one
Turn my back, the urge has gone
Left with no reason we come undone
The day of Saturn, hour of Saturn ritual took a lot out of me. I stayed up until around 2.55am to begin it, and went back to back to back for an hour. A lot of rituals done. Not all mercy, not all severity, but somewhere between the two.
First time calling Czernobog, who I have wanted to work with for a while now. I called him in tandem with Belebog. I would like to encounter the raw, unfiltered, unrestrained aspect of Czernobog, though something tells me I’ll need a guide, which is something I 9/10 times forget to do deliberately.
Not sure if stupidity or just an immense amount of trust in myself. Or a stupid trust in myself. Or an immense acknowledgement that Metatron will show up in a heartbeat if things go south.
I finally used the lancets and vial that were given to me by a phlebotomist in an earlier entry. Managed to collect a nice little amount of heart’s blood from a finger-prick. I’d like to fill the vial up even further; I still have another disposable lancet. It hurt, briefly, but it seemed almost akin to that sweet self-inflicted pain, like when you have a loose tooth that you can’t stop probing with your tongue, because the self-inflicted pain feels good.
I would have to say, even Czernobog considered, the ritual that felt the most satisfying was blooding a white ribbon and chanting Psalm 91 over it while binding the relevant phrases in knots.
Monday, March 7th, 2022
It occurred to me that most of my “useful” tips and tricks I’ve picked up in the course of my journey are generally contained in (buried in) this journal, unless I make a new thread about them specifically… perhaps that is something I should work towards, rather than expecting people to willingly read 266+ posts of my rambling and whatnot. So I am trying to be more open when I do venture out into open waters.
Step one: this idea. Step two: collate the actual information. I have no idea what’d be useful and what would not be. But I realise I keep most of my information in my journal, where it might not be easily found by others. While I’m trying to be more open, I also have a constant inner battle between my reasonable paranoia (“protect yourself and don’t give away too much personal information online”) vs. my innate desire to share everything, and my general “everyone is my friend” and “trust until proven otherwise” approach to life. Even despite having been burned by the latter mindset, I can’t say I’m sorry for it… and how exactly would that affect me, all things being as they are. If anyone wanted to out me irl they would be simultaneously outting themselves.
Ultimately I doubt anyone in my life would be surprised by learning I have some occult leanings. I am not shy about sharing my (supposedly strictly academic) lifelong interest in the occult, I am known to be sarcastic, or rather, to adopt any stance as long as it makes people laugh. Worst case scenario I can just clutch my rosary/crucifix necklace and denounce the sinners (“thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”) although honestly, doing that in my country, I’d be seen as just as delusional as a supposed Christian as I would an occult devotee.
I’ve been too afraid to ask this widely, but is it normal for people who know more than one language to experience… something I can only describe as brain lag, or extreme jamais vu (the opposite of déjà vu)? I’ve been actively and passively collecting bits and pieces of non-English languages. There is already one I have a basic command of, as in, I occasionally dream in this language and could probably hold a very basic conversation in it, although I think I understand it better than I speak it (perks of having no one to practice speech with).
Now I’m trying to passively pick up two more (both Latin-based, so relatively easy), and have my sights on a third. I’m looking back wondering if I ever asked Agares for help in this area, or something, and have a feeling I might have done this months ago, without checking my ritual journal. It is exceptionally odd. My brain isn’t auto-processing English the way it should be, and English is my native language and the only language I know (enough to be fluent in*). Hearing or speaking it sounds wrong, or it just makes my brain lag. Written words not so much, but the spoken word definitely causes some weird delay where my brain has to turn the sounds and syllables into words and concepts.
Unsure if this is a language thing, or a delusion thing, or some other unspeakable mundane thing.
Not much else to say. Leviathan calls me. I’ll report on the pathworking soon. Oddly, so does Hermes. You’d think we’d have much more crossover, me being exceptionally mercurial, in all senses of the word, but alas. Maybe now is the time.
Enough rambling. Goodnight x
P.S. Edit for posterity: I dreamt of white crocodiles again, dead white crocodiles.
the longer I practice the more I see retrocausality at play.
) fictional character by, whose name in that canon means “Death”.
Leviathan, Metatron, Haniel, come and soothe me.
