Can’t lie to you folks, I took two days off from Liber F on
Friday and Saturday. No excuses, just me being a lazy bitch. But I was back at
it today.
I lit one of my Babalon candles, and burnt some incense. I
had chosen to play some of this bad-ass Polish folk music as my background. It’s
got some amazing violin playing, like “sold your soul to the devil to play this
good” kind of playing.
I was shaking my bone rattle along with the music, and
something triggered, I don’t know, an awakening of genetic memory? Gradually,
the incense began to smell like a campfire. I had a strong image of a woman
dancing in front of that fire, her amazing figure silhouetted in the flames. I
felt the sharp texture of the bone acutely in my hand, and I could see the long
line of human beings like me, who for hundreds of thousands of years gathered on
the hilltops, made fire, took the sacrament, played the drums, and danced. We
have always done this. Some of us will always do this. Our numbers are small,
comparatively. But brother, I’m gonna tell you, you have not lived unless you’ve
watched a couple hundred naked Thelemites dancing around a fire in the woods.
