Saturday, March 27, 2010


I am arbitrarily going by V.V.F. once again on Blogspot, for a while, at least. Because - while I'm quite accustomed to beloved family members calling me Zoe - I've noticed that I react with a sense of alarm when grown men on the Internet refer to me by that name. I think, somewhere deep in my subconscious mind, I imagine it must be my father speaking, and that I'm in a world of trouble, a sort of nameless dread forming in the sky above me.

Anyhow! I've been painting up my Antinous pieces that I drew up plans for some weeks ago, as you all saw. Hopefully I should have something to show for it by Monday. Ta!

ETA: I've just drawn a new header image for young Faust. He is pleased. Sometimes I get a little insecure about my hand-drawn work in comparison to all of the clean, digital imagery that people tend to prefer. But at the same time I like being able to see the texture of the ink on paper.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

It's nice to know us witches are appreciated somewhere.

Oh, Japan! I love you too!

Seriously, though. You're not supposed to know about the first one. Have you been going through my laundry? 

[From the series Black Butler and Hellsing, respectively. Translation/chart done by KuroFushicho on deviantart.]

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Onward and Upward. Down and Around.

I've considered making the comments herein for a few days now, unsure of how to begin. But there's no way to learn without trying, I suppose.

It should be accepted as a given that different schools of occultism are simply going to have different attitudes and ways of dealing with things. A Luciferian sorcerer is going to feel rather differently about certain things when compared to a Rosicrucian; a Vodou practitioner is operating in a completely different headspace than that of a member of the Golden Dawn. There's nothing wrong with this, of course, and it only makes sense. Different traditions with different origins and contributers will each have their own techniques, their own flavor of thinking.

More than a few times now, I've seen that the more accomplished witches in my area have well-ac
quainted themselves with the techniques of high magick. Being traditional Wiccans, of course they've gone through the traditional channels in order to do so - through initiation and earnest study. They've gone through all of the lessons in Qabalah and Psuedo-Judeo-Christian cosmology that any other initiate would have. They may or may not feel any strong allegiance to those ideas or see them as anything more than useful tools, but I believe that most of them have made, or are making, an honest effort to understand them.

By contrast, I would be very surprised to find a high magician getting down and dirty with witchery of any kind.

I mean, witchcraft techni
ques in and of themselves? Sure. I could see a magician getting out his needle and thread. In fact, I think I have. But witchery itself? The base, vulcan wickedness of it all? I don't think I've seen it happen yet.

Of course, I don't want to sound like that kid in high school who asks - thinking he's clever - why there isn't a "White People Day" during Multi-Cultural Week. I understand that for many people who enter the world of occultism from a certain angle, Wicca and witchcraft seem ubi
quitous and inescapable - a wasteland of red tents and drum circles with no end in sight. For someone who's after something that can only be provided by the Orders and sorcerers' cabals, I imagine that the word "witch" conjures, for many of them, only the image of an aromatherapist holding a crystal wand.

 Sometimes, the true voice of the witch comes through, even if it wins no converts. Consider a somewhat recent 
review from of Fulgur's first issue of Abraxas, focusing on witchcraft. It contains an excerpt:

"Witchcraft is an old animism felt in the heart. It is non-verbal and cannot be described in language without its substance getting lost in translation. It can only be alluded to and suggested. The lens of science will never observe an undine or dryad, but these terms are a convenient and poetic way of describing a very real congress that takes place between human consciousness and the manifest mysteries of nature, when you approach the latter in the mode of a witch."
 "It almost makes me wish I were a witch," our reviewer writes.

Again, it's not as if I'm going to fault her for not wanting to be a witch. That would be silly. But comments such as these, innocuous as they are, move me to conclude that mine is a realm that the vast majority of magicians simply aren't interested in for any reason. "And why should they be?" is one response. My 
question is more, "Why aren't they?"

 And there are some obvious answers to that. Our gods hold little fascination for them. There is nothing under the hills that they want. For them, the moon does not touch the earth. They love the succubus and never the night-hag.

And, once again, there's nothing wrong with that. But still, I wonder why I don't see these extra-curricular studies happening on both sides. Granted, I would say that our craft is a hard one to learn. While a mish-mash of rules can be found in a single text, most of it gathered from easily recognizable grimoires, Murrayite theses, and snippets of simply can't learn it solely from a book, even the Black Book just mentioned. So even a sincere pupil from a sorcerers' cabal might have some trouble. The heart of the witch is not found in any 
doctrine or heretical manifesto one can refer to, nor is it simply a matter of affecting a rustic flair to your work. The heart of the witch is what flies over the rooftops of the slumbering town. It is in the apparition of a beast. It is on the face of the mountain, with Diana and her darling crew.