Rufus Opus

Tag: Goetic

Tag: Goetic

  • Shifting Gears on Goetia

    Ok, so after years and years (and years) of RO bashing Demon Magic, I’m shifting gears. It would be fairly typical for me to say, “I changed my mind, I was wrong” and dive right in, fuck the consequences, but that’s not where I’m at.

    See, the reason I stopped doing Demon magic is because it’s dangerous. It works really well, but there’s little room for error. For example, if I go to Raphael and ask him to bring me wealth in the amount of $4,000 by the end of the month, by any means necessary, as long as no one in my family got hurt, he immediately starts leading me in my mind through the means necessary to get what I need. He shows me what I have that is of value already, and demonstrates the means necessary to make the difference within the time constraints.

    Bune simply said, “yes, I will do that,” and a week or so later a faulty regulator caused a gas build up that flamed out and caught some stuff on fire that I’d left too close to the water heater. My first check from the insurance company was for almost exactly the amount I needed, a little more in fact.

    While everyone got out alive and unharmed, and technically no one in my family was hurt, the stress was terrible. My ex about had a break down. My kids were fine, except for when their mom and I fought as a result of the stress. It was one of many times in the relationship we nearly got divorced, but I did magic to save the relationship, and we made it through that storm.

    And I promised her I wouldn’t do any more demon magic. It works, very well, and I really wanted to go deeper into it. I wanted to figure out if he could make a house fire, what else could he do? I mean that kind of manifestation is pretty damned awesome, if it can be contained and channeled properly. But I felt it was too risky. I didn’t have room to fuck up, I had kids and a wife to protect and support.

    A couple weeks ago, my ex and I separated. In May I started a new job, making  a ton of money, but working 16-hour days. I dropped a lot of the Kingdom Maintenance magic I had been doing, including the stuff that was keeping my relationship afloat. I might write a post about that some time, but not now.

    As a result of these changes, I’m free to go back to the figuring out the demon magic I was practicing before.

    However, I’ve learned a whole lot in the two years since doing that kind of magic, and I have a better understanding of how magic works in general. Effective magic is done in a balanced way, Working with the spirits of the celestial, terrestrial, and chthonic in a coordinated effort. I’ve been working with spirits of the dead and genii loci, and various elementals who aren’t entirely demonic for the last couple of years, and I’m looking forward to including the demons in the mix again. I’m planning a series of rites to get back in the swing of things, conjuring the spirits to learn and get some minor assistance here and there, and then move onto more specific manifestation stuff.

    But first I’m planning a full Hermetic Retreat.

  • Modern Goetic Grimoire, Available Again

    Ok, so due to some recent experiences, I’m re-releasing the Modern Goetic Grimoire. It’s a record of my personal practice in the Lemegetton’s Goetia, my approach, my understanding, my experiences with the spirits, and the results.

    Long time followers of my blog know that when I did some bad magic* with Bune for some quick cash, he burned my house down, and I got a little bitter. The first insurance check was almost the exact amount I told Bune I needed. the magic worked. I just REALLY didn’t like how it worked. Because it threatened things I thought were important.
    I’ve realized recently that a lot of what I thought mattered didn’t, after all. Weird shit to go through, I tell you what. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
    But in light of recent experience, I’ve come to realize that there wasn’t really anything wrong with what happened. I just didn’t like it. It was “evil,” because it was “shit that sucked.” But shit sucks anyway, magic or no. 
    So if you buy it and use it, know that:
    A) It worked great for me, really, really great, except I didn’t like it.
    B) You get what you ask for. That’s not always a good thing.
    C) It’s not safe. The techniques I provide offer a buffer, but they don’t keep you from being stupid.
    I’m pasting the Buy Now buttons for Google and Paypal here below, but it can also be purchased on my eBooks page. The cost is US$12.95.

    Paypal:





    Google:









    * Bad magic in that it was desperate, and poorly phrased on my part.

  • Goetic Dreams?

    So after last night’s rituals, I expected some kind of weird, post apocalyptic dreams.

    I got the mayor of New Orleans, the Dem and the Rep Presidential Candidates, in my house instead. Ok, still weird dreams, but nothing apocalyptic. McCain seemed like he had Alzheimers. Obama was just too eager to please, and generally disgusted that I wouldn’t fall under his sway. Mayor Nagen was trying to get money by contracting out repairs on our house without our consent. He was using a law that had recently passed, intended to bail out the housing slump, to push federally mandated repairs on the house, but my spouse had all the paperwork to prove we were exempt, and the mayor wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t make eye contact, he talked too fast, and seemed really … slimy.

    Obama wouldn’t stop making eye contact, like those paintings where the eyes are painted looking directly forward that look like they’re always following you around. And McCain was surrounded by too many bustling “flappers,” that he couldn’t have maintained a train of thought, let alone eye contact.

    Then I was riding a girl’s bike with high handlebars. I had to pedal really fast up hill to get anywhere, and there was no gear shift. The handlebars were like chopper handlebars, but they went straight up so my arms were really uncomfortable. And of course, I was too big for it. Then I went around the block and came down the hill on the street parallel, and almost ran into this bitchy neighbor that was a conglomeration of several bitchy moms that I know of at our real-life elemetary school, and she said something snide, and I was like, “Do you REALLY think I want to be on this bike?” She got offended and ended up taking her too-many kids in the house.

    It was weird, alright, but not really post-apocalyptic. After last night’s dream, I think I actually trust Obama more. He at least seemed sincere in his desire to want my vote. Not that he represents me, my values, or my goals in life, necessarily, just that at least he came across as honestly wanting me to like him. McCain was just out of it. Lost, befuddled. I felt sorry for him. He seemed like he was on some kind of drug, like the Ism from that video Mike Rock posted the other day. His retainers kept him dopey and distracted enough so he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to me, but they didn’t want him to have enough time to really see where he was at either. Bah. Political dreams. Weird shit. At least there were no scary clowns or three-foot Santas.

    But it wasn’t particularly Goetic. I had conjured Ga’ap, alias Tap, and had a good conversation with him. The rite went really well, and I asked him to send me a dream if I needed more information. Either I forgot a dream, or I didn’t need more information.

  • Goetic Dreams?

    So after last night’s rituals, I expected some kind of weird, post apocalyptic dreams.

    I got the mayor of New Orleans, the Dem and the Rep Presidential Candidates, in my house instead. Ok, still weird dreams, but nothing apocalyptic. McCain seemed like he had Alzheimers. Obama was just too eager to please, and generally disgusted that I wouldn’t fall under his sway. Mayor Nagen was trying to get money by contracting out repairs on our house without our consent. He was using a law that had recently passed, intended to bail out the housing slump, to push federally mandated repairs on the house, but my spouse had all the paperwork to prove we were exempt, and the mayor wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t make eye contact, he talked too fast, and seemed really … slimy.

    Obama wouldn’t stop making eye contact, like those paintings where the eyes are painted looking directly forward that look like they’re always following you around. And McCain was surrounded by too many bustling “flappers,” that he couldn’t have maintained a train of thought, let alone eye contact.

    Then I was riding a girl’s bike with high handlebars. I had to pedal really fast up hill to get anywhere, and there was no gear shift. The handlebars were like chopper handlebars, but they went straight up so my arms were really uncomfortable. And of course, I was too big for it. Then I went around the block and came down the hill on the street parallel, and almost ran into this bitchy neighbor that was a conglomeration of several bitchy moms that I know of at our real-life elemetary school, and she said something snide, and I was like, “Do you REALLY think I want to be on this bike?” She got offended and ended up taking her too-many kids in the house.

    It was weird, alright, but not really post-apocalyptic. After last night’s dream, I think I actually trust Obama more. He at least seemed sincere in his desire to want my vote. Not that he represents me, my values, or my goals in life, necessarily, just that at least he came across as honestly wanting me to like him. McCain was just out of it. Lost, befuddled. I felt sorry for him. He seemed like he was on some kind of drug, like the Ism from that video Mike Rock posted the other day. His retainers kept him dopey and distracted enough so he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to me, but they didn’t want him to have enough time to really see where he was at either. Bah. Political dreams. Weird shit. At least there were no scary clowns or three-foot Santas.

    But it wasn’t particularly Goetic. I had conjured Ga’ap, alias Tap, and had a good conversation with him. The rite went really well, and I asked him to send me a dream if I needed more information. Either I forgot a dream, or I didn’t need more information.

  • The Sun Comes Up, It’s Tiw’s Day Mourning

    If your’e not a Cowboy Junkies fan, the blog title might not be as entertaining as it was for me.

    This morning was picture day at school. Lots of hubbub, not a lot of time for Work around daybreak. I don’t know why, but I’m attracted to Martial work in general lately. I’ve been barely resisting the urge to curse people on principle. There’s a … I don’t know, a violence about things in my life, not like a destructive violence, but a strong urge to wage war for the things I think are right. Politics, work, my Great Work, I just want to DO stuff, there’s a pressing urgency to DO stuff.

    Like the Box, and the Bune Radio. I want to create, empower, direct, and dominate my world. Not yours, mine.

    The song I stole the title for today’s post is about a woman going through that emotional stage of missing her ex-lover, but at the same time, enjoying the new-found freedom she had forgotten about. I was mostly looking for a song that had Tuesday in the title. (Tuesday comes from Tiw’s Day, the Norse God of War, which of course was Martial in nature. You prolly knew that.) There’s also a connection to Fall, leaves falling, the season changing, and although I’m going to miss Summer, I’m finding things about this season that I’d forgotten about, and that I like.

    Like Tiw’s Day. It’s Tiw’s Day, Mars Day, and I’m ready for some action. Mars plays an important role with Saturn in the Goetia, and I had a strange apocalyptic dream the other night that I’m beginning to suspect was a Goetic spirit trying to get my attention. The build-up of whatever’s trying to get my attention is getting so thick I can feel it in the air around me. It’s almost like a frustration, but it’s like a palm’s width outside of my body.

    So tonight, the Sun’s coming up and it’s going to be a Tiw’s Day Mourning. For something, or someone. Might be some part of my self that has to die, or be subjugated to my “True Will;” it might be something else. I’m definitely going to be Working some Goetic spirits, regardless. Maybe Tap into some forces and see what’s been going on and what’s to come.

    Muahahahaaa.

  • The Sun Comes Up, It’s Tiw’s Day Mourning

    If your’e not a Cowboy Junkies fan, the blog title might not be as entertaining as it was for me.

    This morning was picture day at school. Lots of hubbub, not a lot of time for Work around daybreak. I don’t know why, but I’m attracted to Martial work in general lately. I’ve been barely resisting the urge to curse people on principle. There’s a … I don’t know, a violence about things in my life, not like a destructive violence, but a strong urge to wage war for the things I think are right. Politics, work, my Great Work, I just want to DO stuff, there’s a pressing urgency to DO stuff.

    Like the Box, and the Bune Radio. I want to create, empower, direct, and dominate my world. Not yours, mine.

    The song I stole the title for today’s post is about a woman going through that emotional stage of missing her ex-lover, but at the same time, enjoying the new-found freedom she had forgotten about. I was mostly looking for a song that had Tuesday in the title. (Tuesday comes from Tiw’s Day, the Norse God of War, which of course was Martial in nature. You prolly knew that.) There’s also a connection to Fall, leaves falling, the season changing, and although I’m going to miss Summer, I’m finding things about this season that I’d forgotten about, and that I like.

    Like Tiw’s Day. It’s Tiw’s Day, Mars Day, and I’m ready for some action. Mars plays an important role with Saturn in the Goetia, and I had a strange apocalyptic dream the other night that I’m beginning to suspect was a Goetic spirit trying to get my attention. The build-up of whatever’s trying to get my attention is getting so thick I can feel it in the air around me. It’s almost like a frustration, but it’s like a palm’s width outside of my body.

    So tonight, the Sun’s coming up and it’s going to be a Tiw’s Day Mourning. For something, or someone. Might be some part of my self that has to die, or be subjugated to my “True Will;” it might be something else. I’m definitely going to be Working some Goetic spirits, regardless. Maybe Tap into some forces and see what’s been going on and what’s to come.

    Muahahahaaa.

  • The Bune Radio

    Ok, so Fr. POS wrote about playing rock music for his Goetic compatriots as a reward. [Edit: It wasn’t his idea, I don’t think, it was HIS GAL‘s idea; she gets a lot of groovy ideas. It was a conversation wtih her that resulted in the Box I made.]

    Since I’m on a bit of a Mad Scientist binge lately, and because I had a clock radio that no longer clocked but still radioed, I took his idea and made a Bune Radio.

    I took apart the clock and removed all the components related to the clock part that didn’t work anymore. (I found residue of spilled something in the terminals and a lot of corrosion, and instead of cleaning it, I fried the clock trying to figure out how the LEDs worked; lesson learned: don’t use a 9V battery to test lights that run on 4VAC. Sigh.)

    Left with just the radio, I wired a copper Bune seal in line with the wires going to the speakers. I tuned it to a rock station, and played it for a while. Then I explained that when he gets me a specific dollar amount, I’d play it as a reward for a specific period of time.

    I’m also thinking I could use it as an audio-scrying device. I can tune it between stations and get some good white noise going on, and observe what I “hear” coming through.

  • The Bune Radio

    Ok, so Fr. POS wrote about playing rock music for his Goetic compatriots as a reward. [Edit: It wasn’t his idea, I don’t think, it was HIS GAL‘s idea; she gets a lot of groovy ideas. It was a conversation wtih her that resulted in the Box I made.]

    Since I’m on a bit of a Mad Scientist binge lately, and because I had a clock radio that no longer clocked but still radioed, I took his idea and made a Bune Radio.

    I took apart the clock and removed all the components related to the clock part that didn’t work anymore. (I found residue of spilled something in the terminals and a lot of corrosion, and instead of cleaning it, I fried the clock trying to figure out how the LEDs worked; lesson learned: don’t use a 9V battery to test lights that run on 4VAC. Sigh.)

    Left with just the radio, I wired a copper Bune seal in line with the wires going to the speakers. I tuned it to a rock station, and played it for a while. Then I explained that when he gets me a specific dollar amount, I’d play it as a reward for a specific period of time.

    I’m also thinking I could use it as an audio-scrying device. I can tune it between stations and get some good white noise going on, and observe what I “hear” coming through.

  • Goetic Dreams?

    So after last night’s rituals, I expected some kind of weird, post apocalyptic dreams.

    I got the mayor of New Orleans, the Dem and the Rep Presidential Candidates, in my house instead. Ok, still weird dreams, but nothing apocalyptic. McCain seemed like he had Alzheimers. Obama was just too eager to please, and generally disgusted that I wouldn’t fall under his sway. Mayor Nagen was trying to get money by contracting out repairs on our house without our consent. He was using a law that had recently passed, intended to bail out the housing slump, to push federally mandated repairs on the house, but my spouse had all the paperwork to prove we were exempt, and the mayor wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t make eye contact, he talked too fast, and seemed really … slimy.

    Obama wouldn’t stop making eye contact, like those paintings where the eyes are painted looking directly forward that look like they’re always following you around. And McCain was surrounded by too many bustling “flappers,” that he couldn’t have maintained a train of thought, let alone eye contact.

    Then I was riding a girl’s bike with high handlebars. I had to pedal really fast up hill to get anywhere, and there was no gear shift. The handlebars were like chopper handlebars, but they went straight up so my arms were really uncomfortable. And of course, I was too big for it. Then I went around the block and came down the hill on the street parallel, and almost ran into this bitchy neighbor that was a conglomeration of several bitchy moms that I know of at our real-life elemetary school, and she said something snide, and I was like, “Do you REALLY think I want to be on this bike?” She got offended and ended up taking her too-many kids in the house.

    It was weird, alright, but not really post-apocalyptic. After last night’s dream, I think I actually trust Obama more. He at least seemed sincere in his desire to want my vote. Not that he represents me, my values, or my goals in life, necessarily, just that at least he came across as honestly wanting me to like him. McCain was just out of it. Lost, befuddled. I felt sorry for him. He seemed like he was on some kind of drug, like the Ism from that video Mike Rock posted the other day. His retainers kept him dopey and distracted enough so he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to me, but they didn’t want him to have enough time to really see where he was at either. Bah. Political dreams. Weird shit. At least there were no scary clowns or three-foot Santas.

    But it wasn’t particularly Goetic. I had conjured Ga’ap, alias Tap, and had a good conversation with him. The rite went really well, and I asked him to send me a dream if I needed more information. Either I forgot a dream, or I didn’t need more information.

  • The Sun Comes Up, It’s Tiw’s Day Mourning

    If your’e not a Cowboy Junkies fan, the blog title might not be as entertaining as it was for me.

    This morning was picture day at school. Lots of hubbub, not a lot of time for Work around daybreak. I don’t know why, but I’m attracted to Martial work in general lately. I’ve been barely resisting the urge to curse people on principle. There’s a … I don’t know, a violence about things in my life, not like a destructive violence, but a strong urge to wage war for the things I think are right. Politics, work, my Great Work, I just want to DO stuff, there’s a pressing urgency to DO stuff.

    Like the Box, and the Bune Radio. I want to create, empower, direct, and dominate my world. Not yours, mine.

    The song I stole the title for today’s post is about a woman going through that emotional stage of missing her ex-lover, but at the same time, enjoying the new-found freedom she had forgotten about. I was mostly looking for a song that had Tuesday in the title. (Tuesday comes from Tiw’s Day, the Norse God of War, which of course was Martial in nature. You prolly knew that.) There’s also a connection to Fall, leaves falling, the season changing, and although I’m going to miss Summer, I’m finding things about this season that I’d forgotten about, and that I like.

    Like Tiw’s Day. It’s Tiw’s Day, Mars Day, and I’m ready for some action. Mars plays an important role with Saturn in the Goetia, and I had a strange apocalyptic dream the other night that I’m beginning to suspect was a Goetic spirit trying to get my attention. The build-up of whatever’s trying to get my attention is getting so thick I can feel it in the air around me. It’s almost like a frustration, but it’s like a palm’s width outside of my body.

    So tonight, the Sun’s coming up and it’s going to be a Tiw’s Day Mourning. For something, or someone. Might be some part of my self that has to die, or be subjugated to my “True Will;” it might be something else. I’m definitely going to be Working some Goetic spirits, regardless. Maybe Tap into some forces and see what’s been going on and what’s to come.

    Muahahahaaa.