Rufus Opus

Tag: RufusAstraCheck

Tag: RufusAstraCheck

  • Lessons on Losing

    After losing to Fr. POS in a friendly game of chess last night, I tried basking in the warm glow of Tiphareth to soothe my wounded ego. Actually, I was intending to do some Solar Work anyway. Before talking to him, I had felt downright suicidal for no apparent reason. It was totally against how I normally feel, so I figured some Solar Work would clean me out and do me some good.

    After losing to the good Frater, I only had a couple of minutes left in the hour of the Sun, so I decided instead of a luxurious soak in the Rays of Father Sun, I’d conjure up Och instead, from the Arbatel. I engraved his seal on the inside of my wedding band a week or so ago, with the intent of never having my “purse” be without the jingle of gold. I had meant my bank accounts, but all I got was a wallet that hasn’t quite finished being depleted of funds in spite of hungry kids who outgrow their clothes at the worst possible times, and many bills.

    Concern with those many bills had me conjuring the spirit Och, and when he showed up, he gave me all kinds of side-stepping issues, saying he couldn’t give me gold in a moment because there were “other things” going on that were interfering. I said, “Yes, there are other things going on, and that’s why I conjured you to get me the gold. You can do it. It’s in your office. Now, go do it.” Then I felt the spirit leave, and a sense of peace fell over me. I looked at the planetary hour, and it had shifted to Venus, the ruler of my Sun Sign.

    I’d like to say a pile of gold appeared at my feet today. It didn’t. I got a couple of job opportunities today, but none within my area of experience or geographic location.I got notice that a job I’m waiting to be approved should be given a green light in early November, pushed back from late October.

    Personally, I think Och is giving me the run-around. I don’t appreciate it much at all. I plan on having words with him about it later. Then again, I haven’t actually conjured him using the techniques of the Arbatel, specifically. Probably should, I suppose. I have used my Box and have had communications with him, though, placing my ring across the electrodes. I’m just not convinced he’s doing anything. Hmmmm… Just rolled the Geomantic Tumblers, and they say “Carcer: Restriction, limitation, and binding.”

    I’ll think on that; confirmation of the spirit’s message is something I can’t readily ignore.

    In the mean time, a closing quote:

    But you
    Why you wanna give me a run-around
    Is it a sure-fire way to speed things up
    When all it does is slow me down
    Tra la la la la bomba dear this
    is the pilot speaking
    And I’ve got some news for you
    It seems my ship still stands
    no matter what you drop
    And there ain’t a whole lot that you can do
    Oh sure the banner may be torn and
    the wind’s gotten colder
    Perhaps I’ve grown a little cynical
    But I know no matter what the waitress brings
    I shall drink in and always be full
    My cup shall always be full

    –Run Around, by Blues Traveler

  • Lessons on Losing

    After losing to Fr. POS in a friendly game of chess last night, I tried basking in the warm glow of Tiphareth to soothe my wounded ego. Actually, I was intending to do some Solar Work anyway. Before talking to him, I had felt downright suicidal for no apparent reason. It was totally against how I normally feel, so I figured some Solar Work would clean me out and do me some good.

    After losing to the good Frater, I only had a couple of minutes left in the hour of the Sun, so I decided instead of a luxurious soak in the Rays of Father Sun, I’d conjure up Och instead, from the Arbatel. I engraved his seal on the inside of my wedding band a week or so ago, with the intent of never having my “purse” be without the jingle of gold. I had meant my bank accounts, but all I got was a wallet that hasn’t qui

  • Lessons on Losing

    After losing to Fr. POS in a friendly game of chess last night, I tried basking in the warm glow of Tiphareth to soothe my wounded ego. Actually, I was intending to do some Solar Work anyway. Before talking to him, I had felt downright suicidal for no apparent reason. It was totally against how I normally feel, so I figured some Solar Work would clean me out and do me some good.

    After losing to the good Frater, I only had a couple of minutes left in the hour of the Sun, so I decided instead of a luxurious soak in the Rays of Father Sun, I’d conjure up Och instead, from the Arbatel. I engraved his seal on the inside of my wedding band a week or so ago, with the intent of never having my “purse” be without the jingle of gold. I had meant my bank accounts, but all I got was a wallet that hasn’t quite finished being depleted of funds in spite of hungry kids who outgrow their clothes at the worst possible times, and many bills.

    Concern with those many bills had me conjuring the spirit Och, and when he showed up, he gave me all kinds of side-stepping issues, saying he couldn’t give me gold in a moment because there were “other things” going on that were interfering. I said, “Yes, there are other things going on, and that’s why I conjured you to get me the gold. You can do it. It’s in your office. Now, go do it.” Then I felt the spirit leave, and a sense of peace fell over me. I looked at the planetary hour, and it had shifted to Venus, the ruler of my Sun Sign.

    I’d like to say a pile of gold appeared at my feet today. It didn’t. I got a couple of job opportunities today, but none within my area of experience or geographic location.I got notice that a job I’m waiting to be approved should be given a green light in early November, pushed back from late October.

    Personally, I think Och is giving me the run-around. I don’t appreciate it much at all. I plan on having words with him about it later. Then again, I haven’t actually conjured him using the techniques of the Arbatel, specifically. Probably should, I suppose. I have used my Box and have had communications with him, though, placing my ring across the electrodes. I’m just not convinced he’s doing anything. Hmmmm… Just rolled the Geomantic Tumblers, and they say “Carcer: Restriction, limitation, and binding.”

    I’ll think on that; confirmation of the spirit’s message is something I can’t readily ignore.

    In the mean time, a closing quote:

    But you
    Why you wanna give me a run-around
    Is it a sure-fire way to speed things up
    When all it does is slow me down
    Tra la la la la bomba dear this
    is the pilot speaking
    And I’ve got some news for you
    It seems my ship still stands
    no matter what you drop
    And there ain’t a whole lot that you can do
    Oh sure the banner may be torn and
    the wind’s gotten colder
    Perhaps I’ve grown a little cynical
    But I know no matter what the waitress brings
    I shall drink in and always be full
    My cup shall always be full

    –Run Around, by Blues Traveler

  • A chance to make a difference in MA

    Hey folks, I got an email request for a signature on a petition. The state of MA is moving retarded people (I’m sure there’s a better term for it, but I’m tired) to a terrible institution without the consent of their caregivers. For more details and to consider signing this petition, please visit:

    http://avertrollandtragedy.org/

    This is one aspect of the role of the Invisible College. However, to make it an official Invisible College kind of thing, you should also petition the Higher Authorities that control or influence the way things manifest. Call upon whatever aspects of God you Work with to get them to change their minds and give the people who love these institutionalized folks control over where these people will be sent and cared for.

    Taking care of the innocent or those who can’t take care of themselves is part of the Great work, imo. What’s going on in MA just ain’t right.

  • Mess with the bull…

    I swear to god, I’m sick of the ones that are convinced that they are ready, able, and willing to do the Work, but on their terms.

    IF you are redefining a system of Conjuration revealed to magicians in the 15th century, AND IF you have NEVER conjured any of the spirits from said system using the system as defined, not even to the best of your abilities:

    Your Work is a Work of PRIDE. You’re off your rocker. Get a clue.

    IF you are redefining a system of Initation and Attainment developed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, yet have NEVER been initiated into either the line you’re “reforming” or its offshoot that rhymes with BoTeeOh, THEN you too are full of shit.

    If in order for you to begin to explain the merits of your system, you must first make up lies about initiations into ceremonies that you have not participated in, your system is worthless.

    But not only that, you fucking idiot, you’ve put yourself in the running with people who actually know what they’re doing. You think Crowley’s sitting in the City of Pyramids next to Christ and Buddha, and now all of a sudden he’s beyond sending the Spirit of the Planet Mercury to confound and conflagrat you? Bullshit! He’s got a better line with him.

    If any of this shit above describes you, you’re nothing but a bald monkey jumping in the middle of a stampede. And I’d like to take a moment to remind bald monkeys what the fuck happens when you fucking jump in the middle of a fucking stampede. See below. And if you’re interrupting magicians that have a couple tons of momentum behind them barreling their way towards a goal you can’t imagine, expect at LEAST what this guy got as you’re tossed to the side.

  • Ode to a Weasle

    “Rosco P. Coltrane” was the name to you we gave,
    soon to be written in childe’s scrawl above your garden grave.
    “Pets die more oft’ than people do,” I told her as she cried,
    it didn’t help because to her more than a weasle died.
    A friend, a toy, a pet, a joy, the girl had lost too much.
    I held her as she sobbed and shook, and blubbered on, and such.

    I do not understand, I’m sure, the pleasure she had found
    in that smelly, creepy-looking thing that recently had drown’d.
    So my silence I shall keep on this, I will not bitch or moan
    or mention that we have a chance to make the Animal Stone.
    For now, Rosco, I bid adieu, and hope the childe can bear it,
    this grief your passing brought to us, so long you smelly ferret.

    (C) 2008, Rufus Opus

  • Tonight’s Work

    First, before I forget, the Geomantic Tumblers have been right on so far. They said my daughter would get a B, and she got a B+ on that math test.

    Ok, back to tonight’s Work. I just spent a long time making something really … primitive. But I likes it.

    In the hour of Mercury, on the day of Mercury, I conjured Raphael, Archangel of Mercury to help me with this work. I was trying to make a simple round talisman to the Archangel to use with my Box, but then I got an inspiration. I looked over and saw the huge plaster brick I’d made for the Pentagonal Seal of Solomon, the project that had failed miserably, and thought about how easy it would be to carve using a grinding bit on my dremel tool.

    So I carved out a rough figure of the symbol of Mercury, and melted up some pewter, some silver, and a dash of more tin. The mixture of metals, per Aaron Leitch, makes it a mercurial metal when it solidifies. The pewter came from my daughter, who had broken a cheaply soldered fairy’s wings right off. I tried to fix it, but I failed, and she said I could have it. I told her what I wanted to do with it, and she said “Cool.” That works for me. I just realized it was an Arial spirit that it had been molded into, and Mercury is associated with the element of Air. “Cool.”

    I melted the metals, and poured them into the rough mold, cleaned up the edges as best as I could, and engraved it with the name Raphael, RPAL in Celestial Script, the Archangel seal of Mercury from the Magical Calendar, and the Sigil of the Planet Mercury, also from the Magical Calendar. Some parts are prettier than others.

    Now, I’ve said before that “ugly works.” It’s a good thing. This isn’t fine art, by any means. It shows two things about me. One, I’m an amateur metallurgist. Two, I don’t let that stop me; my passion for communing with the spirits far outweighs any worries I have about how I look while doing so. It’s the communion that counts.

    Now I wanted to test it out on my Box, but it’s now the hour of the Moon. No time, no time. It took far longer than anticipated. The next Mercury hour isn’t until 4:08 AM my time, and man, that’s frickin’ early. Or late. I don’t think I’ll be using it this week, unless … Well, I’ll check Trithemius and see what he says.

  • Tonight’s Work

    Oh, for Christ’s sake.

    Remember dude I mentioned that wanted to be a Moonchild? I got that all wrong. He corrected me. Seems they weren’t trying to be Moonchildren at all. Oh no, nothing so puerile, he assured me. No, these two geniuses were trying to start the Apocalypse!!! The end of the WORLD!!! For Serious.

    Because, you know, they were bored.

    Wait for it…

    Wait for it….

    Give me a fucking break! “I’m bored, let’s end the world.” Where’s my clue by four? Of all the spoiled, self-centered, obnoxious, stupid, conceited, childish… no, not even childish, just damned bratty things I’ve ever seen… This takes the fucking cake. Hell, it takes the whole party.

    We were talking on a list about how omnipotence would lead to boredom. I mentioned that when I get bored, I meditate on the axiom “Only boring people get bored.” I also mentioned that any being that didn’t have the power to have entertain themselves wasn’t omnipotent.

    This is a beautiful world, full of beautiful things and beautiful people, and it’s a great awesome expanse of things to do. The world is your oyster. There’s nothing you can imagine that you can’t accomplish.

    Want to throw fireballs? Kathy, physics major, wastewater engineer, and author of the “My Gal” blog has the trick. It involves explosives, spark plugs, and pumpkins. Cheating? Yeah, that’s what I said, but frickin’ fun.

    Want to own your own island? Get a job, save money, get your credit fixed, buy cheap properties in the slummy parts of town, rent them out, use the rental as income to qualify for more loans, get more properties, sit on them for a while, and then sell them when you’ve got them all paid half off or so. Move to Florida. There are Keys that no one lives on. Build a house. Include a Hurricane Shelter. Don’t forget a boat for supplies.

    Want to be Donald Trump? Do what he did. Want to be a famous occult author like Jason Miller, Lon DuQuette, Sam Webster, or MacGregor Mathers? Do it. It’s your life. You get what you work for. You start where you’re at, you plan a path to what you want, and you do it. Fuck. It ain’t rocket science.

    “I’m Bored.” Fuck you. Get some fucking balls. Grow the fuck up. The world ain’t going to sit around and come up with things to entertain you, you self-centered piece of shit. Get off your ass and do something. Get a fucking job already. And brush your god damned teeth. Your breath fucking stinks.

  • Tonight’s Work

    First, before I forget, the Geomantic Tumblers have been right on so far. They said my daughter would get a B, and she got a B+ on that math test.

    Ok, back to tonight’s Work. I just spent a long time making something really … primitive. But I likes it.

    In the hour of Mercury, on the day of Mercury, I conjured Raphael, Archangel of Mercury to help me with this work. I was trying to make a simple round talisman to the Archangel to use with my Box, but then I got an inspiration. I looked over and saw the huge plaster brick I’d made for the Pentagonal Seal of Solomon, the project that had failed miserably, and thought about how easy it would be to carve using a grinding bit on my dremel tool.

    So I carved out a rough figure of the symbol of Mercury, and melted up some pewter, some silver, and a dash of more tin. The mixture of metals, per Aaron Leitch, makes it a mercurial metal when it solidifies. The pewter came from my daughter, who had broken a cheaply soldered fairy’s wings right off. I tried to fix it, but I failed, and she said I could have it. I told her what I wanted to do with it, and she said “Cool.” That works for me. I just realized it was an Arial spirit that it had been molded into, and Mercury is associated with the element of Air. “Cool.”

    I melted the metals, and poured them into the rough mold, cleaned up the edges as best as I could, and engraved it with the name Raphael, RPAL in Celestial Script, the Archangel seal of Mercury from the Magical Calendar, and the Sigil of the Planet Mercury, also from the Magical Calendar. Some parts are prettier than others.

    Now, I’ve said before that “ugly works.” It’s a good thing. This isn’t fine art, by any means. It shows two things about me. One, I’m an amateur metallurgist. Two, I don’t let that stop me; my passion for communing with the spirits far outweighs any worries I have about how I look while doing so. It’s the communion that counts.

    Now I wanted to test it out on my Box, but it’s now the hour of the Moon. No time, no time. It took far longer than anticipated. The next Mercury hour isn’t until 4:08 AM my time, and man, that’s frickin’ early. Or late. I don’t think I’ll be using it this week, unless … Well, I’ll check Trithemius and see what he says.

  • 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.