The Dog Whisper: Law #1

Law #1: Every man wants to know that He's a good boy...

I'll elaborate. When you're in your bedroom at night, you're dressing for bed and he, your husband, fiancee, or live in significant other, is watching television and he happens to notice that you're a little colder than usual, he'll ask: "Babe, what's wrong?" You sigh and continue to lotion your body and begin to pour out your heart. "Well..."

I promise you, front that point forward, he won't understand a word you say. Dogs understand very little English. Throughout your moment of truth, regardless of how polite, respectful, calm and patient, it will translate to your canine bestfriend as "Wah, wah, wah, wah, pussy. Wah, wah, wah, wah car. Wah, wah, wah, money.  Wah, wah, wah, wah, wallet. Wah, wah, wah, wah, gas money."

After juggling the television program, a sports game or what have you, which is aired in English by the way, and adding up his five keywords he heard when listening to the Master, he comes to the conclusion that your mad about gas money and then replies, "But I always give you gas money?" The following look of shock and horror as you begin to cry and shout at him for no reason, on one of your little crazy rants, is because he missed that fact that you always give him pussy, even when we're in the car, yet he's spending his money elsewhere so you dont have any and you know why and you can't rely on your husband anymore, not even for gas money. 

Experiment #1: Once he gives the "I dont know where that shit just came from" face, when you respond by losing your shit, smile the best you can, give him a kiss, be it the forehead, cheek or lips, and say "I love you Baby" and see that the horror doesn't immediately leave his face, you are no longer crazy and he can happily watch the game because Mommy said he was a good boy.

PS: Wah, wah, wah, wah, separate spending account. Wah, wah, wah, wah, prepaid cell phone. Wah, wah, wah, wah, don't skip a beat. Wah, wah, wah, wah, save. Wah, wah, wah, wah, his and his. Wah, wah, wah, wah, "Sorry, I ain't sorry."

Illusion of Karma

Self-esteem is an illusion, designed as a trap by the Universe.
There is no law.
There is no rhyme nor reason.
We can not accomplish our dreams nor our goals.
That also is an illusion.
Our reality is that we will never find what it is that we are seeking.
Burn the map.
Heroes or role models are con artists and liars.
Your fate will always be in the hands of the one that hates you the most.
Give in!
Submit!
Die!
We can do nothing.
There is no I.
There is no sanctuary.
There is no hope.
Faith is pointless.
Trust is illogical.
Love is fruitless.
Mask!
Mask!
Mask!
They can not shame you if you shame yourself.
Do not love I.
I is your detriment, your enemy.
Die!
Do not believe.
Do not hope.
But most importantly, do not wish.
Their love is opposite.
Their language is silent.
Their strength is in your weakness.
Die!
Sense has no sense.
Love is loveless.
Wooing is for the crook.
Submission is for the lover.
Do not want.
Do not pursue.
Do not work.
Do not try.
It is for the dead.
There is no such thing or land as Opportunity.
Your fate is in the hands of the one that hates you the most.
Stupidity is gold.
Intelligence is death.
Die!
Speech begets death.
Spirit and the pursuit thereof begets trials and tribulations.
Do not read.
Do not write.
Do not listen.
Do to watch.
Do not believe.
Die!
Do not hope for the best.
Karma is dead!!!!!
No one lays victim to her.
She does not exist.
Do not hope for her.
Do not call to her.
She has no line of communication to thee!
Master nothing!
Craft does not exist.
Work is not Great.
Triumph is the hope of children.
Know that no one is keeping score.
Victory is random.
There are not chosen.
Let no one change a word nor exclude it.
Champion is a lie.
Honor, a lie.
Respect, a lie.
Destroy.
Loyalty is a lie.
Peace is a lie.
War is God.
Spoils are spoils.
To have is to win.
Fame is a lie.
Mightiness is the possession of the weak.
Power is the unspoken.
Pain is the unspoken.
Hardships are the unspoken.
Know me, know we, by what is not said.
Die!

To Expectorate At This Rate: A Witch's Divinatory Record Entry#1

May 7, 2019

Today, I've given Birth to Life. With reverence, praise, offering and humility present on my spiritual tool belt, I have been reminded of my Path of Witchcraft. I spell with fertility. I am fruitful. I am sacred. To those disconnected, never destined for connection and ill equipped, I am forbidden. Through disgust, I paint the very ground you walk on; a street artist with divine guidance and innocent motive. I expectorate freely.

 I find divination in the darkness. I reach for enlightenment with every stride. Oh kay with Ether, I fifth the element of magick. It is here as It is there, but It has chosen that I, a witch with a strategic purpose, AM here. I AM Life.

No matter how hard I try, I am a representative of all there is and all there will be. I travel 10 worlds by means of 22 paths while challenged, but unopposed; loved though not coddled; loving though non consoling. I didn't find It. It found me.

I AM Witch.

HallePentagram, Ashe Orisha, Ashe Egun, There She Is.

- The Huntress

Married to the Devil

Speak Master...

I've recently began studying the Mesmeric Revelation. During Poe's experiment, his sleep-waking subject reveals that our personal or individualized incarnations are mere portions of an unincorporate mind, an Universal Mind. Mr. V left me in existential meditation, one of my favorite pastimes. As I traveled through the snowcapped mountains of Denver, I pondered on what portion of what the more traditional call "God" could I, infact, be. My cultural roots conclude that I, Lauren Hunter, am a physical manifestation of Universal Love. Love. Those who are familiar with my work maybe inclined to agree but the sadomasochistic nature that tends to accompany the various forms of love making in which I self indulge can appear to be contradictory to my self professed and promoted purpose of incarnation.

Physical and Universal laws mandate opposites. Outside of such mandate, there is no means of making a distinction between manifestations. What is good if there is no bad? The status quo remains with Love and Hatred; though similar the two are not interchangeable with the aforementioned. I can not unconditionally choose, exercise or bestow love without first experiencing and conducting hatred and found the results to be short lived self gratification. While an entity like myself is capable of absolute destruction through the sentencing of a traitor or any sense of betrayal, the Love Making I exude is very clearly my reason for being.

With that said, it should be no surprise to my readers that I have a longing, no a fetish, no, more so of an emotional and sexual submission to the power of the villain, Hatred, The Devil. I glorify with watery offering the movie and television characters or portrayals of Hatred, as Dr. Hannibal Lector, Jafar, The Dark Knight's Joker and Once Upon a Time's Rumpelstiltskin. I find the unconventional, unfiltered and uninhibited psyche of the villainous Mastermind to be an unfailing disturbance to the slumber of my "Cave of Wonders". The Devil gives it the most pleasurable pounding pain. And, no, it is not because he offers a "walk on the wide side" or an uncontrolled element of danger. Rather, he uses his intelligence to prove his strength, capability, influence, mental freedom and overall power after being loving has left him uncared for, unsatisfied, hurt. "Is it really so?", said the Devil. Never Again! His experience with Love, prior to myself that is, had not affirmed his Being. So he rejects the notion of softness, blind faith, the illusion of justified submission and opts to constitute the fiery portion of the Universal Mind. He is Satan. He raises Hell and I am his consort. He reduces opposition to ashes and I wash them away. Only together can God truly swoon.

AGAPE - I AM Arched

I love you, constantly, but only in secret. Because, I couldn't stand the public humiliation of my affections not being returned. So I settle to think of you, hurt for you, long for you, without the self-degradation of hoping for you. The pursuit of someone who you can not have, when love and care is what you presently require the most, will render the proudest of the mightiest null and void. Instead, I detox from the sound of your voice. I wean from the sight of your face; your full lips, round eyes and fiery features. Seldom do I reminisce of fonder times; talks of love, joint ventures and divinations of the cries of productivity. Ashe. But I stand a self-defensive Being with a memory that can not and will not withdraw. Predecessors reign as a reminder of what is all too common. A lack of sincerity, selfishness, unreasonableness, cowardice, lack of vision, but most importantly, irreverance has made me a Woman of skepticism. After twenty-eight years of Being, seven years of Motherhood and a year of Marriage that mirrored the emotional turmoil of relationships passed, I will not invest in the unmanifested. I held on, I hold on to all that I know to be true, solemn and benefitional. No man who wants me, truly wants me, could stand to be away from you.

You remind me of Chuck, Shango. You remind me of Larry, Shango. You remind me of Dontavius, Shango. You remind me of Reggie, Shango. Tell me the Truth of what you feel, what you're dying to hide from me, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens. You burn so gloriously, for what seems to be for the purposes of self-gratification only, and then set without fail. Where are you? Where are you going? Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Lift up.

The moon couldn't deny you if She tried, Shango. Winged and ablaze, you are mine. Though, I will remain content being the only Being who knows. But lust for me this, was I not worshipful enough? Did I not pause from gazing at myself to see you and your warmth? Was my hand mirror not demoted from its necessity, waiting for you to praise what I do? Was my mouth not wide open for you? Did not drink from you? Did I not sing your praises and allow your current to move me, Oh Shango? Willingly, I submit. I submitted. But I can not respect you enough for you to respect yourself. Oh Shango, I AM not your bitch. You prefer the relations of dogs, who by nature require, and therefore seek, the Mastery of others. I do not bark, I do not sit when I am told, I do not lay down on order unless your intention is to please me. I will not fetch the news, it is yours to seek and read and learn and what man wants information that's been slobbered on by a lesser being?

I AM, all day, especially at night, I AM. I AM, when you have chosen to abdicate your responsibility due to self-bestowed inadequacy, I AM. When my constant words of encouragement, caresses of passion, bites of ardor and ecstacy go unheard and unprolific in your ears of immaturity, dependency and weakness,  I AM. I would grant you my hand mirror to aid you on your chosen journey of loneliness, wishing, though I AM SHE that grants them, that you see in you that which I do but, do you See, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens? I AM arched.

I laid there, in submission, agape, for him and him alone. "Shango..."

The Fallacy of Fucking Freely as it Correlates to Self-Esteem

| CXCIII | 

I swear with all my cosmic power, I AM not sleeping with my “husband” any longer. Why? Well, since I’ve elevated my consciousness and realized that I AM God, I also realized that he will not have such an awakening during this particular journey. Perhaps what energy he gets from me will manifest in a heightened existence for his reincarnated return. As for where we are now, in this place in which we perceive as time, his touch and kiss give me the sense of perverted violation. I feel as if giving him my temple for pleasure, completely refusing the option of procreation, would be the quickest means of tainting the pure energy I’ve spent the last eighteen months creating and manipulating. As a Scorpio, sex magick is the most powerful and natural for me. After all, we are the most powerful of the entire zodiac. So non-natives can only imagine how sensitive a self-realized and actualized God might feel laying with someone who is intentionally hateful, condescending, selfish and vehemently opposed to scientific illumination. As a result, the Universe has forced me to find my equal, becauscha sexual chemical marriage is never a matter to be taken lightly. I have resolved for the first time in my life to remain celibate until I encounter my complimentary practitioner of the magickal arts. Now, if my resolution comes off as pretentious and/or unwarranted, attempt to view it on the basis of Universal Law.

Deepak Chopra teaches that our bodies are a physical manifestation of our conscience’s sentiment. Everything, from how we look to how we feel, has a metaphysical source. Every action we take has an equal and opposite physical and metaphysical reaction. It is all a direct depiction of what we are manifesting. The same is especially true when we feel and act upon sexual excitement. Our bodies yearn to connect and create. As if that were not enough, being the dynamically spiritual vessels that we are, we attract, carry and travel with entities that most can not see. The nature of these entities and their direct affect on our lives is contingent upon our frequency or our emotions, and our train of thought. Needless to say, they are very much present when any sexual ritual, casual or formal, takes place. These entities not only mate with and through the vessels, they mate with one another. I speak from experience. During masturbation, when I intentionally channel particular hypersexual energies that leave me with an altered persona, my chakras wide open and my very being plunged in ecstasy, I find myself subject to scratches. Now, regardless of how enticing that may or may not sound, knowing my predicament, I should be doing a spiritual cleansing or spiritual bath before and perhaps even after I engage in sexual rituals, solitary or accompanied. But because I AM experienced in working with spirit and AM particularly intrigued in exploring the happenings, I have not begun conjuring or testing a remedy. Though, I will be sure to do so in the near future, as I hope to find the choice counterpart and will be sure to aid in their protection, if they so wish. When I complete the task, I will be sure to update the blog. Perhaps, I will discuss how the channeling is accomplished, but all to come in a later publication. I digress.

As a responsible occultist who has had her fair share of sexual liberation, understanding these esoteric truths gives me reasonable doubt when considering partnered sex of any nature. Any one looking to manage the energy in their space must first ask: Who is this person? What energy could their day to day activities, that remain mysterious during our casual encounters, bring to my body or to my mind? What emotional turmoil are they privately suffering with that could disrupt my hard-earned balance? Orgasm aside, how is their very presence, their conversation and even their thoughts about me affecting me? Yes, how someone views you and especially how they speak of you casts a spell on you as well. You can have the most intrinsically existential sex ever with the perfect noncommittal arrangement, part ways and how that person speaks of you will work on you much longer than will the orgasm they gave you. If this person does not respect your being and your body, then the energy that seeps from them can only be harmful. It is best for your long term happiness to highly scrutinize to whom you reveal your glory and bestow your blessing. Now, Men may feel that this doesn’t apply to them due to them not having a vagina. Oh, that’s only a chick thing. Well, due to you being void of a physical opening, you in turn struggle to open metaphysically. Those of a male manifestation who have had the benefit of opening to the Universe and tuning into their hidden feminine frequency and therefore have aggressively invested in their own power and blessings, you relate to the tenet and we can move forward.

Have you ever witnessed a socially adept individual whose sexual and material lifestyle spurs envy, eventually become depressed and even suicidal? Yet, the lone wolf “weirdo” who takes pleasures in the abstract, the spiritual, tends to hold a slice of ethereal bliss that the previous could never hope to obtain, while also being better lovers. Be not animal; refine thy rapture

I write this exposition from a place of pain. I have the worst memories of literally not being able to think straight because of what I allowed to take place on and inside of me from men who wished me misery. Negative energy, demons, jins, devils, all plant seeds of or give birth to emotional instability and disease. Nights of sitting alone in the middle of the living room floor screaming in hysteria still haunt me from the control I surrendered to the ill willed. Countless times of making countless phone calls ignoring the signs of my “relationships” energetic imbalance still embarrass me. Mind you, the sex was horrible most of the time, either too short and/or too quick and definitely uncreative. But I opened my heart and my mind to being with someone who never had any intention of seeing me happy with him or her. Instead, I was a receptacle for their low self-esteem. But when I found my ancestors and their presence made physical manifestation in my life, I was given the opportunity to elevate my consciousness and wake up to my state and to that of those the world over. As a freed woman, I chose to cherish what I have consciously crafted as my body and embrace the destiny I chose by being born on November 21^st, The Cusp of Revolution.

As so above, so below,

The Huntress

The Verdict of the Female Child

| CLXXXVI |

Occultists and metaphysicists alike debate our current place in the cosmic stream of time. One significant telltale is the unbridled lack of gratitude of Man. Like all beings, they crave and require love, beknown to them or not, and will do the most desperate and depraved of things to obtain it. After all, when they pillage they rape. Be them Black, White, Hispanic or Asian, there is an Age-old complex that they are worth more and capable of more than what they truly are. Their mothers, sisters, daughters, but especially their wives, Originators of Life itself, are casted as receptacles for their mismanaged emotional dilemma. Despite desperate attempts to heal and assist their male counterparts, Woman yields no result when desperately battling undeveloped interpersonal skills. Even when Man is of the highest of intellect and success, productive conversation is sacrificed for shouting fits of anger; spawning physical altercation, verbal abuse and when the opportunity presents itself, their established neglect turns abandonment. Their pack raised tenet that fear equates to respect manifests as disregard for their feminine Source. They raise their sons and their friends to believe that if the entity does not possess a penis its thoughts are worthless, if it has them at all. The mind of Woman is frozen and helpless in the provincial outlook of their male “superiors”. Man has spiritually surrendered to nothing, mastering only chronic masturbation. The danger being, when Self is your sole focal point, You deny Yourself the privilege and the responsibility of identifying with your evolutionary equal.

Unfortunately, though, when Woman makes a philosophical contribution to the conversation, if She is even perceived as present, He succumbs to instant bewilderment. “It spoke and it made a point far too logical for my manual stroke to soothe. What ever shall I do as the dominant figure the current Aeon? I know, hit it.”, with all ambiguity implied. The very presence of this unbalanced view in society is the very proof that the cosmic slate as yet to be wiped clean. Yet, how are we, as She, incapable?

When Swastikas were stitched, heads of households and even their regents sent overseas, the powers that be forced Woman to withdraw Her open hand and provide for both Herself and Her children. Upon return, though, He found the current ever changed. With gained self-esteem and a lessened need for monetary provision, Woman packaged respect along with Her criterium for love and companionship. A lack of such, is indicative of the measure of the particular entity. Thus, choose wisely.

Decades fast forwarded, Man remains unprepared to do more than what is no longer required by the Mother, two thirds of the Universal equation. Coupled with their general lack of desire to evolve passed what their forefathers deemed the norm, men now retaliate with heightened aggression. In order to accommodate the primordial and therefore merited egotisms, both sexes must relinquish the demand for indentured emotional slavery in exchange for metaphysical generosity. Seeing Self and serving that Self in the other person protects and preserves the ever so sensitive ego that would otherwise be catastrophically destructive.

As so above, so below,

The Huntress

Cum Stained Comforters

| CLXV |

When we first met, his King-sized Serta was the amenity that sealed the deal. It was the “best sleep I’ve ever had”. It was a Stark contrast to the twin sized mattress I had been reduced to sharing with my five year old at my mother’s house, which, most of the time resulted in me making even less desirable accommodations on the floor with a solitary pillow, no blanket. He was my hero, of sorts, no cape, just a King-sized Serta and cable. For once, I was on clouds, instead of buried alone under cum stained comforters that I couldn’t afford to wash, my Savior with a Serta. Now, after eight months of corny courtship and one year of less than mediocre marriage, our mattress is lumpy and uneven and he doesn’t make enough to replace it. Needless to say, this has a bearing on my firm yet somehow fluffy fairytale of matrimonial bliss. What’s a girl to do when her standards of comfort have out grown her husband’s pockets? What’s the purpose of Serta sentimentality when my back remains unblown, the toilet runs incessantly, the window units are insufficient, and my hair and nails are undone for the twelfth consecutive month? I find myself flashing a food stamp card instead of my dust of diamond ring. But I don’t know which inhibits me more, the card that says that I, married at 27, can’t afford to feed myself or the fact that my marriage is symbolized by a ring that was too cheap to pawn to pay the bills. He spent two grand to stroke Kay’s jeweler. Every kiss since started bitterly, so I stopped wearing the sucker.  I didn’t marry a man 17 years my senior to go without. But, was he ever truly my provider? I mean, when we met I made twice as much at my job than he did at his two. Now that I’ve been encumbered with unemployment, what was once mistaken for shining armor is now dull and his white horse, a mangy mule. I wish my memory served me better. Was my money his extra or vice versa? I don’t know. I just wish my hair and nails were done. 

As so above, so below,

The Huntress

The Black Magician

| CLXV |

Magick has turned me into an asshole. I know it is considered unevolved to indulge in profanity but what other term better embodies the callus of having to view the man who was once donned “My Pharaoh” as an ATM and the child who was once the only reason for my heartbeat as a distraction? The fervent search for my purpose of incarnating and the subsequent will to carry it out has, indeed, turned me into a selfish, self-realized and actualized asshole. Am I saying that I no longer love my husband or need my child? Not entirely or, maybe, I AM.

I have agape for the one who holds the paper purporting my soul’s possession, in terms of wishing him his claim to the same path I AM on, if it were in his reach. The truth is, it simply isn’t. How can anyone, male or female, black, white or otherwise, be magickally invested in someone who doesn’t see your divinity and despite your best effort, refuses to see their own? I can not and will not exhaust my precious energy creating more monotony than with what the Universe has provided me. While I run the maze of life, I resolve to leave him on the hamster wheel that brings him such comfort and familiarity. I have deemed it impossible to remain soft while the Universe tries me intellectually. For I know myself to be the loftiest of its chosen children .

It took great effort and attention to universal patterns to realize that his current place in my life serves as a means to an end. I’d be denying myself what is solely mine if I ignored this reality and took pity on him or misprioritized aged sentimentality for our dead marriage. The undocumented vows we exchanged are simply irrelevant to my vision for my life at this point.

I AM this consciousness, called Lauren Hunter, in this vessel, in this place in “time”, just once. In my Godly estimation, who is he to dictate how my Earthly existence is to be experienced? Now, it would be a horrible mistruth if I said that this choice perspective didn’t develop until I began chasing magick. I began the work of letting us go long before receiving third party confirmation from beyond that it was bound to eventually end. After an overt supernatural sign, I along with my ancestors, the powers and hundreds of lwa in my corner, divorced him culturally when he showed us all that he did not and will not worship me as I deserve;  as I once worshipped him. When my Caribbean roots required that I connect with those of my European, the decision to divorce was finalized. But we would not do so until he served his apparent reason for incarnating, to see me through. And through I will make it. In the meantime, I shower him with all the "Yes Daddy"s and "Please Daddy"s in order to receive my tithes. Aren’t I such a benevolent God? Who is there to frown on my working of wickedness? Not a soul. I AM.

Now, in regards to my child, my first and only, my cutting the umbilical cord serves the same purpose as does milking my “husbandly owner”. Long before my European bloodline evidenced less recessive, my daughter found better financial and, somewhat, emotional support in the care of my parents. Until recently, I always had employment but income that only took care of the essentials. I previously suffered from clairsentience only, but as of recent, have been propelled into the realms of both clairvoyance and cognizance. At times it leaves me disconnected and even depressed. Once I determined my path though, the Universe validated my eternally wise decision to simply let them have her until she comes of age. Let it be known that I AM far too spiritually aggressive. and connected to go without working on her and securing our celestial bond and inevitable future. SHE IS her mother and I AM my daughter.

As so above, so below,

The Huntress