On the Concept of Sacrifice, a rant on the age-old practice.


Sacrifice, in a deeper, more profound level, is to give up an object or idea’s original purpose to serve a better one. To abstain from certain actions and emotions, to burn certain object or to engage in bloodletting without getting something out of it is simply a dangerous act of waste.

Aztec Human Sacrifice

Take for example, animal sacrifice in the traditions of the Asatru and the Hebrews. Both are great example of ritual sacrifice. In the Asatru, the liturgical faith of the Nordic Tribes, sacrificial animals are killed “in the name of the gods” by a trained practitioner. The blood, meat and bones of the offering would then be consecrate for ritual use. And the word “Consecrate”, is a very interesting term.

The word “consecrate” came from the Latin “con sacra”, which meant “to bring into holiness”. This illustrates an essential aspect of sacrifice which meant that the consecrated objects, the blood, meat and bones of the offering, have become more than just regular foodstuffs, its initial purpose as food has been “sacrificed” for something greater. That greater purpose, in this example,would be to use the blood as an anointing fluid for the celebrants, talismans and that of the temple, the meat for their feasts in celebration of the gods, and the bones for talismanic use.

A sacrificial ceremony to Thor

On the other hand, the Hebrews would burn the entire offering and leave none for themselves. This practice would seem to go against the definition of proper sacrifice as mentioned at the beginning of this article, doesn’t it? Not exactly, as the rites of sacrifice would release the energies contained in the offering, which could then be directed towards the purpose of the working. In the case of the Hebrews, it would be to feed their national egregore, the one they know to be God.

This would reveal another important aspect of sacrifice, that of Release.

Destroying the vessel to release the potential held within is a very powerful technique, but should be used with much caution and premeditation beforehand as the released energy will always feed something.

The danger from this technique comes in two ways:

An Ill-chosen purpose,usually coming from a lack of insight into the working’s underlying intent, or,
A lack of concentration and skill in directing the released energy.

In the first situation, it’s a matter of “Be Careful of What You Wish For”, because it was born out of a false identification of a need. In the even of a success, the results will be hollow as the want is satisfied and the need is left wanting. This type of type of dysfunctional energy dynamic will result in to feeding of and/or the formation of demons (neuroses), and lead to eventual disaster.

The second would present a very similar outcome, but would stem from energy getting lead astray from the original purpose of the sacrifice. Instead of the sacrifice becoming a suitable offering to the gods (one’s higher nature cosplaying as universal forces), it would become perverted and nourish the unbound demons residing at the depths of one’s soul.

The vigilant must keep an eye on both, as to avoid creating and feeding the demons of pyromania, cruelty and loathing, among others.

Apart from the physical offerings mentioned, there is also a more refined form of it, which is expressed as moral sacrifice.

In pursuit of some higher order or state of being, major religions and philosophies have forbidden their adherents from performing certain actions, emotions and the like, condemning at times those who knowingly partake of “sinful” acts. Most notable among these are the Catholic and Buddhist prohibition about sexuality.

Both have strict prohibitions about engaging in sexual actions, especially when it came to their priesthood. It has been in Catholic tradition that lust or anything sexual is inherently wrong, with it becoming a distraction to holy life only one out of the countless condemnations against it. This type of sexual morality has proven to be disastrous, if society’s double-standard towards it is any indication.

The Only monastery we need is the one in our minds

Buddhist moral sacrifice, however, is closer to the point more than anything else, especially when it came to the morality of sex. Sex in itself is not inherently evil, the same way everything else in this world of illusions is neither good nor evil. It is our tendency to get caught up in the sensations of the perceived physical and emotional gratification lies the danger.

Armed with this piece of understanding do Buddhist monks take up vows of celibacy and poverty, just so they don’t have any distractions on their way to Nirvana.

It is also very possible, however difficult, to attain freedom even as laity who still enjoy a healthy sex and family life. That is, so long as they “sacrifice” the resulting craving for gratification in sex and in mundane matters by realizing the inherent hollowness in all of it. It’s something not so easy to accomplish, and only by intense and faithful training could one achieve such a frame of mind.

But, with such a disciplined frame of mind one could perform the greatest miracles. The Masters of both the Western and Eastern schools of thought both engaged in powerful sexual rites, where they call up and sacrifice lust in the heat of the at, not even the blinding light of orgasm could sway their iron will.

A master once said that craving is the only thing we have to renounce and the discipline of one’s mind is the only monastery one needs.

The squid is movin’ in!!!

And yes, we have finally moved to our new blog, our new home. I can feel the fresh air flowing the open windows of this still very-bare space. Spacious, got lots of moving room, plus the dozens of customization options are enough to keep me interested in posting again, and again, and again!

I am also gonna import many of my previous posts here, to put some stuff in, and will make sure to add new ones on a (I hope) weekly basis.

For Life, Love and Laughter!


The Chicken Qabalah by Lon Milo DuQuette

Qabalah was always a mainstay in magickal practice and philosophy especially if you follow the Western Mystery Tradition. It’s a topic of vast grandeur with all it’s Names of God, Angels, Intelligences. The elegant exercise of Gematria and of Sacred Geometry. It’s universe-model is actually quite useful and powerful, and a very good subject of study, if one could only stand the Dozens of very dense books written on the subject. With the shortened attention span right now of the media-saturated new generation, the people who could are a precious few. Good thing a literary gem of a book was written on the subject by the great Lon Milo Duquette, The Chicken Qabalah. 

Here he expounds on the topic eloquently and presents it in a a very different light, – a hilarious one. This is one book that could help you learn more about Qabalah in the next 2 to 3 days of reading it than going through months of research and reading through the vast literature on it scattered throughout the internet, and actually remember it afterwards. He was the only one who could put so many complex and abstract themes in a format anyone could understand, and appreciate.

Learn one of the most ancient and revered spiritual disciplines in the world, go insane and laugh from the beginning until the end, that’s the magick of The Chicken Qabala (Of Rabbi Lamed Ben Clifford, or Dilettante’s Guide to What You Do and Do Not Need to Know to Become a Qabalist)

The Cosplay Godform Assumption Technique

    One of the most useful techniques in magick is the assumption of personas or Godforms, which allows the operator to integrate the aspects of the said entity into their own self and use the temporary “power up” for some specific use (like in a ritual.).

I actually found the old techniques a bit too dry and/or boring to incorporate into daily ritual practice.

But one day, that all changed.

Cosplay was a steadily rising art and craft here in the Philippines, and of course, because I love anime and manga, I was easily encouraged to join the hobby. It’s a combination of theater art and crafts, where you play the role of the character that you want to portray, and majority of the effort in making the costume also comes from you. It was really fun, and its easy to get into character once you’re in full get up.

Sounds familiar?

Yes, the same techniques in cosplay can be employed in Godform assumptions, one can even choose to use anime characters instead of the Greek/Roman or Egyptian pantheon. What’s important is that one sets the mood for theirselves. All the hard work that comes from building the props and making the costumes have a really effective way of doing that. And I also remembered the time that we had a Vocaloid* cosplay where I played Zeito**, I surrounded myself with music videos and literature related to him. One could easily see the parallels between this and the preparatory stages for a major invocation.

Then finally, the day of the Cosplay Event, we made our way to the Mall where the Convention was held. The atmosphere really gets you hyped up. Seeing your beloved characters come to life in flesh and blood is really a different kind of thrill. It easily let me get into character. I pulled out my best impressions of Zeito, and for the next eight or so hours, Reality and Fantasy fused into one. 

I went home feeling fulfilled and powerful. Then I realized,  I just found a very powerful tool in my arsenal.
Hope you guys have as much fun as I did. ^ _ ^

*Vocaloid: VocalAndroid, a voice synthesizing engine complete with its own visual avatar that lets independent artists compose and produce their own music.

**Zeito: One of the Vocaloids.

The Possessed Heiress

The Possessed Heiress

The wandering monk faces mad sorcery on the desert.

On his way to find the sacred texts in the Valley of Quartz, the golden-haired monk passed by a merchant caravan encampment by the roadside. The monk looked up at the sun and estimated that it was nearly lunchtime.

He was eagerly welcomed by the people, and generously filled the simple clay bowl he pulled from his robecloth. They talked about their travels as they ate.

They were recently from the Valley of Quartz and made business with the town near there. They related to him that the normal route to the Valley of Quartz, the one that went through the City of Thanton, has to be abandoned. It’s because the newly built nuclear power plant there melted down, leaving a great crater in the place of the once progressive city.

He listened carefully to what they were telling him, and continued to eat. The chatter between the merchant folk continued. The wife of the caravan’s captain even mentioned the madman they encountered two nights back. The madman said that he’d curse their daughter to be his slave for all eternity if they didn’t give him a tribute amounting to a third of all their gold. They all went into laughter as the caravan captain mockingly imitates how the madman said it. Even the golden-haired monk giggled a bit.

They never noticed the ghastly crow that took the ribbon that the captain’s daughter used to tie her hair earlier. No one saw what was coming next.

Inside the filthy shanty built with bits of wreckage and scrap, it’s crazed inhabitant waited for the return of its horrible pet from its task. Soon enough, it returned at dusk, grasping a blue ribbon in its muck-encrusted talons.

“Well done, Strikzi, well done…” crooning to the creature. It perches on his arm, taking the ribbon from it’s claws. He hurled the bird out the door. It made a blood-curdling shriek, but he didn’t care, he had what he wanted. That was all that mattered.

Placing all he needed on the makeshift altar, he began.

Taking a skull marked with many runes, he put the girl’s ribbon inside. He raised his gnarled, crooked cane and the skull, and began to call out to the Messenger of the dark, mindless gods from the Outside.

Before the warmth of a bonfire, the golden-haired monk was reciting mantras, his fingers running over the beads of his mala.

He suddenly felt something wrong. An acute change in the air. It went cold. Worst, it felt wrong.

A girl’s scream broke the cold, tensed silence. He quickly stood up and hurried to where it came from. He saw the servants crowding outside the tent of their captain.

The captain’s wife begged him to help them as he was ushered inside the tent. Inhuman noises filled his ears as he entered. Growls, moanings and screams, as if a demon from the very bowels of hell….

The monk couldn’t help but cringe at what he saw.

Out of control, rabid and thrashing, the captain’s daughter was being held down by four of the caravan’s strongest, including the captain himself. It was with little success. The air began to fell heavier, colder.

She began to make a spine-chilling cackle.

“You worthless MAGGOTS!!!” she spat at them. “This is all futile, your daughter is MINE!!!” the infernal voice within her said.

“NEVER!!!” The captain shouted back.

It was in vain, they were thrown aside. She dashed towards the exit. But she fell to her knees when the monk threw sea salt at her, her skin burning as the grains touch her.

“Restrain her” the monk says, they were quick to act on his directions and bound her wrists and ankles at her bed posts.

“Get me more salt and five sticks of incense.” The caravan helpers immediately hasted to get what he asked for.

The girl was still trying to get loose. Using all her strength, she pulled, and thrashed and fought. Servants were instructed to pull the bed into the center of the tent, while the monk takes the salt. He enclosed the bed with a ring of salt. The monk was muttering lowly as he lighted the incense.

Purifying himself by wafting the smoke on himself, he called to his masters of old, praying for guidance and strength.

He began to whisper incantations and runes, wafting the possessed with the incense smoke.

The girl’s breathing became more and more labored. She was rasping, coughing, as if being choked. “What are you doing to me?!!!” Her voice, still demonic.

“TELL ME!!!!” She demanded again.

The girl’s family, friends and servants were all told to form a circle around the bed and him, closing it by holding hands. They focused on all their love, affection and memories for her and with her.

The golden haired monk continued to mutter and fanned more and more smoke upon her. She began to choke, and gag as if to vomit.

“Get me a clear, empty bottle, NOW!!!” shouts the monk, and the servants frantically search for such. The captain quickly opens a bottle of rhum and spills all of its contents down to the last drop.

The girl finally vomits, releasing a pillar of thick black smoke. It was just in time for the monk to catch the bottle from the captain and trap the howling screaming smoke. He replaced the stopper before it could rush out again.

The heavy, foreboding sensation in the surrounds was immediately lifted. The girl went limp on her bed. Her mother quickly rushed to her side and wiped off the beads of sweat from her weary face.

Her father couldn’t stop his tears of relief, his daughter was finally safe. He thanked the monk again and again, insisting that he stay one more night with them, since that was one of the few things he could offer. The golden haired monk obliged.

“What did that to my daughter?” asked the captain.

“A fragment of an invading sorcerer’s mind.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” he asks once more.

“Put it in a place where it can’t hurt anyone, anymore.”

The mad sorcerer screamed in pain, in agony. He lost grip of both his cane and the runed skull, and fell flat on the floor. Staring blankly at the mish-mash of metal and wooden planks he called a ceiling, drool dripped silently down his cheek, as his horrid crow pecked at the thick filth encrusting his toes.

-The Black Squid


The more and more i see and observe the world around me, three things are ever present. And 
because of the pervasiveness of these characteristics, the unease it brings makes me question the very foundations of my existence. What defines the line between Dream and Waking? Where does thought and emotion end, and actions, bodily sensations begin? Is there truly any inherent meaning and value to the goals i have set for myself, which are no different than what other have set?
Even though these questions maybe too dramatic, far-flung or even superficial and fanciful, they really did begin to arise when i slowly began to see more and more these Three characteristics in all of the concerned objects:
  1. Change, otherwise known as Impermanence, whose constant shifting of all things in and around objects (Thoughts, actions, events, People, Countries, Concepts) lead to the second:
  2. Unrest, otherwise known as Suffering, where, because nothing stays the same, objects are forced to either adapt to the ensuing storm of changes, or get swept away. The constant adaptation that objects and people go through leads to the third and last:
  3. Lack Of Inherent Identity/Meaning, where all things forced to adapt and change along with everything else, lose and take on new meaning/identity each passing moment.

Nothing ever stays the same. To keep thinking that it will is the greatest Ignorance, to which everyone falls victim to. To keep thinking that we are what we think we are blocks us out of the wisdom brought in by other’s view of us. Instinctive awareness brought about by mindful and objective view of the world around us will bring us the wisdom and spontaneity to act and respond to this ever-changing world, in harmony with every living being.

-The Black Squid


 The haze around
My eyes wear off,
You brush my hair
With hands so soft.
“I love you, I love you…”
You keep on saying,
But, you say the same
To the phone you’re answ’ring.
Dress and brush
Your mane of hair
Now go and rush
‘Cuz you have to get there.
Just leave me here,
Flat on the bed,
tired and naked,
and exhausted.
Smile one last time
Before departing,
please don’t invite
Me to the wedding.

-The Black Squid


 Woke up this morning
You aren’t in my bed.
Aching in my heart,
Hung-over in my head.
Fading haze of sleep,
Took one more sip,
A glass of whiskey,
Marked with your lip.
I saw your note,
Beside the lamplight,
Saying Took forty dollars,
Hope it’s all right. ^ _ ^
I only smiled,
and put it down.
I took a bath,
Turned into a frown.
Put on my suit,
Put on my mask.
Another day pretending,
working menial tasks.

-The Black Squid