It is the first anniversary of what will go into history as the Feb ’22 Flood, which devastated vast parts of Australia’s East Coast, gave us in the Northern Rivers of N.S.W. a special whopping and totally destroyed Lismore, its beloved heart. Out in the hills around the town, the relentless cloud bursts carved new lines through the soaked earth. Whole hillsides let go from their core and slipped down into massive heaps of mud, creating chaos in our lives and in the landscapes that us hillbillies have been cultivating around the edges of wild bush. My patch is part of a community in one of the valleys that run off Mount Wollumbin, the Cloud Piercer. One of our gullies got so soaked that it turned into wet slop and slid down from its bedrock, taking trees, soil and boulders in its wake and deposited its gigantic mess right in my yard, not without ripping off the verandah from the house next door and dumping it up against my shed. But once the dust was settled it became clear that the chaos of mud was dumped on exactly the spot that had seen my two previous attempts to create access from the shed to my Abbey by damming the creek. Both creations had been washed away by earlier floods over the last few decades of my custodianship. A flood around here is always a bit of an ordeal. Each time the landscape around the creek is thrown into disarray it is a bit of a setback, but once the changes are accepted, they always turn out for the better. With a little work of rolling the rocks in the creek bed around, she usually ends up looking even more gorgeous than before. Sweating it out, enjoying her beauty, my feet in her puddles, it is easy to see it as a frolic with the Goddess. 

Over the many years, living a monk’s life, the relationship developed a kind of erotic flavour even and it feels like this is especially directed at me as a somewhat kinky challenge.The mass of mud is so huge that once it is dried up, it is not going to go anywhere and could well form the desired connection between my shed and the Abbey. This time it is not just a little work of rolling rocks around but the result could become phenomenal. It is as if my Stern Mistress tells me: 

“You think you’re so hot? Here, suck some dirt for a while, see how you go.” 

While everyone around here jumps at the opportunity to claim disaster money, it is impossible for me to see it as a disaster. It is a gift from Big Mama. Just have to get to enjoy the whipping and find it sexy. 

Seeing things as happening for a reason is very difficult for those who are in dire straits, and how to reconcile my ‘gift’ with the people of Lismore, whose homes and businesses were ripped away from them, is a huge conundrum for me. Ken Wilber’s 4-quadrant approach to consciousness is still the closest to explaining this problem. Seeing things as happening for a reason can only apply to oneself, in Wilber’s first quadrant of ‘privately individual’. To speak for others could be cruel.

The others just see it as a disaster. The ones further up the valley are stuck and can only get out by building a pathway of planks and logs over the soaked mud to keep them from sinking hip deep into the slop but they have difficulty to see the fun in it. 

Fortunately there is a young and talented machine operator who lives nearby and offers to donate his time if we hire the 20 ton excavator from his boss. He starts with clearing our main track so there is car access and we have a hectic but spirited few days, mainly freeing the almost buried house next door. Our slip turns out to be one of the biggest landslides in the region and we have many a visitor gawking at the disastrous mess which seems impossible to ever get cleaned up.

Although there are several offers of help, after a week or so when the others are able to come and go, they go back to their lives and since the mess is in my yard and is not in their way, they prefer to look the other way. It is abundantly clear to me that my life has to be put thoroughly on hold. For the coming year or so, my life will be spent in my own private mud pie and my ‘Crowley’s Moonchild’ will yet again have to be put on the shelf.

Thankfully there is a dude staying on the property next door who has some time on his hands and we come to an arrangement. He rocks up on Sundays and gives me 3 hours on the chainsaw for a modest mate’s rate, cuts up the maze of branches into handable bits and the bigger logs and trees into 4 meter lengths for when the excavator can come up and put them in the designated area which is to be their last resting place. The rest of the week is for me to stack the fresh branches meticulously into fire heaps and burn them off, while digging trenches around the trunks that are sticking out of the mud in a variety of angles, to get them ready to be cut for the next chainsaw session. 

There are 50 such Sunday sessions in a row. 

Today there is a feeling that there is time again to go back inwards, an apprehension that something good is on the way. The enormity of this latest Ordeal has brought New Magick to my life, brought me closer to that Being that speaks to me, sends me signs that want to be recorded and decide to start documenting again, to continue my lifelong predilection for following the signs of the Oracle and keep track of it in a Magickal Diary, in order for the Divine to shine through. 

*

In the fight against exhaustion over the last year, some bad habits had sprung up. There had been days that left me too exhausted to have lunch and made me have a beer instead, often followed by another one. To help me remedy the effect of this, had picked up a liver cleansing package from the local herb shop and had promised myself, at the end of the fast, the reward of a massage. 

Arrive at the treatment room just as she does and her exotic beauty is a pleasant surprise. She starts with a smudging while murmuring in some alien language and asks me if there is an issue that she should pay special attention to. Tell her of my prolonged stint of forced labour which has kind of worn me out and also about not having been touched for a long time which has me starving for touch. When putting her hands on me she tells me to focus on the breath and to leave behind everything that is no longer serving me and adds that with this massage she is channeling Oshun, a Santaria Goddess of the rivers and creeks. What the heck! How on earth did this come about? Of course this has me absolutely stunned but very open to whatever may unfold. 

Her touch is impeccable but it is her very presence and the way she keeps murmuring and softly chanting that has me totally bewitched. It feels like it is Oshun herself who has her hands on me and is rewarding me for my dedication in putting the creek back in shape.  It moves me so much that it brings me to tears.

After all my hard work, there had been an expectation that something good was coming my way but this surpasses everything. When coming back to my senses, with her looking down on me so lovingly, can only say to have never experienced anything like it, didn’t even know it was possible.

On the way home send her a text: ‘Bless you for giving me this new experience. Feel a bit embarrassed about not mopping up my puddle of tears under the table and it feels a little greedy to ask you for more straight away. Will let this sink in for now and contact you after the weekend’.

Make this a Sunday in the true sense of the word. Just resting, contemplating my present situation with some awe. Have always wanted to be loved for my mind as a Magick Maker, but by having transformed the chaos of the landslip into a paradise, it could possibly bring me the admiration of someone who is a devotee to the Goddess of rivers and creeks, and make her love me for my work as a landscaper.

*

Catching up with survival chores. Into town for the shopping and since there is no mobile reception at my place, to see if there are any messages. There is one from my body/spirit healer from last Saturday: ‘Much blessings. My honour to be of positive inspiration. Have a beautiful wknd. Will hear from you when you ready’.

Respond by laying it all on the line: ‘Seem to have fallen under a spell, my body, mind & spirit still glowing from your touch. Could we have a chat about when to meet again? What is a good time for me to give you a call.’

It doesn’t scare her off and we arrange to meet up in a few days. 

When back face-to-face with her, bring up my text about being under a spell. Not shy to admit that she is on my mind a lot. Especially as channeler of the Goddess that has ruled my life for a long time with my constant tussle with the creek. She tells me how she also was moved by how my work relates to her beloved Oshun and it really feels as if fate has brought us together. Tell her how her singing and chanting does impact me and ask permission to express that impact along with her. And so it goes. Move against her hands like a cat that is being stroked and don’t hold back my sounds of pleasure. She does not ease off but intensifies her touch and am as wax in her hands. It is like being made love to at its very best with only the private parts left private and culminating in a gentle and graceful ending. 

It was good for her too. She says it out loud, kind of to her self, “So wonderful”. 

A massage is as good as it is received. She ends with giving me a kiss on the forehead. Kissed by the Goddess.

*

The idea that she may well grace me with her presence here one day makes it a kind of priority to get the water reconnected to the Abbey. The landslip had destroyed the water line between the shed and the Abbey, so today is for banging in the star pickets and attaching the wire to support the poly pipe. Since this is just as much about water flow as the creek itself, my mind is constantly on my channeler and the job is totally dedicated to Oshun. 

Shift my attention from land repair mode to livening up the Abbey and have the delicious day dream of involving her in decorating it and to set up a healing area for her to do her massage ritual. During her last treatment one of the phrases she murmured to me was “Let it flow, may you fly and be free to flourish”. This is so apt to my current situation because it really feels like my life is about to flourish.

Look up the significance of Oshun, the Santaria Goddess of sweet water, the rivers and creeks. She is all about nourishment, flow and surrender. Right on!

Out to get more star pickets and wire to continue the water connection, with my mind more or less continuously on her and the ways in which to have her fit into my life.

Big part of the day winding poly pipe around the wire that connects the star pickets that march across my Holy Ground, the now perfectly shaped landslip, towards the Abbey where in fantasy land my priestess is already holding office. Where there is water, there is life and leading the water is Oshun. Dream on. Imagining your desire already fulfilled is how the Magick works.

Another water connection that runs across the slip is the one for the neighbours, with whom we share our spring. It crosses my line towards the Abbey and make an effort to blend it in with theirs, making them cross over the creek together. Just some quiet Puja for my fellow valley dwellers further down the creek, while further contemplating the ways of Oshun. Try to bring my mind towards documenting the Great Work but it is she who is the Great Work at the moment.

*

Suggest to sit down on the floor of her treatment room for a chat and tell her of my rollercoaster ride through attachment and non-attachment. Also about the impact of her loving hands on my love, not only for her but extending to my fellow valley dwellers and beyond, and how this is having a positive impact on the world. She is pleased with my open communication and is happy about having our next session at either her or my place in a regular fashion, as in having a kind of ritual, one for New Moon and one for Full Moon. She totally gets my notion of seeing her as priestess as much as a body worker and delights in our combined dedication to her beloved Oshun. Then she does her chanting and lays her hands on me, squeezing light and air and love into my tissues. 

Having this on a regular basis is the best contribution to one’s wellbeing as one can possibly make. To have this formidable woman ‘on call’ as it were is a true treasure. Spend the whole day savouring this and letting it sink in. There are so many ways in which this relationship could develop, these are promising days indeed. At long last a connection with a gorgeous fellow shaman.

For her to perform her magick in my own abode, it is imperative to have a massage table. Go online to find out where to find one. Plenty of ways to order one online but it is too late for that. The nearest outlet is on the Gold Coast, so prepare for a trip tomorrow.

On the way up the Coast, drive through Tweed Heads to visit an auction house that provided me with some furniture before the pandemic. Accidentally drive into a street parallel to it and see a recycling shop. Decide to check it out and there in the staff section is a perfectly adequate portable massage table. It is a fraction of the price for the a new one and saves me from driving my old bum of a car through the glamour of the Gold Coast. 

They also have some nice material to drape over it and at the shopping mall, acquire a horseshoe shaped travel cushion for around the hole for the head. Drive straight home, take it all over to the Abbey and set it up right on top of my platform tabernacle. It looks absolutely spectacular, feels quite funky and she is sure to be impressed. Get high and lay down on it. A very special moment. My temple is truly coming into its own. Hallelujah!

Another day with mostly her in my head. Surely this is the symptom of a teenager in love. Truly pathetic at my age but there is nowhere else where my mind would rather be. Get a little aroused around the table but don’t go too far with this because of the age difference. The intimacy of a lovemaking massage is as good as a sexual one. It is also about our minds being on the same wavelength in our connection to the Divine and it is probably better to calm down somewhat, if only to not put her off altogether.

*

The main thing to impress her with is of course the billabong. The first plants to sprout up out of the rearranged mudslide was a row of wild ginger which is leading towards the water. Interestingly they have just started to flower and they turn out to be the white ones. When researching Oshun, had learned that she is to be approached dressed in white, so this is a super appropriate welcome. Take up the cane-knife and spend a few hours clearing the surrounding area and create an easy-going pathway for an agreeable walk around the little lake. Back to the house for a very necessary stint on the vacuum cleaner. Lay down on the table for a while in keen anticipation. 

Out to text her whether we are still on tomorrow and to give me a call when she is on her way. Also get some delicacies in case her visit extends into lunch, some ice for the esky, a couple of beers and bring it over to where the action is going to be. Prepare my espresso maker, a last sweep, burn some incense and let myself sink into a delicious day dream.

She gives me a call from the village and drive to the gate to guide her up to my place. So good to have her here and show her why her Goddess channelling had such an impact on me. We walk across the tamed landslide and describe the event to her as the Goddess being at her most wild. She keenly observes and is acquainted with this kind of landscape well enough to totally get it. Is obviously appreciative of my enormous input in reshaping the waterways and understands my feeling that it is her who is my reward for this. Is indeed mightily impressed with the billabong and exclaims several times how beautiful the land is. Tell her of the serendipitous appearance of the flowering white ginger, which of course charms her enough to walk over and take in the delicious smell. 

Then we go up to the Abbey. If she wasn’t impressed enough already, my temple does the rest. Also the table has her approval. She spreads out her crystals, essential oils, little statues, we find some acceptable music on my laptop and it’s on. Being in my own territory really does add something. A two hour session with both of us fully present every second of the way, our mutual sounds mingling in improvised harmony, my body undulating itself up against her touch in a dizzying dance of pleasure and pain.

 Very cosy unwinding together in the comfort of my own environment. We do have the coffee and take ample time for a chat. Explain my entitlement to share her deference to a Santeria Deity by telling her of my Voodoo experience with Guede on Haiti back in the 1970s and my crazy surrender and trust in the Haitian people that had me pass out and born again. She listens with her full attention, her eyes wide as dishes. 

The connection between these two deities from the same Voodoo Pantheon seems to have brought us another step closer in our developing friendship. We arrange to have our next encounter at her place, so that in the future we can decide where to meet according to our mood. 

*

She lives in the wildness behind Mullumbimby, the heart of hippy land and as it turns out, in pretty much the same way as my own setup. A renovated clearing shed with a caravan. We reminisce about our last encounter, how everything was so perfect. Mention the series of synchronicities between us since making contact, like the timing of her messages and the phone calls to my shed just when entering it. Tell her that it makes me curious about who she is. Responds with a chuckle and that she often doesn’t know who she is herself. Then it’s time for her awe inspiring treatment. 

Starts around the coccyx and after a while suggests to take off my underpants to get a better flow going. We have obviously grown close enough to open up a little further. Again it’s absolutely marvelous, how much bliss can one bear? Two hours of uninterrupted flow which she manages to slow down at the end into a total stillness which has me out for the count. She rounds it off with a kind of Reiki, her hands a few millimeters from my body as if performing a sort of ritual, after which she picks up a bowl and makes a series of sounds that take me deeply into the realm of the sacred. 

In the aftermath we go back to Oshun. Ask her again whether her visit to my place had help explain why for me she was an embodiment of the Wild Creature that had kept me so busy for the last year and what an incredible occurrence it was that she appeared in my life as a reward for my efforts. Her answer is surprising. As she was manifested by me, she had manifested me:

“It’s mutual”.

It is me who makes her pay more attention and be more aware of synchronicities. 

*

Hang out on the track to welcome her around the time she is due to arrive. Cozy walk across the slip to the Abbey. Sets up her oils and little statues around the table, lights a candle and some incense. Being under her hands surely is the highlight in my life at the moment. Experiencing her touch on my own table adds a kind of cheeky confidence to allow more space for my arousal to be noticeable. Not too overtly but if she wanted to notice she could. When she mentions the qualities of Oshun, as she often does, as love, compassion and flow, she adds ‘sensual’ which is a first, so in a way she is giving me permission. 

As always there are moments that she totally blows my mind. Takes each part of my body in an all-encompassing embrace. Several ‘oh my god’s’ escape my mouth and ‘oh my goodness gracious!’ and even ‘oh no!’. There are so many layers in her treatment. There is deep into my muscle and tissue until it hurts, there is tender caress, intense intent and definitely sensual flow. It is like a musical symphony with a series of acts. When it’s time to roll over, am fully erect. While turning over on my back she discreetly holds up the towel to hide me from view, giving me privacy. The last act is so much like lovemaking that it makes me moan my heart out. The finale is oh so gently moving into utter stillness, holding my head, bringing on a profound peace and heavenly bliss. She picks up a kind of rattle with many bells that like the sound bowl sends me off into that outer space. She ends with a kiss on my forehead: 

“Take your time to get up”, and goes outside. 

When she comes back she exclaims:

 “It’s so magical here”.

Walking her back to the car we elaborate further on the layout of the land. Tell her that her coming up here for our sessions has the side-effect of strongly motivating me to do the necessary work, making it more pleasant in anticipation of her visit and invite her to come for a walk next time. She happily accepts. It is clear that my land is a strong drawcard to bring us closer.

*

Domestic chores get me on the move. To the laundromat in town, a round of shopping, some bureaucratic necessities and checking the messages on my mobile. My heart leaps when seeing the one to confirm our upcoming appointment. When back in the village bump into an acquaintance who knew her during her wild days in Byron Bay and they turn out to have been very wild indeed. The most exciting story is that she once threw a party at which her body was covered in chocolate and the guests were invited to lick it off. This of course is pure Babalon and since it sounds like she is single as well, could it be that my long awaited Scarlet Woman has shown up after all? The gossip has me all excited. Have a look at my folder with Babalon images and put them next to those of Oshun, dreaming up scenarios of how to bring up the topic of the relationship between these two aspects of the Goddess.

There she is, strutting her stuff as usual in a long body-hugging dress this time. Her variety of styles is definitely another one of her attractions. She has made some time for us to socialise, so we settle in on my little sundeck to further deliberate on what she means to me as priestess to my temple. She herself brings up the fact that although for her Oshun is the main aspect of the Goddess, she sometimes identifies with other ones. She mentions Kali in this regard but decide to keep Babalon under wraps for now. Although we do talk about her using the word ‘sensual’ as one of Oshun’s properties and share with her my experience of the sensuality of her touch bringing out the woman in me, and what a terrific feeling it is, as a lover of women, to feel like a lesbian. Also how the sensual shape of the landscape has an erotic flavour for me which makes me somewhat of an eco-sexual. Keep it at this for now. Time for her to smudge me and have her invite me into my temple. Give myself over to my adoration of her and with our chat having brought us closer, the thrill is just as much about being with her, as it is about her massage.

Towards the end of the massage the Sun has disappeared behind the ridge and at this time of the year that means it will soon be too cold to be without clothes on.

*

My priestess had been delayed by a python on her driveway but there she is in all her glory. We walk along the freshly snipped creek bed up to the Abbey, showing her how the devastating tempest of the landslide has been transformed in its present shape and telling her my plans for the coming week or so. Our session flows as flawlessly as ever. Getting to know one another better makes us ever more at ease. She has some time afterwards and offer to make her a hot chocolate. While fixing her cup, she wanders over to the bookcase and checks it out. Tease her about it telling her all about me. She picks one of the books out and it turns out to be Crowley’s ‘Moonchild’. That is more than amazing! Just having decided to expose more of my Babalon preoccupations, she walks straight into the heart of it. There is no way of not taking out my own manuscript and showing her the title. The enormity of the synchronicity of this is not lost on her and she is wonderfully baffled. We sit down on the couch facing each other. A little spaced out from the massage, try to explain the connection between Crowley and Babalon without going too far into Her wicked qualities. She types her name into her phone with my name under it. Our journey of bringing a little Babalon into Oshun has begun. Tell her about my shift from wanting to be loved for my mind and for my mission in life, into wanting to be loved for having sorted out the chaos from the landslip, which was where she had come in as a change from my worship of Babalon to Oshun. But by picking up that book she kind of reversed the tide and brought Babalon back with a bang.

*

Drive to the village to text her about having a new car which makes it easier for me to come to her place and whether she has some time this week. She calls me back and can fit me in early tomorrow morning which makes it the Solstice. A perfect day to celebrate this in the healing hands of my priestess.

This time she adds a new move whereby she swings my legs around in circles, loosening my hips and my groin area by pushing it inwards and over my genitals, then push it some more. Genitals are the one part of my anatomy that have – somewhat funnily – been out of bounds but this does involve them and they do get aroused. Then she turns to the other side. Interestingly, the arousal from this comes clearly from another source then that came from the intimacy in her voice on the phone the other day. That one was stemming from the Muladhara, raised by a feeling of power from sensing her respect, but this one seems to come straight from the Swadhisthana producing a little tumescence. During our chat afterwards she says that our sessions are always a little different and that through my body, Goddess told her what to do to help with loosening up my hips some more which she reckons needs loosening up. She suggests to go for a walk to show me her stretch of creek. 

After a short walk to the edge of a field it turns into wild country and a very steep descent towards the sound of a waterfall. The creek turns out to be absolutely spectacular. It has a massive rock face and great big boulders forming the creek bed. A 10 feet waterfall plunges down into a magnificent rock pool. My instant reaction is to tell her to have rather not seen it, that knowing she has this, takes away my main draw card for her to visit me. Am happy for her of course and add that Oshun would be feeling very much at home here. She assures me that she does like coming to my place but that hers is of course more convenient for her and easier to be warm in winter. We make an appointment for in a fortnight at hers and part with a big hug. 

On coming home scull down a beer and smoke up. Have some wine, smoke some more and with my body still buzzing from her touch, get skyrocketing high. Something has shifted though. The foundation on which to build a romance based on my landscape talents turns out to not be very solid and getting her to fall in love with me for that reason may well be a pipe dream. However she is truly dedicated to my well-being and to have someone like her looking after my body should really be enough. What makes me so high is the experience of being fully in power to make this shift in perception, to separate this view from romantic or sexual issues at will and to be content with her just the way she is. That it is totally up to me where-upon to be shining my love light and in what way. This is truly Love Under Will.

*

My day for pampering has come around again and make my way to her place. Catching up with a chat, bring up my exclamation the other day when seeing her creek, to make sure she understands my feeling of having lost my main drawing card for attracting her in my life.  Again she assures me that she likes coming to my place because she likes me as a person. This issue has certainly brought it out in the open that there is more going on between us than just the massage or a spiritual connection to Goddess, be it Oshun, or be it Babalon. Turns out she has downloaded Aleister’s ‘Moonchild’ and read a bit of it. Also found some information on the Beast himself. Ask her whether it was positive or negative and she answers: “A bit of both”. That he sounds like someone who is very curious and explored many things, which is actually a very nice way of putting it. But she also says that she is not into using magick for dark things although she can see that for some the dark can lead them to the light. So fortunately she is not altogether put off by him. We still may have a future there. 

The massage is as effective as ever.  Even in her home wear she is stunningly stylish in a T-shirt featuring a woman from the 1920s laying back, smoking an opium pipe and a matching Charleston hat on her head, strongly reminding me of Jane Cheron, Aleister’s opium connection in Paris. When pointing out the pipe, ask her whether the ganja still plays a role in her life and she responds with “occasionally”, but adds that she is still a Rasta girl and my “maybe we can get high together some day” elicits an encouraging nod and a smile. We part with a long and tender hug and she calls me a beautiful soul. 

On the way home, decide to drop in at the Crystal Castle. Never having been to this major attraction in our region, take the opportunity to do it today. It’s all really beautiful of course but what makes the visit so wonderful is the possibility to have your aura photographed. Always having been interested in this, have never had it done but now jump to the occasion and sit down for it. The woman who does it gives me a very flattering interpretation of my colours but this could well be due to the just received treatment and being called a beautiful soul to boot. There is a crystal sale on and take home three pieces that go real well together. Get into my comfortable car and feel pretty much on top of the world. Pick up the yummiest takeaway in Mullum and when savouring it in my humble abode with a glass of wine, it is hard to imagine how one could possibly be happier than this. It is interesting to note that it is impossible for me to not bring this all home by following all this up with a toke of ganja and transforming this extreme happiness into bliss.

*

The abundance of sensual delights of late are often garnered with highly informative and entertaining sessions at Youtube University in the evenings. A favourite is the delightful Crowley connoisseur Lon Milo Duquette who gives a daily sermon on Thelemic particulars which can be quite enlightening. There is also Tobias Churton, the Crowley biographer who has added five new volumes to his original biography: Crowley in India/in Paris/in America/in Berlin/in England. He has dedicated a big part of his life studying the Crowley archives in the Warburg Institute and must know the man better than anyone else in the world. As Lon Milo Duquette, he is a lovely man and reckons that Crowley’s genius in the scheme of things will one day be recognized despite the fact that the mud on his name still seems impossible to come off. It is a strong reminder that my Great Work still has a place under the Sun and the idea that there are some out there who are fully entitled to judge it, is a great support.

To further build on the vibe of my temple have someone make me a huge mozzie net that surrounds the entirety of the dias. It has 4 ‘doors’ so the net can be tied up into 4 pillars coming down from the corners of the frame which will be its default position, creating an absolutely stunning atmosphere and if my priestess would want to spend the night, a simple twist of the wrist will untie the pillars and give her her own private space. 

The 4 columns of bundled up white cotton looking like 4 pillars are now the Inner Sanctum of the Abbey. Have recently bought a gorgeous piece of cloth with cosmic motives and colours which happens to fit the entire wall side of the dais. Bring the massage table back in the centre of it, place a brass vase and some candleholders around it and congratulate myself with the result. The goal is of course to inspire my priestess to open up more once she steps on the newly fitted dais. 

Out with my phone to text her whether she feels like a session at my place and when that would best suit her. There is no immediate response which is to be expected, so go to Brunswick Heads for a walk on the beach. Around midday find myself in the shop with spiritual paraphernalia and let loose. There is a black Buddha decked out in bling, which is a must to honour her African roots, a brass statue of a dancing Red Tara whose attributes are somewhere between Oshun and Babalon, and there are sparkling mirror hangers that would look great hanging down along the white cotton pillars. Also throw in a sound bowl, add some oils and candleholders and am branded a great shopper by the woman who sells the stuff. 

By 3 o’clock there is still no response. On the way home text her about my returning into my no reception zone and to give me a call on the landline when she can. She doesn’t. However knowing that Monday is her day off, she may have kept her phone off which would be very wise, so maybe she’ll call me in the morning to tell me she is on her way.

There is no such call. When the morning is over and it is too late for her to come up anyway, leave the shed for the Abbey and put the statues in their designated positions along the dais. Black Buddha at the foot of one column and Red Tara facing him from the opposite one, both with a tea light in front of them. The sound bowl in the middle and the glitter hangers along the columns as a festive touch. The overall installation is so gorgeous, it is out-right seductive and would have to have an aphrodisiac affect on her. The cosmic irony of her presently not responding to my invitation doesn’t go past me. There hasn’t been a delay this long since we met, so either she isn’t well or she is very very well and can’t be bothered to attend to her ‘clients’. 

Am proud to say that the latter is definitely my preferred option. The idea that some charmer swept her off her feet and out of my life does hurt but this is no match for the gratitude of having had her in my life. After all, it was my desire to impress her that has kept me so motivated for the last five moons in my land and creek shaping. Even reconnecting the water to the Abbey was with Oshun in mind and obviously my Inner Sanctum wouldn’t have its seductive power without her input. 

The day goes by without her call but when catching up with the journal and just when describing the placing of Red Tara opposite the black Buddha the phone rings and of course it is her. She had a very full-on week and apologises profusely. Tell her it’s fine and that it is nice to hear from her which elicits her somewhat wicked chuckle and tells me it’s nice to hear me too. She is still busy and we make a date for next week. Even if just having reached a certain level of non-attachment, it comes as a great relief to know that she is still in my life.

*

There she is in all her glory, dressed as always in a particular style. It is warming up, she is in a Caribbean shirt and a skirt with a split on either side. She praises the smells around here as she gets out of the car and is hugely appreciative of how the landscape has evolved since she was here last. But the main surprise is revealed to her when she enters the Abbey. A proud moment. Reach out my hand and lead her up the steps and inside the white cotton pillars, and around the massage table. We stand opposite each other, both with our hands on the tabernacle. This would be the moment to make my move to get closer to her by asking her to teach me her hand magick by letting me practice on her, but am hesitating to do so. Suddenly we both become aware of a big unusual looking insect like a huge ant with wings, crawling along the net. There is hardly ever any insect in the Abbey. It immediately gives me that Castaneda effect of seeing the Nagual appearing in the Tonal, warning me to stop the proceedings, because from the Nagual’s perspective it is not a good idea to propose her. On the other hand it could well be a sneering comment on my cowardly hesitancy and edging me on to make a move. The double edged sword of interpreting the oracle but my intuition is leaning towards the suspicion that during her absence she has indeed gotten involved with another suitor. Before deciding which one it is, the moment has passed. She smudges me and invites me to lay down. 

So often when she first puts her hands on me it gets me undeniably excited. Wonder whether she is aware of these moments and that we have a tacit agreement of it being alright, rather than being open about it. Mostly though the pleasure is spread out and diffused all around the body, making it kind of superior to genital delight, as it is directed towards cellular healing rather than creating a wave of pleasure. As always it leaves me utterly blissed out, so much so that it is very hard to speak coherently. Tell her that there was a lot on my mind but that it had all gone to jelly. We agree on having a chat next time before the massage.

*

Spend some time dedicated to the land. My machine operator is in the final stages of shaping the epic mud mass into the impeccable landscape it has become. The creek has formed a magnificent looking billabong and he makes a special effort in digging it out as deep as possible. While the long armed beast is working my lover’s pond she is almost constantly on my mind, imagining her presence gracing it once the work is done. 

It has become imperative to open up more about my desire for her and having mentioned my desire for a chat at our previous encounter makes it easy to suggest to sit down and talk before she blisses me out. To start with telling her about my feelings for her is a bit airy fairy, so bring it to her a business proposition: Having created such a beautiful massage temple makes me want to be as good a masseur as she is and by offering her a teaching fee, would she be willing to explain her moves and let me practice on her. It is difficult to find a reason to say no to this but she comes up with a clever deflection by suggesting to bring in a third person so she can show me her moves in this way. No one comes to mind, so take it a bit further and admit to want to do it on her specifically. It feels like Oshun and me are even, and it is time to start giving back. Just as Oshun reached me through her, it is also through her that makes it possible for me to reach Oshun. Again, a proposition hard to dismiss and she doesn’t, is obviously affected and thinking about it but it is a big step and something else is a-foot. Her daughter is about to have a baby in the next few weeks and she wants to fully relish becoming a grandmother and wait until this big event in her life has settled before going on new adventures such as these. Fair enough and it is not a ‘no’. 

We enter the temple. While smudging me she thanks me for my honesty and her treatment has the same closeness as it always has. We make a date for another one like this next week if the baby hasn’t arrived yet.

*

The designated day happens to be the Equinox which of course makes it extra magickal. The dam is looking absolutely spectacular and will propose to have a little ceremony with her as Oshun representative to give me a blessing before my first swim. Have been keen to dive in over the last few days but am terribly excited about the idea of her blessing me first.

Our date is for 11 o’clock when the phone rings. Her daughter delivered a baby 2 days ago after a 50 hour labour. She went through it with her and is still recovering, so with apologies for the late notice we have to reschedule for coming Monday. This is of course totally fine with me, the only thing that throws me is that the Equinox will pass without ceremony. 

Am happy with the fact that what was foremost on her mind has now already happened which opens up the future but it does leave a bit of a hole in the day. Have a strong impulse to fill it with cannabis but it is too early in the day and the one thing that most easily gets my mind off this is some sexual arousal. Go to the temple for some self love which gets me well into the afternoon. Back to the shed for lunch and turn on. Wander over to my sacred pond in a state which is a complete reversal from feeling frustrated by the failing of my Equinoxical Magick. Suddenly it makes total sense that this honouring of the Equinox is a personal matter and that this first swim should be by myself. Slide in and explore every nook and cranny of my private paradise and the fact of this being a Pagan Holy Day sure brings plenty of Babalon into the mix. Today turns out to be the hottest September 21 on record around here. As Babalon herself, this is history in the making. 

*

My Youtube feed throws up an hour long lecture on Babalon. Besides everything else about her, She is also a prime example for it being us who create our Gods and Goddesses and not the other way around. From being the ultimate symbol of wickedness in the Bible, via Dee and Kelly, through Crowley transforming this wickedness into a positive, and then through Jack Parsons and Marjorie Cameron to Kenneth Grant and from there into a number of Thelemic and other Magick movements into our present hedonistic culture where the sexually liberated woman has become a popular expression of the Divine. Even if, as in the hottie corner of the trans-community where She is very popular, this liberated woman used to be a man.

There is another interesting clip by an awesomely Gothic looking woman who has me instantly in her thrall. She has a website and decide to find out a little more about her. Apparently Babalon had given her the confidence as a young woman to serve as a naked priestess in Crowley’s Gnostic Mass from where her career as a witch took off and grew into being the super witch she is now. Through her Thelemic connection she emphasises the sexual nature of her relationship with her HGA and sees her spirit guides as incubus and succubus and even demon lovers, and developed herself into this totally wicked looking creature, especially because of the awesome nature of her tattoos of Pentagram and Babalon star and over-the-top make up. She is obviously a formidable performance artist and has produced some music videos that due to the added power of her witch craft are more sexy than anything from my erotica collection. One of the lines in her music video says that she has more friends than Aleister Crowley. Well, she made another one.

*

Hang out around my billabong feeling fine and dandy in every which way due to a kind of Alchemy, betrothed to both Babalon in cyberia and to Oshun in the flesh who is due to be here tomorrow. All of this is infusing the actual waterhole itself and being around it, is making me positively horny. When at the start of her first massage she whispered in my ear that she was channelling the Goddess of rivers and creeks it gave me an almighty strong wish to get her here on this very bedrock. She is almost here.

But not quite. When scheduling our date she had offered either morning or afternoon. Had told her it was up to her and to call me when she was on her way. Hang by the phone until midday when it looks like it will be the afternoon and make the decision to turn on. Have some lunch with a little wine and have my vape. Have always made sure to be straight when being with her. Am usually a lot more talkative on a high and stronger in my verbal expression, so tell myself to keep cool. Am quite looking forward though to experience her massage under the influence but it is not to be. Something in her life interfered and she can’t make it. Giving more weight to the idea that she has indeed teamed up with someone but when she apologises even more profusely than last time, my ganja induced self-confidence brings such authority to my admonition not to worry about it, that it makes her giggle, and we assure each other that we are looking forward to our next session.

*

Have asked her to park her car by the dam to bring her mentally closer to meet my request for our little ceremony. She is more than happy to do so. Lead her down to the bedrock and remind her that it has been my fervent wish to have her there from the moment she told me that she was channelling Oshun. Have placed the Tara statue and the sound bowl by the inlet and tell her that the idea is for her to merge with her Orisha and bless me by giving me Her appreciation for my work in creating this. To take the bowl, pour some water over me and wishing me many happy swims. Take off my clothes while she takes her position on the rock, her feet in the water, and kneel down in front of her. Look up to her and spiritually give her the power over me. Quite unexpectedly, in doing so, my Lingam springs to attention. Slide a little further down into the water for camouflage while she speaks her blessings and pours the water. Do my swim around the pond, my eyes feasting on her beauty, immersed in her gloriousness. 

Get out, put on a sarong and we walk up to the Abbey. Am still undeniably aroused. It feels really good to know that merely being in her presence is enough to have me hard, no hands or other stimulation is required. When she puts her hands on me, it seems to be with stronger intent, encouraging me to take my excitement further. Am more responsive than ever but it is not making her ease off. Stay hard for the whole time while laying face down, with orgasm ready to pounce if allowed, which of course it is not. When turning over and being in a more vulnerable position, the erection dwindles but the arousal does not. It spreads out all over my body along the lines that her hands move my energy around. Assuming that my arousal is all out in the open now, put my hands on my Lingam without it slowing her down at all which frees me up so much as to move my hands over my own body along with hers in a display of self love. Towards the end of our time she gradually slows down into more and more tenderness, gently caressing my face. 

She is late for her next appointment so we have little time to talk. Mention my more than usual excitement somewhat apologetically but her response is that if that is my desire, she is willing to hold that space for me.

It occurs to me that the ceremony was the successful result of a 6 months operation of making the imagination of having her here on my bedrock come into reality. My nourishing by Oshun is now complete and my sexual excitement was Babalon wanting in on the action and demanding some attention. 

*

The somewhat formal start between a woman on the job and her client, chit chatting our way up to the Abby. While she sets up her props, ask her how she enjoyed our little ceremony. She found it very special of course and adds that so was the massage which opens me up to elaborate on what happened to me. Describe the scene of being prostrated in front of her and looking up, unable to see her face, blinded by the light of the Sun behind her head. Bringing my gaze down face-to-face with her beautiful legs may have had an impact but it was the act of mentally giving her the power over me in order to bless me which is what made me hard. Instead of proudly presenting it to her, chose to hide it by sliding into the water, but it didn’t end the arousal. It lingered on the walk up and even through the smudging. Tell her that usually when laying down on the table at the start there is some arousal but it fades once the massage gets underway. This time however it stayed all the way through until me turning over and my question is whether it has made her feel uncomfortable. Turns out it hasn’t. She actually found it beautiful and wouldn’t want to restrict my sounds and movements, but adds that we can’t go much further than that. To have me ejaculate for instance would make things awkward. Well, that would make things awkward for me as well so we are all good. 

Strangely, during today’s massage there is no arousal at all. It is still very nice of course and no doubt healing but just lay there without much sound or movement. She had told me that she was somewhat preoccupied with personal matters which may have had some effect on this but am still worried that my passivity has disappointed her. However when mentioning that it was probably us talking about it which made this the least responsive of all our sessions, she is very sweet about it and wishes for me to also have found satisfaction in the stillness. Good to know that both ends of the spectrum is equally acceptable to her. We make a date for in a fortnight which gives us some space to digest this. When driving off she throws me a hand kiss which is a first.

*

Sitting on my couch doing nothing, my gaze wonders over my bookcase and spots a back on which the title is so faded from old age that it is barely readable. Get up to have a closer look at it. It is a 1973 publication of Kenneth Grant’s ‘Aleister Crowley and the Hidden God’. It had seemed too dense to bother with when buying it more than 30 years ago, but having recently heard that as a student of both Eastern Tantra and Sex Magick he had developed his own practice in which he has replaced Crowley’s emphasis on the male fluids with putting the female fluids at the centre of the operation. This view is very much in line with my own and am soon fully absorbed.

It is so dense that some chapters only bear flicking through but there are enough gems in the overload to keep me going. In interpreting Crowley he is able to be more explicit about the secretions of the magickally inspired woman then Crowley himself could be in his days and combining it with ancient Tantra he paints a compelling picture of the intricacies of Sex Magick in opening the space-time continuum and letting in an extraterrestrial current to affect the human frequencies. When mentioning the Crowley women who had mental problems after their contact with the spirit world, he says that women with African or Oriental heritage would be better equipped to handle such encounters!

Sweep out the Abbey, clean up my work table and lay out the props for our imminent encounter. A big juicy bud in a glass cup, a gold plated mull bowl, a cute little grinder, a purple ceramic little bong and not knowing her favourite way to imbibe, a fresh packet of cigarette papers. Also my Mac with the old website, the Thoth Tarot deck and of course the manuscript. She arrives in the middle of the afternoon, puts out her oils on the dais and we sit down at the work table. A very special moment. Priestess to Oshun as a friend, ready to hear more about my Babalon. Open the manuscript on the contents page and point to the Babalon chapter to show her that She features strongly enough in my story to deserve Her own chapter. Then a tour through the other chapters to give her an overview of my life. When going through ‘Moonchild’s Odyssey’, take out the tarot trumps and delve into the Crowley connection, from seeing myself as his new incarnation to a more balanced view of having tuned into his consciousness. Also give her an overview of his life, especially where it relates to our present state of the world, like his inauguration of the Aeon of Horus. Knowing of her interest in Ancient Egypt, put special emphasis on him and Rose getting sky high in Cairo and receiving the Book of the Law. After lifting the veil a little on my forays into Sex Magick, reveal my search for a Tantrika in the Epicentre and Nimbin chapters. She has actually spent time at the Epicentre and being from the region she could well recognise my love interest in the Nimbin chapter. My exposure seems to have landed on fertile ground and she is much intrigued and would like to hear more about the details. 

But for now it is time for the massage. Ask her whether she would like to smoke up but she prefers to do that afterwards. It may be because our interaction has brought us closer but when she puts her hands on me it feels even more intimate than before and makes me even more open to her touch. It also has made me more confident in expressing myself in my arousal. The whole session is so unbelievably beautiful and towards the end gets me so charged up that it makes me quiver. Afterwards she usually leaves me for a few minutes to gather myself before getting up, but today just lay there, not willing to leave that state of bliss. Am still there when she comes back in and can’t but exclaim “Oh my Goddess!” She herself felt that there was a kind of special transfer and wonders what it is that makes this happen. Explains that she just tries to be as pure a vehicle as possible to let the Goddess do what she does and that she would like to learn more of this effect. Get up and we go and sit back at the table. Mull up some herb while she shuffles the deck and picks a card. It is the 10 of cups, ‘Satiety’. We imbibe by way of the vaporiser while she reads the meaning of the card with a smile on her face. When getting high, my increased verbosity takes the lead and brings us to my origins in Amsterdam, telling her anecdotes that never even made it into the book. From my first love, via fatherhood, to Tantric Traveler, all with a slightly different angle than what is written down and it is clear that retelling my story to her is indeed bringing ‘fresh fever from the skies’. We have a snack and drink some kombucha and it is just a nice cozy get together until the approach of dusk brings it to a satisfying end. Walk her to the car and we make a date for same time next week. 

Back at the Abbey, finish the snack with some wine and sit back down where we had our exchange, contemplating the perfect beauty of it all. She has left the card sticking out from where its significance is described:

“Everything is in its right place in perfect harmonious order. A wealth of love now overflows and pours into all who take part and are prepared to receive, bringing forth into the outer world the beauty it holds deep within. A fulfilled person radiates this quality and is recognised by the fruit s/he bears.”

*

Still so full of her that it is impossible to put my mind on anything but reliving our encounter, imagining where we could go from here. There is a worry that actually reading my stuff might turn her off, and to keep her loving touch in my life is more important than her approval of my art. It is probably wiser to focus on her desire to learn more about her own art than to get her to love me for mine. 

In the evening on my YouTube feed Lon Milo Duquette has a ‘sermon’ on Sex with Extraterrestrials. He starts by admitting – with his trademark naughty grin – that he chose the title to attract our attention, and proceeds to tell us that actually each time we have sex, it is with an extra-terrestrial. Whenever we are in love, it is actually with the ideal lover that lives inside of us, of which our beloved is a reflection. That is why sooner or later they won’t live up to the ideal and why dreaming or remembering them is so often more fulfilling than the real thing. This strikes me as very true and is an affirmation to, instead of trying to attract her to me, to focus on bringing her closer to her own Secret Lover within. Having had conversation with my own Holy Guardian Angel for decades, have always seen Her as an entity too superior to consider as a lover until only a few years ago.

These revelations linger for days. For me it is not so hard to connect with my Secret Lover without intermediary, be it through the lens of Oshun providing me with nourishment from the healing hands of my present muse, or through Babalon presenting me with an ordeal of a two year cleanup. Seeing them as archetypes in my own psyche, they represent the Secret Lover within my Higher Self in the Beyond. So when walking around on my newly created piece of earth, ingesting the sensual beauty of the perfect curves holding the creek bed and bathing in the exquisite shimmer on the silver billabong, filled with pride in my achievement, it is nothing less than being blessed in the arms of my Secret Lover. But although living within us, this lover is situated on the other side of the great divide between Source and us, which is death. And as long as life provides opportunities to expand consciousness, death is something to be avoided and since the physical beauty of my current love interest is pretty close to my ideal, she will do just fine for now.

*

Back to procrastinating, looking ahead at day after tomorrow, reminiscing about death and the role of Babalon in helping to face it. Death may bring you back in the arms of your Secret Lover but that doesn’t mean that you are not afraid of it. Like being polyamorous doesn’t mean you’re not jealous. My muse has been channelling Oshun to help her give me nourishment and make me thrive, but Babalon is different. She is there to dissolve the ego. She bears the Cup in which she receives the blood of the Saints to get drunk thereof. If my priestess were to channel Babalon, her touch would aim to make me surrender and make me squirm. The surrender would help me in crossing the Abyss and would make the final journey easier.

To have something more than a snack for if she gets hungry, make a dash to the nearest Japanese and get a stack of sushi. At our last session she had mentioned that her preferred way of imbibing the herb was a spliff with a bit of tobacco, so also buy some of that. Roll us a big fat one and lay it out on the gold plated dish for presentation. 

Await her arrival on my throne of tree trunks by the pond – the Dammaster from Amsterdam – feeling well prepared and a little spaced out. When she drives up to her designated parking spot under the Abbey, get up and follow her, when something unexplainable and unprecedented makes me fall over and fall flat on the gravel. Fortunately, if she witnessed this humiliating event at all, it was in the rearview mirror. 

Turns out she is on a fast. Tells me that although she feels a little weak she still wanted to come up but whether it is alright to do the massage first before she gets too tired. Propose to not have a massage at all, that coming up despite her fasting is more than enough but she insists that it would make her feel better. While she arranges her props, tell her how our last session has so inspired me and given me fresh insights, like the relation between Oshun and Babalon not being opposites but complimentary. Inform her of Babalon’s Cup and explain that the blood of the Saints represents the suffering that is often necessary to overcome the ego which is what prevents us from our natural Sainthood. Although in my case it was more the sweat that she required from cleaning up her mess that made me a better man. There is no progress without hardship so we really need both Oshun and Babalon. Now that her nourishment has made finishing the landscape so much easier, it is time for a little Babalon to get me going with finishing the manuscript. She seems to get it. Funnily my fall has drawn some blood, under my elbow and on my hand. Show it to her and tease her by offering it to her for in her cup. 

Lay down on the table, she puts some calendula on the scratches and we are off. Our little talk has clearly opened both of us up. There is a slight but distinct increase in her intent to reach me by going deeper and my receptivity is without restraint, making for the dance between these two poles be like a Dervish whirl touching the Divine. The way she works me is a work of art, a symphony of impeccable composition, playing my limbs like musical instruments, bringing them together in perfect harmony. Her hands seem to be everywhere at once in a magical balancing act, whirling the charged-up Kundalini towards a climactic crescendo which totally blows my mind. From these dizzying heights she knows how to take us to an utter quiet, having me lay completely still, her hands with an otherworldly gentleness touching me in the way that spreads the excitement out over my whole being with so much love that it moves me to whisper the unspeakable “I love you so much.” 

She ends the session by caressing my hand in a way that brings us palm to palm which unexpectedly switches the polarity between us over to me touching her reciprocally while she is touching me. It feels like a very cosmic holding of hands, traveling through timespace like brother and sister. Touching her is normally out of bounds of course so this gives me such a thrill that it just about overwhelms me. It takes an eternity to get back to my senses. 

We sit down on opposite sides of the couch, the gold plated dish with the spliff between us for our chat. She may be on a fast and won’t have the sushi but she is happy to do the spliff. She turns out to be more fond of the ganja than she has let on so far. Talking about the massage she tells me that she did go deeper and with more force than she usually does and reckons that it must have been Babalon that made her do it. Asks me whether it had hurt which it had but was of course the most delicious hurt that ever came my way. 

By now the spliff is taking effect and can’t stop myself from saying that she would definitely make a perfect Scarlet Woman, teasing her that one so talented could well be the Babalon of Crowley’s reincarnation. Brought to her tongue-in-cheek of course but nevertheless fully revealing what my end goal is. She is receiving all this with the biggest, warmest smile on her face but totally noncommittal at the same time, and we both leave it all in the middle. We make a date for same time next week and this time we will have sushi.

*

Still stunned for the whole day, something between a stupor and a trance. It feels like something crucial has happened. The cat is out of the bag, we are on the river of no return. Hang on to the paddle and stay clear of the rapids.

Shake off the procrastination and turn back to the land. The grass doesn’t stop growing and the mower got flooded with oil. Sit down for a thorough cleanup with plenty of time to ponder the magick love puzzle.

On the other end of lawn-life is the sowing of the seed. The area around the billabong is still bare from the digger. Go to it with the rake and follow it up with throwing out the cooch grass seed which will hopefully grow into a luscious playground. Another few hours of raking finishes the job while a gentle rain drifts into the valley which settles in over the afternoon. A similar stroke of luck like at the last sowing of the seed. Sit back and enjoy the drizzle, exploring the vistas of possibilities for spinning her into my web. Having more or less proposed her to be my Scarlet Woman, better be prepared to explain what exactly would be her role in our play.

When getting out of the car she tells me she is on her way to see her parents and that her time is limited. Her father has been taken into hospital. Just when ready to go the whole way, the parkour changes, a reminder that the flow state is always under threat from the human condition of life as an obstacle course. She is clearly under stress which is not the best mood to be giving a massage but since that is what she has come up for, she doesn’t accept the suggestion to leave it till next time. Quickly puts out her props and seems distant, making me wonder whether this situation has also something to do with me having pushed things a little too far the other day. Ask her to sit down for a few minutes on the same spot on the couch as last time and take my position opposite. Try to lighten the mood by taking us back, describing her beautiful smile with which she received my cheeky proposal to be my Scarlet Woman. She is open about it and goes straight to the core. She can see how she is in my life to inspire me and be friends but doesn’t see us having a sexual relationship necessarily. Although the rebuttal does hurt a bit, using the word ‘necessarily’ is somewhat of a caveat and makes her response quite acceptable. Tell her that my idea of sex is not of the ordinary kind and that we don’t have to go there yet. It is more interesting to focus on learning more about the transfer that takes place during her massages and share with her my insight into how last time the phrase “I love you so much”  escaped my lips. Saying this out loud is extremely uncharacteristic for me and could only have happened because my ego had been utterly shattered and to be able to reach this state is no mean feat for me. The question is, was that love for her as a person, or was it for something that lives between her touch and my reception of it. 

Interestingly today’s massage turns out to be quite revelatory on the matter. There can’t be a whole lot of love there, preoccupied as she is with her dad. On my part there is no desire for it, just wishing what is best for her and her dad which surely is not being here looking after me. But appointments were made, money is being paid and we lost the freedom to be our true selves. She does her routine and we are both happy when it is over. Manage to put on a cheerful face with “Let’s have some sushi.” Fortunately she tucks in but am not very hungry myself. Still feel like her preoccupation has something to do with what was spoken out loud the other day and ask her so. She denies it but adds that she does have a concern about channeling something dark, something cultish. Someone must have been in her ear. It seems that Aleister’s reputation has caught up with me. We laugh it away, we part in a heartfelt way and she takes some sushi and the spliff for on the way.

*

The usual day of processing the interaction. What stands out is that the situation of being a client will really have to go altogether. Am happy to support her financially as a friend but she can only come up when she fully feels like it. 

First day of summer, three weeks away from the Solstice. Being free from attachment to a person is one thing but to be free from the Great Work is impossible. Since the blessing ritual with my priestess to Oshun by the waterhole around the last Equinox, it has been my idea to ask her to channel Babalon for the Solstice by doing a kind of Female Domination ritual, to set the tone for the coming year. The year 2024 looks like it could be a wild ride with the divisions in the world becoming unbridgeable. The root cause of this, the male ego of the crumbling Patriarchy doing everything it can to protect itself, is essentially a sexual insecurity in the face of a dominating Matriarch. All we can do as individuals to overcome this, is to be able to surrender ourselves to the feminine. This doesn’t mean that men need to subjugate to women in general. Not at all! We just need a shift in the world’s sexuality from having the male pleasure at the centre, to that of the fully liberated female. 

The land looks particularly beautiful today, the bright sunlight caressing the undulating curves around the creek, eliciting sensual delight in its observation. Why is this delight not enough and does this pleasure makes me want to have my priestess, as the creek’s embodiment, come on my face? Is it natural to be so sex crazy at my age? Maybe it is being so fully immersed in nature and always surrounded by a cacophony of copious copulations which has me still chasing skirt.

When back at my desk and with immaculate timing the phone rings. It is my beloved to tell me she is back in the hood and able to come up tomorrow.

*

As so often it baffles me how formal she can be on her arrival. While setting up her props she politely asks me how my week was, and when telling her that our last session had not left me feeling very good about having let her give me a massage while her father was in so much trouble, she reacts quite annoyed that she doesn’t want to bring personal matters in what she is here to do. This is exactly what the problem is and remind her of my many attempts to shift the client relation into a friendship and that we have gone too far for me to feel good as a client any more, our last session has made this very clear. She softens somewhat and assures me that of course she is happy to be friends but reiterates that she is not up for a sexual relation with me. Time to be upfront with my suspicion that she has teamed up with someone in this way. This turns out to be indeed the case and ironically it were my stories about synchronicity that made her pay more attention to them when they started occurring between him and her which had brought them together. So basically she is not the free agent of my imagination any more. She retorts strongly that she is a free agent and that no one can tell her what to do, but of course it is obvious that there is not enough space or inclination left, to go for a deep dive with me. 

Which brings us to the coming Solstice. Bring her back to the March Equinox, a few weeks after we met and my landslip repair was far enough advanced to want her in my life and had invited her over to my place. Then taking the time to get to know more about one another by also visiting her at her place, until the June Solstice when she showed me her creek and made me realise that she didn’t really need mine. From then on the focus was more on our temple by getting the table, the mozzie cotton pillars and the statues. Then the beautiful ritual by the pond at the September Equinox after which the gradual shift from Oshun to Babalon. We arrive at the moment of truth. Tell her of my feelings about the coming year and the state of the world and my desire to help dismantling the Patriarchy by having a Female Domination ritual around the Solstice. She has listened carefully and is obviously totally with me when with a big smile she goes: 

“You need a dominatrix!”

Am so glad that she says this out loud with so much benevolence, giving me her blessings to go there but at the same time adding that that is not her, that she is not that way inclined. So it is all good, we are actually beaming at each other. Ask her whether she will still be my healer and of course she will. 

We move to the table for her heavenly treatment. The other thing that our last session has made so clear is how much of my blissful experience under her hands has been caused by my eager receptivity, not only of her hands but of the imagined being behind them. Last time it was the concern about her father that stopped me from sucking it up, now it is the specter of the boyfriend that makes me reluctant to let her make me squirm, so the first half of the session is pretty tame. But then something happens, whether she goes deeper with her hands or puts more spirit into it, giving me a bit of Babalon to make sure she keeps me as a customer, or whether it is purely my surrender, is something that only she would know. Again, after turning over on my back, when she brings the different elements of the treatment together in its apotheosis, her technique is so immaculate that it brings on the usual rapture and leaves me as satisfied as ever. 

In our briefing afterwards, tell her that even when not being as receptive as usual she can still crack me wide open. But knowing full well that also her perceived love for me has been the product of my own imagination and that she has been basically here to make a buck, it is time for a break and process this new information. Give her double her fee for Christmas and the ready made spliff that was meant to be consumed together, and we’ll see each other somewhere in the new year. Am not afraid at all to tell her that she has been the light of my life over the last nine months. Thanks me profusely for all my wonderfulness and we part with a real good hug. On the way out she tells me that she will look around for a dominatrix for me. Turns out that she once had a job as a receptionist of a BDSM club.

*

There is a lot to think about. It is a good feeling to have parted so amicably, a graceful separation is the crown on a relationship. This is partly due to having seen it coming but it is also because of having loved her unconditionally and that it was a Love Under Will. 

The one drawback is that the climax, the resolution of this year’s Magickal Diary, was going to be a Babalon Ritual, proving that my Crowley consciousness is strong and true enough to pull something like this off. Having failed this is bad enough but the experience of having been so much under her spell, even if willingly, has greatly reinforced my insight in how deeply isolated we are in our own bubble of how we perceive our reality. 

Which also includes my view of being here to further Crowley’s work in the world, which is giving me another bout of uncertainty in this regard. However in the evening on YouTube, bump into another podcast with Tobias Churton on the sixth volume of his biography, ‘Crowley in Paris’. Again am struck how pleasant and intelligent Churton is, how thorough his knowledge of his subject and his deep respect for the man. He feels like a personal friend by supporting me in also finding it important to further Crowley’s work in the world. Although being still too radical for the mainstream as a person, the acceptance of the Thelemic principles would be enormously beneficial to the problems of the world and that eventually Crowley will be recognised as one of the worlds greatest teachers. It were indeed my Thelemic principles that were behind the grace of our separation. Am feeling better already and will just have to find another climax for the narrative of this journal.

Having desired someone for so long who turns out to not be available in that way has me desperate for some action. Something that would also overcome the dent in my ego this has caused, which was what made me push away my muse and has left me with an empty black hole around the Solstice. Am seriously considering to buy a professional dominatrix but it starts to dawn on me that to fully accept the fact that my muse has partnered up with another bloke, is actually all the surrender that my ego needs.

*

Over the last few weeks the glorious cacophony of bird song around here has been enriched by the arrival of a magpie couple with a song so exquisite that it actually moves me, especially because they are particularly attracted to the open patches of the land where my grass seeding has taken off. It is a joy to see them strutting around so happily through my very own creation. Passing it this morning on the way to the shed they are not there but the big fat goanna is hiding in the grass which is getting quite long. There is a heat wave today but take out the whippersnipper and go at it until it’s all trimmed back. The goanna has its own kind of grace but still prefer the magpies there. 

After lunch, content and turned on, hang by the pond. Clouds gather and bring relief from the heat, brewing up a storm. The magpies are back strutting around unafraid a mere seven feet away. Am actually getting aroused and with my full immersion into nature it feels like being in congress with the elements, the wind on my skin, the inviting water caressing me, the lightning in the sky as Pan’s fire. Slide into the water and swim around with a hard-on which is a new experience. Take it up to the Abbey, give it a cock ring and a butt plug, and prance proudly around the Maypole.

Further unpacking the role of sex in my life, it is clear to me that this drive is so strong in my old age because of my merging of sexual pleasure with spiritual strength, creating a field in which pleasure itself is a gateway into the Great Beyond, where the intention which accompanies that pleasure has the power to create Great Things, bringing blessings to us mere mortals. Or is this just a ploy for having deviant pleasure play?

Send her the text to tell her that processing the new information didn’t take as long as expected and to please have another session with me before the break.

The next morning, walking down to the shed for breakfast the phone goes blip and delivers her message from last night. She is just back from her parents, so the timing is right and she can do our regular Wednesday session tomorrow. Also tells me that she meant to text me after our last session to thank me for my generosity, and how much she appreciates my honesty and my understanding. Understanding is another word for love and expressing her appreciation of it suggests a kind of closeness that hits me right in the groin Spend most of the rest of the day sitting there very, very happy that we will indeed have our Solstice meeting. 

When regardless of the cut grass the goanna still approaches the patch where the magpies are foraging, they don’t budge but screech loudly and make aggressive sweeps at the huge reptile until it buggers off.

*

There she is but she doesn’t look very happy. Her neck is so stiff it can only turn in one direction. She slept in this morning, still exhausted from the problems at her parents and when she woke up again her neck had turned immobile. Reassure her that she really doesn’t have to do the massage, that just seeing her today is good enough and how being able to share with her how that new information of a boyfriend has been processed, is very important to me. Propose to have a spliff instead. We sit down with a glass of chilled kombucha and have the spliff. Try to get across how hilarious our situation actually is and what a brilliant way it has been to teach me a lesson. Tell her how my perceived need to have a female domination ritual for the Solstice was meant to put my male ego in its place but that she had actually instantly delivered the intended effect of that ritual by telling me that she had partnered up with someone. It had hurt my ego so much that it needed to push her away but had left me altogether loveless. So it is my great pleasure to announce having put my ego in the cage and my total acceptance of whoever it is that she wants to love in whatever way. Love is when you see the other as yourself. 

She gets her phone out and reads me a poem she downloaded, all about acceptance and love and we feel very warm towards each other. It hasn’t fixed her neck though but my offer to give her a massage instead, which she previously refused, she now somewhat hesitantly accepts. Just the area around her neck. She takes off her jewelry, undoes her top and lays down on the table, face up, her neck over the hole and indicates the afflicted area. Bring my hands under her head and try to find the knot that needs undoing. Am a bit insecure and it takes some time but she lets me know with a groan when it hits the spot. Rub it for awhile and follow the muscle into the shoulder and into the back of her head. Something must be going well because she suggests to turn over, to give me better access to her shoulders and back. To be able to dig my hands into both shoulders feels bloody marvelous and brings some more intimacy into the situation. She has a beautiful tattoo on her back and she tells me what it signifies, which gives me the opportunity to add some tender loving caress to the technique. There is a spot in her shoulder blades that she would like me to go as deep in as possible and her groaning tells me that she is quite enjoying this. That makes two of us because of course this is getting terribly exciting to me. After awhile she tells me that it is nice but that there is no need to keep going. Is she kidding me? She is in shorts and her magnificent legs are beckoning me. Ask her whether she has a problem in her legs which elicits her delightful chuckle, so without waiting for an answer, grab both her feet and start rubbing them. Then take one at a time and give them a good workout. From there slowly, ever so slowly, bit by bit, up her delectable calves and shins and up to her knees. Then, oh my, onto her glorious thighs. There are obvious signs that she is enjoying it which needless to say has me fully erect. How can someone do this without getting aroused? The moment to ask her to roll over has come and mockingly mimic the way she usually asks me. She rolls over and oh my Goddess, there she lays in all her glory, her legs apart, revealing a glimpse of her Holy of Holies, of which she is probably unaware but which is clearly peeping out from the shorts, under which she seemingly is not wearing undies. Am discreet enough to not really look at it but it is not something that can be unseen, and won’t be forgotten for awhile either. It puts me in a state of utter reverence. Repeat the tender treatment of her feet and legs with even more intensity than before but very much humbled by the nearness to her Inner Sanctum. It is like being on my knees in front of a shrine. This is my Solstice moment. The Goddess is right there behind those hotpants, within reach but untouchable. The ritual is not of female domination but of me paying homage to Her Divine Power. My muse has returned and unwittingly delivered by putting me in my proper place. Amen! 

She doesn’t seem to be hating it. Looks at her phone, says we may as well go all the way and sets her alarm for in 20 minutes. Gets up, takes her clothes off and with a sarong to cover her privates she lays back face down. Start with tapping on her Muladhara, the way she usually does and tickle the other chakras on the way up along the spine. Ask her to confirm the ‘no genitals but everything else goes’ rule and off we go. 

Take my hands where ever they are allowed to go and kneed her and stroke her and slide all along her body and especially after she has turned over, it is not very different from lovemaking, the ‘no genitals’ strangely adding to this feeling of pure love.

We are oddly quiet while she is packing up, a little awkward, there is a lot to take in. Interestingly in the evening when looking back and savouring the experience, am feeling just as blissed out from giving it than receiving it and marvel at the intricacies between the two. Giving my love to her gives me the enjoyment of the deliciousness of her body and receiving the pleasure of her healing arts is all about giving myself over to it. What a wonderful world we live in. Blessed be!

Tidying up the temple, find the earring she had lost. Cherish it for awhile and hang it up along a hanging from one of my lamps. A nice excuse to send her a text to tell her of my find it and to thank her for being there, giving me my Solstice moment, and sign off with ‘Love is the Law’. Am full of love today and my restless drive to get laid has disappeared. 

*

Am still very much in the thrall of what has happened between us. It is still Solstice time and decide to elaborate on our actual physical exchange and take it into the spiritual imaginary. Charge up a little earlier than usual and retreat to the Abbey to hang around the table, our tabernacle. Imagining her there within the cotton columns, surrounded by the beauty of the statues, the hangings, smelling the smells of her oils and lingering incense brings me easily into a heightened state of excitement and conjure her up. Making love to her chimera in the blissful awareness of the likelihood that what happened won’t have to be a one-off. Having done it once, there is no real reason to go back. It took nine months to make my dream of this a reality, which may seem to be a ridiculously long time but in light of all the obstacles on the way, it is still nothing short of a miracle. My Magick has actually worked and am overflowing with gratitude for whatever it is which has made all this happen. Also the realisation that my success has been meticulously recorded from its genesis onward, all the way to its happy ending has me over the moon. It feels like having found treasure. My inkling that the Magikcal Record 2023 could become the basis for the last chapter and resolution for my Magnum Opus turns out to have been correct, either in its raw form or crystalised around the narrative of the love story. The road ahead is wide open. Just round off the calendar year and go back to the manuscript.

*

Last days of the year are days of leisure, laying back in my hammock, my gaze on my canvas around the pond, enjoying the antics of my magpies hopping about, feasting on their favourite bugs. Suddenly a flock of six crows arrive, screeching loudly and fly low over the magpies, after which they spread out and settle in nearby trees. They are obviously interested in what the magpies are up to but although outnumbering them by far, they don’t chase them away but only two crows land on the side of the field and approach the magpies gradually, until they are only a few feet away from one another and without a sound are clearly communicating something while the other crows keep a discrete distance. After sharing a few bugs with their hosts, the guests depart, join their flock and they continue their journey. Quite humbling to witness the grace and sophistication of these creatures negotiating in a world in which us evolved humans are more and more at each other’s throat over nothing. Feel very much like how an Indigenous person would have observed the encounter. The communication between those creatures would have been seen as rich and important as one between human tribes. 

Actually my attitude during the recovery from the flood has been pretty much from an Indigenous perspective and is a great addition to the arc of my story which started in 1975 when seeing the dedication in the Book of Wisdom or Folly that set me off on the Aleister Crowley tour and ended with the overwhelming experience 8 years later of Aunt Milly Boyd’s loving welcoming me into Aboriginality. Crowley Consciousness, the Epitome of Western Esotericism finding solace in a Tribal Reception sounded a little corny at the time but after my decades of looking after this land, and culminating in the phenomenal transformation of our landslide, makes this welcome to country seem to have been a kind of premonition.

An insight which gets me to acknowledge something so shocking that it didn’t make it into the Record when it happened. The morning after our magnificent Solstice moment, there was a mangled snake on my driveway that only my beloved could have driven over. Why, after having given me so much, she had to kill this beautiful yellow-eyed whip snake on the way out, just didn’t compute. It felt like a warning so ominous that it didn’t want to be registered. By now the ants have had their way with it and it is just a skeleton mostly covered by its skin. It has a strong dramatic beauty to it and take it inside to ponder its significance. Sometimes the signs on the way can only be understood in the future, with hindsight. For now the warning could only be that despite the glorious ways in which she brings my Kundalini alive, by letting myself be so completely packed in by her, the Mighty Serpent Within may well be in mortal danger. For a shaman this is definitely a sign to be taken seriously.

So did this recorded line of events clearly express the links with the spirit world? Were my actions and decisions made with extraterrestrial guidance? Has my lifelong practice in the Art and Science of Synchronicity come to fruition in this Record From After The Flood? Have my Thelemic principles been sufficiently on display in how to let things unfold, how to excel in Love Under Will when forming a relationship? Is this the Record of a True Moonchild, open to the messages from the stars, seeing the Signs of the Oracle as personal instructions as in where to go? 

Anyone who is so influenced by the ‘spheres’ could be called a Moonchild, someone free from the forces of gravity. At present there appears to be a wave of moonchildren on the horizon and to clarify the interplay of Love and Will, the old Thelema greeting could do with an update: