Omens, Magic, and Death

Ave,

The day before my youngest son died, I was taking a short walk around the area where we live. Checking the mail, doing something simple.  It's California in summertime, so the day was gorgeous. A golden haze hung about everything, with the smell of pine and water. I came near the end of my walk, and was before the entrance to our home. I look up, and there are 5 crows sitting in a tree above me, on the lower branches. Crows are old man Saturn's birds. When I saw them, I felt a chill and a terrible sense of dread. They flew away after looking at me for a moment; and I did my damndest to stamp down my silly thoughts about this meaning literal death in my home.

And  then I went about my day, shortly after which the world grew thin for me. I joined yet another semi-exclusive group; this one, unfortunately, is the one no one wants a part of, the fear of which dwells in the heart of every loving parent.

I've spent the last five months working with Saturn at the subtle urging of my HGA--while doing my regular Planetary work, he called to me, and communed with me--growing to the point that Saturn took me under his wings, and told me I should be his Priest.  One of them, anyway. A strange and terrifying honor, that. He gave me Birth and Death rites that I could perform, with the work of the primarily Saturnian-kamoethic internal alchemy he helped me develop to be done in between. He encouraged me to create simple devotions--easy and poignant--for those not magically inclined. He taught me how to clothe myself in his essence, and see things as they truly are. A sea of black velvet, a glowing blackness. He taught me about the nature of existence, of Life itself, and destroyed many of my illusions--especially the structures I'd built for comfort. He does not tolerate that in his folk. As I don't want him to become bored, I strive daily to craft new illusions for him to destroy in the future. Ha. The Alchemical Salt is constantly creating that veil; as long as I live in this coagulated form, there will be substance to feed that particular Fire.

He lead me to steep myself in understanding about the Gate of Death--which is also the Gate of Life--and to grow in understanding of the Necromancy of my people, which is primarily the ancestor and graveyard-work Hoodoo. He taught me how to dream-walk (Oneironautics, lucid dreaming) so that I might commune with my lad in that world as well. He taught me how to use hoodoo to bring peace and comfort to my home and family, the practice of which provided a raft upon which we could navigate the river of grief.

He prepared me for this horror, which is not a horror. It simply is. This is life, which is death. Every day I see an image of my boy, or recall his giggling and his grin, and I'm filled with grief. A flowing river of grief, and not a stagnant lake, or a damn-bursting torrent. The up-welling of love for the Dead. This is a good thing. Where I not prepared, instead of flowing upon this river I would stand against it, and I would break. Right now it's at it's height, the Nile rising above it's banks to fertilize the land, to make it rich. This will pass, and it will flow gently again, in time.

Saturn taught me how to send his Spirits to honor my son in his passing, and to guide him through the realm of the Dead. He taught me to call upon the angels of Mercurius to give him voice in the Heavens that he was not blessed with on Earth, to call up Jupiter's angels to clothe his spirit in Majesty, to call on Venus' angels to surround him in the love that is God. He bid me to summon Mars' angels to do battle for him, so that he might go about freely without worry, to call upon Luna to teach him the Mysteries of the realm within which he now finds himself. To summon the angels of Sol, to fill his soul with light and the warmth of the Holy Spirit. He taught me how to use this wisdom, which I've worked my whole life to acquire, for something that is truly worthwhile.

Saturn taught me the truth of time, that the very idea of past and future are convenient illusions of the Alchemical Salt force, which is Saturnian in nature. He taught me that one moment can be Realized, so that that illusion is bent, and it can seem to go on forever. I've had those moments with my boy, and the thought of them is a great comfort. Looking back on them fills my heart with joy, because I know that I spent some time truly alive with him, who I loved so. There is no such thing as boredom or banality in this life, only a failure to engage. Every moment is a rich and living thing, especially if you have the little treasures that children are.

This work with occultism is more than a hobby, more even than a passion. It is a living Art that is primarily concerned with Death and Life; misunderstanding the importance of the spiritual work robs us of understanding it's true facility. This tragedy has brought me to understanding this. Dealing with the Gate of Death is what takes occultism out of the realm of interesting hobby and into that of true importance personally and culturally. What separates the ancient Shaman and Priests--our true magical forebears--from many that practice today is engaging with the Death, which gave them cultural importance and relevance outside of their own heads. If we are to truly do our work, we take up this burden with them, and work for the living And the dead.

There is something to be said for devotion. For having a Patron. For concerning yourself not with Technique, but with Experience. The guidance of the HGA is also priceless; it truly works to bring you that which you need.

Just wanted to share some of this that I've learned. I hope that you are all well, and I pray that you are given the vision of Saturn's wings shrouding every thing that you love. Constantly, unceasingly.  Because it is a blessing, and it is the Truth. Nothing that we hold close will be here forever, and the sooner we start to live our lives with that painful awareness, the better. When Saturn comes around and reclaims the moments that we have borrowed, if we have allowed ourselves the illusion and comfort that he is far off we will be filled with sorrow and regret. His Death Rite was the most valuable gift that I've ever been given.

When my son passed away, I looked back, and remembered the times that I'd spent holding and playing with him...moments I went out of my way to create because of the Vision of Saturn's touch upon all the persons that I loved. Moments I spent absorbed in his laughter, or cursing at him for waking me up at 3 in the bloody morning...and loving him then, too. I was Present for those moments, and every one is a treasure. Be sure to create your own treasures every single day. Use some small measure of the Time you've been allotted. This way your tears of sorrow will be sweet, and not bitter. A wonderful gift, because those tears will come.

In LVX,

AIT