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Daughter of the Mighty Ones

An Epistle to My DaughterSoror Syrinx

Daughter of the Mighty OnesDaughter of the Mighty Ones, another term for the Empress, is the Universal Mother. The Path of the Empress connects Chokmah to Binah, Father to Mother.rophantSoror Syrinx

Copyright March 29, 2015 by Melissa Rovelli

An epistle for my imaginary daughter, as a reflection and symbolic journey for men and women into paths of the High Priestess and the Empress, the Divine Feminine, with influences from Aleister Crowley, Kenneth Grant, Dion Fortune and a selection of Gnostic texts to instruct my child in the New Aeon.

The Mother is the Daughter ; and the Daughter is the Mother (Crowley, An Essay Upon Number).

Dedicated to Those brave enough to see.

Table of Contents

Introduction 6Part 1 9Part II 69Bibliography 75

Introduction

Hadit says in AL:II.16 "I am the Empress and the Hierophant, thus eleven as my bride is eleven."I see the ceremony actually taking place. The hierophant represents the Divine Spirit; and the candidate face each other, and crossing their arms grasp each with each hand a hand of the other. Clothed With the Sun

In

Though not an epistle, per se, this book is about me telling an oral story to my imaginary daughter who then composes my story in written form in her diary, perhaps to eventually share it with others. It is my hope both men and women enjoy it as an evocative fairy tale. After all, it is said that all fairy tales are based on some truth, some wisdom meant to pass down. To those with deeper eyes, they will see it as a hermetic journey, and they are the ones who might get the most out of the tale.In She of the Silver Star, I concentrated on the path of the High Priestess Atu II, but that is only part of the way, dear seeker. Break the spell of illusions in this world we weave. Here, in the darkness of dreams and the spinning webs of turmoil, well part the veils of the High Priestess before moving on to focus on another aspect of the Great Mother, the Empress; Atu III, but always in honor of She, our Lady Babalon. While these pages are focusing on the symbolic, as they should be, I include a few stories designed to elucidate what the Divine Feminine means to my consciousness, along with primarily a Gnostic and Thelemic dialogue in order to provide a visual tool for the journey. Along the way, the significance of this route will be laid out, while conjuring up my personal experience on this path, with the main goal being to inspire and instruct the reader, for within these words are potent doorways should you choose to take this passage. The way is lit. You merely have to take the first step.So, dear one, take this excursion with me if you are so inclined, and be ready to tread through deep and sorrowful places, long forgotten in this modern world. Acquaint yourself with the Daughter of the Mighty Ones. To do so, you need to sip from the chalice to merge yourself with the netherworld where the prophets dream. Peel back the lotus layers, my Love, and let us go back in time, where we have met before, and there we will begin again. I will be speaking to an imaginary daughter as if teaching her the Mysteries, and through her, Im speaking to myself and to you, for we are all rays in the same prism. Sit back and peer within, watch the bending light illuminate our path. There is so much to see within the Palace of Mirrors.and so much to tell. So suspend all what you think you know of this world and be one with the White Star, and see it now searing a point of perspective into your third eye. Deeper, deeper, sink, sink in the waters of the unborn where we last met

Part 1

Come closer, Binah Sophia Fay, now 17 you would be, had you entered this world. Perhaps you grew up into a young lady in some other realm since my own womb provided no door in this one. Had things been different, I can almost see you sitting there dressed in green, your dark hair flowing down to your shoulders with the sun dancing upon each strand, as if sparkles of red tones radiating like flickers of fire in tune with your feisty spirit. And when you tilt your delicate face upward, you cast emerald green eyes upon me, as willful as my own, and your head held proud with the confidence of knowing who you are. I can barely make out a sprinkling of freckles around your nose, as is your heritage. No, child, I have not forgotten you. This book is written for you, beloved Daughter of the Mighty Ones, and may those on this plane who read it bring these words into their heart, and may their light shine to wherever you are, like a lamp so that you know of my love, and may Mankind find my gift to you, a gift to them.Listen closely, beloved child, Im going to tell you a story. Perhaps you nestled close to me, with your head on my shoulder, like while I read to your brothers at night, your spirit ever present in our home. Well, this time, I have a special story just for you, so may you hear these words.As the story goes, I was draped in a white tunic, alone in the candlelit chamber. Having bathed and fasted, I sought to commune with the gods. Know thyself, I whispered as I prepared my space, ready to put myself in a trance. Closing earthly eyes, this young priestess with laurel leaves upon wheat-like hair, offered herself to the gods as a vessel. Hoping for prophetic visions, I raised the ornate golden chalice to moisten my lips and drink slow and deep of the contents, the bitter herbs stinging like bee stings, and I gasped, releasing it from my grip, my body growing limp and weightless as if a fog coats my consciousness. Silent and still, I glanced upward at the shadows playing against the light. Before me appeared a solemn angel, draped in black. She covered me with her sheer veils. What are you, my death? I asked, trying to push aside the veil, as if it covered my view, even though it was see-through.No, she spoke so softly, holding up an unbalanced scale. I am inside of you and outside of you, and every day you ask me to remove your pain, but those thorns must stay.Why? I demanded with what little strength remained. Because you put them there yourself, just as you convinced yourself that you could not see.Will my eye sight fail me? Will I ever be able to see what is true?Then I remembered these words, I think she whispered them to me, and I lose all doubts. There can be no doubts on this path any longer. Little by little, as your eyes grow stronger, will we unveil to you the ineffable glory of the Path of the Adepts, and its nameless goal.-- Liber Porta Lucis, line 14Tell me, I begged the dark woman, How do I proceed?You must be the bride, she says holding out a red rose to me, which I reluctantly accepted, not sure what she meant, yet the thorns instantly pricked me, blood oozing out and spiraling downward as if on a path of its own.She bent down and picked up the chalice, its contents drained. Then she pressed it against my rosy fingers, the cup now filled with my blood, as the price for magick, the Assimilation of all force with the Ultimate Light, the true Bridal of the Rosy Cross. Magick in Theory and Practice.She vanishes, but upon the altar I pick up a paper upon which the following words are written."Thou shalt replenish thy veins from the chalice of heaven. Thou shalt be secret, a fear to the world. Thou shalt be exalted, and none shall see thee; exalted, and none shall suspect thee." Liber Stell Rube sub figura LXVIWith those words resonating within, I shut my eyes and smelled the ruby rose, its perfume invoking a sense of elation. But at the same time, I felt great pain, as we live in a world of opposites. You, see, my daughter, that angel was you. In the next story, we will meet the High Priestess once more before we meet the Empress, where we shall meet yet again.I am light, and I am night, and I am that which is beyond them; I am speech, and I am silence, and I am that which is beyond them; I am life, and I am death, and I am that which is beyond them -- The Vision and the Voice,1st Aethyr

I hope you enjoyed the story, Binah, and I will continue to spin this tale, but please remember that you also have eyes to see. Read it again, understand the symbols, for those of Us cannot speak of the Mysteries in plain language. Within the beauty is the sacred knowledge handed done from to the other, and you will find as little or as much as you venture to seek on this journey, so come, we have far to go yet.It might be wise to return to the beginning of our history on this planet, to when Mankind was just created. Who are these Mighty Ones, those ones long ago who have shared our journey? So many names, they have had, so I will leave them nameless, but we know who they are, my child. For lesson sake, refer to old texts.Genesis chapter 6 verse 4 which reads; "There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they; bare children unto them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown." A different version has that same passage as, "The Nefilim were upon the Earth in those days and thereafter too. Those sons of the gods who cohabited with the daughters of the Adam, and they bore children into them. They were the Mighty Ones of Eternity."Do you remember them, beloved? Some went by other names such asElohim. The word Elohim (plural form of the singular elo'ah) literally means "mighty ones, therefore this phrase means "Yahweh of the mighty ones," where Yahweh belongs to, or is part of, the mighty ones. In ashuric/syriac (arabic) they are called Jabaariyn meaning the mighty ones Or in term of the Annunaki, in Aramic (hebrew) Gibborim meaning The Mighty or Majestic ones Their story is written in your DNA, now echoed in encoded stories on forgotten tablets or caved walls, but also shining down from the skies as well; sparkles of that very fire alighting your blood, driving your passion. Come unto me, they call from above and below.The Nephilim are the 'semi-divine' beings; the admixture of the Anunaki (spirit/soul) with the Daughters of Men (children of Babalon-the Earth Spirit). Paul Joseph RovelliReach back. Remember. Retell the stories of old. "The Kabirim, "the mighty ones," are identical with our primeval Dhyan-Chohans, with the corporeal and the incorporeal Pitris, and with all the rulers and instructors of the primeval races, which are referred to as the Gods and Kings of the divine Dynasties." -- HPBs essay: NOAH WAS A KABIR, HENCE HE MUST HAVE BEEN A DEMON.Identifying the Kabirim (the race of Noah as shown at the beginning of this essay) with the Dhyan-Chohans and the Pitris more clearly shows the spiritual importance of the Nephilim and validates further my speculation on the Nephilim being the Augoeiades or race of beings that are connected with the Thelemic idea of the Holy Guardian Angel, which itself evolves of Greek and Hebrew/Merkabah (Psuedpegripha) traditions. Paul Joseph RovelliDear Binah,

So long ago it was, and our history is blurred, but Im awakening, dear one, and should you or anyone ever read these pages, I do not want them to be tales to put you to sleep at night, but memories to stir you from your dark places. Let these whispers grow stronger, so that they light that ember within, kindling ever higher and brighter until the way is clear. So this whispers, the way is setit is time to come forth.

Take these ancient words to heart. Let them bring us hope. There was love in the beginning. There is love now, so you neednt ever be sad for long. Like me, you may just have forgotten.I [Eve] entered into the midst of the dungeon which is the prison of the body. And I spoke thus: "He who hears, let him arise from the deep sleep." And then he [Adam] wept and shed tears. After he wiped away his bitter tears he spoke, asking: "Who is it that calls my name, and whence has this hope come unto me, while I am in the chains of this prison?" And I spoke thus: "I am the Pronoia of the pure light; I am the thought of the undefiled spirit. . . . Arise and remember . . . and follow your root, which is I . . . and beware of the deep sleep.-- Apocryphon of JohnBinah materializes enough for me to see her. Yes, child, I see by the glistening of tears in your eyes that you both long for that light calling to you from across the Abyss, yet at the same time you reach out your hand to me, not ready to say our goodbyes for good quite yet. Just remember that things are always as they should be. Though awake by day, we do sleep at night, and there we can briefly go beyond our confines to the astral plane. There we can touch all that is lost and missing from our realm, we can share in the magick of what can be, if we but only want it, at least for the moment in our deepest minds.Perhaps it is through dreams alone that I can converse with you and imagine what you might be like, such as now, as Im imagining giving you a purple diary to keep notes. Fill these blank pages with your secrets, make them come alive. As you write all that what we discussed so far, I take a moment to light some candles as the sun is setting and the room grows dark before proceeding on. As one of our lessons, I ask you to concentrate on a door, a gate. Picture it, adding details until you can visualize it having weight, taking up space. Are you ready to open it? First, ask yourself if you have the keyor if you even need one?

"Forgotten are the ways of sleep and night,Men seek for them, whose eyes have lost the light,Open the door, the door that hath no key,The door of dreams, whereby men come to thee" The Goat Foot GodKeep that in mind. Soon, we will revisit this gate in another story. It is hard for me to speak of it just yet. For now, see yourself enveloped in a brilliant flame, filled with a luminous consciousness, as if an instructor of the holiness of She is meeting you for the stages of preparation for the higher.Remember when I spoke about my time as a Rosicrucian in Traversing the Scarlet Path, where an ethereal rose materialized, floating in midair as if by unseen hands (from my Beloved Pan or Chaos?) when I demanded a sign, refusing to proceed any further until I received one. Within my heart, I carry that rose with me. My calls never go unheard, even when Im alone and in despair. Take me deeper, I tell the darkness. I have nowhere else to go. Give me a door and I will find the key. Well, several months later, I did another ritual. This time, the words that came to me were The way is set.What does that mean, I wonder? My path is laid out, prepared, a done deal? Or Set as in the god Set, as in another aspect of Horus, the way to balance my light with shadow? Or was it confirmation that the road is as it should be? I dont have all the answers, and maybe your eyes will offer a fresh view. Perhaps, its best to roll back time a little. Look into the murky waters of yesterday to one point of my journey as a Gothic teen dressed in shredded stockings black mini skirt, frilly top, and Doc Martens, meditating outside a stone church from the 1600s, where a woman was once ducked in the nearby river for witchcraft. Thinking myself tough and dark, I sat beside a gray stone tomb in a graveyard pondering life and death. With the setting of the sun, I beseeched the powers that be, desiring wisdom, aching in my heart for what I know not. When the student is ready, the teacher appears, or so I believed.Forlorn, I went over and sat on a wooden bench amidst the unwept graves, so lost and alone, my heart calling out to those who hear. As if coming to answer, a teenage boy appeared out of nowhere upon the dirt path. It was on the other side of the fence that divided the graveyard from the school. Dressed non-assuming in jeans, a dark brown haired boy headed in my direction, why did he scare me so? Self-conscious all of a sudden and questioning his agenda, I wondered if he was coming to tease or bully me, a waif of a living girl seated among the dead.When he paused at the iron gate that separated us, I sat frozen, biting my lower lip, wondering what was appearing to me at this dark evening of my soul, what had I called? With his intense eyes pressing upon my own, his hand settled on the gate even though a heavy chain, bound by lock and key, prevented his entry. It is futile, I wanted to tell him. This barred access protected the graveyard from the school yard delinquents, which I assumed he was. You shall not pass.Not heeding my silent words or even the laws of physics, that boy with the chin-length hair gave a gentle push and the gate opened as if neither chain nor lock bound it. My jaw dropped. Jarring my reality and sending terror coursing through my blood, I jumped to my feet to face my otherworldly guest, desperate to know what magick or sorcery was this?Undisturbed by my terror, this casual boy continued his course across the grass towards me, and the closer he got, the greater the fear blanketing me weighed me down. His pale, too white to be human skin, his black eyes lacking any white part, his cold demeanor lacking emotionspoke of something outside my reality. Closer, closer, now only a few feet away and he wasnt stopping. Was he going to kill me? I begged for him to speak, to let me know what he wanted, but he gave only silence. Fearing for my life, I spun around and flung myself up and over the chain-link fence, fleeing in sheer panic. I ran into the trees behind the school to find my sister, barely able to speak. I grabbed her hand from where she sat meditating and dragged her to the gate, which was bound as if never having been opened. We yanked and pulled. There was no way for the gate to have opened.Perhaps it was the Angel Mesukiel, the Veiler god/goddess, who dwells in Daath, saying you cannot pass until you destroy all your ugly reflections, for all your creations dwell here in the wasteland and you must reconcile them all, in every ounce of your being as if weighed by a feather, to truly know who you are and come to a state of balance. Yes, the gate can be opened without a key, just a shove, when you have refined your spirit on a crucible until only pure gold remains. As I had not done so, I was merely treading into "Masak Mavdil," as a rejected failure. It wasnt the right time.Or was he the one of the guards, sword drawn, letting no Man come nigh unto Babalon if he or she is not worthyor shall I say ready? Then again, it could have been the reverse side of the tree, as I probably wouldnt have known the difference in my inane wanderings, as I was treading the unconscious which one might not wish to deal with, and the wise saying that you must be careful about that which you seek because you will most probably find it.I look at it as the path of the High Priestess as traversing illusion, duplicity, untruth, delusions, all things these things of the subconscious reflecting faulty observations back to us. It is also that first path of contact between the human and divine worlds, and perhaps the clashing of one into the other. Being the longest path without a stopping point, it is most dangerousbut the danger is in misconceptions at the very least.No, I never met that boy again, never knew what it was that had answered my calls, but I often returned to the woods beyond the graveyard, deeper and deeper on my journey among those who watch and wait. In a clearing in the trees, I brought candles, a dagger, a pentagram, salt, water, crude instruments of a young girl communing with what she thinks she knows and with what she knows not, and trying to balance wonder and fear, strong will and cowardice. I did a self-dedication to the Lord and Lady of Initiation, whoever they might be, and a pillar of light appeared to my left, glowing like a beam of white fire. Even though fear bit at me, telling me to run. I stayed. A foolish girl playing with magick, I finished my oath in whispers, my heart beating heavy in my chest, put away my implements in a tote bag, and headed home. As I walked down that dreaded dirt path, trembling and breathing heavy, I peeked behind me, the pillar of light floating a few feet behind me. This time, I did not run, because I knew that from here on out, where I ever went, it was coming with me. Sharp as my knife, death and the unknown are but a shadow, it is part of the game, but Im yet alive, dancing in step with darkness, with light, with love and with pain, with terror and elation.Letting out a sigh, I realize I had gotten lost in my story, reliving the past, but I dont think Binah minded. I noticed her hanging on every word, mesmerized by the adventure, not sure if it made any more sense to her than it did to me.My mood turns serious. I wrap a warm green blanket around Binahs shoulders and give her a calming chamomile tea drink. Then I take a deep breath. The next one isnt so easy. When you are in the occult, you open doorsand I dont know all the rules. I played with magick from a young age, reckless and diving too deep, because I desired it, longed for it. Searching and searching, but also finding, ready or not, like a game of hide and seek, and not even sure what I was finding or whyand unfortunately no one there to guide this lost girl on a Fools quest.I take a deep breath, just as the winds pick up outside. The forces that be press closer to the windows to hear my tale. Now, let me tell you what happened a few years later after the last story. I was living in a yellow and brown, Spanish-style apartment building across the street from the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean. Huge wrought iron gates led to the large courtyard. On the left of the gate was a drug paraphernalia/occult store called The Jester. On the right was a strip club, as if representing the Fool and Lust. At the end of the enclosure were two staircases, the one on the left leading to my 2-bedroom apartment.During one of the nights I slept in the hot room lacking air conditioning, lying just inches from a statue of Anubis, drifting in and out of sleep, when the unknown decided to intrude upon me. Wearing only a satin white nighty that went to mid-thigh, I tossed and turned, kicking off the sheet, sweating and haunted by dreams, until I gently awakened by butterfly soft caresses navigating my leg, angelic fingers brushing my thighs. Knowing only my friend Dawn to be in the room with me, drunk and passed out in a nearby chair in her leather jacket and combat boots, I let out a gasp, cold terror gripping mesomeone else was in the room, but who? What? My eyes focused and I could make out the image of a clawed hand lingering down my leg, before moving into the shadows when I startled him and he retreated a few steps.Monsters were real. I jumped up, my heart beating fast, ready to face the intruder. My eyes werent yet adjusted in the blackness, so I leaned further into the murkiness until our eyes locked. Terror. He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. -- Friedrich Nietzsche.Looking down at me from several feet away was a tall Reptilian-like creature with ridges or scales on his fierce face. It was hard to discern through the shadows, but I had seen enough to confirm my worst fears. Seeing only a monster, to be repulsed by, I moved away from it, having only my black covers from which to hide and shield me.There is Silence in my Soul, and the Fear round about me, as I were Syrinx in the Night of the Forest. -- The Book of Wisdom or FollyInsulted by my reaction, the powerful beast burst closer raising his hand as if to strike, but then quickly moving across my face, I never knew if he struck me or willed me to sleep, which is all I remember before going unconscious.Not sure how much time had passed, I roused with memories flooding back like a nightmarish tidal wave and I jumped up ready for fight or flight, my heart beating rapidly, my eyes clawing at the darkness to find him. Maybe it was a dream or hallucination, I sighed in relief. Yes, let me lie to myself and sever it from my memory, I told myself. So much safer is the lie.It was at that moment, my drunk friend, though still asleep started speaking in a voice not her own, in a language I had never heard before. The voice was loud, roaring, seemingly male, powerful, god-like, and ancient maybe from some ancient culture, possibly what I might imagine Sumerian to be. I had no way to know, but the creature, wherever it was, was using my friend as a vehicle to let me know it wasnt happy with me. I didnt need to understand the exact words because of the language barrier, but I knewThis Beast had shown only tenderness to me before I insulted him, with me not being able to see his beauty as I do now. The veil had been lifted like I had asked, and it was not what I expected to see, nor my own heart opened enough to embrace all that is and all that is connected to it. Looking to the myths, I felt like Persephone encountering Hades; Syrinx pursued by Pan. Still dazed and traumatized by the unreality of it all, I touched my friends forehead and told the Being to leave its host. Leave, I demanded. The night had been long enough, and I climbed out onto the roof from my window to sit and recover. My friend had fallen silent, and would never know what transpired, while I stared at the stars, having no doubt they stared back.I never told my friend or anyone what happened, my lips unable to speak the words, my mind incapable of impressing upon the reality of it, but later the next morning, my roommate Tom stood in the living room, his head hanging with guilt and he seemed lost in thought, maybe trying to find the right words. Twisting side to side, the thin man in jeans and tie-dye gathered his nerve. Did he hear the commotion that went on from his bedroom at the other end of the apartment that he shared with his male lover? I stood there waiting, hoping still that it was all a dream. That wasnt to be so.I have been borrowing (stealing) your occult books, Tom began, never telling me which ones, I had hundreds, and my friends and II guess we called something.Saying nothing, I chose to listen. My body too numb to do otherwise, a blond ghost in black dress. Then out of nowhere, an angry green demon appeared, He continued, It picked up my friend Freebird, and threw him across the room as if he weighed nothing.His brown eyes beseeched me, wanting me to give him answers, anything. I stayed silent, becoming angry. Knowing what he knew and witnessed, he let me sleep at night in this apartment, not telling me this, not letting me know I might not be safe? Was it truly a demon, something needing to be banished? Was it not of this world? Or was this farther from the truth that one could imagine? I dont believe in demons or devils. Do they believe in me?Maybe because I was still in shock, I just nodded and walked away, never speaking of my own experience. Everything I knew about the world, wasnt. Everything I didnt know was more than I was prepared for. I walked for hours, the green waves crashing nearby, the wind tossing my hair, stars twinkling upon the blackness above me. Not knowing what to do, I dropped upon the yellow sands, its very foundation I questioned. What is real?Crushed and confused, I wept. My nightmares are real. Relief cannot be found without a guiding light. Something unseen once gave me a rose? Was it a human, some spirit?He shall wake the living dead Cloven hoof and hornd head, Human heart and human brain, Pan the goat-god comes again! Half a beast and half a man Pan is all, and all is Pan. Come, O Goat-god, come again! The Goat Foot God

Later on, I thought, of this beast throwing a man across the room, a man who not only trespassed into my room to steal my books, but maybe trespassing on something sacred he knew nothing of, but the beast had no problem with me taking part of. My path never barred except by myself. And this beast who had only been tender towards me, why had I not seen his beauty at the time? Tried to understand what it was? I had only recently started my Thelemic path, within the past month or so, not yet understanding of opening ones heart to all, to make no distinction from one thing to the next. I lost a rare moment to try to communicate with something not of this world out of my own ignorance, though in my own defense, waking up at 3:00 in the morning to find an unhuman face imploring you, when society will say it is your imagination, and then retreating into the darkness after admiring your lower naked half it is enough to set you into fight or flight mode and not rational at the moment. Have I crossed the line? Am I losing my mind?I wonder if he ever returned over the years, staying in the shadows so as not to startle me, or if he found me too ignorant to deal with and only shook his head in disdain? All these things running through my head. Ive been living upon a world of illusions as if caked in mud, a light being cloaked in dense earth that anchors me, while manifested here on a journey Im trying to figure out. I must have chained my heart in vain before I fell into this world, and sometimes running for my life, I will always lose itwhen the goal is to return to allif I just wake up and remember.So, my daughter, lesson be learned, keep love in your heart. It is a big universe, and if you are ever lucky enough to meet the gods: Gods, aliens, angels, demons, spirits, extensions of your consciousness or holographs, or however you wish to perceive or understand them, do not fear. Let the truth in.I chose the name Syrinx, a nymph revering of Artemis and girt like she. Belonging wholly in neither world, I must learn to replace fear with adventure, rejection with love, and barrenness with desire. "Once there lived on the cold mountainsides of Arcadia a Naias, who among the Hamadryades Nonacrinae (of lofty Nonacris) was the most renowned. Syrinx the Nymphae called her. Many a time she foiled the chasing Satyri and those gods who haunt the shady copses and the coverts of the lush countryside. In her pursuits--and in her chastity--Syrinx revered Ortygia [Artemis]; girt like her she well might seem, so easy to mistake, Diana's [Artemis'] self, were not her bow of horn, Latonia's [Artemis'] gold. Indeed she was mistaken. Pan returning from Mount Lycaeus, crowned with his wreath of pine, saw Syrinx once and said--but what he said remained to tell, and how the scornful Nympha fled through the wilderness and came at last to Ladons peaceful sandy stream, and there, her flight barred by the river, begged her Sorores Liquidae (Watery Sisters) to change her; and, when Pan thought he had captured her, he held instead only the tall marsh reeds, and, while he sighed, the soft wind stirring in the reeds sent forth a thin and plaintive sound; and he, entranced by this new music and its witching tones, cried You and I shall stay in unison! And waxed together reeds of different lengths and made the pipes that keep his darlings name."-- Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 689 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) Foolish Syrinx, untouched by love at this stage in my life, are you so cold in your heart, caged by fear? Let Thelema return your power, the sword in your sheath. Do you not see your heart broken, the pain of division? I was just barely out of my teen years. What the hell did I know?"Pan cried out: . . . I alone, Kythereia [Aphrodite], must suffer. Alas for love! Syrinx [transformed into a reed] escaped from Pan's marriage and left him without a bride, and now she [the pipes made from the plant] cries Euoi to the newly-made marriage of Dionysos with melodies unasked; while Syrinx gives voice, and to crown all, Ekho (Echo) chimes in with her familiar note."-- Nonnus, Dionysiaca 16. 332 ff (trans. Rouse) (Greek epic C5th A.D.) "You know how Syrinx disregarded fiery Kythera [Aphrodite], and what price she paid for her too-great pride and love for virginity; how she turned into a plant with reedy growth substituted for her own, when she had fled from Pan's love, and how she still sings Pan's desire!" -- Nonnus, Dionysiaca 42. 363 ff

From where I weep, a shadowed woman materializes on the ethereal plane. Syrinx, an angel whispers from across the abyss, All these years you have sang of Pans desire, warmed by his love. Are you not ready now to be the Bride?I saw the rose, says this nymph, now unfettered and free. and all power given.Then I knew, Pan and Babalon must wed. That all women are Babalon, all women must marry Pan. Even more profound to understand, Pan is Babalon, Babalon is Pan.The involutionary process is of Pan, the giver of forms by the Signs of N.O.X. from the Abyss (which itself is of the nightside of the Tree).Pan is the symbol of the Beast or the spiritual force behind the physical Sun (God), and he is the consort of Babalon, the evolutionary force that is affected by the Beast in her formulation of our earth-bound bodies (the womb from which all are born and all return). Paul Joseph RovelliDuring Dionysian rituals, woman seeking lovers would pretend to flee to the temple of Artemis for her protection awaiting the men to pursue them, following which they took part in drunken festivities. Artemis was a guardian of transition for a womans stages, of women unbinding themselves, removing their girdle at the time of becoming a woman, and even Artemis who oversaw the menses, setting their power flowing. You must pass now from the Temple of Artemis to a new temple, a voice says to me, so I come unto a secret temple, where I must remove my white robe. There I prepare myself amid the blooming roses and fiery light. I unbind my hair, let it tumble in waves down my back. My curves ready to be mapped and explored, mysteries hidden therein.I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe, and covered with a rich headdress. I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me! Liber Al vel LegisThere I stand with flowing locks, now prepared to be as the Empress. With purple robe draping honeyed skin, a priestess of Babalon, dedicating myself to She, my attendants perfume my body. Then a headdress is placed upon my head, a cup of foamy wine in my hand, and rich jewels around my neck sparkling with intensity of desire. To me! To me!Pan awaits me from where he reclines, calling my name. I release the robe, to bar me no more, letting it fall from aroused rosy breasts, off of fertile hips, exposing yearning loins, undamming the rivers of life.62. At all my meetings with you shall the priestess say -- and her eyes shall burn with desire as she stands bare and rejoicing in my secret temple -- To me! To me! calling forth the flame of the hearts of all in her love-chant. 63. Sing the rapturous love-song unto me! Burn to me perfumes! Wear to me jewels! Drink to me, for I love you! I love you! 64. I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky. Liber Al vel LegisPan takes my hand, pulls me close in the Bed Chamber, where my gate is opened, the rose and the cross now conjoined, like the sword returned home to its sheath. There is an ecstatic bride in She.Here, you have the secrets. Rejoice and remember. These words say it best.THE GLOW-WORMConcerning the Holy Three-in-Naught.Nuit, Hadit, Ra-Hoor-Khuit, are only to be understood by the Master of the Temple.They are above The Abyss, and contain all contradiction in themselves.Below them is a seeming duality of Chaos and Babalon; these are called Father and Mother, but it is not so. They are called Brother and Sister, but it is not so. They are called Husband and Wife, but it is not so.The reflection of All is Pan: the Night of Pan is the Annihilation of the All.Cast down through The Abyss is the Light, the Rosy Cross, the rapture of Union that destroys, that is The Way. The Rosy Cross is the Ambassador of Pan.Holy, Holy, Holy are these Truths that I utter, knowing them to be but falsehoods, broken mirrors, troubled waters; hide me. O our Lady, in Thy Womb! for I may not endure the rapture. -- The Book of LiesThe night of the wedding, that was the night you were conceived, I tell my daughter. You are born and not born, my Magickal Child. Blessed is she, dedicated first to Artemis, High Priestess and then to Aphrodite, Empress. She points to my crown of 12 stars.Be patient, child, I say. There is more to learn before you take my place. The story must continue for a little while as of yet. I hadnt reached the end of my journey yet.I get up and start to pace in my white cottage in the rural north. I often think of that ominous apartment above The Jester. I lived there a year, but let us imagine for a little bit longer that I am back still there in my holy temple in Virginia Beach. Surrounded by books and Egyptian statues, this unconventional girl threw herself into the wildness of the unknown. Perhaps my journey would have continued such as this, if I were there at this very moment, windows wide open to let the salty air in. Seagulls flying overhead, imploring the seas to provide sustenance. There, I was connected to it all, to the elements, especially the ocean where I used to wish my legs would turn scaly and Id become a mermaid.The sun sets yet again, me alone in my bed and in my thoughts, yet I reach a hand out to the darkness, only cold air to touch (yes, child, this is once again before I was the Bride). I know that you suffered, but I dont want you to hide, I say to the shadows. I want to reconcile the violent ferocity in my heart, and to recognize that form is a concealment of some energy, and we choose how to perceive that expression. Am I not a priestess, queen of my domain, able to conjure or evoke at will? Imagine me there now, Binah, as if part of me is still there continuing the adventure.I call out to Anu, Enki, Inanna, ancient of gods, forgotten by Man. I drank from the chalice. I see. Im in my temple as in many lives before, all conjoined within a single moment in time to be aware at this moment.14. "O Soule of my Soule! would God I were one with thee, even though it were in death!15. "Thou hast all of my Love, my Desire, and my Sorrowe; yea, my Life is mingled with thine, and is gone forth with thee!16. "Visit me in Dreames; comfort me in the Night-watches; let my Ghoste meet thine in the Land of Shadows and of Sleep!17. "Every nighte with fervent Longing will I seek thee; Persephone and Slumber shall give me back the Past.18. "Yea, Death shall not take thee wholly from me; for Part of me is in thee, and where thou goest, Dearest, there my Hearte followeth!"19. So weepest thou and lamentest, because the Soul thou lovest is taken from thy Sight. Clothed with the Sun Seeing is not for the weak, my child. Place not cinqefoils under my pillow. Some things are better left unknown, but if I wish to pursue them in the mansions of the tarot, I may shut one door to open another, taking these barren strawberries to produce prophetic dreams, to learn the mystery of being human. And there I may sleep like a soul haunted by a web of clueless dreams, daring me to reach for the One, the Many, the incomprehensible. I color my inner vision with the ideas of blooming earth, revealing herself to me, whispering to Babalon to free me from my cell.In the dismay of not understanding the silence, I slumped against the decaying walls of the Spanish-style apartment, staring out my window at the huge wrought-iron gate surrounding the inferior garden of weeds, demanding When shall the gate open? When will I find all the answers I seek?Upon hearing that, a Seraphim (though not fiery as those around the throne of god/goddess) descended into the light of a dying candle, its flickering growing stronger, a light not from this world.Mankind, he hissed, fluttering his wings. Do you not know how to open the gate to reach the Supernals? Do you not remember how to fly?And this is the great Mystery of the Supernals that are beyond the Abyss. For below the Abyss, contradiction is division; but above the Abyss, contradiction is Unity. And there could be nothing true except by virtue of the contradiction that is contained in itself.--The Vision and the Voice, 5th AethyrBrushing my bare back with my fingers, finding the skin smooth and lacking feathers, I hung my head, my heart aching. Shaking my head, I say, No, I only know how to fall.8Q 96Of Babylon the daughter is pursued,Miserable and sad they will clip her wings.The radius of the light inched closer to me, its warmth encouraging me. The voice said, Come. Rise and learn to walk again.Walk! I burst out as if insulted. I thought I was supposed to fly?No, you Fool, the solemn creature answered. You believed that you were supposed to fall, did you not?At once, I start to reminisce. There was no Fall of Man, but a Fall of God to gain knowledge through experience. We are all that God that descended, each of us broken into pieces of the One.

I am a fallen creature. I wish to be redeemed. This is the Christian conception. I am Malkuth the fallen daughter. I wish to be set upon the throne of Binah my supernal mother. This is the qabalistic equivalent. -- From Liber LVIII

Yes, I remembered, and the Fall of Man, that is a lie, cursed to believe. Belief is my only cage, but I see the gate now and I have the key.Therefore also blast thou that Lie that Man is of a fallen and evil Nature. For the Word of Sin is Restriction, the Doubt of his own Godhead, the Suppression of, which is the Blasphemy against, his own Holy Spirit. Saith not "The Book of the Law" that "...It is a lie, this folly against self. ..."? Therefore to every Man, in every Circumstance, say thou: Do what thou wilt; and teach him, if he yet waver, how to discover his true Nature, earnestly and with Ardour, even as I have striven to teach thee yea, and more also! The Book of Wisdom or FollyMankind, spread your wings like the mighty Seraphim, divine messengers, who exist in the angelic realm of the Empress. Somewhere amidst the clouds of knowing and not knowing is a divine spark within. Use it as a star to steer your course through the worlds of being. Listen now, my child, deep in the forgotten mansions of the human mind and heart is an echo, like the flap of the doves wing and equally haunting, but also in the grass lies the snake, slithering towards you lest you neglect it. Sophia steps around it, careful not to tread on it as she welcomes the return of the golden son. A new Aeon at last. Seize that light. Be a torch in her hand. Let even those across the Abyss see it.When I look up from telling my tale, I see Binah deep in thought. So serious and contemplative, she brushes the pen across the page, yet hesitant to impress her thoughts upon the pages. My path has not been perfect, but it is a happy ending as any.Its okay, Binah, I assure her. The truth is what it is. One has to be brave enough to hold onto it. Facing our flaws is the only way to learn our lessons. Im freely sharing my own. I entered on this path without guidance and just blew in the winds of the desert seeking the way as best I could, whilst watched by curious beings, seeing what might trap me or set me free.I place the Empress card before her, my daughter. Her face softens, serenity emanates from her. Her mind unlocking the symbols one after the other. This is one aspect of our Lady Babalon. Our Lady Babalon. So what is SHE that straddles the Abyss between time and not-time; existence and non-existence? This is an important question that we must strive to answer on a regular basis. Paul Joseph Rovelli Learn of the Invisible Sephira, the Unrevealed, the Vision Across the Abyss. See the Emperor and Empress united (a head with two faces, each looking one way). Then meditate on paths 13 (High Priestess) uniting Tiphareth & Kether and then upon 14 (The Empress) uniting Chokmah & Binah. Write in your diary your reflections.

Binah, this is important work. Do it as homework once I retire for the night and leave you to your silence. Try to overcome inertia, apathy, cowardice, pride leading to isolation. Each time you face these obstacles, slay them with your sword. Dont be defeated or slowed as I have been. See how your ego trips you up. When fears and doubts spring up like weeds upon your path, snip them. If you know their foundation, dig down to the root and tear it out. What separates you from your true self will be smited. I leave as she is furiously writing in her book.The next evening, Binah settles in an antique rose chair beneath a tapestry of royalty, and she tilts her face towards me, eager for me to begin again. Her diary is open, her pen ready to transcribe. Does she wish for a story of her own to fill the pages? I smile. Thus, the story commences.Years ago, sitting in an empty room, holding a prism, I stare into it, fascinated as it captures and refracts light, a combination of all energies. A sense of movement in my periphery says Im not alone. A familiar sensation, but I do not fear. Seraphim slither around me, and say, We have been waiting for you. Most do not know that they, these winged creatures, can enlighten others, their fire like lamps to seekers in the dark. Their fire filling their charges with zeal. Their eyes turned towards the goal. Little by little, as your eyes grow stronger, will we unveil to you the ineffable glory of the Path of the Adepts, and its nameless goal.--Liber Porta Lucis, line 14After watching me on my quest so far, they deem me worthy and materialize for me a caduceus, reminding me to balance opposing forces as I return to the journey to the mountain top. I take this to heart and vow diligence to this task. No longer am I the young girl I was, quick to shirk my duties. Im too deep with one way to go. You are in the act of becoming, they say, but soon that will cease, and you will merely be.How do I get to that point?First balance, they whisper, Remember above the Abyss, all is in a state of Being. Below, is the state of doing, and Daath is the synthesizing point. I contemplate that for the moment and then ask, but what about this prism? Does it have a function as well? Colors dance, flashing vibrant hues. The universe is a hologram.That is the energy, the energy of doing which is to bridge the Abyss, and which you transcend. There you are beyond what you know yourself to be.The Seraphim touched my lips with the edge of a fiery ember to purify them for speaking of prophecy and for being true to my word. Remember the prophets of old, and embrace those who are arriving as seen by eyes hundreds of years ago such as this:10Q42The human realm of Angelic offspring,It will cause its [or his] realm to hold in peace and union: War captive halfway inside its [or his] enclosure, For long time peace will be maintained for them.

I then went to Binah, her face turned up to me, and passed the ember to her. Close your eyes, my daughter, I tell her. Feel the heat upon your eyes, your ears, your lips. Take this gift. Together, we go to the magick mirror upon the table. She removes the black cloth and peers into the obscure sphere, getting a whiff of the bitter wormwood in the ebony paint, and consciousness shifts, images merging and forming a picture. Scry. Prophecy isnt really about fortune telling, its about seeing truth. Can you see it now, the way which is set?

"Prophecy is, in truth and reality, an emanation sent forth by Divine Being through the medium of the Active Intellect, in the first instance to man's rational faculty and then to his imaginative faculty."MaimonidesAt that moment, pausing from my story, I went to my altar, trying to impress upon my daughter the value of my words. Im a vessel, a shell, hoping for divine inspiration. Im not the inspiration itself and neither was she, but passers of the flame, lighting one and another in a chain, neither link more valuable the next. Never let anyone flock around me as a personality. That would be an insult. We are all equally divine.Later in the day, Binah watches as I put the Empress Tarot card, along with grain, on the wooden altar. Get in touch with Mother Nature, I tell her, an aspect such as Demeter. She is unveiled. Manifesting forms to express the higher, she is also Venus-Aphrodite, Ishtar and Hathor. She can transform matter, she is the use of imagination, doing. Artemis, leaves me be as I turn to this passionate goddess for the rest of the journey.See yourself in a mystical garden pulsating with life in the material world, the Inferior Garden of Eden. Sunlight feeds the spirit of the flora. You remember being here before as if in a multiverse, you are there now and also long ago. A radiant woman appears. "Now a sign appeared in Heaven: a woman, adorned with the sun, standing on the moon, and with the twelve stars on her head as a crown." She is the Great Mother who gave birth to the world. She bestows upon you life-giving powers which give meaning to form, telling you to use these gifts to bestow beauty and art to Mankind. Use these gifts to speak, to write, to unfold the universe as you see it. Divine communication occurs,--namely, the spontaneous operation of the Spirit in a soul duly luminous and responsive. Through such operation the perceptive point of the mind is indrawn and uplifted to a sphere transcending both the physical and the astral or magnetic, and one altogether superior--because interior--to those accessible to the mere lucid, sensitive, or clairvoyant; in that it is the inmost and highest sphere of man's manifold nature, the celestial, or "kingdom within." Attaining to this degree of inwardness, the soul is "clothed with the sun"of full intelligence, recovering all memories and discerning all principles and significations, in measure according to its capacity as developed by the experiences gained in its many earth-lives and in the intervals between, and is enabled also to communicate of them. Clothed with the SunSeek the Empress through love rather than intuition as in the High Priestess, but love as a force, as doing, not mere affection. She is the many-throned Goddess, expressing both the highest spiritual and lowest material. Luscious, sensual. Babalon. Voluptuous, passionate, the soul enthroned in nature. Accept all that you are."This is the harmony of the Universe, that love unites the Will to create with understanding of that Creation: understand thou thine own Will. Love and let love. Rejoice in every shape of love, and get thy rapture and thy nourishment there of." (Aleister Crowley)The Path of The Empress, is the third path of the Supernal Triangle and it is the last path the journeyer will take before crossing the Abyss which lies between the supernal realms and the paths of the lower Trees.This Abyss is also called Hell, and The Many. Its name is Consciousness, and The Universe, among men.--The Book of Lies, chapter 10

When I was a golden haired kid, I had a dream or vision, Im not really sure as I thought I was awake. Unfortunately, I usually am while hoping Im asleep.In the mid 1970s, I was about 5 and never exposed to science fiction, and as I was sitting on my twin bed, a Being showing me holographic pictures. They moved so fast, mainly images of destruction, like the usual apocalyptic scenario. Fire and brimstone, death and destruction, but I focused on the dying dinosaurs, maybe that was one of the first images shown to me, the timeline flashing too fast to consciously comprehend it all, and I started crying, my heart grieving the dinosaurs,while reaching for my teddy bear.As if confused, the being asked, Why are you crying?Its so sad, I wept, the pain welling up in my heart. A whole species dead and gone forever!Nothing is gone forever, the voice gently assured me, It always exists somewhere, in some time, in some form or another. Nothing is ever really gone. Anything can exist again. You just have to want it.

Like a salve to my soul, I wiped my eyes. Those profound words blew me away. I remember them to this day. Whether a dream, a hallucination, I dont know, but it did not come from me, a child of 5. Although I decided I really did not want dinosaurs to ever come back, I liked the idea that they could. Do I believe in aliens? Do they exist? Is it a part of myself? I dont know, but when you are a child trembling in the darkness of your bedroom, noticing a small motionless gray being at the foot of your bed, its large eyes observing your fear, not moving lest it frighten you more, you start to wonder. Am I crazy? Breathing fast while repeatedly closing and opening my eyes, hoping to see that it wasnt really there or that it would go away, I pulled the covers to my chin as if that would somehow protect me from this monster, my teddy bear pressed against my neck and over my heart. A little Catholic girl, I knew it wasnt some Jesus visiting me, it was something more wondrous. My gods were a different kind, sometimes even angels with wings or sometimes serpentine scales, but they all belonged to me. Real or not, that is not what is relevant. Of note, Anna Kingsford saw fairies as a child, was she seeing the same as me? Our minds interpreting things in a way consistent with our makeup, within our own time, where we clothe the unknown in form to interact with it. I think of Crowley speaking to Lam, whatever he might be. Our own experiences cannot be understand by those outside of them. Those with rigid thinking only see the world as a solid box, when it is fluid and alive.Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me, Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that we know not of, Contact daily and hourly that will not release me, These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.Not he with a daily kiss onward from childhood kissing me, Has winded and twisted around me that which holds me to him, Any more than I am held to the heavens and all the spiritual world, After what they have done to me, suggesting themes.O such themes-- equalities! O divine average! Warblings under the sun, usher'd as now, or at noon, or setting,Strains musical flowing through ages, now reaching hither,I take to your reckless and composite chords, add to them, and cheerfully pass them forward. Leaves of GrassAnother time, I had a dream I was either as if in the astral plane or in a spaceship, looking down on earth. So full of awe, I was one with the vastness of space, admiring the blue planet with swirls of white clouds, seeming so serene in the distance, so limitlessness. Unfortunately, I soon found myself back on earth, and I felt claustrophobic, instantly regretting being back here. I awoke, ravaged by grief. As if suffocating, the world felt too small and containing, I paced the rooms of my home, not sure how to bear my confinement. I found this tiny world inconsequential, people dividing themselves too much, too separate. I hated it, wanted to leave again. I spent the rest of the day, as if dealing with loss, with death, yet I was once again in the world of the living or so I am told. The world had at once reverted back to being too big, too hateful, too scary and me once again being too small, a child in a physical cage. I felt like Alice in Wonderland on a crazy ride. The supernatural has long been a part of my life. Those who doubt close themselves off. Those open to it will invite these experiences. Being Irish, my mother, sister, my son and I have always been able to see things. This so scared my mother, I think it led to a progression of psychic breaks. Her seeing was outside her Catholic understanding, and she prayed on her Rosary beads endlessly, not finding the beauty of her gift. Did she not know she was of the fairy bloodline, as my sister and I use to tease that we were of. After all, Fee (an alternative spelling for fey, fay, fairy) as in her maiden name, the name I passed on to you, my daughter Binah with the spelling of Fay, in honor of my blood, and to honor Morgan Le Fay, who I wanted to link to you to, at least in name. with that in mind, let us continue with my fairy tale.Always be your authentic self, Binah, even if you come across as crazy. Not everyone can see as you do, but your truths are your own. You neednt worry if anyone else gets it or not.As a reticent child of 7, almost selectively mute, I remember being led inside a cold, decrepit institution (not as humane as the psychiatric hospitals we have today), by the hand of my estranged father, my Mary Jane shoes echoing in the morose hallways, and with me sensing the despair of these lost souls, stricken by the sickening odor of urine and death in the air, distant howls suspended on the gloom and heartbreak. And there in the dim visiting room, filled with a few couches, I saw my mother, who was not my mother during those times, but a stranger I did not recognize. A shell of a being, as if the person I knew did not inhabit that body during those timesuntil it was time to say goodbye at the end of the visit. Then Id see her not want to let me go. I remember they closed the door between us, and in the glass window, my moms angelic face, framed by dark hair, her hand pounding on the glass, as she wept, calling out to me, wailing in unimaginable pain with my father dragging me away, haunted by the image of her in the window, cruelly locked away from me. Heaviness weighing me down, no one to ease mebut the entities that visited me. Once one appeared in the form of my mother, or a mother, telling me it loved me. Having no earthly life at times, I had only the other realms to tend to me, even if imagined.Maybe if part of me feared the unknown, part of me felt home there. I felt removed from the rest of the world, though I didnt want to be seen as abnormal. Kids in school called me a witch, a vampire, a demon. Though I was extra gentle in my nature so as not to frighten them, they didnt know what to make of the silent girl who rarely spoke, but terrified them should our gazes lock. I wanted to make the mudra of fear not, with my right hand, but then again, they would see my knife in the left hand, ready to slice through their ignorance like Kali. Okay, I was different, but I didnt want to make it any worse. Maybe that is why I did not believe my mothers visions. I didnt know if she was losing touch with reality, and I never wanted to be seen as crazy. That is why I didnt believe my mother one day when she came running out of her bedroom claiming she saw lights. I figured it was car lights going by or something rational, so I ignored her and returned to reading, but my braver older sister ventured in her room wanting to see these lights. Just like my mother, within moments, my sister fled the room, her face pale and affright, also having seen the lights. Curious now, I asked what she saw, and she told me she saw three lights hovering in midair. Not knowing what it could be, I chose not to go see it, but I believed what she told me, still unsure what it represented or signified. A trinity of lights, just another occurrence for our family.See, child, when you wish to see, you must be able to handle the responsibility of seeing. Now, lets pause for a moment. I want to return to when I spoke to you about the Mighty Ones, those whom I see you as being a daughter of. I want you to understand some of what I wrote in my other books. Be as my initiate. I deem you worthy to enter the temple, that which stands beyond time or space.The initiate was accompanied by his sponsor or "mother," a priestess or Sibyl. The central secret of the Mysteries was the tree of life in the midst of the garden; Immortality, the secret of Transmutation, or of changing "water" (substance) into "wine" (spirit). Clothed with the SunFor instance, in my book, She of the Silver Star, I spoke of Diana of Ephesus (Artemis is an equivalent of her, she whom Syrinx is devoted to as the High Priestess. Of note, the Merovingians were Goddess Diana worshippers), and Ephesus a city heavily associated with the bee, and the priestesses were known as Melissa. Well known for its occult practices and Ephesia grammata, magick formulas and hidden knowledge spread from here. A powerful city, ruled by the illumined. In Ephesus, we can link together the bee, a Masonic symbol (or at least part of one), the roots of the word logos as applied to Deity, and the Divine Feminine the Masonic TrowelHereclitus of Ephesus was perhaps the first to speak of the Logos. Almost certainly the use of Logos in the Gospel of John stems from Hereclitus.-- the Masonic TrowelThose are thoughts for your diary to explore later. For now, I want to focus on the bee, the symbol of those of Us. Let me tell you a little about bees, Daughter of the Mighty Ones. They are no mere decoration. The story is carried within. Hear it. Know it.Grant writes 'The bee, beetle, or crab, is therefore the link between the earliest manifestation of the Typhonion current and its final phases.' Also; '217 is the key number of [Crowley's] Book of the Law. 217 is also the number of DBVRH, meaning 'a bee' which is the specific symbol of Sekhet, whose name means 'a bee.' Sekhet is another aspect of the god Set. There are eleven bees because eleven is the number of Magick and of the sephirah on the Tree of Life, called Daath, which is the 'Gateway' to the backside of the Tree and to the Gods... As for the fleur de lys, in the Typhonian Tradition it represents the 'kingly man' that Crowley extols and the inheritor of the Grail Bloodline. In The Vision and the Voice, Crowley is 'conversing' with his Holy Guardian Angel Aiwas, who says: 'For I am not appointed to guard thee, but we are of the blood royal, the guardians of the Treasure-house of Wisdom.' The 'blood royal,' the Sangraal of the Holy Grail." Kenneth Grant and the Merovingian Mythos, Vadge Moore:Fascinated by a society working together for the greater good, something humans could never do, I sat on my porch in awe as a majestic bee alighted on my finger, each pondering the other. In any encounter, I stayed still as not to frighten it, lest I be stung.On one particular summer day, in my early years, I was watching a spider battle a bee in a spider web on the porch, and since my earth given name was Melissa (Hilda Ransome informs us; The title Melissa, the Bee, is a very ancient one; it constantly occurs in Greek Myths, meaning sometimes a priestess, sometimes a nymph. This is an important observation, for the tradition of dancing Bee goddesses appears to have been preserved in a form of Bee maidens known as Melissas or nymphs, and Greek deities such as Rhea and Demeter were widely known to have held the title. Additionally, the Greeks frequently referred to Bee-Souls and bestowed the title of Melissa on unborn souls), I decided to intervene on the bees behalf. In their private battle, was it wrong for me to intervene? And do gods, if they exist, ever intervene in the affairs of humans? At least in our myths, they do.10. FATHER-MOTHER SPIN A WEB WHOSE UPPER END IS FASTENED TO SPIRIT --THE LIGHT OF THE ONE DARKNESS --AND THE LOWER ONE TO ITS SHADOWY END, MATTER; AND THIS WEB IS THE UNIVERSE SPUN OUT OF THE TWO SUBSTANCES MADE IN ONE. Book of Dzyan

It started when I became fixated on the spherical pattern of the web, when a bee flying nearby got stuck in one of the strands. Curious, I had squatted down to watch the life and death struggle contained within a spider web on the front porch. Poor bee, I thought, you are going to die. The fuzzy little bug flapped away seeking to defer its fate.In its conquest, the large black spider pulled on the strand, slowly raising its prey up for its lunch. The bee buzzed louder, trying to flap its wings in a final fight for its life. What could I do? It was natures way, but that proud bee spoke to my heart. I reached for a stick and tossed it into the spider web to let it be as it may, and stepped back, not sure it would be of any help. At once, the strand broke, the bee fell to the ground, oriented itself and then soared into the air, to freedomunaware of my involvement in its destiny. My captivation with bees started that day while playing outside. Did the bee realize or care that a child saved its life, and doomed the spider to hunger? Do bees teach us that working together we can toil on with our lives for however long we can escape the webs cast upon us? As bees were associated with the Oracle at Delphi, as well, there is so much about this symbol that I dont want to get too off track to explore, but you may walk that path later on your own.With that said, Binah, do you not see this symbol and others contained in all that is, even in the Goddess? Open your eyes. Its all connected. We are all in that web, some oblivious to being stuck, others breaking free."I am all that has been, that is, or shall ever be; no mortal man hath ever me unveiled." Inscribed on a statue of Neith in the House of the BeeWhen I was working in my office not too long ago, yellow jackets snuck through the crack in the window, buzzed around me, dive bombing in my hair, even landing on my knuckles as I typed. Then one stung me on the finger, rewarding my kindness with pain and redness. It hurt for several days. Are they trying to awaken me from my web? To get me to look behind my physical box to what is calling me?Bowl of oak and earthen jar,Honey of the honey-bee;Milk of kine and Grecian wine,Golden corn from neighbouring lea These our offerings, Pan, to thee,Goat-foot god of Arcady. The Goat-Foot God

So, daughter, what are you seeing from all this. Your eyes are only half open. Cast your mind, your net on the following passage, and pull it up on a strand of attention and add it to the whole picture. Set was the black god. He was known as he who is below. He was banished to the underworld by his twin Horus for killing Osiris. The Nephilim were banished to the center of the earth for disobeying God by mating with the daughters of men and teaching them the forbidden arts. In this publication the Nephilim have been identified as the Fathers of the Merovingians. Set was generally considered to be a vile, vicious god baneful to men. But there are enough aspects of this god that link him to the ancient Sumerian myths, the basis of the Merovingian mythos published in this magazine, to show that Set is to be identified with the same gods and characters that make up these Mythos. He may have been considered baneful towards some races, but not the race of the Grail.-- Kenneth Grant and the Merovingian MythosDo you see now the relevance? If not, read a little more. The Merovingian kings were noted sorcerors in the manner of the Samaritan Magi, and they firmly believed in the hidden powers of the honeycomb. Because a honeycomb is naturally made up of hexagonal prisms, it was considered by philosophers to be the manifestation of divine harmony in nature. Its construction was associated with insight and wisdom as detailed in Proverbs 24:13-14: My son, eat thou honey, because it is good So shall the knowledge of wisdom be unto thy soulTo the Merovingians, the bee was a most hallowed creature. A sacred emblem of Egyptian royalty, it became a symbol of Wisdom. Some 300 small golden bees were founded stitched to the cloak of Childeric I (son of Meroveus) when his grave was unearthed in 1653. Napoleon had these attached to his own coronation robe in 1804.-- Kenneth Grant and the Merovingian MythosHmmm, the bees are on the robe of the Empress. A coincidence. There is no coincidence. The Tarot tell a vivid history. Look closer. Yes, daughter, bees of are of the Grail and protectors of the Mysteries. The Mighty Ones are preparing your throne as you are Isis, Babalon (As are all women), she who is us, who carry the star Sothis burning behind our breasts, mother of Set, of Horus, of one and the other. In this world of duality, you cannot have one and not the other, for they are as one in the higher world, one broken into two on this plane.Tell me, now, childwho are you? Your eyes are open, your sight is clear. Do you know who you are? Though unable to speak, I hear her thoughts loud and clear.I am the first and the last. I am the honored and the scorned, I am the harlot and the holy one.I am the wife and the virgin. I am the m[oth]er and the daughter.I am the members of my mother. Thunder Perfect MindI kiss her forehead. Alas, I have shared the great wisdom from a part of the path, take this to task. I have no more to tell. I have already said too much and must return to silence.From The Vision and the Voice, 4th AEthyr: "This is the meaning of that passage; they are attempts to interpret Chaos, but Chaos is Peace... Blackness, blackness intolerable, before the beginning of the light. This is the first verse of Genesis. Holy art thou, Chaos, Chaos, Eternity, all contradictions in terms!... But when the balances are equal, scale matched with scale, then will Chaos return." Beaming with pride, I put the wedding veil on Binahs head, and she smiles. I believe she is ready. It is time for Babalon and Pan (Bride and Beast) to wed, to take part in that lightening flash in the Bridal Chamber. This is the only way to the higher, the holy of holies.Binah, if you were here today in human form in this world, from where you are veiled off from the above, Id imagine you getting married. Remember in the first story how the angel put a cover over me, but yet did I not have the power to see through it or remove it had I wanted to, had I been ready to see? Yet, also, I was told the path would be unfolded to me, all in due time.Now hath Nuit veiled herself, that she may open the gate of her sister. -- Liber ArcanorumThis time, my blue-lidded daughter, I want you to see yourself as the Old Kings daughter from the kingdom, Malkuth. Celebrate with me, though across the Abyss where you sit, far from this material plane where my hands never got to hold you, nor sing lullabies to your empty crib. Perhaps, now, a young woman you are the Priestess, the Bride. In other realms, sometimes, you are the wiser, the mother. At other times, like now, the daughter, each reflections of opposites. Here, now, in this realm that shall be so, you are an aspect of the Goddess in this manifestation, the youthful one in this time.The Mother is the Daughter ; and the Daughter is the Mother (Crowley, An Essay Upon Number).Ritually cleansed from her bath, you are now veiled and led to the Temple of Solomon and seated at the gateway, between Mildness and Justice. All hail the Gnostic Queen of the Moon, merry guests proclaim as the nuptials commence. Lovely and just, you have learned the wisdom of balance. You sit between the pillars never drawn to one more than other, never to be thrown about in chaos, but sitting there strong and mighty, a daughter taking her place on the throne of Isis.Be this High Priestess. She, who is Atu II, she is memory. Please, let me remember you and you remember me. She is reflection. Please, shine upon my magick mirror so that I may see, for you shall bring forth prophecy. But today is your wedding and the focus of your attention. Be the mighty priestess and oracle, whom the Bridegroom comes to read with from the sacred book, before awaiting to hear his beloved impart its divine meaning. Memories start to return. Soon they speak of their division, now joined as one. The new Bride, now open to seed, she who is Atu III, takes the hand of her Bridegroom, Chokmah, their hearts united, as if divine light from their union descending upon them in order to accompany the souls ascent. It all becomes clear in their passion and union.Oh Lady of Sorrow, the Bridegroom proclaims to his Bride, I was tempted into manifestation by my desire to love, and the remedy for the sorrow in love is to have sorrow thrust upon us, the great mystery of the human heart. For without it, I would not have awakened.To seek love is to deny love, she reminds him, You already were love, created of itself.It is with the Divine Marriage that one comes to the two pillars, yet this number is unity in the higher world and division in the lower, but always with the possibility of unity, and the uniting factor is love. The Shekinah is love, the mystery of the sexes.All is dissolved in formless Light of Unity. -Liber CL: De Lege Libellum The ecstatic Bride recites from the Book of the Law, For I am divided for love's sake, for the chance of union. This is the creation of the world, that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all.I, mother of the Bride, filled with honor. Binah would have made a lovely bride, had she been of this earth, of this kingdom. In a way, she is here, in thought, in feeling, in imagination, and I would teach her the great secret, as Im telling you, that the mystery is the union of spirit and matter by marrying, dissolving two into one, thus transcending both.At that moment, an arm envelopes my waist, and I turn to Pan, he and Syrinx, now united as well, division no more. We watch as the young couple are led to the bridal chamber (they who are us, and us who are them), and the door closes behind them, it is time for them to cross the veil, and at that moment Pans moist lips part my own, our breath as one. Let our hearts ignite. I go forth in the Light, and as the Light, and I enter in for the fulfillment of Pistis Sophia, the consummation of the Great Cosmic Aeon; she who is my Twin, she who is my Soul, has called to me, and I answered her I have joined with her as a single image, and she gives birth to me in the Entirety: the True Light shining forth through her, and we appear in the Great Matrix as the Holy Bride and Groom. -- Ascension of Christ the SophiaSo, Binah, here we end our story. I hope I prepared you well should you decide to manifest from the Queen of the Unborn into this world one day, emerging from the waters of life through a vehicle of clay, and perchance stumble across this book, and if you do, it will be waiting for you along with my timeless love. Press this book to your heart, my fiercely loved child, and remember that you indeed are Daughter of the Mighty Ones.Remember all life is pure joy.Agape,Your Mother, SyrinxAnd I leave you with these words from the wisest woman I know ofSink down, sink down, sink deeper and more deepInto eternal and primordial sleep.Sink down, be still, forget and draw apart,Into her inner earths most secret heart.Drink the waters of Persephone,The Secret well beside the Sacred Tree,Waters of Life and Strength and Inner Light,Eternal Joy born from the deeps of night.Then rise made strong, with life and hope renewed,Reborn from darkness and from solitude,Blessed with the Blessings of Persephone,The secret strength of Rhea Binah Ge. Moon Magic

Epilogue Nostradamus Prediction: Then, because of great floods, the memory of things contained in these instruments will suffer incalculable loss, even letters. -- Epistle to Henry IIAlong the piles of trash washed up on the littered shore, a red haired girl poked a stick in the dirt, moving aside seaweed and debris to find anything salvageable in the ruins of a city once known as New York. Not much is known of that society after the great days of darkness. It is rumored that the peculiar people placed all their information in The Cloud, perhaps as offering to the gods, but after the great storms and floods of legend, not much of any cloud survived, just these odd metal and plastic boxes they used to project their wisdom to the other realms. Not much use now, she sighed. It is uncertain whether the wisdom keepers will be able to unlock the mysteries of that time period. Perhaps, its a Pandoras Box left unopened. It is hard to tell.

With light hitting an object, the girl, known as Morgan in this incarnation, thrust her hand into the muck. Kneeling down to wrestle free the object, the barefoot child tugged hard and pulled out a plastic case. Therein, she found a thin purple book, rather worn but in good shape. As one of the few who could read, being the daughter of a scribe, she read the title aloud Daughter of the Mighty Ones

What would this book behold to another age and generation? Perhaps, it was yet time for a prophecy she recently found in another book that she knew by heart as such:

20. For the woman is the crown of man, and the final manifestation of humanity.21. She is the nearest to the throne of God, when she shall be revealed.22. But the creation of woman is not yet complete: but it shall be complete in the time which is at hand.23. All things are thine, O Mother of God: all things are thine, O Thou who risest from the sea; and Thou shalt have dominion over all the worlds. -- Clothed with the Sun

At that moment, other children put down their bags of the days scavengings, and gathered round the old-beyond-her-age girl with the freckles. Of varying ages, there was a child with dark cascading curls, another with his hair trimmed short, wanting to hear what this newfound book said, so Morgan sat on nearby tree stump, its branches long forgotten, and huddled the younger set around her under the temple of the stars, becoming as the mother or priestess to her charges, ready to yet again pass on the light immemorial to a future chain of initiates.

Is it a fairy tale? a golden skinned child asked, scooting closer, his eyes filled with curiosity.

While flipping through the curious book to get the gist of it, Morgan smiled and said, Something like that or a fable of some sort.

What if I want it to be true? the black haired girl wonders, resting her chin on folded hands. Can it be my story?

In our minds, we can make it so. Morgan assured her, touching the girls third eye. And there is a time such as now when such things come to pass, and we will see as if we opened our eyes for the first time.

It must be magick, the golden boy whispered as he looked up to the hawk flying overhead, the majestic bird gazing back at him.

Perhaps it is.

And Morgan began to read.and remember.

Part II

Ways to Use this Book

This section will further explore some of the mysteries in more brief, but I dont think it is wise for me to tell you what they mean. How could I even know what they might mean to you? That is the beauty of it all. Let it be your own journey. Maybe read the story again at a later date, looking particularly for the symbols or for inspiration. Perhaps, you will use this space now, to take a look at some of the symbols, for its the symbols themselves that contain the time immemorial story. For instance, in the first story, what is the significance of the cup. Was it the Scarlet Woman drinking of the Cup of Babalons fornication? What else does the cup, the Graal represent to you? Skim through the story and see which symbols have the greatest impression on you and use that for the area of your exploration.The following are some suggestions to pursue:1. The High Priestess is the Veiled Isis, the consecrated virgin, the field waiting to be planted, cool, subconscious.2. The Empress is the Unveiled Isis, pregnant, actively generating life, warm, gestating ideas.Now take on other symbols used in this book related to the Empress: Green, Seraphim, grain, Demeter, etc. Expand upon the list. See the connections.Perhaps you want to see the connection of Diana, bees, Grail, etc. There are many avenues along the main road. Detour should you wish to branch out further.For fun, lets see what Waite says about the Empress. Rich vestments and royal aspect, did you see the relevance of this in the story, or the crown with twelve stars, etc.?In his book The Pictorial Key to Tarot, Arthur Edward Waite says that The Empress is:A stately figure, seated, having rich vestments and royal aspect, as of a daughter of heaven and earth. Her diadem is of twelve stars, gathered in a cluster. The symbol of Venus is on the shield which rests near her. A field of corn is ripening in front of her, and beyond there is a fall of water. The scepter which she bears is surmounted by the globe of this world. She is the inferior Garden of Eden, the Earthly Paradise, all that is symbolized by the visible house of man. She is not Regina coeli, but she is still refugium peccatorum, the fruitful mother of thousands.Newcomers may wish to try to understand the spheres approached in this book such as Binah and Chokmah. Here in this section, Ill add a little on Daath. Daath is a union of masculine and feminine. It sits on top of the Abyss, separating Kether, Chokmah and Binah from the rest of the tree, separating archtypes from form. It is the child of Binah and Chokman, and it is said to be the highest point of awareness for the soul. It is this awareness that leads to the most important question, who are you? And who are you becoming? What is your true will? There is no further process beyond that, at least as far as we are concerned in this book.It is interesting that Crowley suggests Daath is a doorway to another dimension. Maybe see it as a passageway, a gateto Sothis, as Sothis is said by Kenneth Grant to be the heart of Thelema, and interestingly, it is the star associated with Daath. Write your own guided meditation concerning this. On your journey, seek to unify your nature. Seek here, when you have completed your journey, the vision across the Abyss. Who will you meet here? Babalon. Through her, Isis, Sirius, the feminine, we find our way, this path long barred from you by society seeking to keep you powerless and enslaved. Be a king. Be a queen.If interested, beginners may like my Sothis ritual found in She of the Silver Star, as a way to impress on your mind some of these ideas, and then read the book for a more in-depth look at Atu II, the High Priestess. This is only one side of the Divine Feminine. The other is the Empress. Maybe create your own dramatic ritual/play/story/poem/song. Create. Connect. As this book is an introduction to the Empress card, I want to point out this as well: The Emperor and Empress, the Janus-head, when put together suggests Daath, blending directions, time, inner/outer, etc. Put both cards side by side. Make a list of what feelings they inspire in you, or what meaning you find within.As a side note, it is empowering to see Daath as the birth canal for the spirit, the birth of a star into form, embedded with your unique fiery potency, perhaps the creative fire stolen by Prometheus, and some say even the apple eaten by Adam and Eve. Use this potency to set the course of your orbit, or create your own personal universe, which is your daily life, and make it notable. How do you proceed from here, you might ask? Take a step forward. The whole world is already within you, all the heavens and hells. Your journey is already noted by those who see and hear. You are already on your way. Even if only a few steps into the desert at that moment, that shouldnt trouble you or leave you feeling daunted by the tasks ahead, because in closing, I leave you these words of someone who came before both you and me, and provided us this wisdom to reflect on. Write this quote in your diary, let it guide you until its time to draft your own take on your heros journey, and from the netherworld, those future souls may yet learn from you. 19. Wherefore I charge you that ye come unto me in the Beginning; for if ye take but one step in this Path, ye must arrive inevitably at the end thereof. 20. This Path is beyond Life and Death; it is also beyond Love; but that ye know not, for ye know not Love. 21. And the end thereof is known not even unto Our Lady or to the Beast whereon She rideth; nor unto the Virgin her daughter nor unto Chaos her lawful Lord; but unto the Crowned Child is it known? It is not known if it be known. 22. Therefore unto Hadit and unto Nuit be the glory in the End and the Beginning; yea, in the End and the Beginning. Liber Cheth vel Vallum Abiegni,

Bibliography

Apocryphon of JohnAscension of Christ the SophiaCrowley, Aleister, Liber Aleph vel CXI: The Book of Wisdom or Folly; An Essay Upon Number; Liber Al vel Legis; Liber Porta Lucis; Magick in Theory and Practice; Liber Stell Rube sub figura LXVI; Liber Cheth vel Vallum Abiegni; The Vision and the Voice; Liber CL: De Lege Libellum; Liber Arcanorum; Liber LVIII.Fortune, Dion, The Goat-Foot GodFortune, Dion, Moon Magic Harrison, Jeff, and Karen Charboneau-Harrison, QABALISTIC MAGIC ARTICLE LESSON 9: DAATH

Kingsford, Anna, Clothed with the SunMoore, Vade, Kenneth Grant and the Merovingian Mythos Nonnus, Dionysiaca 16. 332 ff (trans. Rouse) (Greek epic C5th A.D.) Nonnus, Dionysiaca 42. 363 ff Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 689 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) Strelan, Rick, Paul, Artemis, and the Jews in Ephesus, Volume 80Waite, Arthur Edward, The Pictorial Key to TarotWhitman, Walt, Leaves of Grass

Websites:the Masonic Trowel