Sacrifice

Sacrifice

Someone was just asking me about my early days as a Wytch. This discussion brought back up, in my mind, my days and nights, of magik, in my early twenties. What I remember the most about that long ago time of learning and applying and changing, is sacrifice. And so, we discussed it’s true meaning and application within the real world.

While I now live in a state of being that I understand as a life lived indigenously borne from the same magik that is my mind, body, and energy, as all life; and not as a life lived practicing magik, my comprehension of what sacrifice, especially as it relates to conjuring or ritual or whatever label you deem appropriate for your path and focus; is more often than not, completely misunderstood and not actually achieved. (I know that’s a whopper of a run on sentence. 😏)

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First and foremost, “sacrifice” must be defined and understood, genuinely and absolute. You can not buy something off of a shelf, have no emotion invested in it, and then use it as a sacrifice. What have you sacrificed? If you use the term offering, the same logic is applied. If you buy a bottle of alcohol to be used as an offering for whichever spirit or deity you have chosen as your focus, and are not offering anything of real personal emotional value, what have you actually offered?

While I no longer, for sometime now, perceive magik as something to be practiced or conjured or ritualized, I understand that almost all of us start there. Some of us never move past that infant-like understanding of magik. A good place to start your personal transcendence from the habitual parroting of other conceptions of what they may or may not have actually achieved; is to look more closely at and figure out, for yourself, what a real sacrifice consists of.

Maybe, one day, before your current life extinguishes from this Earth, you will move on from mimicking and/or practicing magik and realize, in the rawness of your truest core, that you are already born magik and that there is not really a need to conjure or execute “magik.”

Just be it, just know it. The same way you just know you are a Human (no matter what kind of human you believe you are). You know it with every breath you breathe. So, too, you should know you are magik…with every breath you breathe.

“I don’t need no stinkin’ altar! I am the altar!”
~Julia DarkRose 2015

~Julia DarkRose Caples

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Samhain Evensong

Samhain Evensong

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I wrote this prose about an hour ago. This was inspired by the creation of my new Hallowe’en video for 2017, that will be released for public viewing, midnight tomorrow!

Until then, here is a peek at my new Hallowe’en Season prose, inspired by my current Artistic Alchemists creation.

Thank you for taking a moment to read my thoughts translated into a painting made out of words.

Side note: Many readers have mentioned that because I usually write my prose in a mixture of olde english and modern english, that they have trouble following along. I do not see it that way, at all. There are also just as many readers that do not have any problem deciphering my prose. I did, however, tone the mixture of olde and modern down a bit. Since the publication of my book-Blood’s Truth-I have a rather large number of new readers. So, for their sake, I toned it down. I do believe, however, that the story of Autumn that is told through this prose, is easy enough for most to unravel and, hopefully, find dark delight within.

Respectfully and quite Appreciative,
~Julia DarkRose Caples

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Samhain Evensong
© Julia DarkRose 2017

O spirit of illuminated night,
Spectre of blinding sun,
Web of the Darklight,
Sea of Wisdom’s reflection,
Mirror of madness,
Bringer of visions,
Shall we rejoice with thee in this season of change…
in this harvest of death?
Or shall we fly from thee into the comforting arms of Springtide?

The mind must split.
The marrow must chasm.
The blood must curdle.
The heart must cease.
The flesh must rot.

Elixir’s fade and potions fail.
The sweet, thick red wine, changed to foul, thin water.
The river of bright blood is dried upon the skin.

Art thou redemption?
Art thou damnation?
Shall we adore thee?
Should we abhor thee?

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Human sheath lacking blood,
Bone lacking husk,
Spirit lacking bone.
Arise and be fed.
Arise to bone and flesh and blood.
This Samhain night,
Renewed by the dark gospel’s food.
Nevermore to thirst for mine,
Nor on my living limbs to dine.

Silver Serpent,
Silver Spider,
A mirror for our altered face…
We live again,
And we are so very fair!
The moon has risen and swayed the crimson tide.
In her dazzling Darklight,
The dead live again!
All are bewitching in her glimmer.

Bound within the alabaster web, be free;
Dancing in formless flame…
Now, live!

Maddened where madness is joy,
Hold fast to this frail thread,
Until the last of moonlight’s veil has been shed.

O moon, faeries glory, ghosts, and ghouls,
Art thou a beateous beast?
And are we not better for midnight’s beauty still?
Better her dance of bedazzled death,
Her passionate throes,
Than stillness in the grave.

Dance, dance, dance, in patterns of her fantastical, vibrating, change,
These decaying rags made whole,
Risen in her fevered, flaming, Cimmerian shade.
All our senses wear her infinite bright shadow,
Our cloak, forevermore…

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

We awaken fully, into a frenzy of bestial desires.
Once creatures, trapped by the burning sphere of daylight,
We gnawed at our house of flesh.
Ravaged by Night’s Mistress,
Old as the black nothing that does not end…

All that was dead is not dead.

The spirit is an inferno.
The spirit is eternal.
The spirit is one spirit-The spirit of all spirits.
And that One holds the Fire of the Cosmos.

Breathe now,
And so shall the Cosmos breathe,
And of its own breath shall the Cosmos be made anew.

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Merry New Year!
The Darkness is upon us!
Rejoice!
Blessed is this, our Evensong…
Happy Samhian!

~Julia DarkRose

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