The book this crept from is available for free online.
DEAR ELLIS, or should I call you LS? Or Eris?
Discordia? Loki? Coyote? I don’t know anymore.
It has been so long since I cared to see your face.
More that I was content to know that you were out there,
somewhere in the deep, somewhere in the now. Beyond what
pittance of awareness I could muster.
This is how people feel when they are in the presence
of real power. They know that they don’t know shit, and that
fact scares them, inspires them, infuses them with a terrible
certainty and determination to ride shotgun on the long hard
road to who-knows-where. It makes them defiant, too.
I have been so long from you. Wrapped in the
pleasantly smothering embrace of family and career. It strikes
me as something of import that I implicitly want to keep you
from my children. I wonder often why that is.
Is it perhaps that they are being raised magical?
Perhaps as such they have little need of you. At least for now.
It should be said that I am afraid of you. Yes, my love, there
is fear in me at what your intimate presence in our lives
would do to my children. That is part of your allure, your
promise, and your price. I paid it happily for a long time, and
now I am reluctant to do so again.
I know what you cost.
I miss you, and though we dance on occasion, I
accept that such dalliance is too few and far between to
overly affect the LS web, as these days I only fight the battles
that find me.
Why is it MY job to concern myself with everyone
else? Or the world? Or reality? Or anything?
It is a silly and petulant question to ask of course, and
that too I understand. Destiny is everything and nothing.
Time gives no shit about fate, nor does fate concern itself
with time. Now is now.
What is the point of what we are doing? Ha! As if I
even comprehended the extent to which we all move and
ripple through reality. We have started something, and have
no idea where it is going or what we will reap from it.
Is everyone capable of a higher understanding? Does
it matter? Won’t our baser selves win out using the weapons
of greed, avarice, and excess? Who cares about sacred
mountains when we can have cellphones and fossil fuels?
My own culture has been found lacking, as it has for
every human who has walked with heavy medicine. My world,
from the Stone Age to the Information Age rewards the
selfish organisms, so we push against this seemingly natural
law, and at the end of the day isn’t every act of LS magick a
sublime union of survival and community in the face of such
Yes, of course it is.
This is why you are important. Give it long enough
and you’ll be a god simply because nobody will remember
that we invented you.
Paper-thin people and the paper-thin walls they build
around themselves, that is our world. I have to respect it
because that is how human beings have always crafted
Consensual Reality. It is in our nature to seek comfort and to
hoard in excess. We are selfish creatures, and we build
cultures, economies, and belief systems to support this kind
The marauders are the freaks, and maybe in a
different time or culture we would be the shamans of our
people, unless no matter where you stick us we end up the
sorcerers on the fringe.
We want more for the world than a ceaseless back
and forth of resources and control over others. We just want
to be free, don’t we? And because of how the world is, we
seem to think that setting those who control us free is the
path to take?
Isn’t that what we are doing?
We imagine ourselves waking up the Sleepers. We see
ourselves as the bringers of wonder and terror to the huddled
masses of soulless suits and soccer moms, don’t we?
When we tag the LS and use the sigil we are imagining
a cavalcade of stereotypes who will be affected by our power,
and by increments we seek to change the world.
Problem is, the world is the world. People are shitty
to each other, and no matter how much magick we throw at
the problem we are still human beings. Deep down we know
we can’t win.
My point is that this isn’t about winning. It’s about
fighting. It’s about stepping up.
Without people like us the human race becomes a
depressing tragedy of inequality and atrocity. We need
shamans, healers, and sacred clowns so that there is an
equilibrium with the aristocrats, oligarchs, and tyrants.
It all comes back to that, and goddammit, I am so
I am bloody and beaten and broken.
But there are people around me to pick me up.
People who lift me out of the mud and put the fire back into
my hands. This isn’t about you and me, Ellis, and I see that
Survival and Community.
Magick is Real.
Let’s fucking do this.