Everyday Sorcery for the Closet Magician

Magick is often conceived as either the superstitious tools of the uninformed, or else as the inaccessible obscure disciplines of secret cabals.

There are, however, powerful strategies and dynamic principles that are easily accessible to everyone capable of awakening the latent powers of our being, and of giving access to the magical forces inherent in nature.

It is true that to obtain mastery in magick and mysticism, a great deal of effort, study, and ordeals are necessary. To truly walk the path of the shaman, the brujo, the magus and the Nahual, a lifelong dedication is necessary where every drop of blood is poured in service to this science and art of transformation.

But just like technology springs from science to bring its benefits to all humanity, so do the principles of magick described in this class become accessible to everyone.

This class, Everyday Sorcery for the Closet Magician, is designed to awaken in you latent powers, and to sharpen the mystical tools you already have.

It is, however, not a class based on superstitious tactics created by misunderstandings and mistaken principles propagated by the untrained. No. Every Day Sorcery is a collection of tools and principles that are accessible to all of us without specialized training, but it is not for those that just want a quick and lazy way to get money, fame, revenge, or any other of the 10,000 seductions of the dream of life. It is a class truly for the Closet Magician: that powerful part of us that is connected to the universal powers of creation, the one who remembers our divine origin.

Everyday Sorcery for the Closet Magician will be offered for only $21 dollars. But for you, it is completely free. I am sending it to you just for being part of my mail list.

Click here to access the free class, Everyday Sorcery for the Closet Magician.

Let me know what you think!

Koyote

Ps, in case the links above don’t work, type the link into your browser: https://koyote.podia.com/everyday-sorcery-for-the-closet-magician

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I’m happy to announce a new subscription service that Xicoco Shamanic Arts has set up to better share the material I have been creating.

Now, besides the abundant material found in YouTube (https://youtube.com/c/KoyotetheBlind), you can access courses, classes, Tellings, ebooks, lectures, intensives, and much more exclusive content.

To sign up, click on this link:

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There are three levels to choose from. All proceeds go to Xicoco Shamanic Arts, a 501(c)3 non-profit charity. This money will help maintain the community house, the Medicine Wheel, and all the services for the community we have been providing for almost twenty years.

Please consider joining, and pass on this invitation to anyone you think might benefit from these teachings.

In gratitude,

Koyote

El Despertar de un Continente

Vamos a comenzar una serie de pláticas en español, hoy jueves 18 de marzo a las 7:30 p.m., tiempo Pacifico. Nos reuniremos cada jueves a la misma hora.

El tema de las pláticas serán las tradiciones de resistencia espiritual este continente americano vió nacer.

Pueden registrarse en my canal de YouTube:

https://youtube.com/KoyotetheBlind

También transmitiremos en vivo en mi pagina de Facebook (The Telling by Koyote the Blind) e Instagram.

(Arte de Xochitl Flores Xochitl Flores Jaramillo)

I move about the long night

I carry the old world in my blood; and when it is spilled, it feeds our mother earth. I carry the old world in my dreams, and they dream of the future. I carry the end of times in my bones. I am yesterday, today, and the brother of tomorrow.

I am of the builders of the pyramids in all the nations. My love making is of the man-woman; the androgynous. I am self begotten. I am one. I am many outside, one within.

I am the immobile rock which sits in the center of the sunken land. I am the flowing waters that move between star and star. I am of the starry path, illuminating the dark night of the universe. My people is of the star nation, as all the people who are of us. I am eleven and I am none.

After the sacrifice, I am not. I walk across the abyss; I die the death of the just. Maat is in my heart and flows across the gulf of time, from beginning to end of this creation and beyond.

I am nothing. I am the liar, the story teller. I have no words. I speak with no authority but the authority of the fool. I move about the long night, silent, invisible. I show my face to you because I remember you and the laughter of the end of times.

This Cocoon, My Heart

Jodorowski once told me of a photographer in Mexico who was shooting images of cocoons. “They are neither worms nor butterflies,” she explained, “I’m taking photographs of the nothing.”

For the Toltec, the alchemically transformed heart is represented by an obsidian butterfly.

Your heart is a cocoon. Inside there is a seed of the infinite, a silent void in the dark, a particle of the eternal night.

Let it be fed with the dreams of the best and purest of lights.

Neither moth nor worm,
the angelic cocoon dreams
with flutters of light.

Photography by Adumbrations Photography

https://instagram.com/adumbrations_photography?igshid=1ceuqz67s4rc0

Like Silent Worms Feeding Off the Rot

More than 100 people are in prison for third degree rioting in Minneapolis today. Justice moves faster for some.

They should have painted their faces and dressed like native Americans while throwing private property in the water, hiding in the dark. That’s how you rebel against tyranny in this country. They’d be heroes instead.

More than anything, please remember to take it all with the right perspective. What you saw was just a bad apple executing an innocent man in broad daylight. Horrible, of course. But don’t blame the men in blue. Most never killed black men. Some only stood guard, and others held down. Most are not rotten apples, more like silent worms feeding off the rot.

Don’t blame all cops. We don’t know all sides. There was the matter of $20 someone had forged. How do you feel now? We don’t know who did that. Not at all, but we could all see in broad daylight that that man was obviously guilty of being black. There’s no denying that.

Do not blame the blue. Who else will protect the business and rights of the Neo-nazi to march?

Brave is the gang in blue, keeping their cool when white men with too many guns get angry over too many masks. Because that’s not scary, no. Not at all.

Finally, remember to never ever take the knee when the National anthem is playing. That’s unpatriotic. Do it when the people are pleading with you to stand up, when you’re wearing blue, when the scary man of color is under you.

Through the Cobwebs of Illusion

Illumination is not some unreachable and mysterious
attainment.

Eliminate the distractions.
Know
it is possible;
for it is already in you.

The process of connecting
with your truth begins with
removing the shadow of forgetfulness
that you were assailed with
when you took an organic incarnation.

In this uncovering
there is truth.

When the vast dark consciousness
is clear and clean
the truth shines
like the reflection of the moon
in water.

Truth is beyond any notion
of lineage,
of tradition,
beyond any history.

If you don’t have it,
no one can give it to you.

It is not in learning.
It is in the removal of the dross
that obscures.

Anything that can be given to you
belongs in the arena of mentation and ideas:
equally false and only partially true.

And the truth,
which is above that,
you have.

The only thing you can attain
is
yourself.

It’s just that ‘yourself’ is
a lot more
than you suspect.

(From a lecture by The Telling by Koyote the Blind. Poetically curated by Season Cole)

Blaming the victim

How did we get to a point where so many people actually believe that the economy and political system is rigged in favor of the poor, the oppressed, the undocumented, and the racial minorities?

How did we get to a point where, intellectually, we know the billionaire class has created an oligarchy that plunders, starves, and enslaves the people, but emotionally we keep blaming each other; and where we act as if peaceful protest is rioting, as if insulting the downtrodden is speaking honestly, and as if being part of the class that destroys humanity, and the planet that hosts it, constitutes a successful life?

El último destello

¿Acaso tengo que cerrar los ojos, dejar atrás la luz del día, entregarme al vacío y dejarme llevar por la corriente del olvido, tan solo para poder besar con el último destello de conciencia tu remota presencia nocturna?

—–

Do I have to close my eyes, leave behind the light of day, give myself to the void, and let the current of oblivion carry me, only to be able to kiss with the last spark of consciousness your remote nocturnal presence?

To Dispel the Fog of Dreams

There is a real power,
a true heart in this land.
The true preciousness in this continent was not taken.
It is not gone.

It is alive.
Because it was not a book.
It was not a building.
It was not a painting.
It was not a “history”.

The true wealth of this continent
has simply been dormant
in the trees,
in the bones of the people.
It’s alive in the silent
coming and going
of the blood in our veins.

It is in the sky.
It is in the curve of the eagle
as it circles it’s prey.
It is in the roaring sound of the waves,
speaking for centuries,
against the rocks.

It is in the depth of that ocean
that we can never touch,
but we can all feel
if we grow in silence.

It is in the air I breathe,
and in every person that died-
that fed with their blood,
those creatures that spoke to us
before the false god came to this land.
So that one day they may awaken once again,
and enter
my body,
and crawl around my spine,
and emerge as a serpent
over my head,
and see through my eyes.

Those are still here
and talking to us.

This continent is awakening.
The continent is about to utter,
in poetic explosions,
the wisdom of all times.
To speak through the sounds of the brujo.
Ancient sounds in modern words.

We are about to experience the drunkeness
of ancient wines in ever-new cups.
We speak directly with the powers
of the land, of the stars, of nature.

We speak directly with the voice of the blood,
and the signs on the skin.
No need for a holy book,
a sacrament, building, or hierarchy.

We speak things of power.
And they are opening their eyes,
and awakening once again.
to dispel the fog of dreams.

(Season Cole’s poetically curated notes from a lecture by Koyote the Blind.)