u/yaxelthemanick

I just had the craziest situation happening to me literally two minutes ago. I was using an EVP (electronic voice phenomena) app to record a little audio journal which also was capturing voices which were giving advice on various things. Then, I began detailing the event that led to me doing this. I was on the porch smoking a cigarette when I heard a voice from the darkness say an unknown word. It didn't sound like the usual voices I hear, it sounds real.

The room I am recording this in has two glass doors which lead to the outside. The second I started to say that, the door handle was rattled hard enough to make me jump and scream and turn around. Like a real scream of horror. I saw a shadow person running away from the door with a wicked grin.

The voice on the recorder said "get out of there" and I left in a rush.

Literally 10 minutes ago.

It's all on the audio too.

Edit

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Kw3nh3k-ZX4i-_luERuGf_Bk7RqcE0XZ/view?usp=drivesdk

There's the audio. It's a .mp4 file.

So if any of you remember, a few years ago I started a zine called The Void Files, and only one issue was published, but it was really cool, and I met a lot interesting people.

Now I wanna start back up a zine, but this time I want to name it:

The Chaosphere

and have it be a big collaborative project with articles, field journal entries, theory, poetry, art, quotes, the works.

so I'm seeking contributors, obviously. i just started a discord for it, so let me know if you wanna join.

you can still join the server even if you're not contributing.

I just did two years in Pennsylvania state prison. The story of how I got there is a long, sordid tale of traumatic psychosis induced by mania and methamphetamine abuse, but it is still my story and I wear the experiences I've been through with a lot of pride in my overcoming of the obstacles which were in my way both of my own doing and those which were done to me by others.

I was at the public library, dancing around doing a ritualistic banishing at the outside picnic tables. I was being plagued by the voices of a thousand demons that wished to control my mind and destroy my spirit. I was harmless, I swear, but the local police tackled me to the ground and took me to the county jail where I was subsequently placed in a restraint chair for 12 hours. I only know how long it was for because I got there at 5pm on the dot and I got released from it at 5am. I only saw the clock briefly before I was placed in the chair, but it was out of view for the duration of my time in that dreaded device.

While I was in the chair, I was terrified, screaming in rage at the injustice of the world when I wound up, in a bit of manic fury, spitting on a correctional officer screaming "Fuck you!"

What would anyone else do?

While I was incarcerated for the next two years I had to do a lot of soul searching. I learned the number one thing which is required for successful magick, and that is meditation. My studies led me to Zen buddhism where I learned to do zazen for upwards of five hours a day. This is nothing compared to the real masters, but a daily meditation practice proved invaluable to my successful practice of magick while using limited resources and being surrounded by criminals who were in there for anything from murder to rape to robbery. I was in state prison, a place where people spend their whole lives sometimes and which I was lucky only having to do another two years.

I learned how to meditate, and I learned how to visualize better than I ever thought possible. I became clairaudient, listening to the subtle intonations and the voices which I still hear. They're much gentler now. Once I finally sat down and was quiet with my thoughts I learned there's a lot of things I didn't like about myself. It was an honest reprieve just to sit there for hours a day with my legs crossed visualizing the LBRP and other bits of ceremonial magick.

I learned how to speak with the spirits of a land. I began working with the genius loci of the prison, named Ozark by yours truly, who assisted me with acquiring nicotine and extra food and, of course, the books I required to further my studies.

I learned quite a bit about ceremonial magick, began developing my own theories on the information model of magick, and learned how to do energy work better than I ever thought possible.

I know I sound like a broken record, but simply sitting still and learning to just be was the most efficacious thing I ever did for my practice. Learning to meditate properly, if there is such a thing, was and is paramount to my wellbeing, and I discovered a newfound spirituality that I didn't know was possible by doing this.

When you're in prison you are just a number. You are one amongst several thousand, and you are treated as an animal. I had to push a button to have my cell door opened, which if it was or not was up to the whim of the correctional officer working the controls. Often times, they would refuse, and I would be stuck in an 8x10 cell with nothing but my thoughts and a cup of coffee or an ecigarette if I was lucky. I witnessed heinous abuse by guards against inmates which has me sick and if it wasn't for my newfound patience and tranquility I've achieved through my meditative practice, I would have found myself manic again at the injustice of it all.

I learned that my mental health is key, and that the only way I can practice magick in any way is if I learn to control my mind first. The first law of Hermeticism is that all is mental, and everything I experience is a direct response from my mind interpreting stimuli from an environment which it is actively generating through a series of neural networks and ill understood thought processes. If I wished to tame the mania, the rage, the feelings of injustice and bitter resentment I must first learn to settle down and simply be.

When you're stuck in a cell for upwards of fourteen hours a day you really learn how to sit with your thoughts, and you can either let them eat you up and tear your down, or you can learn to sit still, be with them, and recognize that you cannot change the world, you cannot change the way you feel at this moment, but you can't simply sit with that feeling, and as I said- be.

Going to prison was the best thing that ever happened for my magickal practice, and my mental health in general. Not because of anything the system did for me, the programs they offer are a joke besides those ran by other inmates. The teachers don't care, the staff doesn't care, the guards will abuse you, but by being removed from the rest of society and being forced to do my dopamine detox and be reclused from all my worldly pleasures I learned how to simply be me.

I still hear voices, but my voices are mine, and they are much softer and gentler now. They're helpful, not because I command them to be like some Solominic magician, but because I learned to sit with them and listen to what they had to say. The voices I experience are simply an extension of myself, and the ones that are harshest are the ones that taught me the deepest lessons. Feelings of being less than, of being an outcast, of being worthless- these feelings come through as malicious demonic entities which say the most heinous things.

Medication helps and is essential, but the number one thing I ever did to better myself and my mental health was meditate. I know it sounds ludicrous, but I have so much fun just sitting there cross legged staring off into space where I just allow the myriad of thoughtforms to come to me, be observed, and then dissipate. The second thing I learned was that they're just thoughts, and they can't hurt me, nor does every impulse need to be acted on or dwelled on.

One of my biggest character defects is that I dwell, I obsess, over things that are not how I wish them to be. I have goals now, I have aspirations, and I love myself in a way I never did before going to state prison where I was literally tortured in solitary confinement for upwards of five months. Due to me being a schizophrenic, I was treated horribly by the county jail for being different. They taunted me while I was in isolation, locked me in a hole, and took away my water, my bed, my toilet, and threw me in a room where all there was was a camera and a hard metal bench.

They put me there for laughing too hard, crying too hard, or simply because they wanted to. They laughed at me as I delusionally cast curses on them and spoke in other voices as I was possessed by these foul demons who were coming through my mind and possessing me. I was forced to sit in a room where the light couldn't turn off for upwards of twelve hours. No toilet, no water, no bed. Just sit in a room with a glaring fluorescent light and a hard metal bench to sit on. I was forced to urinate on the floor and sit in my own piss for hours at a time because the correctional officers couldn't be bothered to come let me use the bathroom.

This is where I truly learned to meditate.

I remember one time, while I was in New Booking (the name for the holding cell they were keeping me in), I laid on the hard cement floor on my back as I begged for death. I thought I was dying, and that I was being united with the man of my dreams who I delusionally believed I could communicate with telepathically. As I laid there, begging for the sweet release of death, the runes of the Elder Futhark danced before my eyes. One would appear before me, its secrets would be revealed to me in a flash, then I would forget it and it would go to my subconscious.

"This rune means..." then another would appear with the same message. The runes became a major source of solace for me during my stay, and I have been studying them diligently. I can't thank them enough for the lessons and manifestations they have blessed me with.

The stories I could tell about my time in New Booking are endless, with there being coherent plots and storylines, messages to learn, and themes behind them all which would prove imperative to my growth.

When they finally decided to let me go to a group, it was church. And I went with an open mind. The pastor said to us, in a sermon I'll never forget, that God does things to us sometimes to allow our souls to become purified. He liked the soul to gold, and how the only way to refine gold is to mine it out of the crude ore and then send it through fire to remove the dross, another word for impurities. The soul is gold and sometimes trial by fire is exactly what is necessary to refine the spirit into a better end product.

So while I may still be bitter, I may still have a lot of work to do, I have a newfound hope for recovery and making my mark on this world.