his year I made sure to attend my Thelemite friends’ annual three-day feast of Liber Al vel Legis, The Book of the Law. It happened to fall right on dark and new moons and at the full dawning of spring in her sensuous glory. Magicians and mystics came from all over the Lowermainland, each choosing to spend three week nights in a row attending the feast. On day one we eat of rich and luxurious foods; cheese, fatty cured meats, figs, berries, and chocolate. We partake of sacraments of Saturnian sabbat wine and apple port and smoked sacraments of herb and resin. We breathe, relax, open up, and close our eyes. Tyson reads the first chapter strong and passionately. Sloan brings out a well-worn Thoth deck and we each pull a card for each day of the feast to receive advice or catch a glimpse of the year to come. I cut the deck. The four of swords. I whisper to the yawning boa constrictor. I dream of black serpents that night.
“For he is ever a sun, and she a moon. But to him is the winged secret flame, and to her the stooping starlight.” Liber Al vel Legis 1:16
“Be goodly therefore: dress ye all in fine apparel; eat rich foods and drink sweet wines and wines that foam! Also, take your fill and will of love as ye will, when, where and with whom ye will! But always unto me.” Liber Al vel Legis 1:51
Day two of the feast of Liber Al vel Legis. Towering conifer mountains dusted with snow and shrouded with smoke loom in the North. The lush verdant greenmantle pushes up from the black earth, erect and pollen-covered. Fat juicy rain drops fall despoiling virginal flower petals with sky-god semen. The air is heavy with the sticky, sweet, amber smell of balm of gilead, redolent and thick like incense burning in a courtesan’s bed chamber. We come together again, right before the setting of the sun. We speak of the troubles of growing belladonna and the stone carver shows his pipes of dragons and serpents in hard stone leaving us wide-eyed. There are sacraments of cinnamon liqueur and wines with a savoury feast of peppered chicken, hummus, salt and crunch, ginger cookies and cake. The smoke of tobacco and herbs curls around us. The words of the second chapter are read by Holly this night in her singsong voice. Sloan shuffles the Thoth cards, places them before me, and I cut to reveal the five of disks.
“I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge & Delight and bright glory, and stir the hearts of men with drunkenness. To worship me take wine and strange drugs whereof I will tell my prophet, & be drunk thereof! They shall not harm ye at all. It is a lie, this folly against self. The exposure of innocence is a lie. Be strong, o man! lust, enjoy all things of sense and rapture: fear not that any God shall deny thee for this.” ~ Liber Al vel Legis 2:22
Who am I to deny the words of the Book of the Law? The Poisoner comes home with me. The moon is dark and the spirits are restless and hungry. Sometimes they crave something more primal and the offerings of sweet incense, liqueurs, honey, and sticky tobacco aren’t enough to sate them. The deep rhythms of Wardruna play softly. Rose incense burns. Anointed with oils of amber and sandalwood I recline in front of the altar and the silver words of Valiente’s invocation pour off my tongue. “Thee we invoke by the moon-led sea, by the standing stone and twisted tree. Thee we invoke where gather thine own, by the nameless shrine forgotten and lone…” And there he is at my feet with a satyr’s debaucherous grin. His voice of growl and smoke recites Crowley’s hymn of Pan to Artemis in reply. He kisses me for each stanza, starting at my feet, sliding between my legs to kiss my thighs and breasts, and then lastly a full kiss on the lips. We take our fill of pleasure with each other until we are sated, exhausted, and the hungry spirits too are silent.
“By the force of the fashion
Of love, when I broke
Through the shroud, through the cloud,
Through the storm, through the smoke,
To the mountain of passion
Volcanic that woke —
By the rage of the mage
I invoke, I invoke!
By the midnight of madness: —
The lone-lying sea,
The swoon of the moon,
Your swoon into me,
The sentinel sadness
Of cliff-clinging pine,
That night of delight
You were mine, you were mine!”
On day three of the feast of Liber Al vel Legis we share sacraments of smoke, mead, and wine. My senses are a swirl of rose mead and vetiver, ambrosia and dark chocolate. The Book of the Law is read by Sloan, loud and fearsome. After, he draws us each a third and final tarot card from the Thoth deck. He interprets them all for us as we feast. The last card I draw is Art. His reading is blunt and dead on though he couldn’t have seen inside my head. The advice is good and I will take it. I was sad when the feast was ended – it is a joyful thing to see your friends and eat and drink with them for days in a row. We all stayed a bit later on the last night I think, saying our farewells until Beltuinn is upon us and we meet again for magic and mischief in the wild wood.
“For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.“ ~ Liber Al vel Legis 3:23-27
I go into a trance-like state when the book is read. Some parts stand out more than others. The third chapter stood out the most for me like a raven’s call in a forest. It is dark with the voice of a heartless warrior mingled with wafts of Babalon’s perfume.
“But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!” Liber Al vel Legis 3:44
Did you burn your first copy like throwing spilled salt over your shoulder to avert a curse, black heretical ashes staining your fingers?
There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.
Love is the law, love under will.