Author Archives: soror Heiðr

Interview with our International Brethren vol. II

We have again interviewed our international members. The following questions were asked:

1. When or how did you begin to consider yourself a Satanist?

2. Has the membership changed you as a person? How?

3. As the majority in the fraternity are Finns, and the brotherhood was founded in Finland, do you feel like this poses challenges for you as a member?



Male, member for 4 years

  1. Actually, I guess I found myself identifying more as a Satanist some time after I joined the Star of Azazel. I initially identified with a more general Left Hand Path perspective – of which Satanism could be described as a more focussed strain – before I was attracted to the Satanic and/or Luciferian archetypes presented by various authors, of whom Jung is probably the most important, at least in terms of my self-identification.
  2. It’s difficult to say directly. Reading Fosforos certainly had an effect on my personality, as did talking to various members. However, I think it was approximately six months after I first read Fosforos and joined the forums that I formally joined the Star of Azazel. Although this might initially sound like a negative reaction, I became increasingly dissatisfied with various aspects of my life during this time. However – without boring anyone with details – while membership of the Star of Azazel was a significant contributor to this realisation, it was also a significant contributor to the subsequent impulse to actively remedy it.
    3. No, not really. Pretty much every Finnish member I’ve talked to has spoken excellent English, despite fervant protestations to the contrary. As someone who isn’t so much of a social person, physically meeting people isn’t so important to me, although it’s of course nice when it happens.



Male, member for 3 years

  1. Even with the benefit of hindsight, it is hard to identify any particular or singular moment that I first began to identify myself as a Satanist. I was raised from birth in a relatively strong Catholic environment, which despite being aesthetically interested in, I knew from a very early age to encompass an experience and understanding of the spirit that I could not relate to. I was lucky enough to develop a very close and kinetic relationship with my step Grandfather from a young age, who spent many an informative year walking with me in nature, where I believe his heart truly belongs. There was something incredibly special for me in those moments, and I understood then what I can now identify as there being something very holy within nature as a result of my luck in that exposure. This very pure experience connected me to the spirit and a sense of honesty and meaning, which the world of the church and the environment within which I group up did not. I naturally therefore gravitated to finding the Devil, which then found me in all my interests and leanings to follow.

    As I grew older and experienced life as a teenager, I had a very polarised view of the world. I was always on the fringe of whatever environment I found myself in, and was very much isolated and opposite to most of what I found around me. This harboured a natural relationship with the adversary, and a lot of my experiences and feelings during my teenage years in particular led me to know and accept the darker, more challenging sides of life.

    The first time I tangibly considered and ‘labelled’ myself a Satanist was during my mid teenage years. Although at the time this was possibly a little idealistic and was with little or no understanding of exactly what that meant, it was an incredibly important moment for me, which I remember well.

2. Absolutely; exponentially, and it continues to do so in a dynamic and evolving way. My part within the Star of Azazel has vivified my work, and has contributed significantly to a greater understanding of myself, and thus of my work and place within it. It has given me a sense of courage and confidence to not only ask but also seek out the questions at ones core, as well as an acceptance of these. This courage and confidence, so to speak, is an inner as well as an outer one, and I believe it to be a visible change externally, as well as an internal one.

3. Before applying for membership to the Star of Azazel, this was among my primary concerns and considerations, making me reluctant to apply for quite some time. However, since being accepted and joining the Star of Azazel, the welcome and patience has been flawless.
That said, being a non-Finn has and does pose personal challenges, but I have not experienced these as negative, and they do certainly not come as a result of the brotherhood itself. Rather, the challenges come with how willing one is to adapt and integrate themselves into something which seeks unity far beyond geographic and national difference.

Perhaps it inhibits the more social and personal opportunities that some may seek. However, with that said, although I didn’t initially seek it, some of the relationships that I have developed with members of the brotherhood are the most honest, open and meaningful that I could ever have imagined having in my life. My work is also far deeper and meaningful than it ever was before.

In truth, the majority of Finns speak English with far more finesse and vernacular than the majority of natively English speaking people do, so the language barrier is minimal.
The challenges really come down to how open one is prepared to be, and the brotherhood accommodates a relationship of both a close and distant tendency.


Male, member for 2,5 years

  1. I found a connection to Satanism quite early in my occult studies, which back then mostly where antagonistic in character. I have been an angry young man, who felt that something was deeply wrong with the world; as such, I did not really see any value in worldviews that saw the good and positive in Life, but delved over time deeper and deeper into the darker side of occult philosophy.In a sense, I began to consider myself a Satanist rather early, even though the schools I studied didn’t feel like they’d reflect my reason to do so. If ever anyone would have asked me back then, why I would do so, or what Satan actually means to me, I probably couldn’t even have given an adequate answer; there was something that I learned to call Satan, but I could not point my finger at it. Only later in Life things got more concrete, and the character of what I called Satan became visible. I believe that in a sense, the actual being behind such name was hidden behind what we call his mask; the essence always managed to slip my grasp. It was not before certain experiences that I slowly began to see concretely what had interested me for so long; experiences opposite to those I underwent before, which began to loosen old forms in thought and practice.By heart, I am a satanist; but if at all, I most seldom openly referred to myself as one. This label is quite open for misunderstanding, I believe. Plus, as it is put so well in the Article “Why Satan?” on our web page, the name may easily change, and is as such not as important to me as that which hides behind.
  2. Definitively. The contact and exchange with like-minded, wonderful people has, in a way, taught me to accept and trust myself more than before. It has helped me personally a lot to see that no matter what ideas I have in mind, it is likely that there is someone who can understand, relate or put his or her possibly even contrary position to discussion. Likewise, this increased my acceptance of others, their views and their lives. Another important change I see in the emphasis of honesty that I won over time, both in relation to myself and others. If one works together with people or even just one’s self esoterically, I believe honesty is crucial. The philosophy the Star of Azazel represents surely had its part in these changes; the more time passed, the more it grew on me. Still, these points are in no wise restricted to the Fraternity or my membership, but reflect into my everyday life also. I quickly learned how various brethren underlined the importance of an holistic approach towards occultism, and discovered how good and important a point that actually is.
  3. Especially during the first year and a half I was indeed struggling a bit to find my connection to the Brotherhood. To me personally, it was somewhat difficult back then to feel like I truly belong to a group of people who I could not see so easily, which didn’t exactly made it easier to approach people online either. in times, I felt rather isolated and shied away from activity on the forum. In the worst times, I even considered quitting, unsure about what I could possibly contribute to the brotherhood. But the crux of all my doubts has always been the lack of a felt connection, and for me personally, practice did the trick. Even by simply establishing a prayer practice on a daily basis, I moved by heart closer and closer to the brotherhood. My doubts disappeared and I became more active. Needless to say that working together with the brethren increased the effect my participation in practice had on me. Actually meeting with other members has helped a lot as well; it took away the almost “romantic” notion of a brotherhood far, far away and made things more concrete. So, hoping to hereby answer the actual question: Yes, being an international member of a brotherhood rooted in Finland surely brought about its challenges. But, like most I encountered in life, they have been deeply rewarding.


To read the previous interview, visit vol. I

Fear Not Your Freedom


John Collier – The Death of Albine

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

The aim of our lives, I often reflect, should be to become free. Free to exist as we wish, to dare to think, look and to feel in a way that reflects our true selves.

For an artist, freedom is in some ways allowed more easily than to others. In this profession, one is allowed to be a little strange. In some ways it is even expected of an artist; expected that our daily rhythms are not so fixed, that we may be wholly and completely arrested by the smallest thing -a blade of a grass which cuts the air swiftly like a sword, the eye of a fish opening a gate to the underworld with its stare, a paragraph in a book which was written as if straight into our heart with love’s hot needle. So the creative mind swoons at the face of such mysteries, deeply moved, and the person who is perhaps not so inclined looks upon this and thinks, what a wonderfully easy, free (and a little bit useless) life you must lead!

But, freedom is no synonym to comfortable, nor to easy (as is indeed not, the life of an artist, either). Quite the opposite. Freedom is actually quite difficult. It takes work, to not to care for the critics and the slander, to keep doing your thing when all the doors seem to close while simultaneously, nothing opens, to do your thing despite that it may be something which is not considered the norm. Any practicer of the Left Hand Path is familiar with such confrontations with their surroundings. Success takes that one is true to themselves and very brave, which is very hard indeed.

John Collier – Lady Godiva

Certainly, freedom is not for everyone, because not everyone can handle it. We are taught to not handle it; we are taught to not lead and to not experience, but to obey and follow instructions and protocols. To not care very much, to not feel very deeply. The curse of our times is a kind of nihilism and apathy. It’s very easy to fall prey to belittling everything -that one person can’t make a difference, that at a certain age one should no longer play, that things don’t matter, that I should not hold the reins of my own life – and so forth.
What I often find common in people who are, shall we say, free, is that they think of death quite a lot. The realisation that everything dies; one’s parents, friends, pets, yourself, that time is ticking away- there’s something very liberating in this. Both because we will cease to be, our bodies will disappear into the earth, and slowly every item that we touched, will break, be forgotten, burned, thrown away- it all will come to dust.

Death truly is the great liberator and depending on how we relate to death and dying, the idea of dying can either feel like a suffocating prison or the ultimate freedom.

Death will tear away the chains of flesh which bind us here. It will tear away our emotions, the things we touch, the things that touched us. In the face of our struggles, problems, fears, death looks upon, impassive, untouched, inevitable.
What a wonderful thing, that in the midst of life which is filled with chaos, something can be trusted to happen so surely. Perhaps death is the only thing that can be trusted.

Then why should one be afraid of anything if the price for that is the loss of one’s freedom, or that one would never even taste freedom in the first place? How many times is it so that a person, at the moments before their death feels fear and regret? Regret for the things they did not do, for the words they dared not speak in fear of being ridiculed or judged? The passions they dreamt of but never dared live?

It may well be a life-long journey to learn how to fear no more -to not fear freedom, nor that great liberator to whom we all must in the end bow our heads to. But these are worth thinking about. The latter will come inevitably whether one wants it or not. But the former is something that one has to work towards achieving and earning.


John William Waterhouse – Psyche Opening the Golden Box

Interview with Our International Brethren

A while back, on our Finnish language blog, some of our members were asked short questions on how it is like to be a member in the Star of Azazel. We decided to repeat this, but this time, it is our international brethren who answer the questions.


1. Why did you decide to join the Star of Azazel?

2. As occult work can also be done alone, what kind of added value do you feel that a fraternity gives to your work?

3. What kind of hopes do you have for the development or direction of the fraternity in the future?


Male, member for two years

  1. Before I joined the Star of Azazel, I have been studying the occult alone. I was searching for exchange with and the possibility to learn from like-minded people, and a chance to grow over the person I have been back then. I felt the need to test my own experiences and perspectives against that of others, since I think that if we go such path all own our own, we may easily fall prey to fallacy. In another aspect, I began to see importance in carrying what I learned outside into the world and become more active in general.

2. Through my membership, I got to know Fraternity as a value in itself. I believe that occultism brings up problems that are not understood and cannot be helped with by many people. For years I have experienced this as a dissonance between myself and the world around me, which doesn’t exactly make a good ground to thrive and work. I experienced fraternity to connect individuals that go a similar path and to bring about mutual understanding & inspiration. Also, I think such fraternal connection to a collective may ease the suffering one may encounter upon one’s path. I believe that being part of such a Fraternity imbeds one into a context that goes beyond that of the individual, which comes with the constant possibility to go beyond oneself.

3. I would love to see the Fraternity growing internationally, and maybe even lodges being formed outside of Finland. I think the latter would give both the collective and the individual greater possibilities to work, and that concentrated groups of people forming a spiritual center point, so to speak, is quite beneficial for both fraternity and outsiders.

Female, member for two years

1. I’ve been a solitary dabbler into all things esoteric pretty much since I was born. However, because of my personal psychological makeup, I didn’t find it possible to join esoteric groups before. Partially this is because lots of them seem to require conformity of belief, because I didn’t find groups who have a mature and grounded relationship with the occult, and for the large part, because of my own lack of humility and openness toward other people. At the time, I talked with my old friend (also a member of the Star of Azazel), who encouraged me to join the open discussion forums. I did, and I found the discussion to be interesting and often substantial, and that I was ready.

       I’m not a Satanist or a Satan worshipper, however, and that aspect of SoA seemed foreign to me since I have trouble with dualities and don’t “believe” in them. However, I am dedicated to Truth and believe in the Absolute as an Immanent All and I felt that my beliefs were in line with the basic premises of SoA. We are, so to speak, on parallel paths, or that’s how it feels like. I think the differences are mainly on level of chosen symbols. SoA has been wonderfully welcoming toward me even if I don’t share the symbolism.

2. Well, first of all, when dealing with the occult, people are in dealings with very subtle, often non-materially based things that are in stark contrast with what is usually thought to be real in our everyday, western, rationalistic existence. It can be things like ghosts, clairsentience, or magic, just to name a few. This causes occultists to position themselves somewhere in the fringes of the society, and too often they have to experiment with things without a strong network of teachers. This can be dangerous because imagination is a wondrous thing and from the subjective point of view, it is often hard to tell the difference between ramblings of a mind off its rocker, and real knowledge of the occult. The beauty of esoteric groups is that, ideally, they provide a grounding network for an occultist so that they can be informed if and when they get ungrounded and off track. I’ve seen this work within SoA network, and greatly appreciate it.

 Additionally, working in group can provide inspiration and power, and give a person space to talk about these matters. For me, personally, talking about my experiences with the Ineffable has been important, and I’ve gained very practical benefit from participating in some exercises and from reading other people’s views on matters such as the Tarot. I’ve learned a lot. Also, it’s simply nice to have the connection with like-minded people.

3. This is a hard question to answer. I feel off loop due to my absence from the forums and because I’ve never been involved with the inner workings of SoA. Perhaps I should wish for more practices that could be done at distance so that us international members can participate (but realize too that now is not my time simply because of technical difficulties). Others who are more involved hopefully have more vision than I do.

Male, member for three years

  1. I decided to join the Star of Azazel after reading Fosforos, but especially after joining the forum. There are people from a variety of different backgrounds who all approach Satanism, Left Hand Path philosophies etc. in sincere and interesting ways.

2. This relates to the above, but communicating with other people is very important. I think in a particular way, yet am often blind to problems or suggestions that others with different perspectives can easily identify. Conversing with other members, either on the forum or in person, has therefore been incredibly beneficial for me and hopefully vice versa.

3. To be honest, I have no idea. However, I assume as membership of the Star of Azazel increases I’m sure different insights, but also challenges, will arise. I suppose my hope is that these will be productive as I’m sure they have the potential to be.

Of the Elements



Stone, that foundation on which we build. Planets are formed from rocks drifting in the cold void of space, a extremely hostile environment. Often it seems that nothing is as lifeless as a stone, but in truth, stone is absolutely necessary for life, because it has minerals.

Minerals dissolve into water. And with the help of air and a spark, say, a lightning, these two begin to interact with one another. Soon the water begins to change colour. It begins to live, to create new forms which soon begin to affect air as well. Everything becomes connected.

It is miraculous.

Let us ponder for a moment the alchemic, esoteric meanings of this life-birthing formulae and to compare it to the model presented to us by the aspects of the Star of Azazel. In here we have all of those key ingredients required for birthing something. Stone, Water, Fire and Air.

If we remove one key ingredient, the process stops. Likewise, if there is an excess of one element, the overall development becomes slower. But when all ingredients are present, new things are born; minerals, gases and other things which are invisible to the eye, yet irreplaceable to the development of life. Animals, plants, all need these invisible particles in order to survive. Everything begins to move, and at the same time, it keeps on dissolving, burning, changing shape.

In a similar fashion one could say that spiritual development requires time and those invisible key ingredients – which we here call elements of esotericism- in order to be achieved.

It is easy to consider one aspect or en element better or more inviting than the others. This is quite natural when one thinks about it. After all, we do interact with our environment constantly. In a act as subtle as breathing, we release a part of us into our surroundings, which then begins to interact and to alter those surroundings. So it seems only logical that we would find our place more naturally in a certain aspect; perhaps there are those small particles of that aspect floating about in us in great numbers and thus it draws us in. Or perhaps it is simple something which we need to in order to complete a new kind of particle, an idea.

Then of course there are those people who wish to go against the grain and choose an aspect or element which seems hard, even a little bit unfitting to their temperament. These are the people who have the possibility to most dynamically create new minerals (but of course, like in all experiments, the possibility to fail is at least equally large), which float around and become absorbed by the other aspects. Which ever aspect we choose to be our path in this life is all part of the great work. One has to have the sense to understand their place in the greater picture -a bit like looking at the periodic table.

In the end, all must be one. The uniting of opposites is a key understanding in the philosophy of the Star of Azazel. For this, each element is required, will and must find their place, in order to realise that higher element; a world which we forge real with love, compassion and a tremendous effort.

Challenges in the Life of an Occultist

I have been a member in the Star of Azazel for some three and a half years now. Recently in the archives I came across my membership application and decided to revisit the person I was when I wrote it. Reading the application again was not so bad; it wasn’t quite as embarrassing as I had expected. I could still connect with that person, even if some things had changed.

The seeming shortness of my time as a Soror surprised me as I thought about it; so much has happened in the span of these three years, both on my every day life as well as on a personal, spiritual level. Being a member has pushed me off my comfort zone and as a result I’ve acquired new skills and knowledge. Indeed it feels like I would have been a member much longer and while I am so pleased and grateful for having found my way into this Work, it has not been and indeed still is not an easy path to travel.

Each of us face a different set of challenges based on our previous actions (whether we speak on a karmic level or simply of the life that we are currently living) and our temperaments. It is true that we will often have to face what we left behind, sooner or later.

It is very common for fresh members to undergo a crisis soon after joining the fraternity. Some get a nasty flu that lasts for weeks, others notice that they face challenges with work or relationships. Having observed the phenomena for a while now, I believe this has something to do with the shifting of one’s energies. After all, in a occult society, a certain shared energetic pool affects us all and the moment one joins the fraternity, their energies begin to shift.

Profound change is never easy.

Gradually, if one chooses to venture deeper into occult work the challenges get harder; these are the gifts in disguise from our Master. Each accomplishment raises the bar slightly, and each time we must better ourselves in ways that are a bit more difficult, that demand just a bit more, that challenge our capacity for empathy, the ability to love, that test our patience more than the previous challenge. Slowly, one’s reflection in the mirror begins to seem clearer and more real as we step closer to truth, to understanding.

It is not easy facing the real you, with all its imperfections, pettiness and hubris. Each scar and wrong course of action is forever reflected from the mirror that the Master holds for us to see. One must muster the courage to see, dispassionately, steadily and without looking away, what the reflection really is like rather than how one would like for it to be like.

My only advise is, do not forget the virtue of good humour on your travels. While nothing is more serious than the work that one undertakes as an occultist, it is a mistake to lose the ability to laugh. Allow it to comfort you on your way. That is at least what I did when, writing this blog, the doorbell rang and I was paid my first ever door-to-door-preaching visit from elderly women who came to talk to me about God’s kingdom.

On Remembering the Dead


Winter snow


Hermann Hesse notes that when artists create pictures and thinkers search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something last longer than we do. It seems that the ancient Egyptians, obsessed with death, were much wiser than the contemporary man in this aspect, as they understood the importance of death in the development of human life.

A person’s life becomes defined at the moment they die. It’s a strange feeling, looking at their phone number and knowing that no one will answer should one try to call. It feels even stranger reading an letter from them- it was, after all, only a few months ago that this was written by warm, moving, living hands that created, and no longer exist. Where she was in one’s mind, is now a kind of a hole, and no one to occupy that space. Each person’s relationship and meaning to our lives is unique, and it can only be understood and seen completely when they are dead. The high and low points of that relationship are considered carefully and with a deeper perspective, because they are gone. Just like funerary rites, this too is a ritual, a final and defining chapter on the relationship that is now dramatically changed.

The evaluation of objects and items too change when a person dies. A bag of salt from her becomes the bag of salt, and it is forever differently defined from other bags of salt. It was hers- hers who died, and now it is mine. There is something powerful and mysterious about it now, on this exchange between the living and the dead. Every time this salt is used, she is there in my mind. An object that was nothing more than a household item for the deceased has now gained a radically different meaning and symbolism through her death. It has begun to feel like a ritual item, much more important than other objects she left behind that had monetary value; and I find that the items that had value in the eyes of the world mean nothing to me.

It’s a curious thing.

This bag of black salt that becomes less every time it is used, and when the bag is empty, there is no way to fill it. One can replace the salt with other salt, but it is not the same. This simple thought fills me with humble wonder, it is almost like a secret; it is a key to understanding. The bag of salt has become a memento mori in the most holistic way. The salt will lessen, and I too, shall die.

What is left then, when a person dies? Not much. A few items, some books, their handprint at the edge of the garden where a sitting area was built years ago. The other hands that carried, built, and planted on that sunny day are still living, moving, warm. What is left for the living are memories that fade and change over time, and if one is lucky, perhaps artworks that reveal little of the inner world of the deceased and stare back at us like a riddle, saying that there is something which can not be yet told. A veil has been drawn between us, a veil that one can truly only part when their own life becomes defined.


At the end of this small pondering, I’d like to address a question that was sent to our general mail a few weeks ago.

If I feel that death is a positive, even holy force, is it wrong to feel sad over the loss of a relative?

I don’t deceive myself enough to claim that I understand the mysteries of death better than the next person. While I believe that death itself is not a tragedy (as opposed to the circumstances that lead to or surround it which may be) it is not wrong to feel sorrow over the departure of a friend or a loved one- they have gone on a journey to which we have not been invited yet and no one can truly know if there can be a reunion or not. It even seems to me that it would be inhuman to deny ourselves the right to feel anything, because we are beings that process via our emotions.

But one thing I think, dear reader, is that when that call does come, be that in fifty years or tomorrow, one should be able to step on the other side of the curtain knowing in their heart that they became the best they can be- that the grains of that black salt were not used foolishly.

One should have a heart that leads them on like a compass, straight as an arrow, regardless of what may come to pass. Suffering is a very human thing, as is sorrow. They both can have the ability to teach us- for the world is an ocean, and each wave that rages against us we can either choose to battle with our flimsy little fists or let it wash over us with the knowledge that once that struggle passes, the wave travels onwards, perishes into the horizon and will never return.

On the Red Aspect & Gardening


I’ve recently moved to countryside, into a house that lies under the largest spruce tree I have ever seen. Much of the decision of moving was based on that very tree that has stood on the same spot for I can only guess how long. I thought to win the tree’s favour, so to say, would give me mighty protection and serenity. In Finnish tradition the spruce is connected to death and the underworld, and the lone tree hovering over the house in winter darkness truly touched my shamanistic heart.

As spring came, the long neglected garden began to stir with life. Hundreds of nettles burst from every corner on the yard and I began to make plans and to dream of tending a garden again, drawing pictures and reading up on various plants, walking in the forest nearby looking for something I could move on my yard. As I raked and raked, dug out weeds, delighted in new mysterious plants that popped up from the ground and picked up forgotten pieces of plastic and broken glass, I began to ponder on the art of gardening, which is a completely artificial imitation of nature and one in which man’s desire to control and shape all things is ever present.

Japanese gardens, lush with green, are a great example of a careful construction that resembles an idealised and perhaps slightly crippled image of nature. Each year, fallen leaves are hand- picked away from the ground, old trees are tied with ropes to protect them from the fallen snow and gardeners brush the rocks in ponds and streams to remove algae. A staggering amount of work is put into these gardens- but there is very little actual, “real” nature in the Japanese garden. They are a poetic vision, a mirage- and perhaps peace is so easily found there because of the hidden constructions that make a man feel safe and balanced, allowing space for thought.

All art, I believe, is an imitation of nature. We may learn to paint wonderfully, under the natural laws that are somehow most pleasing to the eye- executing compositions according to the golden ratio, choosing complimentary colour schemes, imitating curves and repetition of shapes around us. But we are always borrowing from nature, the mightiest of masters. Humans recognise the greatness of nature and are often a little ill at ease with many of its aspects, wishing to tame them, present them nicely and to either suppress or forget the uneasy bits, or else remove them entirely. To me, the yearly cycle of nature and all phenomena therein are the faces of master Satan- each offering its perils, possibilities and also undoubtedly gateways into ourselves.


Goethe's color wheel, 1810

All esoteric work is filled with difficulties, both mundane and otherworldly. Regardless of which approach one would take, there’s great perils ahead. Esoteric work changes us, for better or for worse. Most of the times, a little bit of both. And sadly, it’s almost certain that esoteric work will destroy a person who wields no patience.

As I waged war against the nettles and weeds in the garden in order to replace them with something that I wished to plant and despite wanting a wild-looking yard I couldn’t help but begin to question my justification to do so. The neglected garden had slowly begun to shift into a more natural state and even if it would be years and years before that state would truly occur, here I was, “correcting” the land. The destruction of the uprooted weeds in which I so readily engaged seemed to hint of something that was in myself. Was I symbolically destroying the chaotic qualities from my surroundings in order to suppress or to be more at peace with the ones in my persona? Or did I wish to leave my mark on this place and to somehow make it an extension of myself?



In The Star of Azazel, esoteric work is roughly divided under three different colour aspects. The Red Aspect, at times much mythologised, has often proven problematic as it draws in strong personalities. As Satanism undoubtedly attracts firstly, well, angry and intelligent young men, the Red aspect tends to allow many of these qualities to swell out of proportion. Impatience, harshness, rigid approach to practices- these are just a few of the continuously surfacing challenges on the Red path and also things I am guilty of.

It seems to me that the Red aspect ought to be neither masculine nor feminine, but both. Often times the Red aspect member is painted up to be aiming towards a very highly idealistic character- the seer, the fakir, the warrior, the medium, the artist. Yet in these archetypal figures lies a great danger. They are simply so grand that they may begin to tempt egoistic approach which either allows the undermining of one’s abilities with too much modesty or introduces a rigorous, somewhat masochistic warrior-training mould. Often the approach has been very masculine; one attempts to conquer and to harness, forgetting how to yield. In short, one wages war against the weeds and soon battle itself becomes a value. War against the bad qualities which need to be purged and won, first in self and then perhaps in others as well.

But despite being horribly hard, esoteric work is not a war. Rather, it is a dance. A dance with numerous, subtle steps and a strange tune- and how easy it is to make mistakes, to get tangled in one’s fancy robes or to have two left feet, to mistake a mirage to be one’s leading partner!

In the light of these things, a garden may be more than a technical construction. It has all the potential to become a self- made temple in which man imitates creation and attempts to work with it. At the same time, it’s a mirror- why do I favour one plant over the other? What does a garden reflect of my temperament? Is it a meticulously groomed football field over which the gardener looms armed with a can of poison and a spade, daring unwanted plants to grow on the land that is theirs– or are frogs and snakes welcome to continue to exist therein? Surrounded by nature, one may find the courage to think. To accept the things that may not be changed. And furthermore, to understand and give space for the beings that were there before and how everything is connected- from a lowly worm to the tall, majestic spruce. How the gardener is not outside of this system nor never truly the master of it. Because just like a dance, gardening too is a meeting of two. A garden also always forgives and allows the work to be started over and over again. Of this much can be learned, for it’s rare that our attempts at occult work would be one clean run to the goal. In reality, mistakes will be made along the way.

The seemingly externalised esoteric work of gardening is a monotonous task fit for monks. But observing the developing garden with its subtle alterations throughout the year and learning to yield to its rhythm is a task fit for a seer. It takes great patience and sensitivity not to destroy the existing landscape in a spur of the moment “better” ideas, be it on your yard or in your heart and mind. In a similar fashion, it takes aeons to become a gardener of that complex fabric that is your immortal soul.