processed spirits

Any sense of restlessness is a sign that your soul is ready to grow. Answering the call of your soul by pursuing a new entrepreneurial activity or a form of creative expression, such as writing, playing music, or sculpting, would be a natural process in aligning yourself with Spirit. If you are restless, this is how you’re being guided or invited by your soul to find deeper fulfillment through more satisfying work and meaningful service.” – Ernest D. Chu in Soul Currency

Dream Walking

  • Dream walking involves the ability to visit and enter other people’s dreams, or to control them. 
  • To visit a person’s dream, they must be sleeping and preferably experiencing the REM mode of sleep. 
  • It works best with close friends or family members as you have a stronger spiritual connection to them. 
  • A supposed way of dream walking is to be in your own lucid dream, and then imagining a door (which acts as a portal) to the other person’s dream - and upon entering it, you must envision yourself being within their dream world; to return you can go back through the door to your own lucid dream and then wake up.
  • However, little is known about the consequences of dream walking, so it is best to do it with a consenting individual and only benevolently. 
  • Do not attempt this if you are not an advanced meditator. 
  • This is an exhausting process and there is a possibility to get lost in the dream world (although not permanently).
  • Dream walking and visiting is commonly a process used by spirits such as an individual’s guides or an ancestor, in order to communicate an important message
  • It is best to beforehand practice being able to recall dreams vividly and understand the language of dreams - which is usually symbolic.

With this statement let us compare one by a real Initiate describing the
opening up of the Light at his centre :

“My whole spirit seemed to break through the gates of hell
and be taken up into the arms and heart of God . I can compare
it to nothing but the resurrection at the last day . For then, with
all reverence I say it, with the eyes of my spirit I saw God. I
saw both what God is, and how God is what He is . The gate
of the Divine Mystery was sometimes so opened in me that in
one quarter of an hour I saw and knew more than if I had been
many years at a university . I saw and knew the Being of all
Beings ; the Byss and the Abyss ; the generation of the Son and
the procession of the Spirit . I saw the descent and original of
this world also, and of all its creatures . I saw in their order and
outcome the Divine World, the Angelical World, Paradise, and
then this fallen dark world of our own . I saw the beginning of
the good and of the evil, the true origin and existence of each
of them . For twelve years this went on in me . Sometimes the
truth would hit me like a sudden smiting storm of rain, and
then there would be the clear sunshine after the rain .”

The writer of this statement was the poor, uneducated cobbler, Jacob Boehme, who lived near Dresden, and died, aged 49, in 1624, and who has  been described by a disciple and competent judge - Louis Claude de Saint Martin (“Le Philosophe Inconnu”) ; himself a Freemason and advanced illuminate - as “the greatest light that has come into the world since Him who was Himself the Light of the world.” The fuller record of his illuminations and profound metaphysical insight can be found in his series of lengthy but difficult and obscure works, from the study of which Sir Isaac Newton, a deep student of them, drew the information from which he became able to formulate the principles of gravitation and planetary motion, and other laws now known to regulate physical phenomena .

W.L.Wilmshurst-Masonic Initiation

“The Devil was represented as black, with goat’s horns, ass’s ears, cloven hoofs, and an immense phallus. He is, in fact, the Satyr of the old Dionysiac processions, a nature-spirit, the essence of joyous freedom and unrestrained delight, shameless if you will, for the old Greeks knew not shame. He is the figure who danced light-heartedly across the Aristophanic stage, stark nude in broad midday, animally physical, exuberant, ecstatic, crying aloud the primitive refrain, ‘Phales, boon mate of Bacchus, joyous comrade in the dance, wanton wanderer o’ nights’ … in a word, he was Paganism incarnate, and Paganism was the Christian’s deadliest foe; so they took him, the Bacchic reveller, they smutted him from horn to hoof, and he remained the Christian’s deadliest foe, the Devil.”

~ Montague Summers, 1926


One thing I hear newly acquainted Guardians ask each other a lot is, “What’s the first thing you remember when you woke up?”

Laila remembered herself, processes, body, and spirit (if that’s at all possible for an Exo; but for Laila, I do believe it’s true).

For Rue it was The Collapse.  She remembered traveling the ships bound for the edge of dark space, remembered with exquisite detail the enlightenment of the Awoken; she remembered returning to Earth, older and wiser, she remembered the Dark Age and her Death… the City Age, the Battle of the Six Fronts, the Faction Wars, even the Battle of Twilight Gap. Rue remembered everything, and I’ll never understand why.

Dee hadn’t been dead long before he was brought back, but he hasn’t spoken since.

Wylynn had always explained hers as if it were the first day she had truly lived, but I don’t believe her for a second.

And Merric, well… as I’ve heard it, most Exo’s experiences are the same. Like a computer rediscovering itself every time it’s rebooted, they’re reborn with the same programming, the same subroutines, same purpose.

And everyone has their own answers, of course. I consider most of my friends lucky in that respect. My experience wasn’t so simple, and I’d dodge the question until they forgot they’d even asked.

But me…?

I remember screaming.

I remember horror, desperation, and a pain surging through me as I was revived in the most unnatural way imaginable. And it wasn’t for memory of any of the wars I’d fought in, comrades I’d lost, or even the terror of my death. No… I remembered nothing for the first few months after I’d been reborn.

They say we were forged in light, but I was forged in flame. My body burned with the intensity of a supernova, calcifying ash to bone from the dust of the earth, haunting and beautiful. My mind shell-shocked from the journey of being ripped through eight hundred years of time and space and forced into a reconstructed body, someone I shouldn’t be.

And I didn’t want it to be true.

I remember feeling like I wanted to sleep again, where it was cool, calm, and dark. None of these bright lights and new days.

But eventually the pain turned to pleasure and I inhaled deep and sharp, breath catching at the smell of all that was wrong with the world I used to know.

Eyes up, Guardian, I heard a voice coo quietly. It was masculine, artificial, and incredibly ecstatic.

Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you?

I would come to find out later, Leonidas had faithfully traveled halfway around the world to find me, far beyond the protection of the Traveler’s light, but then his rambling was a haze over my ears. The morning sun beat down and blinded as I turned fiery eyes to the horizon, and finally, after minutes of staring in stunned silence, swaying, and holding back the sickness in my stomach, he came into focus.

Just in time for me to realize he had been screaming for the last thirty seconds. The Fallen were already hot on my trail.

ON YOUR FEET GUARDIAN, he barked with panic in his voice, THEY’RE COMING, NOW MOVE!

And as if my body understood before my brain, it stopped shaking, planted both feet into the ground and propelled into action. I vaulted over deteriorated cars and dove behind disheveled concrete barriers, rushed inside a dilapidated building and scaled three flights of stairs before I collapsed against the wall for a breather… and even there I wasn’t safe.

I heard its breathing through the wall behind me, teeth grinding, throat gurgling, and ether hissing from its bonds as it stepped toward the corner.

I had no idea what I was about to face, and I had no way of defending myself, so I waited for the inevitable… and as the Dreg spotted me and screamed, adrenaline surged through me-

And I punched the damn thing right in the teeth.

Arc energy rippled through my shoulder to my knuckles, then through every last inch of its body as it sprawled through the air, a disintegrated mess.

Without a weapon and with only adrenaline and fear to push me forward, I brawled my way through five, six, seven more Fallen… exhausted by the time I had found a useable weapon.

The M-4 carbine I found was in rough shape, dust-eaten, dirty, and waterlogged. I hid myself long enough to yank back on the charging handle and heaved a sigh of relief as I heard it cycle when I pulled the trigger. Two partially full magazines were all I could manage to scrounge, and I conserved it like water.

Leonidus and I traveled for three days before we found a ship to scrounge, and I was half dead again; I passed out in the ship on my way to the tower, and when I awoke, I woke up screaming… something that never really went away.

To this day, I don’t know how I made it back alive. Zavala credits it to my resolve, the Speaker claims that my light is strong, but only I knew the truth.

I remember that day I wanted to die.

Trust the journey; even when it doesn’t make sense. Know that the {mystical realm} is at work in your life- working on your behalf and for your higher {good}.
—  Lalah Delia

Soo….. I don’t really speak much about my process on here because It’s pretty simple but a couple people have asked so I’ll post more about it in the future. 

Basically what I’ve got here is my finished illustration up top and my 3rd and 4th stages below, before I actually begin ink/color. I start with ref collection/thumbnails/rough sketch/color test then begin work on the final after bugging a few friends about my composition, heh.

It’s only fitting that i begin my process post with an illustration titled “Breakdown”. peace!

There is a manner of spell-craft which I shall relate and by it seek to invite the reader, irrespective of his or her standing, to step outside and thus within the mysteries of which they are reading.
For this deed of Arte a leather thread and a hagstone are required; the latter being a stone thorough which there is a hole naturally worn through: a gateway graven by the hands of earth and charmed to open by the tongues of the river. Taking the hagstone in one’s grasp, one should contemplate its opening and entreat it to be a doorway for your going-forth in dreams. One should then take leathern thread and, holding it in one’s hands, should phantasise about the ways of the magical night-procession. Consider the spirits. Think of She who flies forth out of the body and into the freedom of the darksome midnight. Ascend with the spirits through the openings of the flesh; take leave of your mortal abode and roam abroad with the unseen companie of the aire. Step upon the wind and lay yourself into the arms of the sky. Hear the sonorous beating of bird-wing and spirit-wing; hear the rhythm of their flight echoing words of enchantment, patterning the nocturnal plains with sigils of forgotten desires. Behold the gateways to the Other : silhouettes glimpsed against the vault of the stars. Be at one with them; be at one with the night-wandering host of the sky. Let the coolth of the star-river enliven your soul and lead you to the scent-trail of the pathless path. Hear the wing-beats of the spirit and feel your heart-beats; hear the heart’s drum and count your steps into the boundless dance of god, man and beast. Behold the companions of the round dance. Behold!

With each poignant atmosphere of phantasie, knot the thread and thus create a rosary of dreaming potentials. When the thread has seven knots, pass it through the mouth of the hagstone and tie to form a loop through which one’s hand may be placed. The stone and thread should be entreated with a final prayer for the spell to work. Then, at the end of one’s waking day, the stone should be held in one’s hand (generally the one most seldom used) and the cord wrapped around the wrist. The stone should rest within the hand like a child in its crib. Then I bid you forget about it ‘til morning. Perchance in dreaming your spirit shall pass through the stone-mouth and wander abroad in the night-walkers’ procession, flying freely to the place that some have called ‘Sabbat’. Where-ever the dreaming takes you, the thread of knots shall guide and bring you home, once more to waken at the edge of day.

If no dreams befall you by night, then recall the deeds of the spell – for there in phantasie are the fore-echoes of that which is not yet remembered.

Such is a spell to enter the Dream of the Sabbat.

—  Andrew D. Chumbley, What is Traditional Craft?

Sometimes translated as a “spirit boat procession”, elaborate floats are constructed and paraded by the family members of someone who has died sometime in the previous 12 months. The destination for the Nagasaki dead is Paradise (Sukhavati, 極楽浄土).

Read: Instagram Photos Offer a Peek Into Nagasaki’s Unique Send-Off for the Dead

Originally posted by kelledia

((Hey it’s another Boss Monster Chara AU thing))

So since Chara was formerly a human and all, their monster Soul sort of grew around the void that their human Soul left behind. This hole in their heart gives them the ability to encompass a willing human’s Soul like a protective piece of armor (or a “heart shaped locket”) without the human being harmed in the process.

This makes spiriting away children off to the Underground much easier. (Especially if anyone tries to stop them)

So here’s a sketch of Chara’s fully realized Boss Monster form with leaf armor and horns mimicking Asgore.