temple lodging

like I spent a substantial amount of my college career studying occultists, secret societies, new religious movements, conspiracy theories, etc. I have read books by occultists. I have attended theosophist meetings. I’ve gone to Masonic temples/lodges. I have basically studied the concept of arcane knowledge and its transmission, and that was largely the path I was on before I switched my focus.

AND I’M HERE TO TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT MOST OF THOSE PEOPLE WERE SHITHEADS. STRAIGHT UP DOUCHEBAGS. secret societies is literally just another way of saying secret clubs, and they were populated by pretentious, racist, exoticizing assholes who behaved like the cast of Mean Girls but with “black magic”. People put them up on this pedestal but they were just garden variety assholes who made shit up because it made them feel smart. How do you even think they figured out all that ~Egyptian magic~ before the goddamn Rosetta Stone was translated? They made it the fuck up! (see: tarot)

I switched out of Egyptology because I felt like all the tomb desecration was disrespectful towards a religion (and its people) that I claimed to care about, and I felt like I was aiding in an immoral imperialist narrative. Part of the reason I stopped taking classes on people who claimed to possess arcane knowledge was because I hated like everyone involved. I’d laugh so I wouldn’t cry.

like I still study theories and usage of magic in assorted cultures but like jfc, preserve me from the people who claim to understand it better than ~anyone else~.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned while studying religions, it’s that someone’s always got a hard on for having mystical arcane knowledge that they received from some old text they found buried in the ground, or received directly from a deity, or figured out all on their own, and they’ll probably get in a dick fight about it if you leave it alone long enough. christ.

“This figure is reproduced here because the Egyptian Thoth is the equivalent of the Grecian Hermes and the Roman Mercury, the true Grand Master of All Symbolic Lodges. From the earliest Masonic manuscripts we see Hermes represented as the ideal of the Master of the lodge and in some traditions is even said to be the founder of Masonry.” - Rex R. Hutchens - A Bridge To Light - pg. 167  

The night of was 5 August 1985 was hot and humid in the residential suburbs of Los Angeles. Thousands of families were tucked up for the night, oblivious to any unseen dangers lurking outside their homes. Christopher Petersen, a truck driver, and his wife Virginia, a postal worker, were asleep in their one-storey home five miles from the Simi Valley freeway, when Virginia’s rest was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of an intruder. Sitting up in bed, she called out, “Who are you? What do you want?” Virginia froze in horror as she heard the intruder laugh, and saw the gun he was pointing at her. There was a shot, and she felt her face explode. The bullet had entered her cheek, just missing her left eye, and passed through the back of her head. As Christopher Petersen leaped to his wife’s defence a second shot rang out. This time the bullet from the intruder’s gun passed through his temple, lodging at the base of his brain. In the next room, the Petersens’ young daugter called out, “Mommy, what’s going on?” Amazingly, the Petersens had survived. Virginia felt no pain, and thought that they had been hit with a stun gun. Blood poured from Christopher Petersen’s head, but he was not finished yet. A big, strong man, he flew into a rage when he heard the intruder laughing. He dived out of the bed and chased him from the bedroom. Suddenly it was his assailant’s turn to feel scared. Panicked, he ran from the house, firing twice as he fled. The kille, named Richard Ramirez whom all California had come to fear had been put to flight by a man with a bullet in his head.

Muddy Road

Tanzan and Ekido were once traveling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling.

Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.

“Come on, girl” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.

Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself.

“We monks don’t go near females,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”

“I left the girl there,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?”

—  Zen Koan

Last weekend was BNE Open House festival, which included the Masonic Memorial Temple here in Brisbane. 
Some of the smaller lodge rooms were set up as they would be for a lodge meeting, including a Royal Arch chapter. 
Sadly, I was in a rush so didn’t get to spend as much time there as I would have liked. Still, it was pretty exciting stepping inside a Freemason building for the first time.  

kristinamurin  asked:

006 fluffy prompt pleeease 😍😘

006: “I will always be there protect you.“ 

(It’s fluffy, I swear. I’m trying to find my writing bug again, so I’m catching up on old prompts.)

“I will always be there to protect you.”

Gun shots.

That was the last thing he remembered - the sharp cut of a gun going off followed by the heavy spray of bullets as someone fired into the crowd, shouts and screams filling the air… no, not into the crowd. At him. They’d been firing at him.

And they’d hit her.

“No,” Oliver breathed, the world coming back in a heady rush. His eyes snapped open, instantly shutting again when a thick shaft of light from the spotlights sliced through his head. He could hear a helicopter hovering somewhere, and people talking - everywhere, they were everywhere, surrounding him - and tears, so many tears, someone was crying, sobbing…

Had someone died?

Had she…?

His mind instantly revolted.


She’d saved his life. She’d saved his life, his worthless, meaningless life, and he hadn’t told her, he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her. And he’d had time, he’d always had time. He was Oliver Queen, he could buy time, but he’d always thought he’d get his moment.

That moment had disappeared the second he’d heard the guns and then she’d been throwing herself in front of him, her body wrenching at an unnatural angle when the bullet slammed into her chest.

“I will always be there to protect you.”

He’d had one second to scream - not her, not her not her - when a bullet had hit him, grazing his temple while another had lodged into his shoulder, pulling him away from her as darkness had fallen around him…

Not her.

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