A New Year

2012 was quite the year for me – both great and terrible.  The last few months were dominated, as many of my friends know, by my summary dismissal from the organization which claims to be the one true OTO, after over 10 years of loyal membership.    That is a phrase which, to be totally honest, I never through I’d use: “one true OTO”.  It implies that there are other valid OTO’s out there.  Presently there are not.   The whole sordid tale will have to wait until another time, but very briefly I’d like to point out that if you look at Crowley’s writing on the subject, it’s very clear that OTO was never meant to be a “California not-for-profit corporation”.   It’s an ideal towards which we aspire.  Perhaps the world is not yet ready for OTO.  Perhaps we, in the Thelemic community, are simply not ready to give the world this model, as we don’t have it ourselves.  Before anything can be born into the world, it first must be carried for a season in the womb of our hearts.  If OTO does not exist within us, it will never exist outside of us.

It’s been said that every generation has its own war – its own struggle.   I believe this to be part of ours.  What calls to us now as most essential is an engagement with occult truth itself, within the context of our own lives.  Running around trying to convince others to “sign up” to something that we don’t really understand ourselves – or even worse, nurse secret hostility towards, is an exercise doomed to failure and self-ruin.  If the present “leadership” of the so called “OTO”, and organizations like it, hasn’t taught us that… I don’t know what good it’s done at all.  Enough of that for now.  I will revisit this topic in more detail later, when I can stomach a lengthier examination of the depths of cowardice, falsehood, and willful ignorance that exists in the “leadership” cadre of the organization in question.   In the spirit of the new year, let us move on to happier things.


The title of this blog “Acratophorus” means “giver of unmixed wine” and is a title of the Greek god Dionysus.   I thought to use this blog to present my undiluted, but most carefully selected self.  Initially I thought this would best be accomplished by limiting the blog to magical and philosophical writings and explorations.   I’ve now come to realize that this doesn’t go far enough… it doesn’t go “all the way”.  Magick is not something that happens only within the Temple space.  Philosophy is not something you do only when you write a paper.   These things must expand and consume all the rest of your life.  This is how life is made sacred.

At the risk of belaboring the wine metaphor… I had intended to use this space as a “tasting”, to display my very best vintages.  Over the next year, I wish to transition to using this space as a “fermentation barrel”.  My hope is that the demands of “art” – in this case a more or less public blog – will be the yeasty charge that adds spirit to the blood of the grape.  If the wine is poor, or too thin, I will have only myself to blame.   If it is rich, and full, and fills the cup of Babalon, then it is its own reward.

With the breath of her kisses hath she fermented it, and it hath become the wine of the Sacrament, the wine of the Sabbath; and in the Holy Assembly hath she poured it out for her worshippers, and they had become drunken thereon, so that face to face they beheld my Father. Thus are they made worthy to become partakers of the Mystery of this holy vessel, for the blood is the life. So sitteth she from age to age, and the righteous are never weary of her kisses, and by her murders and fornications she seduceth the world. Therein is manifested the glory of my Father, who is truth.

(This wine is such that its virtue radiateth through the cup, and I reel under the intoxication of it. And every thought is destroyed by it. It abideth alone, and its name is Compassion. I understand by “Compassion,” the sacrament of suffering, partaken by the true worshippers of the Highest. And it is an ecstasy in which there is no trace of pain. Its passivity (=passion) is like the giving-up of the self to the beloved.)

Over the next year I hope to write on many things.  Some of them will be, perhaps, spiritual and sublime.  Some of them will be serious and, hopefully, of great importance. Some of them may appear vain, frivolous and superficial.  This blog will not becomes a stream of consciousness regurgitation of the mundane details of my life, but everything will go into the cup – at least everything that I can fit.  This will be a process, not a presentation.  I invite you to join me…. or not…. as it is your Will to do.  



This is the Mystery of Babylon, the Mother of abominations, and this is the mystery of her adulteries, for she hath yielded up herself to everything that liveth, and hath become a partaker in its mystery. And because she hath made herself the servant of each, therefore is she become the mistress of all. Not as yet canst thou comprehend her glory.  Beautiful art thou, O Babylon, and desirable, for thou hast given thyself to everything that liveth, and thy weakness hath subdued their strength. For in that union thou didst understand. Therefore art thou called Understanding, O Babylon, Lady of the Night….

O Babylon, Babylon, thou mighty Mother, that ridest upon the crowned beast, let me be drunken upon the wine of thy fornications; let thy kisses wanton me unto death, that even I, thy cup-bearer, may understand.

– Liber 418:12th Aethyr

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