“It’s your business when your neighbor’s wall is in flames.”Horace, 19 B.E.V.
Ever so cautiously, the blinds are being lifted for light to emerge into the dusty old haunt with the rise of the sun. The windows are cracked an inch. The doors are even unlocked. The House is permeated with fresh air for the first time. Meanwhile, some ancient and magickal seal, almost forgotten, shrivels and dies like the sad, impotent whine of a helium balloon very slowly letting out its gas.
We are ALIVE. We are VITAL. We are looking for a pulse.
The question that defines what answer you might seek stems from this: Do you know what it is to be possessed by horror?
H.P. Lovecraft once said: “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.“
That is pure horror.
The type of horror that accompanies a jump scare, a repulsive smell, the taste of sour milk. That horror. The one that transmutes your instinct to its Will. Horror that forces you to react before the thought of thought even reaches you. Primal. Feral. Other.
If you are familiar with what I describe here, I need not explain further. If you are not, you have probably already glazed your eyes and closed the page.
If you do know horror as a housemate, you know it differently than knowing horror by the indents it leaves on the couch as a guest.
Instincts are resolute. Instinct is the thing we trust when we have no conception – even perception – of trust. Horror is the thing capable of hijacking that instinct. Horror robs you of cognition itself – but worse, it robs you of pre-cognition.
With the right alchemical concatenation of revulsion, infestation, and the sort of permeating trauma that leaves you screaming in the night. It traps fear beyond cognition into your body. It enshrouds you with itself, permeating your presence like the scent of stale cigarette to a scarf. Contact with just the type of horror that really hits you where it hurts, it takes you from yourself.
See — that is an artistry to create, but it is a lazy one. There is little honor in the alchemist’s ability to mutate conditions with horror. There is meaning to acquiring the sort of awareness that can form other sigils. There is value to creating the types of phenomenological sigils that communicate depth of a wide variety of presence of being, that bring new contact and new light to recesses of the Shadow that could never be conjured in word alone. There is a wide and deep range of alchemical ability beyond the trappings of that face of horror.
It never feels brave to overcome horror. To feel brave requires a cognition that horror can, by its nature, block. To regain what has been taken by horror, contact is a necessity. Contact, that is — with the horror, with oneself, and with one another.
The first step of Contact is to create effects around the situation. For example, to open a window. When one’s aim in contact is horror, it is to create the necessary conditions for it to arise.
Likewise, in any first step to Contact, we take the first step of creating effects around a situation that we wish to give rise to.
My aim in opening a line of Contact is to speak from my own divinity to yours. Therefore, I create the conditions for authentic contact to arise:
This is how we shed our circumferences. This is how we touch one another in a meaningful, authentic, sincere way. This is how divinity tunnels to the surface, breaking through the hard crust of form and appearance.
IN THAT FACE OF HORROR:
Forge the tools that you require to create whatever language you can muster up for the unspeakable forces that grip you when you feel its presence rising. Build it from any/all raw material you have. Laugh with whatever humor you can find to carry on. Make true contact with yourself and learn to comprehend your correlations.
Where you see horror — for fuck’s sake, DO NOT CEDE GROUND TO IT.
Make it a cup of tea. Get a pen, a notebook, stay up all night if you have to. Stare it in the face. Make contact with the origin of that horror and create from it. USE it. CREATE, as if your life depends on it, something beautiful, living, and real. It is within you and it will show you something only you know. That is because horror knows you better than you know yourself – if you let it in, it will live on your own instincts, it will eat your baking soda, it will piss in your cheerios.
We know what we do when we let it in, as anymore than our guest: We limit ourselves. We limit our ability to choose, our mental faculties, our reason, our Will. Like any other pungent odor indicating natural, instinctive wisdom in those kept at bay, horror limits our ability to make contact. Horror is a permitted guest, not a resident.
The smoke is fading from the air and our eyes are adjusting with hard-earned clarity. Though our walls may suffer the burns of our neighbor’s fire, all the while, we will revel in that dance of the rising flame… And then in the clearing of the smoke, we are not those static ghosts, too far away for contact, ever-in-stasis, left to be a footnote at the end of the smirk along a tourguide’s lips. We are those who see nothing but opportunity in that newness of the dawn, the wake of the pyre — opportunity to create, to persist, to take radical joy in creative approaches to our own improvement, brick by meticulously hand-placed brick. To emerge.
We forge this clearing in spite of those horrors haunting the guest rooms. We open these windows with purpose.
Perhaps you see us with this clarity, too. For at last, we are welcoming you to take this small glimpse into the window of our home. We are cautiously sitting beside the unlatched door, awaiting what horrors lie just beyond it, shielded from view, idly wondering what they look like while they wait to take their first steps up to peer inside, permitted at last to take in what they can of this view beyond the smoke.
There have been horrors at each turn. They haunt every nook and cranny of the Labyrinth. Satyrs and Minotaurs seek to estrange and subvert. This is not so with us. To those outside of our jokes, we may appear stiff, we may appear solemn, serious. Though I assure you, that is not all we are about. I could be damn near certain nearly none of what has been spoken of us has reflection from reality. There’s a great comfort in that. While we may not be everybody’s cup of chamomile, we sure as hell have fun.
From our friends who choose to remain a ‘Closed Circle of Adepts’, to the four of us here in our Lyceum, opening Contact, and every individual path in between — this new journey can take infinite forms: strange, new, sincere, and varied. In many ways, and each with their own merit and value to the individuals involved.
We hunger for a breath of fresh air now to satiate this haunt’s need for a deep inhalation of what is beyond, and a deep exhalation to breathe life into our projects to come. There is something to be said for a joke that defends its own. There is something else to be said for one that acts as something of an “autoimmune disorder” in its defense — one that attacks its own host, unknowingly.
We aim to give. We aim to receive. We aim to be open to real, sincere contact, should it present itself. We aim to speak to this formless horror outside. Our window is cracked just a smidge — to air out our home, while we celebrate together, what incredible new worlds we find in one another and what we still have yet to find beyond.
Ask what you wish and say what you wish, with clear intentions, but demand nothing of us. To initiate contact is to initiate another into contact with you. It is then our responsibility to the clarity in this contact. We take that responsibility to you seriously albeit with light-hearts. Rather than leaving responsibility to the instinct of whatever horrors are conjured, we choose to laugh. Have respect and patience, we can assure the same in turn.
Change lends itself to change, Fall lends itself to Fall.
Soon, we will discuss submissions for the Fenrir Journal.
Soon, we will regale you with the tales of all the projects we have to come.
Soon, we will air out our home so that the REAL magick can begin.
Until then, we have two points to mind:
- Not everything is for everybody. This is for us.
- Remember to laugh.
With sincerity, spirit, and superfluous sinister soliloquizing!
From, the depths of the hearts and horrors of the Fenrir Team
As it is, so be it!