Upon the Altar

This is less of an essay and more of a Venus retrograde journal, detailing my experiences throughout the retrograde and my workings with the fixed star Alphard.

The Retrograde Shadow

Timing: Early July, during the rx shadow

Joy does not come easily to me: every scrap of sunlight is fought for, every drop of honey is savored. Thus, in preparation for the Venus retrograde, I decided to construct myself a vessel— the Vessel of Pleasure, whose purpose is to help cultivate joy and pleasure in myself and my life. It is heavily inspired by certain rites from the Azoëtia, the Dragon Book of Essex, along with the works of Sasha Ravitch to do with Salome. The vessel itself is a red clay pot of intricate designs, something gifted to my family decades ago, left to sit gathering dust on the shelves. I decided to put the pot to good use, turning it into a ritual object. The actual, detailed process leading up to the vessel’s construction is messy and not something I wish to share.

Below, however, is what I can share:

• The ritual was repeated several times, some timings being that of when Venus is in an exact conjunction with Alphard and during a new moon in the hour of Venus.
• The ritual was done at night in a location important to me: an area beneath the branches of the pomegranate tree, beneath the leaves of the cypress tree, upon the dirt-ground strewn by petals of roses.
• Alphard, the She-Hydra, was called upon via Sasha’s Invocation of Alphard from her Ritus Anthropophagitum Stellarum, whilst the Calling of the She Snake is played in the background
• Mother Hydra was petitioned to bless the vessel, so that it may incubate, cultivate and protect the joys and pleasures in my life.
• To the vessel, I burnt and offered erotic writings I have written in the past alongside other pieces of erotica that I hold dear to my heart.
• To the vessel, seven offerings were made: a mixture of intimate memories and sexual fantasies, a confession of my deepest desires poured into the vessel to feed and fertilize it.
• A self-portrait was also burnt and offered to the vessel: a nude painted portrait of myself, with words from Salome by Oscar Wilde written over it (inspired by Sasha Ravitch’s Hydran Witchcraft workings) and the artwork itself anointed with perfume oils. 
• Cum and period blood were offered to the vessel.
• Songs and poetry were also offered to the vessel.

I will kiss it now. I will bite it with my teeth as one bites a ripe fruit. I saw thee, and I loved thee. Oh, how I loved thee! I love only thee. I am athirst for thy beauty; I am hungry for thy body; and neither wine nor apples can appease my desire. Neither the floods nor the great waters can quench my passion, for thou didst fill my veins with fire. I have kissed thy mouth. There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood? Nay; but perchance it was the taste of love. They say that love hath a bitter taste. But what matter? what matter? I have kissed thy mouth.

adapted excerpt from “Salome” by Oscar Wilde

After being inspired by a conversation with a friend, I had planned to feed the vessel daily from one new moon to the time of the next new moon. And yet, I find the task to be unexpectedly difficult. Some days I failed to follow through with the plan. There were days when I struggled to come up with memories or fantasies or something that stroked the fire of my desires, something that brought me joy and pleasure. From that realization, came the anger: why must I try so hard to simply enjoy myself, to feel good about my life? Why does every attempt to indulge in my desires feel like an uphill battle? 

There were times too when I would feel my heart cracking and bleeding and shattering all over again over something that seemed innocuous, or something that I should’ve grown used to now. I surprised myself with the rage I felt, all directed inwards: why am I still hurt? Why can’t I move on? Why is my heart still a brittle, fragile thing— I would’ve thought it would’ve grown some callouses by now?

I thought to myself then: is there something wrong with me?

Venus Stationing Retrograde

Timing: Mid-July onwards, after the rx shadow

your legs on the floor:
like this and like that
your tongue mistaking blood
for wine […]
you will open your wounds
and make them a garden

excerpt from “Portrait of a Boy with Grief” by Wale Ayinla

There are three things I learnt the day Venus stationed retrograde.

First is that grief is a part of the process.

As much as I want to stop crying and move on with my life, these emotions deserve to be felt and simply allowing myself to feel is not the same as wallowing in self pity. I’ve grown too skilled at putting on make-up to hide the red blotches around my eyes after I cry myself asleep or awake. I’ve been told too many times that I should not cry, and somehow I have internalized those instructions. The grief seems never ending. I grieved the warm and peaceful upbringing that all children deserve to have. I grieved the ‘me’ I could’ve been, how much I could’ve achieved had depression and anxiety not held me back in my youth and adolescence (and arguably even now, in the present). I grieved the friendships that drifted apart for whatever reasons, and the relationships — both toxic and healthy — that could never be the same.

Although nothing could replace therapy, books by well-accoladed authors helped me along the way:

• Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence–from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror by Dr. Judith Herman
• The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk M.D
• Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Dr. Karyl McBride
• Feeding Your Demons: Ancient Wisdom for Resolving Inner Conflict by Tsultrim Allione

I spent the day reading and crying, reflecting and trying to make sense of it all. The journey will take years, I realized. ‘Healing takes time’ is a phrase I’ve always known but one that hasn’t fully sunk in. More shockingly though was the whispers from my spirits that I should place my grief in the vessel too. I had initially thought to place only ‘good things’ into the vessel as after all, it is meant to be a vessel to incubate and encourage the growth of pleasure in my life. Wouldn’t all the grief and icky feelings taint it?

Immediately, came the imagery of rot and decay, of butterflies swarming sites of decomposition and fungi growing over the remains of corpses. I also received another imagery of me performing the rituals as mentioned above, burning the offerings and placing the ashes in the vessel. Ash too, I was told, adds nutrients to fertile soil.

‘Grief is a fertilizer’ seemed to be the message that was being conveyed.

“Grief can be transmuted: have faith in the vessel you have created, this simulacrum of a heart you have made.”

The second thing I learnt the day Venus stationed retrograde is that fire needs fuel.

Leo is a sign of fire, and fire needs to be fed and nurtured in order for it to keep burning. I am reminded of the advice I’ve received from friends and spirits regarding this theme of ‘tending the fire’. At the beginning of the year, I set a goal to perform ‘inner fire meditation’ daily. Obviously it is a task I failed at. Still, now is better than never. According to the author of Stoking the Witchfire: Yoga Cultivation for Sorcerers whom I have spoken with, one of the many benefits of ‘inner fire practices’ is that ‘nagas will begin to see you as one of their own’. It is no secret that I work with nagas in my practice— children of Hydra, sons and daughters of Alphard. To feed the fire is an act that will benefit me and bring me closer to my spirits. 

Back in April, I also received advice from Sfinga (@dragoncunning) that I have a heart of fire, one of ‘extreme passion and romanticism, revelry and reverence’. It is something I should keep, a flame I should continue to cultivate. It is a great antidote to wounds of the heart. Something about this feels eerie when I hear my spirits referring to the vessel I have made as a ‘simulacrum of a heart’. Something about this theme of fire also echoes an advice I’ve received from Selene (@mantodeadream) a while back:

“Your gifts in seeing and interpreting symbols is increasing and the water plays a huge emphasis on this. However, with the hagstone comment I made earlier – it is important that you do not spend too long here. Your spirits are telling me that it’s important that you do not get lost, you need to be able to operate these gifts on land too. I definitely think this is something you are already aware of though. Utilising more fire in your craft could balance this out. Water is healing, but she is also capable of bringing up deep buried trauma that is waiting to be released. Make sure that you spend time filling up your holes with sweetness.“

I feel that these readings have touched upon themes which are relevant to my practice. I thoroughly recommend Sfinga and Selene as readers, and Selene’s words brings me to my next point.

The third thing I learnt the day Venus stationed retrograde is that this retrograde is about me— not my spirits or anyone else, but me. Enough of trying to please others, when the only one I should be pleasing is myself.

Of course, this does not mean I’ll stop giving spirits their routine offerings or abandon my friends out of nowhere. It is merely a message to refocus on the self, on myself. The retrograde is occurring in Leo which is where my natal north node is. Interestingly, the north node itself has just moved into the sign of Aries (again, the theme of fire here) which coincidentally is my first house, the House of the Self. Upon pondering what Rahu in Aries could mean, I began to receive some messages:

Rahu in Aries is the swallowing of flames— the beheaded dragon hungering for fire, ghosts like flittering moths drawn to a burning torch. Insatiability manifested as roaring rage. Fire as an element that burns itself out, that eats itself up. Fire only exists so long as there is fuel, so long as there is food. Aries is a hungry fire, and Rahu is a ravenous dragon.

Rahu in Aries is a Rahu without reason. There is no reasoning with Rahu here, and Aries is of the body— not the mind. The universe is an oyster, meant to be eaten and experienced. The only way to truly know that something exists is to sense it. It is real, if we can touch it and feel it. It is real, if we can place it in our mouth and taste it with our tongue. From the hammering heart to the twisting guts, Rahu in Aries seeks to understand the world through the senses.

What does all of this mean? It suggests a refocusing on the self, specifically the body. Stop spending so much time up there (in the head) and start living down here (in the body). I am not yet dead, not yet a ghost bodiless, bereft of blood and bones and muscles. Getting in touch with my body— it is something I am still working on. Another message too is to focus on my own desires no matter how silly or stupid they may seem. Self-indulgence starts in small steps. If that means writing some cringy erotica or making art of edgy characters or playing video games all night long, or consuming movies and shows and music and poetry as if they are a feast… then so long as it brings me joy and pleasure, I will do it.

Venus Stationing Direct

Timing: Mid-September, after Venus became direct

The Fool in stumbling may find the Way more swiftly than the Sage who seeks the Path.

excerpt from “Khaizmos: A Book Without Pages” by Andrew D. Chumbley

Using an archeoastronomy software made by Dr Karine Gadre of the University of Toulouse, I calculated when Alphard will have her heliacal rise in the city of Bangkok where I was based. Initially, I didn’t know what I was meant to do. All I knew was that I wanted to perform some astrolatry, to give offerings to Alphard and sing her praises. The nights leading up to the heliacal rise though, I found myself incredibly restless.

During one particular night when I felt a sudden rush of inexplicable rage and a fiery burst of emotions that left me feeling like a pot about to boil over or a volcano waiting to gush out lava, I picked up my paintbrush and began to paint whatever came to mind. Emma Peters (whose paintings can be viewed here and also on her IG @_emma.peters) is certainly a dear friend and an inspiration in the ways she channels the stars in her artwork. Thus, I painted for hours until I ended up with paintings of red and black and gold, paintings which I then dedicated to Alphard.

During the night before Alphard’s heliacal rise, I received the final instructions for what to do regarding the content of my Vessel of Pleasure. I don’t recall exactly how the thought came to me, only that it came unexpectedly and quietly, but clear enough for me to know what to do. I received images of me taking the burnt remains of the offerings within the vessel — offerings which were burnt to crisps, and have become ashes with a charcoal-like quality to them — and rubbing those ashes all over my naked body. Then, I was to take a portion of the hibiscus-infused honey I’ve made earlier and mix it with some water, and ritualistically wash the ashes from my skin. I performed a quick divination and received a “go ahead” from the cards, telling me that it is safe to perform the ash-and-honey ritual in the name of Alphard.

Henceforth, I timed myself to begin the ritual during the moment when Alphard is conjunct the Ascendant (the ASC being representative of the self and the body). This occurred about ten minutes or so before the heliacal rise of Alphard, so at the peak of the ritual, Alphard should be rising. During the ritual, I offered Alphard the hibiscus-infused honey now poured into a glass cup, and lit a candle for Alphard which was then placed upon a snake-shaped candle holder which I had painted a golden color. I invoked Alphard using Sasha Ravitch’s invocation, made my offerings and placed the ashes and the honey-water to be blessed by Alphard.

I informed Alphard of what I was going to do. Once I felt ready, I rubbed the ashes upon myself — my arms, my legs, my belly, my chest, my face and my throat — and washed it off using the honey-water, murmuring bits and pieces of Salome’s infamous monologue as I did so. Whilst doing so, I also said some words to finalize the intent of the ritual: as I smear the ash over my body, and wash myself clean with the honey-water, may I emerge as a butterfly from chrysalis, my flesh and soul and spirit washed in the glow of starlight, washed in the glow of love, washed in the glow of desire. In the name of Alphard, the Heart of Hydra, let me be reborn in your name and beautiful image!

Thus, it was done.

When, a day or so later, I divined on the outcome of the ritual after things had settled down, I received the following cards from the Thoth tarot deck: the Emperor (top row), 10 of Wands + the Fool + 9 of Swords (middle row), and the Sun + Death + High Priestess (bottom row).

The Emperor represents my Patron — a spirit/being/god whom I initiated under and swore an oath to over two years ago, a figure who continues to watch over me and ensure my spiritual growth and safety and happiness — as I had also invited him priorly to join me in my stellar rituals and aid me, should he wishes to do so. This was a good sign, showing how I was still being protected during the ritual by him. After all, all stars are vampiric. Certain boundaries must be set to make sure that one isn’t (willingly or unwillingly) giving away too much of yourself to the stars to the point of it being unsustainable. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

As a side note, I also like to quote Sasha here as a warning for those interested in stellar witchcraft that you have a far greater chance of harming yourself than helping yourself if you rush head-first into the Stellar Witchcraft without having established a strong relationship with a Stellar Astrolatry practice, with Patrons personally invested in seeing you survive, without having survived other initiations where you were further rebuilt in the image of the Other. I am not entirely sure if the things I’m doing technically counts as a form of stellar witchcraft or not, or if I am simply blurring the line between astrolatry and witchcraft. But, regardless, it is better to be safe than sorry— as safe as one can be when messing about with eldritch forces such as stars.

The other cards also seemingly point towards some start of an initiation of a sort. The Fool speaks of a new beginning, the start of a new journey (to initiate something meaning to begin something), and it is flanked by a card of fire (and the weight that comes with such powers) and a card of blood (the nine swords dripping blood). The Sun speaks of a new dawn, of happiness and triumph and success in endeavors. Death is a card of transformation — the whole point of it all, the shedding of skin and rebirth into something that is more authentically and blissfully me — whilst the Priestess alludes to my faith in astrolatry, and the desire to connect and get closer to the god-stars which I adore. 

I’d like to think the ritual “worked”, even if there is no immediate or dramatic outcome. Although, there certainly were strange dreams afterwards (dreams with the motif of me being given “gifts” of various sorts), alongside the appearance of bats swarming my house at night in-real-life (bats being associated with Hydra/Alphard) and other occurrences that may or may not be magical in nature.

I do not know where I am going or what I am doing, not truly. I doubt any of us do. All I know is that I’m taking things day by day, trying my best to focus on the journey rather than the destination. I have faith in my spirits to lead the way whenever I feel like I am stumbling about in the dark. Most importantly of all, I have faith that my heart knows how to heal, even if it may need a little time and patience and gentleness. I have faith in my will and desire to take me where I am meant to be, a place where I can truly be happy.

Updates: 6+ Months Later

As of March 2024, I am able to confirm that the ritual was truly successful.

Many months ago, I have had Rose Aurora (who can be contacted at https://www.roseauroras.com/) look into this the ritual, among other things, and she was able to scry reddish flames within and around my etheric field, burning softly— a “blessing of empowerment”, a flame that is kept from being all-consuming with the aid of my personal serpentine spirits. Although, I should warn others who wish to attempt a similar ritual though that it is possible that Hydra’s flames may be irritating to certain spirits within one’s court, as it was to mine. At the time of the ritual, the Hydran flames had created a fiery barrier that made it so that certain benevolent spirits who wished to interact with me cannot pass through without getting “burnt”. The issue was later mitigated and it also led to the introduction of another deity-spirit into my life and court.

Later on, I also had a reading with Sasha Ravitch focused on a different issue but touching upon the Hydran ritual as well, and I was made aware too of how although I had intended for the rite to be primarily an act of astrolatry, the outcome is actually that what I did “was not astrolatry— it was witchcraft” and I was “tapping into specifically the deep space constellation”. Thus, this is also a heads up to others who may attempt a similar ritual that sometimes you may get slightly more than what you intended aimed for.

I should make it clear though that at no point do I regret the ritual, and it should be made clear too that I have had a pre-existing astrolatry practice with Alphard prior to attempting the ritual. Hence, I would also suggest that people who wish to attempt a similar ritual develop some form of devotion to Alphard and/or Hydra prior to trying any rites of stellar witchcraft.

Looking back, especially now that over six months have passed, I am extremely glad that I took the leap of faith and undertook the experimental rite.