“Oh, great star! What would your happiness be if you did not have us to shine for?” 

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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This is the result of sincere love for philosophy, for language, and for Magic.

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Peculiar conditions have permitted a total immersion into Magic, and moreover, Magical thinking. For reasons beyond reason, it was vital to track my experiences with both a surgical precision and a cruel passion. In sanctioning myself to speak freely, as fed to me by my Violet Star—the whole ordeal has wrought itself an intimate act of personal Liberation. What else does one have? Perhaps to put it economically: the more rapturous the writings, by virtue of earnest curiosity that cannot be named, the fairer my Heart. And writing requires of itself, more writing. Thereafter, I am wrenched to penetrate these Mysteries, to some menial degree, until my letters can properly carry forth the hum of Magic with intense effect. It might be mentioned, arranging words to induce the desired influence, feels often more mathematical than supersensual.

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Nevertheless, even with its bright beauty and seductive ornaments, the English language does not suitably allow for complete transmission of these currents. To be known, Magic must be experienced. Owing to its subtly of constitution, Magic is delicate in its explosive trappings; rendering the subject nearly incommunicable at times, save for the supersensual forms it takes, or the impression it casts upon other objects. These supersensual forms, perhaps a clotted fog that smells of clove and charred amber; an iridescent chime that devours grimly the Heart; an appearance in the Eye, which shimmers both cold fire and feverish wilderness, do then replicate Magical phenomena, or perhaps contain them entirely. 

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The Mysteries have long serenaded the Adventurist, the Artist, the Poet; whose burden it is to find Truth in Silhouettes, melodies in the Pitted Lilies; to deliver Daughters whose Flame embalms the Spirit everlastingly. Therefore, the experience is not entirely of my own, but a result of stepping into the Gold that has been built for Us.  

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Twilight burns the Heavens open; glittering currents radiate so sincerely, one has no choice but to trail the Cry, throwing the Self open to the Illimitable Lightness of Being. And upon returning, from wherever One does go; there is only one course of action—to build the World one has seen, in urgency, in delight, and in total devotion; for other persons to enter, so that the Illuminations may birth Universes Anew.

 

Then to the End, beloved Magician of the Eternities: “The secret is to be sincere about whatever it is you take as your sadhana, no matter how insignificant or unimportant it may seem to you. God is not interested in big sadhus or saints; God is interested only in sincerity.”

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Waive Never Your Dreams!—In Violet,

Tara

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Si deditionem shoham perpetuorum domina purpureus pyramidum sidere detur vobis ipsi pauciores aureos, Or:

 

To Lay the Self open, in the Hour of the Wolf, or in the Onyx of Unending, or in the Charred Wilderness; the Lady of the Purple Star will bestow upon you the Pyramids, and they are no less than a Perfect Gold. For it is given unto You, fewer in number themselves.

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