Category: Lineages of the Craft

She rides a beast with seven heads across a crimson sea. She holds a golden cup – and the cup is full. She is drunk on the blood of saints and the wine of fornication, robed in purple and scarlet, adorned with gold and precious stones, and on her forehead is written a name: Mystery. Babylon the Great. The Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth. The Book of Revelation meant her as a horror. A warning. The ultimate symbol of spiritual corruption, worldly excess, and the empire that devoured the faithful. It did not work out quite as intended. Because the magicians got hold of her. The visionaries. The rebels and the heretics and the poets who understood that the things the church called most abominable were often the things it feared most . And that’s what power fears, power is telling you something important about it. Aleister Crowley looked at the Whore of Babylon and saw a goddess. Kenneth Grant built an entire cosmology around her. Marjorie Cameron painted her as a red-winged queen striding through fire. Jack Parsons, rocket scientist, occultist, and one of the strangest figures of the twentieth century, called her down into the California desert and believed, at least for a time, that she had arrived. Babalon is not a reclaimed demon. She is something stranger and more interesting than that. A figure born directly from the language of condemnation, who absorbed that condemnation and became something that transcends it entirely. She is the goddess who was built from a slur and became a crown. She is not for everyone. She is barely for anyone. But for those she calls, she calls with unmistakable force. Who is Babalon? Babalon, the spelling used in Thelemic tradition to distinguish her from the Biblical Babylon, is simultaneously one of the oldest and one of the newest figures in the Western magical tradition. She is ancient in her roots and modern in her articulation, and understanding both is essential to understanding her. The Biblical Whore of Babylon is her raw material. In the Book of Revelation, chapters 17 and 18, she appears as the great harlot seated upon many waters, with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication. She is dressed in luxury, drunk on the blood of martyrs, and her destruction, at the hands of the beast she rides,is presented as a divine victory over corruption. Rome is the obvious political subtext. Spiritual decadence is the theological one. For the early Christian church, Babylon was everything that was wrong with the world. The Gnostic thread runs through her. The idea that the material world and its pleasures are not the enemy of the divine – that matter itself is sacred, that the body is not a cage but a temple – has been suppressed and persecuted throughout the history of Western religion but never extinguished. Babalon belongs to this thread. She is the goddess who does not apologise for being embodied. The Thelemic Babalon is the formal articulation, and it begins with Aleister Crowley and the reception of The Book of the Law in Cairo in April 1904. The text Crowley believed was dictated to him by a praeterhuman intelligence called Aiwass, which founded the religious and magical system he called Thelema. In the Thelemic cosmology, Babalon is not the enemy of divinity but one of its central expressions: the Great Mother, the goddess of understanding, the force of universal love so absolute that it destroys the ego entirely in its embrace. She is paired with Hadit, the infinitely contracted point of pure consciousness,… …

A respectful note before we begin: Oyá is not a figure from dead mythology. She is an Orisha, a living, active divine presence in the Yoruba religion and its diaspora traditions of Candomblé, Santería, Trinidad Orisha, Umbanda, and Vodou. Traditions that have millions of active devotees worldwide. She has priests and priestesses, sacred initiations, and communities of practitioners who have honored her continuously for centuries. This post approaches her with the respect that living tradition deserves. If you feel genuinely called to Oyá, seek out initiated practitioners and teachers within these traditions. What follows is an introduction. Not a substitute for that deeper engagement. Before the storm breaks, there is a change in the air. Something electric. Something that sweeps through and tells every living thing, bird, tree, blade of grass, that what is coming cannot be stopped and should not be. That is Oyá. She is the wind before the lightning finds the earth. She is the wall of air that precedes the hurricane, the dust devil spinning in a dry field, the cold front that arrives in the night and leaves the world unrecognisable by morning. She is the force that clears the old away so entirely that new things have no choice but to grow. She is the oriṣa of winds, lightning, and storms, and she is the only oriṣa capable of controlling the Eégún. The spirits of the dead. That combination, storm and death, wind and the ancestors, is not coincidental. Both are forces of total transformation. Both sweep away what was and leave behind a changed world. Both move through you whether you are ready or not. In Yorùbá, the name Oyá is believed to derive from the phrase ọ ya, “she tore”, referring to her association with powerful winds. She does not nudge. She does not suggest. She tears. And when she has torn through, the ground is clear, the air is clean, and everything that survives is stronger for having stood in her path. Oyá Is Not a Goddess of Mythology Before going further, this distinction matters deeply. The Yoruba religion emerged among the Yoruba people of what is now Nigeria, Benin, and Togo. The orishas are divine spirits that play a key role in the Yoruba religion of West Africa and several religions of the African diaspora that derive from it, such as Haitian Vodou, Cuban Santería, and Brazilian Candomblé. Oyá is not an ancient deity whose worship has faded into legend. She is actively honoured today by millions of people. She has a priesthood. She has initiates who have dedicated their lives to her service. Through the horrors of the Atlantic Slave Trade, enslaved peoples brought the orisha to the Americas. Her survival is an act of profound cultural resistance. A sacred tradition kept alive through generations of suppression, forced conversion, and colonization. To approach Oyá with genuine respect means acknowledging this history. It means understanding that the Yoruba traditions and their diaspora cousins are living religions, not open-source spiritual material, and that deeper engagement properly involves learning from those within these traditions. Babalawos, initiated priests and priestesses, and the communities that carry this knowledge. With that foundation, let us meet her. Who is Oyá? Oyá lived on Earth as a human from the town of Ira, in present-day Kwara State, Nigeria, where she was a wife of the Alaafin of Oyo, Shango. In Yoruba understanding, the most powerful orishas were once human. Beings of such extraordinary force and virtue that at death they did not simply leave the world but became part of its governing spiritual fabric. Her name is… …

The mountains of Glencoe are not quiet. Even on a still day, when the sky sits low and grey above the valley floor and the River Coe moves in silence, there is something restless in the air. Locals will tell you it is the land remembering. And the land, in Glencoe, has much to remember. Two stories haunt this valley above all others. One a historical atrocity etched into the Scottish national conscience, the other a legend woven from folklore, fire, and the untameable spirit of a young woman who chose the mountains over the world of men. Together, they paint a portrait of a place where history and myth are almost impossible to separate. The Massacre of Glencoe ~ February 13, 1692 The Background: Oaths and Politics To understand the massacre, you must first understand the fractured politics of late seventeenth-century Scotland. When William III, William of Orange, took the British throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, the Highland clans were required to swear an oath of allegiance to him by January 1, 1692. Failure to do so would bring consequences. Most clan chiefs complied. But Alasdair MacIain, the elderly chief of the MacDonalds of Glencoe, delayed. He had first gone to Fort William to swear his oath, only to be told he must travel to Inveraray instead. Beset by winter weather and administrative obstruction, he arrived several days past the deadline. The oath was taken, the paperwork submitted, but the late arrival had handed his enemies exactly the lever they needed. Those enemies were not hard to find. At the centre of the web sat John Dalrymple, the Master of Stair, Secretary of State for Scotland. Dalrymple despised the Highland clans, viewing them as a barbaric obstacle to civilised governance. MacIain’s late oath was precisely the excuse he needed to make an example of the MacDonalds of Glencoe, a small clan, isolated, with few powerful allies. The paperwork recording the oath was quietly suppressed. The Betrayal On the first of February 1692, a company of soldiers, approximately 120 men of the Earl of Argyll’s Regiment, arrived in Glencoe under the command of Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon. The MacDonalds, following the ancient Highland tradition of hospitality, took them in. For twelve days, soldiers and clanspeople lived side by side. They shared food, warmth, and drink. Campbell himself was a regular guest at MacIain’s table. The orders came down on the night of February 12th. They were chillingly explicit. Every MacDonald under the age of seventy was to be killed. The operation was to begin at five o’clock in the morning, before daylight could allow anyone to escape into the hills. What followed, in the pre-dawn darkness of February 13th, was not a battle. It was a murder. MacIain himself was shot in the back while dressing. His wife was stripped of her rings, the gold pulled from her fingers with soldiers’ teeth. Around thirty-eight men, women, and children were killed in the valley. Many more fled into a savage winter blizzard, and an unknown number perished in the mountains from cold and exposure. The Aftermath and the Phrase That Endures The massacre did not destroy the MacDonalds of Glencoe entirely, many escaped into the hills, but its impact on the Scottish psyche was seismic. What outraged the nation was not merely the killing, but the method. Murder under trust. The soldiers had eaten their victims’ food, slept beneath their roofs, accepted their hospitality, and then turned on them in the dark. The phrase “No MacGregor or Campbell shall sleep under my roof, share my table, or drink… …

Before I begin this post, I want to mention that the image depicted here is an AI-generated representation of Mary Oneida Toups. I was unable to find a clear, freely available photograph of her. Mary was a mid-20th-century occultist known as the “Witch Queen of New Orleans,” but very few public photos exist online. Most available images are of paintings or portraits held in private collections. A painted portrait of her from the 1960s–70s, described as showing an elegant woman with dramatic brows and dark hair, survives in a private collection, but no clean photographic portraits are publicly available for reuse. I also struggled with how to categorize this post. After much consideration, I’ve placed it under “mythology”. Not because Mary wasn’t real, but because of what the word actually means. Mythology, at its core, refers to a collection of stories, beliefs, and narratives that shape how we understand a person, place, or concept. What we truly know about Mary Oneida Toups is limited to what was made public, the documented facts, the legal records, the published book. Everything else exists in the realm of story, speculation, and legend. In that sense, Mary has become mythological: a figure whose truth is inseparable from the tales told about her. Mary arrived in New Orleans with nothing but ambition and a vision. Within four years, she had chartered the first legally recognized Church of Witchcraft in Louisiana. Within seven, she’d published a book praised by Aleister Crowley’s former secretary. And then, at 53, she died under circumstances that remain disputed to this day – leaving behind no obituary, no known grave, and a legacy so shrouded in mystery that even her successors aren’t sure where fact ends and legend begins. This is the story of Mary Oneida Toups, the Witch Queen of New Orleans. And like any good witch’s tale, separating truth from myth requires some serious detective work. The Documented Facts ~ What We Actually Know Let’s start with what’s verifiable – the paper trail, the public record, the things we can prove beyond the storytelling and speculation. Born: April 25, 1928, in Meridian, Mississippi, to Arthur Hodgin and Mary Ellen Killing. Born Oneida Hodgin, she was the youngest of four children. Life Before New Orleans: Here’s where the record gets sparse but suggestive. At some point before the mid-1960s, Mary (then Oneida Hodgin) had a son named Charlie. She later met and lived with a Navy man named David Berry in New Orleans for a few years, according to a former sister-in-law interviewed by researcher Alison Fensterstock. The couple went their separate ways in the mid-1960s. So Mary wasn’t a stranger to New Orleans, she’d lived there before, as a housewife and mother, in what appears to have been a conventional life. Then she left. What happened during those years between leaving David Berry and returning in 1968 as Mary Oneida Toups? That’s one of the many mysteries. Arrived in New Orleans (permanently): 1968, at age 39-40. She came with her husband Albert “Boots” Toups, a Cajun from the Lower Ninth Ward who was a high-ranking Freemason. The couple briefly ran a bar together on Decatur Street (at 1141 Decatur, now home to Café Angeli). Opened her first occult shop: September 1, 1970. The Witch’s Workshop at 521 St. Philip Street in the French Quarter. She sold oils, floor washes, spell kits, powders, candles, and yes, dried bats’ hearts. (She insisted on selling whole bats so customers could verify authenticity, explaining that people might substitute chicken hearts otherwise.) Chartered the Religious Order of Witchcraft: February 2, 1972 (Candlemas/Imbolc), with the… …

The Woman Who Armed Hundreds with Poison Her name has echoed through history for nearly four centuries, whispered in the shadows of academia, sensationalized in true crime accounts, and recently reclaimed as a symbol of resistance. Giulia Tofana, the alleged creator of the deadly poison Aqua Tofana, is credited with enabling the deaths of over 600 men in 17th-century Italy. But was she a serial killer, a witch, an entrepreneur of death. Or something more complex? The truth, as with most historical figures shrouded in legend, is far more nuanced than any single label can capture. The Historical Record: Separating Fact from Legend Here’s what makes Giulia Tofana’s story so challenging – much of what we “know” about her is likely fiction. Modern scholarship, particularly the work of historian Craig A. Monson in his 2020 book “The Black Widows of the Eternal City,” reveals that the romantic legend of Giulia Tofana is largely an invention of 19th-century historians who conflated multiple women into one sensational figure. What We Can Verify The most reliable research indicates that a woman named Giulia Mangiardi lived in Rome in the 1620s-1650s, and the surname “Tofana” may have been a later addition. According to Monson’s archival research, Giulia was from Corleone (not Palermo), married twice, and moved to Rome in 1624. She appears to have died peacefully in her sleep in 1651, with no contemporary records connecting her to poisoning activities. The actual prosecution for the poison ring happened in 1659, eight years after this Giulia’s death. The woman at the center of that case was Girolama Spara, possibly Giulia’s stepdaughter, who along with several other women was arrested, tortured, and executed for manufacturing and selling poison. The Legend That Grew Over the following centuries, various accounts merged different women, different time periods, and sensationalized details into the figure we know as Giulia Tofana. Some versions place her in Palermo in the 1630s, others in Naples as late as 1730. The number 600, the alleged death toll, comes from confessions extracted under torture, a notoriously unreliable source of information. Yet despite these historical uncertainties, the legend persists because it speaks to something real. The desperation of women trapped in a brutal patriarchal system, and the underground networks they created to survive. The World She Lived In To understand Giulia Tofana, whether as historical figure or cultural symbol, we must understand 17th-century Italy. Women as Property In the 1600s, Italian women existed in legal and social limbo. Young girls were the property of their fathers, who arranged marriages based on political alliances and financial gain with no consideration for the bride’s wishes. Once married, a woman became her husband’s property, with no legal rights to her own body, possessions, or children. Divorce was the privilege of wealthy men alone. A woman couldn’t leave an abusive marriage, no matter how severe the violence. The Church preached submission and suffering as a wife’s sacred duty. If a husband beat, raped, or financially ruined his wife, she had no legal recourse. Widowhood, paradoxically, was often the only path to any measure of female autonomy. Widows could own property, conduct business, and make decisions about their own lives. For women in truly desperate situations, their husband’s death might be the only escape. The Poison Context Poison wasn’t unusual in Renaissance Italy. The Borgia family had made it infamous a century earlier, and arsenic was a common ingredient in cosmetics of the era, used in face creams and beauty preparations. This made arsenical poisons particularly easy to disguise. Women learned herbalism and medicine out of necessity. They were the primary healthcare… …

The image depicted here is an AI-generated representation of Marie Laveau. Very few verified photographs of her exist, in fact, none that we can confirm. Several 19th-century paintings of unidentified Creole women wearing tignons have been labeled as portraits of Laveau, but by the 1940s, any portrait of an unidentified woman of color in a head wrap was simply assumed to be her. The real Marie Laveau was never photographed, and likely never sat for a formal portrait. I also wrestled with how to categorize this post and ultimately placed it under “mythology.” Mythology doesn’t mean “untrue”, it refers to a body of stories and narratives that shape our understanding of a subject. What we genuinely know about Marie Laveau is limited to what appears in official records: birth certificates, marriage documents, census records, newspaper accounts. The rest – her magical abilities, her network of power, her spiritual practices – exists as story, speculation, oral history, and legend. Marie has become mythological in the truest sense: a figure whose reality is woven inextricably with mystery. She is called the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Her tomb is one of the most visited graves in America. People still mark three X’s on cemetery walls, begging for her intercession from beyond the grave. Songs have been written about her. She appears in novels, TV shows, horror films, and tourist ghost tours. She is worshiped and feared, romanticized and demonized, studied and sensationalized. But who was Marie Laveau, really? The answer is far more complicated, and far more interesting, than the legend suggests. The Documented Facts ~ What We Actually Know Let’s begin with what can be verified through official records – the paper trail that survives two centuries of storytelling. Born: September 10, 1801, in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana. At the time of her birth, Louisiana was still under Spanish colonial administration, though France had recently reclaimed it by treaty. Parents: Her mother was Marguerite D’Arcantel (sometimes spelled Darcantel), a free woman of color of African, European, and Native American ancestry. Her father’s identity is less certain – likely either Charles Laveau (a white Creole) or Charles Laveaux (a free man of color). The confusion stems from inconsistent spelling in surviving records and the fact that Marguerite was unmarried at the time of Marie’s birth. Family Background: Marie was the first of her maternal line to be born free. Her great-grandmother Marguerite was enslaved, likely transported from Senegal to Louisiana aboard the last French slave-trading vessel, the St. Ursin, in 1743. Her grandmother Catherine endured three owners before finally purchasing her freedom in 1795, taking the name Catherine Henry. Catherine’s daughter, Marguerite Henry (Marie’s mother), was manumitted in 1790 by Henry Roche-Belaire. First Marriage: On August 4, 1819, at age 18, Marie married Jacques Paris, a free man of color from Saint-Domingue (Haiti), who had emigrated to New Orleans following the Haitian Revolution. Their marriage certificate, preserved in St. Louis Cathedral, includes the names of both her parents. The marriage was officiated by Père Antoine (Antonio de Sedella), the beloved Spanish Capuchin friar who would remain connected to Marie throughout her life. Children with Jacques Paris: Two daughters, Félicité (born 1817, before the marriage) and Angèle (born 1822). Both are presumed to have died in childhood, as they disappear from historical records. Jacques Paris Disappears: Between 1822 and 1824, Jacques Paris vanishes from city records. He is believed to have died in Baton Rouge in 1823, though there’s no death certificate. On Félicité’s 1824 baptismal certificate, Marie is referred to as “the Widow Paris” – a designation she would… …

Her name evokes images of dark magic, seduction, and betrayal. Morgan le Fay, or Morgana, Morgaine, Morgen, stands as one of the most complex and misunderstood figures in Arthurian legend. Today she’s often portrayed as a villain, depicted as a witch or enchantress, the antagonist to King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But this wasn’t always her story. The truth is far more fascinating. Morgan le Fay began her literary life as a powerful healer, a divine feminine figure, and Arthur’s protector, only to be systematically demonized by medieval male writers who couldn’t reconcile themselves to a woman wielding such extraordinary power. This is the story of how a goddess became a witch, and what was done to one of the most powerful women in Western mythology. The Ancient Roots ~ Goddess, Fairy, and Divine Healer Morgan le Fay’s origins trace back to Celtic mythology and legend, first appearing in writing in the twelfth century but likely based on much older figures from Celtic folklore and mythology. Her name itself offers clues to her divine origins. “Morgan” may derive from the Welsh “Morcant” (meaning sea-born or sea-circle) or connect to “Mor-rigan” (great queen), linking her to the Irish goddess Morrigan. A powerful deity associated with sovereignty, prophecy, war, and fate. She has also been linked with the supernatural mother Modron, derived from the continental mother goddess figure Dea Matrona and featured in medieval Welsh literature. In Welsh mythology, Modron was the divine mother, wife of the historical King Urien, and mother of the hero Owain. The parallels are striking – Morgan le Fay would later be assigned these exact same relationships in Arthurian literature. Both figures are connected to Avalon (or “Afallach,” meaning “place of apples”), the mystical otherworld island where healing, magic, and immortality reign. The connection to water runs deep through Morgan’s mythology. Her name’s possible meaning of “sea-born” links her to ancient water deities, and throughout the legends she maintains associations with mists, islands, and liminal spaces between worlds. Places where the veil between the mortal and divine grows thin. The First Appearance ~ Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Benevolent Healer Morgan le Fay’s narrative began to crystallize in 1150 when it first appeared in writing in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Vita Merlini. This earliest written version gives us a Morgan radically different from the villainous enchantress of later tales. In Geoffrey’s telling, Morgan (called “Morgen”) is the chief of nine magical sisters who rule the mystical Isle of Avalon, also called the “Isle of Apples” or “The Fortunate Isle.” Geoffrey identifies Morgan as the magical mistress of the Island of Apples, a learned mathematician, and a skilled healer capable of restoring health to King Arthur after he was mortally wounded. Geoffrey describes her extraordinary abilities and knowledge: ~ Mastery of healing arts and herbal medicine~ Knowledge of mathematics and astronomy~ The ability to shape-shift and fly~ Beauty that surpassed all her sisters~ Wisdom and magical power Crucially, Geoffrey specifies that Morgen is beautiful, even saying that she “excels her sisters in the beauty of her person.” In medieval literature, physical beauty signified goodness and divine favor, while ugliness indicated evil or demonic contact. Morgan’s exceptional beauty in this earliest text marks her unequivocally as a benevolent force. In the Vita Merlini, when Arthur is mortally wounded at the Battle of Camlann, his companions bring him to Avalon where Morgan receives him. There is no treachery, no malice, only a powerful healer using her extraordinary abilities to save England’s greatest king. She is Arthur’s savior, not his enemy. This original Morgan embodies the divine feminine, a wise… …

In the liminal spaces where shadows dance and mysteries unfold, stands one of the most powerful and revered figures in witchcraft and ancient religion: Hecate (pronounced HEK-ah-tay or HEK-ah-tee). Known as the Goddess of Magic, the Guardian of Thresholds, and the Torchbearer of the Mysteries, Hecate has guided seekers, witches, and mystics for over two millennia. Origins and Ancient History Hecate’s origins trace back to ancient Anatolia (modern-day Turkey), where she was first worshipped as early as the 7th century BCE. From there, her cult spread throughout the Greek world, where she became deeply integrated into Hellenic religion and mythology. Unlike many deities who were later additions to pantheons, Hecate held a position of remarkable authority from her earliest appearances in Greek literature. The poet Hesiod, writing in the 8th century BCE, describes Hecate as having received unique honors from Zeus himself. In his Theogony, she is portrayed as a powerful titaness who retained her authority even after the Olympian gods rose to power. A testament to her ancient and formidable nature. The Triple Goddess: Her Many Faces Hecate is often depicted as a triple goddess, appearing in three forms that represent her dominion over different realms: Hecate Epipyrgidia ~ The Heavenly Hecate, associated with the moon, stars, and cosmic mysteriesHecate Kleidouchos ~ The Earthly Hecate, keeper of keys and guardian of thresholds Hecate Phosphoros ~ The Torchbearer, guide through the underworld and dark places This triple nature reflects her role as a goddess who can traverse and command all three realms: heaven, earth, and the underworld. She is one of the few deities granted such universal access and authority. Domains of Power Magic and Witchcraft Hecate is perhaps most famous as the goddess of magic itself. Ancient texts describe her as the teacher of pharmakeia (the art of herbs and potions), necromancy, and the magical arts. She was said to wander the earth at night with a pack of red-eyed hounds, teaching magic to those who sought her wisdom. Crossroads and Liminal Spaces Three-way crossroads were considered sacred to Hecate, as these intersections represent choice, transformation, and the meeting of different paths. She governs all threshold spaces – doorways, bridges, cemeteries, and the boundaries between worlds. Night, Moon, and Darkness As a goddess of the night, Hecate rules over the dark hours when the veil between worlds grows thin. She is associated with the dark moon phase, when her power is said to be strongest and most accessible to practitioners. Death and the Underworld Hecate serves as a psychopomp, guiding souls between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. She holds the keys to the mysteries of death and rebirth, making her a powerful ally for shadow work and transformation. Protection and Boundaries Ancient Greeks placed Hekataia (small shrines to Hecate) at the entrances to cities and homes, believing she would protect against malevolent spirits and negative influences. Sacred Stories and Myths The Abduction of Persephone One of Hecate’s most significant mythological appearances is in the story of Persephone’s abduction. When Hades seized Persephone and carried her to the underworld, only Hecate heard her cries. Armed with torches, Hecate helped Demeter search for her missing daughter. This myth establishes Hecate as a guide through dark times and a loyal ally to those in distress. The Titan Wars Unlike other Titans who were overthrown by the Olympian gods, Hecate maintained her power and position. Zeus honored her above all others, granting her dominion over earth, sea, and sky. A unique privilege that speaks to her immense power and importance. Teacher of Medea In later myths, Hecate… …