The Nephilim Rising

Lux in Tenebris Lucet

Posts tagged with Rebirth

The Fire Beaneath the Bones

July 27, 2026

Suffering
is not
a requirement
for life.

Nor is it
the price
of Spiritual evolution.

It is simply

one destination

along a road

few would choose,
yet many
will someday
walk.

The Plutonian Healer
does not seek
the Underworld.

She simply knows
what to do
once she arrives.

She descends.

Again.
And again.

Not because
she is broken.

Not because
Spirit delights
in suffering.

But because
there are medicines
that only grow
beneath the earth.

The world teaches us
to fear
the darkness.

The Plutonian
knows better.

She enters
the belly
of the Underworld
with empty hands
and returns
carrying fire.

She learns
that grief
isn’t punishment.

Rage
isn’t failure.

Loss
isn’t the end.

They are Crossroads.

Every death
asks a question.

Every ending
demands
another name.

The Plutonian Healer
does not emerge
without scars.

She emerges
speaking
the language
of those
still trapped
below.

She remembers
the pathways.

The hidden doors.

The monsters
that were never monsters —
only abandoned
pieces
of herself
waiting
to be loved
without illusion.

This is why
people find her
when life
falls apart.

She does not
flinch
at ruin.

She recognizes it.

She has built
Altars
from ash.

Gardens
from graves.

She has learned
that compost
and resurrection
have always shared
the same soil.

Do not mistake
her tenderness
for innocence.

She has dined
with Death.

Sat beside
Grief.

Held hands
with Madness.
Walked home
with Shadow.

And still,
she chose
Life.

Not the polished,
performative version.

The wild one.

The blood-soaked,
root-bound,
earth-scented
miracle
of becoming.

Because the Plutonian Healer
knows
what few Healers ever will.

The Underworld
was never
her prison.

It was
her apprenticeship.

Lux in Tenebris

Jaclyn Cherie

All Rights Reserved.

The Temple They Could Not Take

July 16, 2026

They called it necessary.

Clinical.
Routine.

As though language could bleach the blood
from memory.

As though white coats
were incapable of carrying empire
beneath pressed collars.

In 2008,
they cut the seat of my power
without my consent,
because somewhere,
buried beneath textbooks,
protocols,
and signatures,
a Woman
was, is, still considered
an acceptable experiment.

Laws made against my body.

Decisions made for me.

Hands that never learned
the difference
between healing
and permission.

By 2012,
my Womb was gone.

A room in my Temple
emptied by strangers
who would never have to haunt
its silence.

And afterward…

I ran.

Not because I was weak.

Because prey learns
the shape of pursuit
long before predators
learn mercy.

I ran from hospitals.

From fluorescent lights.

From waiting rooms
that smelled of antiseptic
and forgotten prayers.

I ran from every echo
that reminded me
what it feels like
to have your body translated
into paperwork.

But there comes a day
when the hunted
stops measuring the distance
behind her
and remembers
the fire ahead.

Listen closely.

They mistook my scars
for evidence of defeat.

How little they understood
the language of Witches.

These are not wounds.

They are sigils scorn into my skin.

My sacred scars.

Each one
an initiation.
Each one
a threshold crossed
without a map.

I no longer ask
why I was made
to walk through fire.

I ask instead:

What was forged there
that could not have been born
any other way?

They took some organs.

They did not take
my abilty to Create.

They mistook flesh
for power.

But power has never lived
inside a single chamber
of the body.

It lives
in the voice
that returns.

In the Soul
that refuses
to become
what violence imagined.

It lives
in every Woman
who gathers herself
from the places
she was told
she would never bloom again.

Do not pity me.
Stand beside me.
See these scars
for what they have become.

Not disfigurement.

Consecration.

Not absence.

Alchemy.

Not the ending
of a story
but the crossing
of a threshold.

I am no less Sacred
because my Temple
was altered.

If anything,
I know now
that sanctity
has never depended
upon untouched stone.

It depends
upon the flame
that still burns
inside the Sanctuary.

And mine,

Mine has learned
to consume
every name
they ever tried
to give me.

I am no one’s experiment.

I am the Woman
who survived
the hands
that mistook themselves
for gods.

I am the scar
that became scripture.

The threshold
that became a road.

The fire
that remembered
its own name

and burned it
into eternity
until even the stars
learned how to pronounce it.

LESSONS IN MAGICK: The Kali Principle

June 27, 2018

Kali

Image Source: Rajesh Kumar Singh/AP

“Time, for example, is intimately connected with the goddess Kali, which partly accounts for her destructive nature. Energy – in Einstein’s equation, E=MC2 – is personified in India as Shakti in her various guises.”

Roger Housden

It has been nearly 6 years since Shiva and his dance of destruction entered my life leaving the scattered remains of what was in His wake.

One strange, madness filled summer evening I heard his call and felt his presence; it was undeniable and intoxicating. He appeared at a time when I only related to or saw myself in Masculine or Daemonic deities/energies/archetypes.

For some reason, how I viewed myself (rage filled, rebellious and dark) was synonymous with Masculine (Yang) energy.

Eastern Philosophy has always, always been my main source of study (Yes. I mean all of it; I devour as much as I can.)

Throughout my studying Hinduism, oddly more so than Buddhism (which would seem more in line with the LHP) has become a passion of mine, and a Pantheon (and culture) that have become cornerstones of my personal Philosophy and practice as a Witch.

Lord Ganesha, Shiva’s elephant headed son and the remover of obstacles had been present and active in my life a few years beforehand and even still today; in hindsight He was preparing the path for Shiva.

Shiva was preparing the path for Kali.

Though, she needs no help in that department.

Asteroid

 

I had known Feminine energy because of Hekate and Lilith, but again, when I thought of myself, my rage, my aggression, my fiery passion, and quick temper, it all seemed to be the antithesis of what it meant to be Feminine.

At the time I didn’t see myself as being a balanced, or even fluid individual; I was all rage.

My most natural emotion.

For clarity sake, I am not referring to gender identity. I have always identified as a Woman, but the images society portrayed were nothing like myself; I know many, many Women (and people) can relate to this.

I was one of those “too much” Women.

Which is crazy to think about because I struggled for a long time to take up space, until one day I realized I take up space in this world without trying.

And, so many of my Sisters do too, and they don’t even realize it.

They are all too much Women, as well.

They, like myself, have been told to water themselves down, be less opinionated, be less emotional; don’t be too loud, don’t be too independent, don’t enjoy sex too much.

Don’t be too much.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

It echoes in our heads and hearts.

So, we shrink ourselves.

Our bodies.

Our voices.

Our thoughts.

Our dreams.

We don’t want to be the girl who is too much.

That’s where Kali comes in.

She is the embodiment of the too much Woman.

She is destruction embodied (think of Her as the Tower Card).

She is time.

She is death.

She is justified rage.

She is the void known as the Cosmic Womb.

Womb

The world is in a dark time, I mean there really hasn’t been a time in modern history (or history at all) where it wasn’t dark, but in an age of information and technology the darkness, turmoil, chaos, and divisive tactics surround us.

They are delivered to us through the device you’re holding in your hand right now.

Because of the ability to receive information so quickly we can see in real time what is going on around the world, and close to home; this is a rude awakening for a lot of people who otherwise are blind to the suffering of others.

I see more and more people diverting their path away from religion and back to more earth-based beliefs and practices.

There is a rise in natural, more holistic approaches to health. People in large numbers are going vegetarian and being mindful of their eating habits and the impact they have on the planet. Cities across the world are voting to do away with single use plastic in order to save our planet and oceans.

All of this is happening because Kali’s energy has spread, almost like a virus, throughout the world and the collective at large.

She is doing what she does best: destroying illusions, and deconstructing reality.

People like to romanticize Kali like they do Lilith, but there is nothing romantic about Kali.

She will quite literally, destroy you.

And your life.

Then demand that you rebuild it.

No time for tears.

She teaches discipline and grants us permission to be nothing but authentic.

And, live nothing but authentic lives.

Through Kali I have learned to accept and embrace my rage, as I know now it serves a purpose and has its place.

She taught me that my creativity is my weapon, and I am to use it excessively.

She allowed me to break down the illusions I had built up around me and see the world for what it really is; not through the rose-colored glasses I unknowingly wore.

She taught me that ego is not to be feared but to be accepted and incorporated into our whole.

We are living in a time where the Dark Goddesses rule, and they are teaching us that darkness is energy to be honed and used like all other.

They are teaching us that where we see fault in ourselves lies power.

They are reminding us that darkness is where we come from, and where we shall return.

They are demanding that we re-wild, resist, and rebel.

For this I am grateful.

Jai Maa!

To read about Kali:

Click here

Dark Night of the Soul: The Story of How I Died

October 31, 2015

Luciia Motto

Image: Luciia Motta

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day. Nothing stimulates our appetite for the simple joys of life more than the starvation caused by sadness or desperation. In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.”

Anthon St. Maarten

I am going to bare my soul in ways that I have not done in quite some time and also speak on a topic that not many Seekers talk about. I am not sure if there is a stigma attached, or if it is fear based but I know it is avoided in discussion; I refer to the Dark Night of the soul.

The name alone conjures imagery in the mind that cannot summarize the pain, agony and torture one must go through.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term it first came to popularity after a 16th century poem was written by a Spanish Roman Catholic mystic named Saint John of the Cross. First being primarily used among the Church, the term began to gain popularity in Esoteric circles around the 17th and 18th centuries, and became even more popular at the peak of Jung’s career, and his idea of duality and that darkness can be made conscious, if it is not already.

The main idea is that Seekers, when being prepared to raise their level of consciousness must be stripped away of everything we hold dear, we must shed our skin— we must die.

Some Seekers will experience many Dark Night’s, others will experience one horrendous Night that will lead to ascension after being drudged through the pits of the Void in their Soul.

I guess one could compare it to depression, although if you have ever experienced a Dark Night, I mean REALLY experienced it, you know that it makes depression look like a walk in the park, picking daisies.

This most recent Full Moon was in Taurus, the Bull, which happens to be my Moon. As most of you know I do not handle Full Moon’s well, this one happened to be close to Samhain *AND* in my sign; I knew it was going to be a rough ride, or I thought I did, then I allowed confidence, and perhaps cockiness to blind me from the plummet into darkness that was on the horizon. This same confidence also blinded me from realizing that there was true absence of light, lack of joy, and happiness in my life for months if not years, which is what the Dark Night is.

Again, I am not talking depression here, or any of my usual descents into the abyss; I am talking actual primordial darkness, and death. I died that night, I’m sure of it, and a piece of me is still lost somewhere in the abyss.

Days leading up to the moon were not overly emotional or distressed like usual which is where the cockiness was coming from, I should have known better, I have been doing this too long not to know the poisons of ego.

The rage, however, was very, very present.

Moloch began entering my dreams, poetic I thought since it was a Taurus moon. He told me that I would need to “embrace my true nature, and show no mercy”. He is a strong force, and one that I have to be prepared for because it leaves a residual energy on my Soul, and aura if I am not properly anchored, and shielded; I was neither of those when he started making his visits.

To be honest I have not been anchored in some time, shielded, yes, anchored, no. The main rule of dealing with my power (for lack of a better term) is that I must remain anchored to a human, not a hybrid, not a celestial, but a human. If I do not have a human who can ground me to this place (charge, student, friend, lover, family member) then I have to actively, every day, anchor myself to the Earth, or I will lose myself and my Beast will take over. I will become a monster that none of us want to meet.

The last few weeks have been my monster and I battling. I was lost in spurts of creative energy, and was back on my routine, and thought I was making really good progress but I could feel the darkness looming, I could feel it peering from every direction. I was being hunted and I could feel it, something a predator like myself is not used to. Even talking about it now brings an uncomfortable tightness in my chest, and my heart begins to race.

Sunday morning, I woke up with this thick darkness all around me, it was on both the physical and ethereal part of my being, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from taking over my mind.

I fought it, I fought it until Monday night when I could no longer keep in the emotions, and so I let one tear drop from my eye, and then it was a sudden release and purge from the depths within. The thoughts were some of the most intense visions, and ideations I have ever had. The tears were heavy, and hot, my body was jerking and shaking from the release of the pent up pain.

I was put in many trances during my dance with darkness, I had locked myself in my bedroom for my own safety, but also the safety of others. I was not suicidal or homicidal, just didn’t want to scare anyone. It seemed the more I cried, the clearer my vision became, and the more intense the trances were.

The most vivid trance was myself being guided down a “hallway” and all around me were swirls of a gray matter, I could hear screams of torture, and I mean skin shuddering, gut wrenching, screams of death, and they were deafening.

Surrounding me, guiding my way, were 3 cloaked beings; one wearing red, one wearing yellow, and one wearing black. There were symbols on their cloaks that were Masonic in origin, and that is all I will say. When I was caught looking at the symbols the yellow robed “man” would turn and his scaly skinned face, and piercing green eyes would “tell me” to keep my head down.

I don’t follow orders well, nor do I bow and I don’t like being taken places against my will but my curiosity trumped my rebellious nature, and I did what I was told.

I was brought into a room, it was a rounded room (not the typical 4 square walls) with gold glyphs shimmering all around. In the center was a clay formation that looked like a pedestal, and before it was a purple silk pillow, they told me to go before the book and kneel. As I did so the three of them surrounded me, and in some language that can only be described as Aramaic, they cloaked me in a blue colored, triangular shaped energy shield.

The one in yellow demanded I not leave this place until I learned what I needed to know.

As I opened the pages of this book there were no words, but a looking glass. I was able to put my hand inside the swirling waters and pull out images, situations, events in history and watch them unfold. I was reveling in this idea of being able to see pieces of history live in action. Then I started to see my own deaths, and the deaths of my family. I saw despair, pain, and desperation on the worldwide scale, too.

I was being shown my fears, but also the collective’s fears, and current woes.

Each time I would see my death, the death of a loved one, or the death of an innocent, it would take a piece of me, and bring me closer to death myself. It got to the point where I could feel death standing behind me. At one point I wanted to die, I wanted to take away that pain, and as the yellow cloaked “man” handed me a blade and told me to end it all, I stood up in defiance, and said I would “go out on my terms, but not by my own hand”.

After what I believed to be hours being trapped inside this energy force field, a smoke started to surround me, incense or herbs being burned. It induced an erotic state, but one that made me an open portal, so open that I could not control a single thing. I was speaking languages I clearly do not know in real life, and everything I said was being recorded on a clay tablet.

As I started to slip from the trance and come back to my physical state of being, I immediately knew that I was not who I was when I left. I also knew that a piece of me was, and still is, lost. Perhaps it was a necessary loss but the void I am feeling is making me numb to the outside world, only wanting contact with one chosen person.

I know that change and transformation are the name of the game these days, but I am terrified. I am a creature of habit, and when my hand is forced, I will become more rebellious. It seems the other side is growing increasingly intolerant of my rebellion.

The signs are so overwhelming, and so intense that my friends and family are beginning to be dragged into the game, and I know without a doubt that I am being stripped of everything, literally this time, so that I may be born anew. I have even received strange, cryptic messages via email and fb, even phone calls from sequenced numbers to my landline (home phone).

I have walked the edge for too long, and now it is time to jump, there is no logic, there is no rhyme or reason, there is nothing but instinct, and a knowing that I will fly before I will allow myself to fall. I feel like I am on the brink of greatness, but also stuck in the Twilight Zone.

The best thing to come out of this is that now I know what it is to die, and what I have to lose, so now I know how much I need to live; the Dark Night is a perfect teacher for such lessons.

The original poem:

http://poemsintranslation.blogspot.com/2009/09/saint-john-of-cross-dark-night-of-soul.html

To read more about the Dark Night of the Soul:

http://www.themystic.org/dark-night/

Coping tips:

http://in5d.com/getting-through-the-dark-night-of-the-soul/