The Gnostic Church of L.V.X.

The Root and the Flower

Paul Joseph Rovelli

Magick is the world where dreams attempt to place themselves into a functional model. Yes, they are alive and kicking -- that suble something inside us all that must surface. Such a yearning hits the internal ears of our heart, mind, and body. It gnaws at us day and night, in daydreams and vivid-dreams.

So many seeds are planted into our interpretation of perception. I was born a Roman Catholic and told to 'be a good boy'. The TV told me that I wanted this and that. I was young enough that all I knew was that 'I want, I want, I want'. As my body matured, my wants became more sophisticated. As my mind matured, those wants became more subtle. As my emotions matured, my desires became more intense.

Then, one day, the idea of Magickal power sweeps across the purview of possibility. I had studied eastern mysticism and the medthods of aboriginal peoples. But I was a westerner in my perception of life, and of European descent at that. Ancient Greek culture had a profound impact on me. I sought a system of attainment that was closer to what I felt as a contemporary urban American citizen.

But I'm still young and I want the things in my mundane life that a young man wants in his mundane life. Magick represents so much more than some sophisticated western Yoga. There are lotions and potions, spells and invocations that offer a promise to fill my mundane desires. Can I find a new girl-friend? Can I discover wealth? Can I make my world a material success?

Yes, I burned candles, invoked Venus, danced in a temple of stars on the sensual seas of my own delights. All that is carnal and provocative in me found an open faucet to come racing out. And still, success eluded me. Nothing seemed to work with the possible exception of that Yoga that quietly worked its way into my life. And I learned what a mess my mind, heart, and soul were truly in.

The setback in my development became a painful awareness that I've had to confront. The days, weeks, months, and even a few years raced by and I squeaked through to a little progress on this complicated veil I found placed over the eyes of my awareness. The darkness covered my soul and I became angry that so much had been written and so much money was made on all these false quick fixes to the symptoms of my own inner alienation.

And I meet others all the time who seek the same folly that I once had placed so much hope in. They ask me to read their Tarot cards and are so desperately worried about the inane. In some cases, I tell them to do what I myself found potent. I told them to seek a competent therapist. I mean, let's face it, the pure soul won't reveal itself until the dross has been seperated. "Is a God to live in a dog?" AL II.19

'So what!'; should it be your will to have women on both arms and jewels strewn all over your rainment. If you had it right now, you'd still be miserable and seeking even more. You wouldn't use it to find the ecstasy that the Goddess promises. You'd only find a new and even more miserable depth. To act and live as a King, you must first have the power and virtue of a King. And then you can pursue the oppulent vices that life affords.

This, I have told myself and I proceeded to work on the truly magickal. My inner landscape is a world of illusory dream images that I no longer hear should they decide to establish themselves as real. I now search them for clues. Hopefully, the hidden pins that hold up the veil will give themselves away and that which is beyond can be apprehended.

So the seeds have taken root. I want, I want, I want illumination. I want, I want, I want to sleep in the loving arms of the Goddess. I want, I want, I want to find that mystical flower that seems to dwell just beyond the veil and dangling as a carot before the eyes of my heart. And I pray to the gods, and I pray to the goddesses that they would show me how to enflame myself with prayer.

I'm on my way downstairs to the temple. Hidden deep within the hearth of my home. There I dwell and practice my yoga and search the night skies for a sign of hope from my heart of hearts. Sometimes I laugh at myself when I see the futility of it all. Other times, things in my view appear in the most profound way and I am somber and serious. With both, I have found the olive-branch for my effort. And I persist unceasingly -- that's the only way to success.