by Uriel Gray
I know, I know, we’re just not used to offering hymns to deities (or planetary energies) even if it will help us big time.
So rather think of this as asking your kind big brother for a hand.
Or think of this as awakening the archetype Transformation within yourself. Knock out that Christian crap about kowtowing, or bowing down.
Instead as you read, just let the quiet little voice inside of you say YES.
Pull a breath deep into your lungs
Feel bursting almost to uncomfortable fullness
Savour that and breathe out
I offer my dark shit to Pluto
To you, Dark God, are the alchemical things of utter darkness, valueless rotted wood for coal, and the other deeps offered
So that you might apply pressure, and of themselves
They become gold and gems unimaginable.
Under Pluto dinosaurs become oil
Oil becomes fortunes
Fortunes rule the World, will she or nil she.
I want to claim the fortune inherent in my pain
In my shame
I want to give up longing for, and replace it with orgasmic enjoyment of everything
So initiate me into your cult of having
Take me right down.
I submit myself to the places in my life where this pressure has already become unimaginable
You are stationed Retrograde, Pluto
And poised to go
You are pulling us in
The world will not change overtly but within us
A thousand births of wriggling needy howling angels writhe.
To you, Pluto, I surrender the trauma I have already undergone
My legions of fear
Those shitty abuse-moments I was too hurt , too unknowing to step away from
I welcome now, so I may finally let go.
Yes, I was too welcoming of these dark things on some secret yet beautiful level of my being.
To cure this welcoming, which led to my trauma, I welcome even my dastardly longing.
I welcome my pain.
I revel in that forbidden aspect of it,
which I have never properly allowed myself
She that craves everything and transmutes everything
She who revels in the fountaining blood of her enemies
Kali of the dark decadence
Pluto-Kali, Dark Ravening Mother-Father
I offer You the times when power was used against me
And from which
my sweet lingering rage and resentment
—on which I have feasted greedily—
I offer my sick and wounded heart
I offer what I loathe about myself that only you know.
That dark thing which I’m sure
would cut me off from all my friends’ love,
My admirers’ lust,
My patrons’ pity:
It is drowning me;
You know how to turn it
You dig it.
And this sacrifice is sweet to You;
Gods who get off on my transformative pain,
cum with me now.
I invoke you; help me to enjoy,
and so surmount,
my pain, and light me.
I offer the pain of this trauma.
I offer the dark conviction I have held that I need to die.
I do need to die: Metaphorically,
to transmute the suffering soul
Into wealth unimaginable.
Help me now with that metaphorical death.
While I live, I ask you to complete that work in me.
I know it will take something.
I know too that the something it will take is this:
the rotting, festering thorn in my side,
the sliver of poisoned ice within my eye,
the cut in my thigh that does not heal.
Pluto, you are the alchemizer of things we are finally ready to give up.
I accept as my painful sacrifice this:
That having walked out beyond the community in order to see you, Dark God of Hidden Transformation,
I cannot take up my comfortable place there again.
The payment for my transformation is this:
Most logical, most depthy God…
that transformation places me
Outside the places I used to go
Outside the self I used to be.
I will find community, but not in the same way as before.
I will find community with those who are capable of holding and understanding
the change I have undergone.
I will find community with those you own —
because no gift comes from nothing and leaves no mark —
I will be with those whom You touched.
And who are now initiators.
I am in community now with those who have allowed your touch, Pluto-Kali.
They are weirdos and outcasts, many self-imposed
But they are beautiful.
Pluto, I invoke you,
Transform these dark places within me into the source,
the gem or the precious metal.
Reach my inner dragon, thorny deep and many-clawed
and manifest my dragon’s horde.
Complete your alchemy, Pluto, as I surrender
The things that have already been ruined;
The areas I am a festering swamp of stagnation;
The rotting putridity of my fear.
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About the Author:
Psychic coach Uriel Gray is a bad-ass wizard. They have a group on Facebook (it’s free): Too Good, and True.
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