Excellent piece today over at Rune Soup.
After reading it, though, I couldn't help but think, yeah, ancestors, thanks SO MUCH for everything, assholes. We come from a lot of really prick people. Serious major dick heads. Unenlightened violent thieves, rapists, and murderers. And CANNIBALS.
And we wouldn't BE HERE if it weren't for them. We wouldn't have to deal with trying to remember we're free from all suffering at all if they'd just kept their dicks in their pants. Fuck wads.
I found out a little about the Bodhisattva vows recently. You swear to keep on incarnating until everyone reaches Enlightenment.
Fuck. That. Shit.
Human beings have a racial history of being stupid, mean, and vile. Especially to people who try to teach them how to not be stupid, mean, and vile. I've even done it myself, so what does that say about the sad state of affairs?
So I'm putting together a "raise an army of the dead" ritual for Halloween (it's been in process for a couple of weeks, was going to post it, but likely won't finish until a few minutes before I do the rite anyway). I've got dirt from various graveyards around the area, and some other stuff from haunted places, and it's all going into a big old huge fucking Spirit Pot that will be home to my Army of Deadites to send around and do whatever petty shit needs to be done.
The level of spirit I'm aiming for in the rite is pretty base, the shades who haven't managed to dissolve into the parts that make them up, the Nepheshim. Individually, they're pretty weak.
In large numbers, I'm hoping they can do more than just drop the temperature of the room a few degrees when they show up. My hopes and expectations are decidedly low, though, because they're only human after all, and not even the thinking or eternal parts at that. Just some damned souls left to howl in the night when the veils are thinnest.
And why am I doing this? Because like my ancestors, I'm a fuck wad asshole prick who would eat human flesh to survive if necessary. And magic is fun. And who WOULDN'T want an army of the dead to send out at whim to curse the local 7-eleven owner for running out of BFC Monsters when you really need one?
So that's how I'm honoring the dead this year. I'm giving them something to do, and I'm keeping the family tradition alive.