Psychogeography, ghosts in Cornwall and Limitless Matriarchy 2020 Winter Solstice until 2021 Spring.

I am presenting some chronology of my journeying from September 2020, which has led me to where I am today.

A star 

There is so much to remember, so much I attempt to keep a track of, but my ADHD mind just keeps cycling forward into the new web of symbols I have to integrate, usually on a weekly basis. New ghosts, new personalities, new vistas always emerging. 

I am going to start the process here to be transparent about my work. And use this as a marker point, which is how I like to track time and space, continually revolving in a circle. Every time I look back another symbol is altered and renewed, a meaningless dream becomes common sense, a psychic connection becomes confirmed, and a star flashes in my periphery. 

My eyesight is weird, and I have a memory issue. 

When talking to old friends who remind me of past events, phrases or jokes we said, situations, groups or parties…sometimes I am a total blank. My childhood is patchy but over recent years I have been able to retrieve more and it can be uncanny. What does come up clear in my memory is fragments of dreams during a specific era age 9-11, moments of some kind of Qi rushing my energy as a puzzle piece is clocked together in my head whilst just standing at a train station or something.


Symbols. Since around 18 the number 53 followed me around. I’m on a street sometime and I turn around, I see the door number 53. 53 bus, 53 bins. 53 on number plates, 53 on the clock, pages of books, statistics, news stories. Most likely confirmation bias but I don’t know where it began. I looked up the Biblical meanings and the I-Ching meanings. It still just follows me when I’m not thinking. Sometimes I’m like ‘I’m about to turn my head right now and I’m gonna see it’, and there it is. I noted that Terrence McKenna died at age 53, and he was the figure that guided me into taking psychedelics and accompanied one of my ‘famous’ trips (I say famous in terms of my own psyche, everyone in there focuses on it). I last year found out Caroline Crawley of Shelleyan Orphan died at 53. She was an underrated but ethereal singer from Bournemouth, in a kind of romance with death. This is where I’ve been living the past few years until my grandfather passed. She has personal significance in a relationship with a musician I entered last winter. A part of me wonders what if this is my death calling. 

The spiral

After a split up last summer, I began a spiral, a spiral to seek my sovereignty, a spiral to exit my learned helplessness, a spiral to become a woman. Of course I was inadvertently inching towards my Saturn return. It was drawing me into it’s oblivion grip. I live a quiet life really just on the edge of normality if I can, where I do my psychic work. This is a continuous and invisible toil to most, apart from those who also see. I’m hoping to change that, with my visibility practice. Something about my eyesight playing with this too.

Okay so, there were a number of quickly shifting momentous events unfurling during my Saturnian spiral. 

It went a little like this: Feeling Suicidal, A trip to Cornwall, A Tattoo, An Acid Trip, An Astral Rape, A Love and Breakup and then the final meeting with a Karmic Spirit. Aleister Crowley. I will expand on these archetypal topics in time but this is the timeline for reference. Crowley (who I will refer to as C) seemed relevant to an aspect of my understanding of patriarchy that I had not understood before. I thought my DNA could be of interest to him, or it be cultural and political. Mostly what I started to notice was that something about Cornwall was whirling me into a portal (see Instagram videos). Something was not welcoming me, and my aura had awakened and made feverous some sprites, ghosts, faes, spriggans and pixies. Most of these I could see and hear, like a tickle, teasing, orbs or visions.

Limitless Matriarchy

I also found myself lost and scared in the Cornish fields the night before my Saturn return began. As I was there during this time, Mr C began to visit my dreams, cajoling and bribing me into astral sex (he was known to be like this), encouraging my wildest dreams whilst revealing disgusting demons and jeering at me. It felt like an emotionally manipulative relationship, in the sense of what I’ve always had trouble with which is male wizards feeling threatened by me. It was almost flattering in the sense that the irritation I knew was coming from the source of knowledge that I was an equal. I was drained though. I was called to complete ‘Limitless Matriarchy’ spell-work at two major sites. One at C’s house, the address of which was revealed to me on the eve of Christmas by a delusional neighbor knocking on the door and coming in to discuss trivial matters which quickly turned into Cornwallian Magick talk. And secondly at the Castle and scientology center at Tintagel. Whilst visiting Tintagel I was lucky to find a deck of deck of cards from a local crystals and new age store relating to Kuan Yin, a Chinese God Mother I pray to for protection.

Comrades synchronised

C kept following and introducing me to entities. Online connections from America also noted distinctive events with his spirit involved (to be made clear again later). I grew closer to the witches somehow drawn into this curious circle of interest. My dear comrade Tae Ateh aided in all of this through clarifying the lens of understanding and connecting the dots hyper dimensionally on the website which you can look into at It was 2 weeks later confirmed that the G7 summit would be held at Carbis Bay in Cornwall. This did not seem a coincidence seeing as C was involved with the British intelligentsia and politicians, and more than just C’s presence there were these other entities side-eyeing me around this event. There was also the very relevant question of why on earth were my family living at this precise location at this time, 5 minutes from C’s house and 5 minutes from Carbis Bay. I thought Lucky me!

Astral realm

Back to Bournemouth, the connections were interesting again; the music of 80s poetry folkish band Shelleyan Orphan would reverberate my heart as I was called to go deeper into a relationship with a person who I had been in conversation with since around 2018. The lyrics to the songs would resemble days of my life alone in Bournemouth. Passion fruits I would find on the side of the road, churches, the seaside air and the sun through the trees. In our fleeting relationship the conceptual ideas of our projects and dreams grew bigger, and bigger but sadly our emotions volatile and disconnected. Around this time another online relationship with a couple would unfold where I would be unconsensually used in a sexual fantasy in the astral plane. More people came forward with astral sex dreams with what seemed to be a phantom of myself I had obviously sent out half conscious half unconsciously. 

I finally spoke to a friend who recommended me a woman to speak to about this. How it was related to ‘the work’, my work. This woman ghosted me after a few tries at conversation, and just like that. I saw these events as just plain ghostly. C’s cajoling in Cornwall had opened me up to some attachments and created doubles getting busy all over the astral plane in all sorts of locations. I knew the erotic was powerful, but I had not felt it being used in some kind of tactical affront to my consenting. Of course it was merely a message to integrate the deeper significance of my playing with the subconscious sexual underworld of the Internet and ghosts. And BE CAREFUL! 

New Forest

As things ticked closer and closer to my brain detonating from the banality of synchronicities, my best friend and I took a trip to the New Forest where we have built a relationship with over the years. We were there to do some situational enchanting of the land, but just before beginning our spell-work a group of horses came plundering towards us, then running through the water we stood by. The electric frequency of their beating hearts zapped us into presence. You can research the powerful effects of the horse heartbeat on a human. We spent the day in a trance, padding across the moss, mud and freezing stream dressed in rags, shaking our asses into the sunset. We left the day, not knowing exactly what we had just done, only that the new world would have to be alliances between all women. I uploaded a video onto Tik Tok of our day and the intermittent reinforcement also decided to reward me with 21k views. I take nothing as coincidence even with algo.


Patriarchal and colonial spirits continued to attack me during the worst lockdown we’d had. I was suffering very much at this time. My support net was mostly online, and my best friend nearby alongside some neighbors and my therapist I am incredibly grateful for. I had little guidance for the intensity of my psychic world and the quests I was relentlessly called to pursue. I would fizz up in the day whilst trying to work on my Yoga business, and have to leave the house to speak tongues into tree bark. I would stare into the ocean and hear a high-pitched ring followed by a consultation with a group I tend to label as the Arcturians about ‘the future’. One word they kept saying to me ‘remission, remission, remission’. Obsessively reading my tarot, I was not able to go a day without the depth of synchronicity growing more and more. Eventually I concluded there was nothing to ‘come’ from it. I had to learn the over-bearing connectivity of all life, power, animals and relations at all moments. This took me closer to animism of which I am now practicing and much healthier for. 

I was revived from my fatigue and illness by an old ex who came to me to check up on my health. Thankfully his sincere meditation and spirit work with the writings of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother were exactly the medicine I needed for what I experienced as multiple possessions and attachments from getting too involved with the heavy energy of the Patriarchal worker spirits. I wish not to go into details but exorcisms were practiced for several weeks until I was cleared of the entities as well as the energetic signatures of tortured witches. Mirra Alfassa and Arthur the Great were the key spirits in protecting my body and health at this time. The word ‘schizophrenia’ haunted me with the Western psychiatric context, whilst I integrated the portal I had fell into partly by choice. My therapist worried about a more serious mental health issue. I was chronically exhausted and in pain, and filled with anger and woe. My dear friend coaxed me back to health like a feral animal, whilst I growled constantly fighting against it and self-neglecting. Fearing a violent death following my nightmares of being sacrificed by the patriarchy, visions of the worst dystopia but also intermingled with luxurious fae worlds and midnight gardens (the work of the pixies and spriggans). 

Spring cleaning

A week came in Spring where I finally could rest, there were no hauntings, I drank hot Cacao every morning to tend to my broken heart, walked in the park to watch the ducks, was comforted and loved by my spirit sisters, ate steak, self-massaged and tried to accept her (death) or myself. I cleared out my entire flat in Bournemouth and threw out all the garbage of my past. After this, things started to improve again. 

I still work with death right now. She is our fear of the future, our fear of the present. She is the one thing we cannot know, and therefore the demonstration of our humility. I wish to keep walking, further, further, I want to ‘see’. I like to sit back and absorb, let the world come to me. The world would do well to stop. Let her come. 

Thank you for your time in reading this, and remember: the best is yet to come!

With Love,