My compost bin is an altar to love and failure

Late in 2018 I moved house. Again. I felt wretched with grief. Again. I’ve never been a dedicated gardener because I was never in the same place for long. Depression killed a lot of my house plants.
When people asked me what I liked about the new house I answered ‘it has a compost bin’. If it seemed like I was reaching, it’s because I was.

In 2017 my health was very bad. I spent a lot of time bedridden, and it culminated in some bad news towards the end of the year; things were getting worse.
I went to the sea and I cried.
On the way home I stumbled across a nursery selling unusual herbs. I purchased an All-heal (Prunella vulgaris) as a promise to myself that I would get better.
I put it in the salty hard ground and it flourished. I grew and I healed.
Then I lost my home.
The All-heal was torn out of the ground against my wishes, shoved into an overcrowded pot, and nearly died.
We were both struggling, this plant and I, but once more I promised myself I would get better.
I repotted it for transport with some catmint,  betony, agrimony and a rogue self-seeded mugwort. After settling in to my new house, I doted on this plant, listened carefully, trimmed and cared for it.
It withered.

The yard of this new residence was large with several barren raised planter beds. The loamy soil had been poisoned by the previous tenants. They were filled with fire pit ash and garbage. But it had a compost bin. And I needed to grow.
I worked the soil. I pulled out chunks of charcoal by hand, stirred in sulphurs and acids, manure and coir. Lifeless grey powder slowly darkened. I was filled with joy when the worms returned. My arms and shoulders got stronger.
I put the All-heal in the earth and slowly, it grew.

The compost bin became my altar to love and failure.
We live. We die. We try again.
This plain black plastic barrel is a digester that chews and churns and makes acid to soothe the overly alkaline soil, spores that irritate my nose, and heat. The centre of the heap gets hot enough to burn bare skin. The Queen of Green Death is strong here.

Scraps from meals cooked by beloveds, cuttings from their gardens that didn’t root, bunches of flowers, twigs I absentmindedly stuffed in my pockets, everything goes into the digester. Nothing ever truly dies.
It’s only been a few months now, but already it’s contents are rich and black. I estimate it will be ready to put on the garden when the lease ends and I must uproot myself once more. I’ll be taking the contents of the bin with me. The knowledge I will be leaving soon affects my choices here, but this soil will be my legacy. I will leave this place better than I found it, and it will have taught me much.

Gardening is a sacred act like no other.
In the garden, I am not an omnipresent god. The process is a collaboration. We grow. We strive. We try. We die and return to the compost and try again.

I plant seeds. I gently awaken the dreaming children of True Chamomile Regent only to find myself with far too many plants. My only option is to perform a cull. ‘Why did you call us then?’ they ask. I thin them out and I am sad. I sing to them as I work. I did not realize they would be so eager to grow. My cucurbits spoke to me in a dream to tell me they were being choked by fungus. They whisper to me when they are thirsty.

Gardening in the spring takes a lot of time. There’s always more to be done. Overcrowded plants to repot, separate, weed, propagate. Seedlings to thin and water. Soil to condition, till, fertilize. I discourage rather than kill whatever I can. But sometimes I must.

I startled a foraging rat one evening when emptying table scraps into the compost.
‘Hey it’s ok, just don’t have babies in there!’ I called out as it scampered away. I didn’t want any harm to come to its infants when I turn the compost with a special corkscrew-shaped fork.

Recently, it died my garden. I think it was the brutal summer heat. I hope it has a family nearby to continue on in its stead. Its body is now feeding the row of feral tomatoes that shelter under the passion fruit vine.

Today I planted sunflowers.



Speaking with the stars-the intimacy of animism

Above the city that I live, Mars is a bright red spot in the crisp, chill winter sky. I like to point it out to people as we wander outdoors. Look up! Isn’t it glorious that we can actually SEE Mars, with our own naked eyes! See how red it shines? Of course my eyes aren’t actually naked, but even without the lowtech cyborg application of corrective lenses I can still see the red planet if I squint. Some of my friends don’t understand my elation. To them it doesn’t look any redder or more remarkable than any other speck in the sky. How they could fail to share in my childlike wonder confounds me. Like their heart fell out of their pocket and got lost between the couch cushions and they somehow failed to notice.
When I look up at Mars I feel the hope of a possible future, of the descendants, the future ancestors, gazing at a tiny point of light, the Earth. So far from us in space and time, yet so intimately connected. Just as all humans with eyes that see have gazed upon the same moon, so breathtaking in its beauty.

Jupiter recently appeared to me in a sleepy early morning half-awake vision/dream and communicated directly with me in a language older than words. As I move through this period of my life, I feel the subtle pull of the second most massive object in our solar system. Not the Roman king of storms and lightning, but the literal planet.
I wish the English language had a pronoun just for the divine, so I could better distinguish the borderless dual nature of my gods. Some capitalize She and He to show reverence, but these seem too human for what is a mysterious churning sphere of gas deep in space with an eternal hurricane bigger than our entire world. ‘They’ is too multitudinous, ‘It’ too impersonal. So here I am stuck resorting to names. Such is the struggle of the animist who’s Father is the Sun and Mother the Sea, forever bathed in ambiguity and contextual nuance. The witch’s paradox. Categories are useful things, but we must be careful not to mistake the map for the reality.

The gift of animism is this direct, intimate connection. I’ve been able to find few books or accounts of experiences similar to my own because it is so raw and personal. There is no filter, no intermediary; just sacred community with all things. Speak, and listen.
Talking to skulls and trees and telephone poles might seem an odd quirk to some, but having them speak back is generally deemed socially unacceptable in this disconnected modern Western worldview of ours. A world so fraught with danger and exploitation that any admission of tender vulnerability is taken as weakness; yet to touch and be touched requires it.
There’s so much mystery and sacred knowledge to be gained by pure experience. Letting things wash over us lightly, not trying to dissect, anthropomorphize, understand. Just be. Like hearing a wordless piece of music and being profoundly moved. A purity of truth that cannot be sullied by definition. Limitless. This is the nature of trust in the sacred.

When was the last time you looked, really looked, up at the night sky and felt so small and insignificant and yet so holy?
Beauty and love and truth are inextricable, and always so close at hand.

Dear spirituality event runners: be better. Signed, a real tired trans person.

I recently had a public discussion with an organization about their extremely clumsily worded policy of excluding anyone but cisgender men from their event.
The result? I’m not mad, just disappointed.
I tried my best to be informative but firm, and they responded with all the grace and aplomb of a newborn gazelle.

That’s not to say they shouldn’t try. I believe through good communication and community we can smooth off each others edges, to be better, to blunt the hurtful barbs of misinformation, resentment, hierarchical ego and other ills. This gentle sandpapering, like rocks in a tumbler, is often painful and uncomfortable, but through it, we become refined and beautiful.
That’s what community is for me; a place we can grow and learn and uplift each other. To be open is to accept the inevitability of wounds. People make mistakes. Let them.

I believe in the power of education, too. I’ll do this for friends and family, for anyone who approaches me with sincerity and openness, and I will do it gladly and with love. I make myself open to questions and discussions, from simple to complex. I don’t believe in shaming people for never having previously had the opportunity to learn the perspectives of others. We all have to start somewhere, and the internet is a vast and often hostile place. This is work I am happy to do as a gift for the betterment of my fellows.
But gifts must be given freely, and when an event is being organized, as a potential attendee, I shouldn’t have to ask what their policy on trans people is.

There is utility in having autonomous, intimate spaces, but care must be taken where one draws that line.
Straight men, brothers, fathers, queer men, men of colour, men of significantly different ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, neurotype and ability are going to have very different lived experiences of manhood even within the same broader culture. Gender is not monolithic.

If one is going to be discriminatory in this fashion, then they need to have the bravery to stand with their convictions.
Own it.
I’m happier knowing who to avoid, and where I am not welcome.
I’m tired. I want to know at a glance if something is appropriate for me, not wade through pages of middling justifications and shame-faced excuses for why I’m being excluded.

I only attend events which are explicitly queer and trans-inclusive, because anything else is a signal of hostility.  While I’m aware of the dangers of ghettoizing queerness, and I appreciate the counter-argument that all events should be explicitly trans-inclusive, I don’t want to attend an event in which no one has been briefed on how to treat me with respect. I don’t want to be the only one in a room full of strangers weathering their sharp edges off on me in their struggle to achieve understanding as the price of admission for my mere existence.
The burden placed on the oppressed is severe enough already.

If you’re running an event or organization which deals with gendered issues, especially if it’s for profit, you better show your commitment to eliminating transphobia, preferably with money. Pay a consultant.
Listen to them.
Telling trans people they’re free to make their own event is not good enough.
Or learn to do it properly on your own time.
Because if I’m showing up to experience, you don’t get to do it on mine.

The state of the suncult

Upcoming Melbourne events:

Suncult Social:
2pm, 3rd June, Melbourne CBD

Winter Solstice Ritual
16th June, Melbourne CBD:

It’s been four weeks since my last post here, and it’s not from a lack of love or interest.
I have monstrously bad executive dysfunction. I’m taking steps to be better.

I’ve been mulling over in my mind the direction I want to the SGP to take, since it’s important to me for it to stay rooted in Anarchist principles, and it’s still in such an embryonic state. This raises the question of how much input to take on from others. I’ve concluded it’s a matter of trust in the core, indivisible, elemental spirit of the SGP. I have some people in my life who already grasp it seemingly instinctively, and I treasure their input.
Defining that spirit in a way that is easily transmittable to others will come later, but it is something that will be done.

In the meantime, softness and kindness are the most vital aspects of the culture of this tradition. This work hurts, it’s raw and vulnerable and real. It’s scary and confronting and challenging. But people will play much harder, push themselves so much further when they feel safe. We need to dig down past the defense mechanisms to get to honesty and truth, and with that comes powerful, liberating and dangerous vulnerability. And with vulnerability, the opportunity to dig out the shrapnel poisoning us from the inside out. The shame, insecurity, pain, grief and many other ills. No deflecting humor or minimizing cynicism. Just truth.
How to get to that point of truth and safety in play is something that we will develop and hone and produce; it’s a journey in itself, but also a skill that can be taught.

As I walked home tonight, massive squawking fruit bats flew overhead, and silent ringtail possums crept across branches. The half-moon lit up the cloudy night in that grey hazy way you only get when it’s cold.
The winter solstice is only three weeks away, and yet the ground is blossoming with mushrooms, lichen and moss. Even in the most downcast moments, so long as we are truly alive, growth never stops.

I feel capable. Not confident or energetic, but filled with a quiet determination. The SGP is slowly putting down roots, even if on the surface things seem slow, or dormant. But it’s growing, and it will be beautiful when it blooms.

A Samhain ritual for the SGP

Samhain is a time to reflect on sadness, loss, and grief. But it can also be a time for remembrance, empathy and deep, deep love.
The Queen of Red Death is close at hand at Samhain tide; Saint with a dripping bloody skull, pungent with the smell of iron, salt and roses. She wraps bony fingers around our hearts and squeezes and we know exquisite pain, and through this pain we know we are alive.


Image description: a red candle in a black bowl, filled with water. Surrounded by tarot cards and altar decorations.

In Australia Summer is more often the season for dying, with it’s crushing heat and raging bushfires. But as the sun grows distant, melancholy creeps in with bitter wind.
The wheel turns, but its measure has been made difficult and uneasy for people not long tied to this land.
European trees settle in to sleep through a snow which in most places never arrives, allowing delicate mosses and lichens to prosper on their bare limbs. No matter how homesick and nostalgic settlers became for the birdsong of England, irrevocably changing the landscape with their introduction, the gum trees remain thick with foliage and many flowers bloom late into the autumn.
While the equinoxes and solstices are astrological, mathematical events, celebration of the transplanted cross-quarters requires an acknowledgment of colonization and its ongoing traumas.
It’s not enough to debate the merits of whether to simply shift the seasonal calendar forward six months for anyone in the Southern Hemisphere, but to dwell on the circumstances that brought us to this question in the first place.
Thus Samhain is an excellent time to reflect on Indigenous survival, sovereignty, and struggles, to learn and engage with a compassionate and open heart.

It is also a time to connect with our own ancestors and beloved dead, be they of blood, culture or law. Genetics has no bearing on this definition of ancestry, nor species; I include my dearest cats in my celebrations. Knowledge, love, and art all form the fertile soil from which we grow.

The Dumb Supper

This ritual is a simple variant on the traditional ‘dumb supper’, so called because it is performed in silence. The idea is to host a simple quiet dinner party, with places set for departed loved ones. It’s best done in the home, and can be done alone or as a group.

White candle
Red candle
A bell, chime or piece of crystalware
A meal
Altar decorations

At the head of your dining table, set a place as if for a guest, but turn it into an altar by draping the chair with red, white, or black fabric. Decorate the table at this placement with skulls, sweet-smelling flowers, heavy incense, cups of spring water, harvest fruits and bowls of salt. On the plate, set a red candle to represent the Red Death. As a force of nature, she does not require offerings of food like that which will be served to the dead.
Arrange enough tealights on the table to create a warm, low-lit atmosphere.
Set the rest of the table as normal, with a place for each diner. Each living guest should position themselves so they are sitting opposite to their deceased guests, facing them.

To begin, light a white candle by your front door or window, to act as a beacon for the souls of your beloved dead to find their way to you. If you wish you can open the door and beckon them inside, pull out the chair for your guests, be as theatrical as you like. Some may wish to do this at dusk, or before they start cooking/preparing food. A home-cooked meal works best, but whatever is within your means is appropriate. If you know your guest had a favourite food, prepare that.

Find a bell or some other tool that creates a pleasant chiming sound. Lightly tapping a piece of crystalware will have the desired effect. Bonus points if it’s a family heirloom. Ring it once when it is time to begin the ritual of quiet and of not speaking, and dish up the meal to all guests. Don’t worry about wasting food; a small sample is all that’s needed for the otherworldly. The dead are light eaters.

Take your place at your place at the table and enjoy the meal. Chew slowly. Be mindful of the sensations, the taste, the texture, the warmth and the smell. There is no purer expression of what it is to be alive than to eat.
Sit with your emotions. Do you hunger for sound? Distractions? Do you weep? Does raw powerful grief bubble up inside from a deep underground wellspring? Do you feel numb? Filled with love and bittersweet nostalgic joy? Are you shying away from anything? Is there anything you avoiding?
Be attentive to the place set for your guest.
Do you feel any sensations, faint impressions, polite requests? Do you feel a shift in temperature or energy? Does your guest ask you to season their food with a little more pepper, please? Do they chide you for forgetting they hate peas? Glad for the company, good-humored, or sorrowful?

When the meal is done, ring your bell to indicate the evening and silence is over, and thank your guests and usher them back out the door when you feel the time has come to draw the ritual to a close. Spend the rest of the evening in low-energy, introspective activities and contemplations. Listen to soft music. Journal your experiences.

Later, dispose of the dead’s leftovers at a crossroads, or by fire. Take care when doing so, and be sure not to look back when returning. You don’t want any scavengers following you home. The following day, open your windows and sweep your floors.

Traditional Southern Hemisphere date:
Sunset to sunset, 30th April, to 1st May
Astrological date:
Evening, 5th May 2018

More information on the Sovereigns of the Golden Path (SGP) can be found here.

SGP glossary here.

More information on the Queens of Death can be found here.

A witch in the house of god

I went to a Catholic funeral today and witnessed people taking communion for the first time.

The last funeral I attended prior to today was for a beloved character at a LARP some weeks ago. Even though it was all just roleplay, the emotion and energy was so raw and real and powerful and moving.

…today was a stark contrast.

Other than the electrifying transubstantiation ritual, it was overall a fairly bland affair. The departure of the deceased was neither sudden nor unexpected. Raw grief was tempered by acceptance. People were eager to get to the business of drinking overpriced beer at the wake. The business of living, and sharing stories. A very Australian kind of pragmatism. The old die, as is their right. Their legacy is their children and grandchildren. You get on with it.

As a pagan raised lapsed Presbyterian it was certainly an interesting and novel experience to find myself in a Catholic church; I’ve never witnessed a baptism before. The ritual waving of cheap frankincense, the shroud, candle, and sacred water, this is a language of symbols that is not unfamiliar to me. Even though I didn’t understand the words, I could still hear the music. Most of the people in attendance were not Catholic, and half-heartedly stumbled through the participatory aspects, or remained silent as I did. The singing of the Manticore Sun echoed in a hymn about unconditional love, but despite both being somewhat fatherly and leonine, the difference between the Lord of Catholics and the patron deity of the SGP is obvious. The suncult has no word for sin.

Communion was naturally the part that really caught my attention; the transformation of wine and wafer into blood and flesh. When the priest performed the rite of transubstantiation, I could feel the sudden and powerful energy shift in the hall, directed toward a silver chalice and what looked like an inedible circle of white paper from my perspective.

My witches initiatory shedding of Christian overculture is still fairly fresh in my mind. A ritual I performed some months back to release myself from any lingering influence and fear of hell. I could feel Lilith hovering near me, and I felt magnetically repelled from the energy of the altar. The pursuit of some paths closes the doors to others. I don’t think I could ever comfortably or successfully work angelic energy. Mine is Her blood. My light is my own inner fire.

I had a chance to ask what must have seemed like a bunch of daft questions afterward, such as ‘what’s the protocol for disposing of leftover Jesus blood?’. After feeling the energy that got blasted into it, I can’t imagine anyone being comfortable dunking stale godflesh wafers into the trash.

Ceremony done, we headed to the cemetery; a far more comfortable place for me. The hungry churning earth. The air filled with birdsong and eucalyptus scents as the trees jovially enjoyed the mild and nourishing sunshine. Wasps and butterflies. Green Death embracing Red and White.
I found the well-manicured grass of the newer and less affluent sections unsettling. Raised crypts and plaques make more sense to me. I whispered apologies to everyone I accidentally stepped on, because it was impossible not to. Gothic raised concrete slabs you can imagine someone lying on top of and weeping have a very different vibe to a grass field with plaques set it in, which feels industrialized and impersonal. Sterile. I understand financial pressures encourage people to choose such an option, but the cemetery keepers could at least put a stand of rose bushes between the rows of plots. The dead deserve beauty too. Not something that could be mistaken for a sports field at a glance. Nevertheless, it was a relief to be outside.

I’m sure many people find exactly what they need in that church, the modest, restrained embrace of community, song, and fervor. The promise of being uplifted when the apocalypse comes. But my end of the world is already here, and if I’m going to eat the flesh of a god, it won’t be so stale. I’m going to rip it apart with my bare hands, in a frenzy, let the blood run down my chin.  Standing too close to the altar had made me uncomfortable, already feeling ill-at-ease in poorly fitted normal-person drag. I’m no longer welcome in churches as anything but an uneasy guest. One that must respectfully keep their distance from the action.
And I have no regrets.
The crossroads is where I belong.

SGP Ritual for the Super Blood Blue Moon Eclipse

This ritual is designed to fortify ourselves with inner strength, cunning, bravery and the will to persevere. Into the underworld we roam like werewolves and creatures who trespass the boundaries of the normal, finding a sacred freedom there. It can be performed alone or in groups.


A Blue Moon is the second full moon in a month. For some Australians, it won’t technically be a Blue Moon as it takes place after midnight on the 31st of January.
A Supermoon is a full moon that appears extra-large and bright in the sky; the moon is at its closest point to the Earth in its elliptical orbit.
A blood moon is a colloquial term for a total lunar eclipse. The moon will be passing through the darkest portion of the Earth’s shadow (the umbra); some of the light reflected off the Earth’s atmosphere will make it glow a luminous red.

The site has useful information about times and the direction the moon will be travelling through the sky in your area.

Spring water
Dragon’s blood stick incense
Clean bowl
Red candle

For afterward:
Salty snacks, journal & pen

Kitchen substitutes:
Chilled or filtered tap water, oranges/orange oil, roses, rose petals, other incense, ext. Hot water poured over herbs like a tea can produce pleasant scents as an alternative for people sensitive to smoke. A tea light in a red glass, ext.

An outside liminal space, such as the beach, a park, your yard, ext.
If being outside isn’t suitable, by a (preferably open) window.
The eclipse can also be watched live online here:

Create an altar to be the focus for the working, and practice/learn the chant.
Place the red candle in the center, with a stick of incense on each side.

Suggested altar items:
Black and red objects such as fruit or statues
Bones, mushrooms, and other items associated with death and the underworld
Sea salt
The Strength and Moon tarot cards
Red stones: sandstone, jasper, carnelian ext.
Moon-related stones: selenite, moonstone, quartz
If you’re a person who presently menstruates, related sanitary items
Sand or sea water

Bathed in blood and clothed in flesh
Into the darkness we dare step

The ritual:
Prepare in a manner that befits your practice. Ground, ward, cast a circle, enter into magical space/headspace.

Read out the ritual intention three times (Once by the ritual leader, then thrice as a group if working with others).

Ritual intention:
Between the worlds, we embrace our birthright as the strange ones.

Have the ritual leader read out the liturgy:

The dominion of the othered, the queer, the witch, the seer, is an ability to step between the worlds while fully inhabiting none. There is power in our unique perspective, value in our rarity. In the underworld we find cradle, truth and power. The fertile ground for challenge, growth, the hidden and obscene. Like the darkness, sovereign and strong, we cannot be denied.

Begin the chant.

At the height of the eclipse, direct your hands and arms upwards to the moon and envision using them to guide energy like a silvery light down into the bowl of water, turning it into blood.

Take turns drinking deeply from the bowl.

Let the chant naturally fade into a hum, and then silence.
Lay back and watch the rest of the eclipse, close your eyes or stare into the candle. Allow yourself to feel the power of the spring water coursing into your veins and enriching your blood, or engage in visionary experiences.

When it feels appropriate, return.
Blow out the candle, snuff the incense and close the circle, banish, thank, ground.
Eat some salty snacks or the food off the altar.
Journal your experiences.

SGP Glossary of terms/quick reference guide

So it occurs to me that OH BOY do I use a lot of jargon. Here’s a quick refresher guide.
Will be updated as needed. Last update 2/12/2017

Acronym for ‘Sovereigns of the Golden Path’, affectionately known as the #suncult.

A Sovereign of the Golden Path:
A person who has made a commitment to sacred self-ownership and principles of the SGP.

The worldview that all things have a kind of living spirit, including plants, rocks, chairs, ext.

Chaos magic:
A modern magical system which posits the power of belief as a tool and mental flexibility from the constraints of dogma.

Queens of Death:
Four saint-like figures representing a way of conceptualizing of death.
Lady of Green Death:
Rebirth, tranquility, forests
Monarch of Black Death:
Entropy, infinity, space
Monarch of White Death:
Inevitability, acceptance, cemeteries
Lady of Red Death:
Grief, pain, the hearth

Animal Regent:
A mythic archetypal being. Similar to the Westernized concept of ‘totem’, but created to avoid the cultural insensitivity of using an Ojibwe term.
Animal agent:
A physical, individual animal acting as a messenger for it’s Regent, such as a ‘sign’ in the form of a cat running across your path.
A Regent which encompasses many species of the same type, such as the Regent of the taxonomic classification of a genus. For example, Vulpes Regent, and their many species of children, the foxes.

Ecstatic practice:
A state in which an intense visionary experience is attained through trance/altered states of consciousness. Does not necessarily require entheogens/drugs. Sometimes also referred to as ‘gnosis’.

A place devoted to a being or type of magical working.

A place in which to do participate in/use as the focus for magical working.

A type of spell in the form of an abstract symbol.

Pop Culture Magic:
An offshoot of Chaos Magic which employs the symbols and cosmologies of the mythic or modern fictional media.

Acronym for ‘unverified/unsubstantiated personal gnosis’. Personal experiences and understandings not backed up by established lore. For example, associating Haephestus, ancient Greek god of fire and forge with power tools.

Official unofficial SGP recommended reading list

Eager to get your research on? Here’s the Official unofficial SGP recommended reading list. Will be added to as I find (and complete) good books because I have a shockingly bad habit of not finishing them. Many of these aren’t directly related to chaos magic, but I feel they add an important dimension to personal understanding.

Last edited:

Killing, Jeff Sparrow
A language older than words, Derrick Jensen
First we make the beast beautiful, Sarah Wilson
This is how, Augusten Burroughs
No logo, Naomi Klein
Delusions of gender, Cordelia Fine
Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton
Chaos Protocols, Gordon White
Practical Sigil Magic, Ralph Tegtmeier
The artist’s way, Julia Cameron

Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey

Youtube channels:
Crash Course
PBS Idea channel

White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack
The History of Mana: How an Austronesian Concept Became a Video Game Mechanic

Oven ready chaos, Phill Hine



This FAQ is a work in progress and will be changed as the SGP evolves.
Last updated: 01/06/2018

Why an FAQ?
It’s an easy to digest format for large chunks of disparate information.

What is the SGP?
The SovereignS of the Golden Path is an emerging queer pagan tradition rooted in chaos magic, affectionately referred to as the #suncult. It’s based on principles of personal growth, authenticity, healing, truth, the power of storytelling and embracing one’s status as Othered.

I have safety concerns?
There will be no rigid hierarchies nor poisoned beverages here.
Safety is very important to us; harassment will not be tolerated.
The Pagan Awareness Network (PAN) have an excellent brochure on the basics of personal welfare titled Safety in the Circle, located here.

Why do you call it a cult? Aren’t cults dangerous?
The Oxford dictionary refers to a cult as “a system of religious veneration and devotion directed towards a particular figure or object”.  Although ‘cult’ has become largely pejorative in popular culture in recent times, it’s usage here refers to its meaning as a ‘fringe/unorthodox social movement with novel beliefs’. This usage is still common today, as its etymology is rooted simply in ‘to worship’. The term is nuanced and varied in its meaning dependant on the context applied to it. Many ancient belief systems are often referred to as cults, such as the Greek/Roman Orphic mystery traditions.
There is no one clear sociological definition of cult, and many mainstream organizations fit perfectly into ‘cult checklists’ as harmful and toxic environments.
To deem a movement to be a cult is often used as a way to demonize and vilify it in the face of an ideology it threatens. For example, many people refer to ANTIFA as a cult despite it having no power structure whatsoever. Although the label of cult may seem shocking at first, it is an invitation to challenge assumptions and to take ownership of the power of being Othered, much like the reclamation of the word ‘queer’.

We recognize that the term may be distressing to some; its use here is not intended to denigrate or upset.
If people or individuals in your community find certain terms or topics distressing, we encourage the use of blacklists, content warnings and other methods of harm minimization.

What is chaos magic?
That question is too big for this FAQ. I’ll have a recommended reading list up shortly.

Why ‘queer’?
Sometimes identities are context-dependent, malleable and messy. Sometimes a single term like ‘gay’ doesn’t cut it, and at others, a single term is too invasive and limiting. Queer is emotionally charged, defiant and ambiguous. Queer embraces strangeness as a source of power.

Isn’t queer is a slur?
If you aren’t comfortable claiming the label on a personal level and prefer LGBTQIA or one of its derivatives that’s fine, but it’s going to get used as an umbrella term pretty frequently. There is evidence of queer being reclaimed for decades, it is a part of our history and heritage.

Am I queer enough to join?
There is no need to qualify your queerness. We aren’t ace, bi, questioning, closeted, trans or nonbinary exclusive.

How inclusive are you?
A committed desire for self-mastery is a prerequisite, as well as a sense of humour. One of the core principles of the SGP is to eliminate and minimize both incidental and overt personal bigotry and discrimination. Frothing racists aren’t welcome, but a proactive approach to working through internalized prejudices is.

Who are you?
My name is Apocastasis, I’m a queer witch, artist, and writer. My personal website can be located here, and my blog here. I admin the development of the SGP, but it is an anarchistic, non-hierarchical organization. 

Where are you located?
We aim to be accessible to people anywhere in the world, but current events take place in Melbourne, Australia, and will follow a South-Eastern Australian seasonal calendar, although this can be varied depending on one’s location. 

How accessible are you?
I’m a spoonie so my capabilities are limited, but I will do my best to provide captions on videos, wheelchair access information for events, ext. whenever possible.

Does the SGP have its own deities?
Yes, but it’s non-exclusively polytheistic. Praising the sun is optional, but highly encouraged. Practitioners are welcome to participate in other paradigms, ways of interacting with and defining gods.

Is it a mystery or initiatory tradition?
It’s too early to say, although at this stage there will likely be grades for people who wish to make the commitment available in the future.

What is The Manticore Sun?
Both the giant spherical nuclear reactor in space, and a great golden lion with a scorpion tail, simultaneously. The primary deity of the SGP, he is fatherly and loving and wants you to do your best.

What are the other gods of the SGP?
Deities of the SGP are animistic and rooted in physical phenomena. The Moon, The Sea, and The Earth, The City of Melbourne are all gods. A god could be a highly personal place one has a relationship with, such as a specific mountain, or more conceptual one such as The Highway, which represents and is all paved roads.

Do you practice Pop Culture Magic?
The primacy and importance of story and archetypes are a large part of the foundational principles of the SGP. As a system, it is Pop Culture Magic compatible.

Do you practice witchcraft?
Yes. The SGP is a pagan paradigm based on chaos magic principles, but it’s also animistic, ecstatic, ancestor-reverent and spirit-working. If and how intensely one wishes to participate in magical workings is up to the individual, however.

Is the SGP a left-hand or right-hand path?
It’s a mix of both. Rather than a Left/Right dichotomy, it uses a metaphor of an open or closed fist, to represent a distinction between qualities that need to be processed and worked on, rooted in Bad Faith, and qualities to aspire to, grounded in Truth.

Does The Manticore Sun have a name?
Not that I’m presently aware of. I affectionately refer to him as mantdad for short.

What are some of the Manticore Sun’s correspondences?
Beverage: Mead, chamomile & dandelion teas
Scent: Beeswax, Frankincense
Plant: All plants, but especially cacti, succulents, and yellow flowers
Animal: lions, bees, scorpions
Colour: Yellow, peacock blue/teal
Suggested offerings: Exercise, honey, gardening, trying your best
Tarot card: The Star and Strength
Gemstone: Gold
Gender: Masculine
Bodily centre: Heart
Holiday: Perihelion, the solstices

I’m interested! What now?
The SGP is still a fledgling path, but we currently have online discussion groups on facebook and discord. See the ‘get involved’ page for more information.