https://www.facebook.com/174579229673393/

Thelemic Divine Females, Skurup (2026)

04/05/2026

People always ask me why I’m so outspoken. Why I say things straight, without sugarcoating, without filtering myself.

The truth is simple: I don’t have the energy to make things up. I’m too lazy to remember lies, versions, or half-truths. Truth is easier to carry.

I’m a Sagittarius. And we are not built to stay quiet.

Sagittarius doesn’t whisper. It shoots straight. Straight into truth, straight through illusions, straight to the core of what is real. It’s not always comfortable. Not always pretty. But it’s honest. We are driven by freedom, by raw truth, by a need to see the world as it is—not as people pretend it should be.

So when people ask for my sign…

I always say:

“When people ask for my sign… I’m a warning sign.”

Take it however you want.
But what I say is always real.

20/03/2026

Im just reposting my sisters Lilly Iona Lorentzen post. I want you to read it and think. And you might want to follow her

10/03/2026

If you are familiar with me, you are aware of my sentiments regarding Veterans. I am fairly confident that I already know two individuals who will assist, but I am concerned that I will only receive about four responses, as this is a pressing concern. Twenty-two Veterans succumb to their struggles daily. May I request that two friends or family members copy and re-post this message? Someone's life may depend on it. Call the Veteran's Hotline at 988 #1 or 844-647-1354. I am asking for just two individuals to respond with 'done'.

09/03/2026

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞

Embodied ritual becomes practical the moment we understand that the body itself is an instrument that can be trained and tuned. Posture, breath, and voice form three fundamental levers through which consciousness can be altered. These elements are deceptively simple, yet they are among the most powerful tools available to a magician. When practiced consistently they reshape emotional patterns, stabilize attention, and allow the practitioner to align more clearly with the current of the Will.

Many seekers believe that magical transformation requires complicated rituals, obscure symbols, or advanced initiations. While those elements certainly exist within esoteric traditions, they are not where the work truly begins. The foundation of real ritual practice is far more immediate. The body must learn how to hold presence. The breath must learn how to regulate internal energy. The voice must learn how to carry intention into the world.
When these three elements work together, ritual stops being an intellectual exercise and becomes something lived and embodied.
Posture is the first key.

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Posture determines the quality of awareness more than most people realize. Anyone who has watched a person slump into defeat or rise into confidence already understands this instinctively. The body communicates with the mind constantly. When posture collapses, the nervous system interprets that collapse as weakness, exhaustion, or submission. When the spine lengthens and the chest opens, the brain receives signals of stability and agency.

In ritual work posture is therefore not about appearance. It is about structure. The body becomes the architecture through which awareness flows. Standing upright with both feet firmly grounded creates a vertical axis that runs from the base of the spine to the crown of the head. Many traditions describe this axis differently. Yogic systems refer to a central energetic channel.

Kabbalistic symbolism reflects it in the Middle Pillar of the Tree of Life. The terminology may differ, but the principle remains the same. When the spine is aligned and the body balanced, attention stabilizes.

I learned the importance of this principle early in my magical path. Long before I understood the theory behind it, I noticed the difference between moments when my body was aligned and moments when it was not. When the spine was straight and the shoulders relaxed, concentration became easier. When the body collapsed or drifted into tension, the mind scattered almost immediately.

Years later this lesson returned in a much more concrete way when I began helping other practitioners train their bodies for ritual work.
One of the most memorable examples involved a temple sister who struggled with confidence within the temple environment. She was intelligent, perceptive, and deeply committed to the work, yet whenever she stood among the temple brothers something in her seemed to shrink. The brothers themselves were not cruel or hostile, but many of them carried strong personalities. They spoke loudly, moved with certainty, and had spent years establishing their authority within the order. She respected them deeply. Perhaps too deeply.

In ritual space the dynamic revealed itself immediately. When the brothers stood tall and projected their presence, she unconsciously folded inward. Her shoulders curved forward, her gaze dropped, and her breath became shallow. Even before she spoke, her body communicated hesitation. One evening during temple work I asked her to step into the center of the room after the ritual had ended. I asked her to simply stand.

Nothing else.

Within seconds the old pattern appeared. Her shoulders rounded forward and her chest closed slightly. It was the posture of someone trying not to disturb the hierarchy around her. I stepped behind her and placed my hand lightly between her shoulder blades. I asked her to lengthen her spine and plant both feet firmly on the ground.

I told her to imagine that her spine was a pillar connecting earth and sky. Her feet rooted downward while the crown of her head lifted upward. The change was subtle but unmistakable. Her chest opened slightly and her gaze lifted. The room itself seemed to shift. I told her something that I have repeated to many practitioners since.

“If your body shrinks in the temple, your Will shrinks with it”.
But when the body stands fully in its axis, the Will remembers its authority. We practiced this posture repeatedly. Not only during ritual but also during ordinary temple discussions. Before speaking she would take a moment to align her spine, ground her feet, and allow the body to settle into stability.

Within a few months the transformation became visible. She no longer folded inward when speaking among the brothers. Her presence stabilized. She began contributing to discussions and ritual preparation with clarity. The brothers responded differently as well. They began treating her as an equal participant in the work rather than someone standing quietly at the edge of the circle. Nothing mystical had been added to her practice. No secret symbols. No elaborate invocations. The change just began with posture.

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲

If posture forms the structure of ritual, breath provides the movement within that structure. Breath is the bridge between conscious and unconscious processes. We can control it intentionally, yet it also operates automatically through the nervous system. Because of this unique position, breath becomes one of the most powerful tools available to the practitioner.

Ancient traditions understood this long before modern science began studying the relationship between breathing and emotional regulation. Slow, deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which stabilizes the body and reduces stress responses. Rapid or shallow breathing activates the opposite effect, increasing tension and agitation. Ritual breath therefore shapes the internal climate in which magical work occurs. One of the simplest methods I teach involves a slow four part breathing rhythm. Inhale through the nose for four counts.

Hold the breath gently for four counts. Exhale slowly through the mouth for four counts. Pause again for four counts before the next inhale. At first this exercise appears almost too simple to matter. Yet after several minutes the effects become clear. The heart rate slows. The mind quiets. Attention becomes deeper and more focused. In ritual settings this breath stabilizes the practitioner before invoking symbols, visualizations, or sacred names.

Returning to the temple sister I mentioned earlier, breath became the second key in her transformation. Her shallow breathing mirrored the anxiety she felt around the temple brothers. Even when her posture improved, the breath still revealed tension.
So we began practicing breath while she held the aligned posture. At first the process felt awkward for her. Many people are surprised when they begin working with breath because it reveals how much tension they normally carry without noticing it. But gradually the rhythm began to settle into her body.

Something interesting happened after a few weeks of practice. Her voice began to change. Breath and voice are inseparable. When breath deepens, the voice naturally becomes more resonant and steady. The emotional tone behind speech shifts as well. Words spoken from shallow breathing often sound uncertain. Words carried on a stable breath feel grounded.

This leads us to the third component of embodied ritual.

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥

Voice is the moment where inner alignment becomes external expression. Through voice the magician releases intention into the surrounding world. Many ceremonial traditions emphasize the vibration of sacred names.

This practice is often misunderstood as theatrical chanting. In reality it is a technique for coordinating breath, posture, and intention into a single expression. When a word is spoken with full breath support and an aligned body, the sound resonates through the chest rather than remaining trapped in the throat. The diaphragm supports the tone and the spine stabilizes the vibration. This resonance does something remarkable to awareness. It anchors attention in the present moment while simultaneously projecting energy outward. To demonstrate this during training sessions, I sometimes ask practitioners to speak a single word. Often I choose something simple such as their own name.

First I ask them to say it casually, the way they would in everyday conversation. Then I ask them to stand upright, breathe deeply, and speak the same word slowly, allowing the sound to resonate through the chest. The difference is always striking. The word itself remains the same, yet the energy behind it changes completely. One version sounds hesitant. The other carries presence. The language has not changed, the embodiment has.

Returning again to the temple sister I mentioned earlier, voice became the final stage of her transformation. After weeks of practicing posture and breath, we began working with vocal resonance. I asked her to speak simple sentences while maintaining alignment and breath. At first her voice trembled slightly. Years of conditioning cannot disappear overnight.

But gradually something shifted.

Her voice lowered slightly in pitch. The tremor faded. Her words began to carry weight. The next time we gathered for temple discussion, something unexpected happened. During a debate about ritual structure, one of the brothers interrupted her in the middle of a sentence. In the past she would have stepped back and allowed the conversation to move on. Instead she stood upright, inhaled slowly, and spoke calmly; “Let me finish”.

No anger.
No defensiveness.
Just presence.

The room fell quiet. The brother who had interrupted her nodded and allowed her to continue. What changed in that moment was not authority granted by rank or degree. It was something far more fundamental. Her body had learned to hold her Will.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Posture, breath, and voice become most powerful when practiced together. First the body aligns. The spine lengthens, the feet root into the ground, and the shoulders relax. This creates the physical structure.

Second the breath settles into a steady rhythm. This stabilizes the internal environment and calms the nervous system.
Finally the voice carries intention outward through vibration and sound.

In ritual these three elements transform gestures and words into living experiences. Outside ritual they shape how the practitioner moves through the world. A magician who understands embodied ritual does not rely solely on symbolic operations. They train the body to reflect the alignment of the Will.

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉.
𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔.
𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Over time these simple practices reshape the relationship between body and consciousness. The practitioner becomes less reactive and more deliberate. Presence deepens naturally. Confidence grows not through force, but through alignment.

Ritual is not confined to temples or circles drawn on the floor.
The body itself becomes the temple.
The breath becomes the rhythm of invocation.
The voice becomes the instrument through which the Will enters the world.

05/03/2026

Who Are You When You Act from Will?

One of the most misunderstood ideas within both psychology and magical philosophy is the concept of Will. Many people hear the phrase “True Will” and imagine something dramatic or mystical. They imagine a single destiny waiting to be discovered, or a powerful calling that will suddenly reveal itself in a moment of revelation.

In practice, the experience is far less theatrical and far more profound. True Will is not primarily about what you do. It is about who you are when you act. Most people move through life reacting to circumstances, emotional triggers, and social expectations. Their behavior shifts depending on the environment they are in. Around one group of people they become agreeable. Around another they become defensive. In moments of stress they may abandon their values entirely and fall back into familiar patterns of survival.

From the outside this can look like inconsistency. From the inside it often feels like confusion. A person may genuinely want to live with integrity and direction, yet find themselves repeatedly acting in ways that contradict those intentions. They may promise themselves that things will change, yet weeks later discover they are back inside the same patterns again.

The reason for this becomes clearer when we examine identity. If identity remains unstable or externally defined, behavior will follow whatever influence is strongest in the moment. Approval from others may temporarily shape behavior. Fear may shape it in a different direction. Habit may pull it back toward familiar ground.
Will cannot stabilize inside that kind of identity. Acting from Will requires a different internal orientation. It requires a sense of self that remains coherent across changing circumstances. The question therefore becomes very specific.

Who are you when you act from Will?

This question shifts the focus away from external achievement and toward internal alignment. Instead of asking what role you should play in the world, it asks what state of being produces actions that feel both authentic and sustainable. In neuro linguistic programming we often explore identity by observing how people describe themselves. The language they use reveals the structure of their self concept.

Someone might say, “I try to be disciplined.”
Another might say, “I am someone who follows through.”

The difference between those statements is subtle but significant. In the first case discipline is an effort that may or may not succeed. In the second case discipline is part of identity. Behavior tends to follow the second structure far more consistently.

Magical traditions recognized this long before psychology described it in technical language. Initiatory systems frequently require the practitioner to adopt a new identity. The individual does not merely practice ritual techniques. They begin to see themselves as someone who participates consciously in the shaping of reality.
This shift changes how decisions are made. When a person sees themselves as someone who acts from Will, they begin evaluating situations differently. Instead of asking, “What do I feel like doing right now?” they begin asking a deeper question.

“What action aligns with the direction of my life?” This does not mean emotions disappear. Fear, anger, desire, and uncertainty remain part of human experience. Acting from Will does not eliminate those states. What changes is the relationship to them. Emotions become signals rather than commands.

A person acting from Will can feel fear without automatically retreating. They can experience anger without allowing it to dictate destructive behavior. They can experience desire without confusing it with direction. This ability develops gradually through the practices we have already explored. Meditation stabilizes attention.
Breath regulation calms the nervous system. Submodality work reshapes internal representations. Timeline integration releases the emotional weight of the past. Each of these processes reduces the influence of unconscious patterns. As those patterns weaken, identity becomes clearer.

Many practitioners notice that acting from Will produces a particular psychological state. The state is not necessarily euphoric or dramatic. In fact it often feels remarkably simple. There is a sense of clarity. The mind becomes quieter because internal conflict decreases. Decisions may still involve difficulty, but they do not feel chaotic. The individual understands why they are choosing a particular direction.

This clarity often produces a surprising emotional quality. Calm determination. When someone acts from impulse, their energy tends to fluctuate. Excitement rises and falls quickly. Motivation appears intensely and then disappears. The person may feel driven for a short period of time, only to lose interest or direction when circumstances become difficult.

Will operates differently. Because it is rooted in identity rather than emotion, it remains relatively stable even when external conditions change. The individual may experience doubt or fatigue, yet the underlying direction remains intact. This stability often becomes visible in how a person organizes their life.

Their habits begin supporting the direction they have chosen. Relationships either align with their values or gradually fade away. Activities that once consumed attention but provided little meaning begin losing their appeal. From the outside this process can appear as discipline. From the inside it feels more like coherence.

The person is no longer constantly negotiating with themselves. Of course, reaching this state is rarely immediate. Many individuals struggle with the idea of Will precisely because they have spent years responding to expectations imposed by others.

Family expectations, cultural norms, social roles, and internalized criticism can all shape identity in ways that feel deeply personal but are actually inherited. When someone begins exploring Will seriously, these influences often become visible. A career path may suddenly feel empty. Relationships may reveal patterns of compromise that once seemed normal. Habits that once provided comfort may appear as distractions from deeper direction.

This stage can feel disorienting. In psychological terms it resembles identity restructuring. The mind begins questioning narratives that once appeared unquestionable. In magical traditions this stage often appears in symbolic form as the descent into the underworld or the confrontation with the abyss. The initiate must confront the difference between who they believed themselves to be and who they actually are beneath those roles.

This confrontation can be uncomfortable because it removes familiar structures. Yet it also creates freedom. When identity becomes less dependent on external validation, a new question emerges. If I am not defined by these roles, who am I when I act from Will?

The answer to that question is rarely discovered through intellectual analysis alone. It emerges through lived experience. When a person takes action aligned with deeper values, they often notice a particular feeling afterward. Even if the action required effort or produced temporary discomfort, something about it feels correct.

There is a sense of integrity. Integrity in this context does not refer to moral perfection. It refers to internal consistency. The individual’s actions match their deeper understanding of themselves. Over time these moments accumulate.

Each decision aligned with Will strengthens the identity of someone who lives according to that direction. Each decision made from fear or avoidance becomes easier to recognize and correct. Gradually the distance between intention and action decreases. This process mirrors something very important in magical practice.

In ritual, intention is focused through symbol and action until the practitioner experiences a sense of alignment between internal state and external expression. The ritual works because the magician becomes fully present in the act.

Living according to Will is similar. Life itself becomes the ritual. Each choice becomes an opportunity to reinforce the identity of someone who acts consciously rather than reactively. This does not mean perfection is required. Even the most disciplined individuals experience moments of confusion, distraction, or emotional overwhelm.

What distinguishes someone acting from Will is not the absence of these states. It is the ability to return. Just as attention returns to the breath during meditation, the individual returns to the direction they have chosen. Over time this returning becomes easier.
The identity stabilizes.

And once identity stabilizes around Will, something remarkable happens. The individual no longer needs constant motivation to act. They simply act according to who they understand themselves to be. This is the quiet power of identity-level transformation. When behavior aligns with identity, effort decreases while consistency increases.

The person no longer asks themselves whether they should act according to their Will.
They do it because that is who they are.

02/03/2026

Now I sit here and philosophize, as if time itself has slowed down just for me. The sun strokes my skin with an almost conscious presence, as though it wants to remind me why I am here. The air is heavy with warmth, and the birds are not merely singing, they are calling, claiming territory, filling the morning with a rhythmic pulse that feels different from the Nordic silence I left behind. Here, the sounds are rawer. The colors deeper. Everything vibrates closer to the surface.

I sit and think about my next project. There is something about this soil, this heat, that draws stories up from the ground. I am going to write about a folkloric tale, about The Buck. Bacoo. Bakru. The name shifts with language, with the traces of colonial history, with the movements of migration across the Atlantic. But the core remains the same. A spirit. A pact. A whisper of wealth that never comes without a price.

What fascinates me is how certain stories survive generations of denial. How people still lower their voices when they speak of it. Not as if it were a fairy tale, but as if it were a fact one does not openly acknowledge. That is the kind of story that draws me in. The kind that lives between belief and fear. Between business transactions and the spirit world. I long for my art materials. They are on their way here across the sea, along with fragments of my old life. My brushes. My paints. My canvases. It feels strangely naked without them, as though I am only half myself. As though my hands are ready to create but missing their instruments. I already see the motifs forming, dark rooms, whispered contracts, small shadows in the corners of a house where someone has become wealthy too quickly.

Do I regret leaving Sweden? Not for a second. There is a clarity in stripping life down. In realizing how little is truly necessary. I miss my son, that absence is physical, it sits in my chest. I miss my dogs, their presence, their silent loyalty. And a few close friends, the kind who carry your history without demanding explanations.

But the rest? It feels superfluous. Here, I may not have much in material terms. No large networks. No established position. But I have love. I have warmth. I have a land that speaks to me and stories waiting to be written. And sometimes, that is everything.

There is something profoundly liberating about beginning again in a place where the sun burns stronger than doubt and gossip.

01/03/2026

In most Christian theology, sin enters the world through a woman and a fruit. The story is familiar. Eve listens to the serpent, eats from the tree of knowledge, and humanity falls. From that moment, according to classical doctrine, death, corruption, and alienation enter creation.

But what if that is not the earliest rupture?
What if the first transgression did not occur in a garden, but in heaven?

Read my thoughts here!
https://www.petrah.eu/2026/03/01/before-eve-did-the-angels-sin-first/

01/03/2026

I’m curious about your current.

What are you practicing at this point in your life? Thelema, witchcraft, root work, chaos magick, devotion, something ancestral, or something entirely your own?

Tell me what moves your spirit.

18/12/2025

As many of you know, I am currently writing on a new book, and this work has unfolded hand in hand with a horrible illness. It has been a journey marked by vulnerability, endurance, and deep inner transformation. Countless thoughts have passed through my mind; some dark and heavy, others luminous and sustaining. At times, fear has tightened its grip around my soul. Yet those who truly know me also know this: this warrior does not surrender.

I have been carried through this process by the finest support one could ask for, a global circle of magical friends whose presence, prayers, and workings have reached me across distance and time. Their strength reminded me of my own when it flickered. Their faith held me steady when my body and mind were tested.

In this book, I write honestly about that journey: about the shadows, the resistance, and the unexpected grace that arose through connection. What I share here is an excerpt from the new work, a passage dedicated to a brother whose presence, discipline, and integrity became part of my healing. It is written with respect, gratitude, and reverence.

I offer it to you as it was given to me - with an open heart

During my passage through illness, I was led to new allies whose powers revealed themselves not through spectacle, but through steadfast presence. William came to me bearing the current of the North “norðr”, the direction of endurance, where nothing blooms quickly, yet everything that survives endures. His magic carried the bones of Nordic and Icelandic traditions, a sorcery shaped by wind, stone, and silence rather than flame and command. It was the kind of magic that remembers rather than invents.

He worked for me quietly, without demand or display, performing rites rooted in old ways, forn siðr, where healing is not forced, but allowed to return when the body remembers how to listen. His workings aligned breath with bone, body with land. In him I sensed the patience of basalt cliffs, the resolve of lava fields that once burned and now hold steady. This was magic forged in landscapes where humans do not conquer nature, but survive by honouring it. In dreams, he entered my room not as an apparition, but as a brother of the path; real, grounded, and unmistakably present.

He offered me a drink, something cool, mineral, and anchoring as if drawn from a hidden spring beneath stone. He laid his hand upon my cheek with the gentleness of one who knows both fragility and strength. His voice was calm, certain, woven with wyrd and örlög, older than fear itself: “All will be well, sister, as stone and wind remember you.”

And my body believed him before my mind dared to. Something ancient stirred, minni, a remembering beyond thought. It was as if the land itself spoke through him, as if runes etched into cliffs and carried by storms had found a human tongue. The North had answered, not with promises, but with certainty. His work anchored me when I drifted. When pain tried to scatter me, his presence gathered me back into myself. He reminded me that true magic does not shout, does not beg the gods, does not rush the outcome. True magic stands. It waits. It remembers who you are until you can remember yourself. He is my brother, the bearer of the Northern current, brother of stone and wind.

His healing work reached me not as force, but as endurance. In moments when my body wavered and my spirit thinned, his magic stood fast. It did not demand belief; it carried it. Rooted in the old ways, forn siðr, shaped by land, silence, and patience, his workings reminded my body how to remember itself. Through him, the North spoke. Not in promises, but in certainty. In dreams and waking stillness alike, your presence steadied me. The strength he anchored did not fade with the night, it settled, endured, and continues to grow.

I feel it even now, as recovery unfolds and flesh regains its resolve. He did not attempt to remove my struggle. He helped me withstand it, and in doing so, he returned my own power to me. That is true healing. For his rites, his restraint, and his unwavering presence I give my heartful thanks. Stone and wind remember him, and through them, so do I.

I love you Brother

Thelemic Divine Females

04/05/2026

20/03/2026

10/03/2026

09/03/2026

05/03/2026

02/03/2026

01/03/2026

01/03/2026

18/12/2025

Adress

Telefon

Webbplats

Aviseringar

Kontakta Affären

Genvägar

Dela