‘Neath Ego’s thin veil, there be Eden.


That thought comes ’round yet again…
What can I do better?
And again…
How can I achieve more?

What can I take up or acquire
That will make me someone admired
Make me someone adored?

This is the nattering of ego
The me, the self, the I
It’s not who one truly is, you see
It’s the fallen, the mistake, the lie

A delusion, a fabrication,
A ramshackle facade of imaginary things
Nation; religion; political affiliation — all the nonsense
‘Neath which the glory of one’s true nature sings

For in reality you are All consciousness
Of which your manufactured identity,
Your ego, is but a part
Using arithmetic and measure it helps you to function
But it has been hijacked by society’s dark art

For in fostering the fiction that ego’s chatter
Is in totality, all that you are
They get workers
and voters, and soldiers
who for nought but baubles and trinkets conspire

In transcending imagined identity
One awakens
In knowing others are likewise afflicted
One is freed

Through meditation
We wither the fruit of Eden
We return home
In ascending beyond creed

Read Andy Crowley, Sole Sorcerer of Sanctuary

The soul business is booming…


TSR-Dice

There is but one mind in all existence: a single consciousness. Most call it the All. Sometimes, it’s called God. One day, out of boredom more than anything else, the All decided to divide itself up and forget that it had divided itself up. These parts are what we call souls. You have one. These souls are born over and over again as they figure out (more like remember really) that they are actually the All.

But in between lives, souls are bottled by reapers for the thriving inter-dimensional soul trade. This is because releasing a bottled soul to reincarnate punches a hole in spacetime, empowering sorcerers’ minds to access probability fields and rejig reality to their liking.

And so, because souls are the fuel of magic, the soul trade drives the economy of the planes and the soul trading houses vie for power.

You shouldn’t feel stupid for not knowing this, because, you see, you live in the one place in all reality where magic doesn’t work. We call it Earth. But in the sorcerous bedlam of the wider, wilder multiverse just beyond the doorstep of our perception, it’s called by another name…

… Sanctuary.

His dad has stockbrokered himself into a sanitarium; his mom has ODed on evangelism; and his friends are starting to want to go to the mall more than they want to play D&D.

Andy Crowley is getting desperate.

Under the circumstances, his aspiration to become the weird outer space wizard you see airbrushed on the side of a van shouldn’t come as a surprise.

His success in that aspiration, however, is something else altogether.

And when it happens on the one world in the multiverse where magic isn’t even supposed to be possible, well, let’s just say all Hell (not to mention Heaven, Hades, Helheim, Heliopolis, and other assorted soul-trading houses) is about to break loose.

Read Andy Crowley, Sole Sorcerer of Sanctuary