Setian Meditations

Three brief sermons in which I discuss Set’s affinity for the color red, why Setianism is substantially different from many other religions, and how the Red Lord saves us all every night.

 

Red isn’t just a color; it’s a part of Set Himself. Or to put it another way, the Red Lord doesn’t just “like” the color red; He is the very essence of redness.

Within the spectrum of visible light, red exists between orange (where red meets yellow) and violet (where red meets blue). Technically, its wavelength is approximately 620–740 nanometers on the electromagnetic spectrum. It has historically been associated with aggression, blood, heat, lust, and passion. It’s also linked to the planet Mars and the sphere of Geburah on the Qabalic Tree of Life. Mars, of course, is named after the Roman God of war, who is often conflated with the Greek God Ares. (Hence why Mars is so often associated with hostile alien space invaders, as in H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds.) Geburah is where the gods pass judgment and destroy things, causing us all to be transformed (whether we want to be or not). It’s also the sphere where the gods take whatever steps they need to beat the crap out of evil.

Red is further linked to iron, which is likely because (1) there is actually iron in our blood and (2) Late Stone Age people often used ochre, a clay that is given a reddish tint by iron oxide. Even today, tribal peoples still use ochre to treat animal skins, repel insects, stop bleeding, and protect themselves from the sun. Red also continues to be the preferred color for warnings and danger signs (both in human society and in nature), with the highest threat levels being “red alerts.”

The Egyptians associated Set with red because He is a storm deity. While most Thunder Gods are linked with fertility and kingship due to the part storms usually play in fertilizing crops, storms almost never occur in the Nile Valley. The crops there are sufficiently irrigated by the Nile itself when it floods each year; so even when storms do happen, they tend to have disastrous consequences. They more often occur in the deserts on either side of the Nile Valley, the sands of which are colored red (making Set “the Lord of the Red Lands”). Red-haired animals and people were likewise linked with Set as well, and by the time He was completely demonized during the Late Period, it wasn’t uncommon for such animals and people to be killed as a way of execrating Him. Redheads continued to be demonized by European Christians, who thought such people were especially prone to “worshiping the devil” and becoming “witches.” This construct came from the Egyptians, who considered Set to be the original “red-headed stepchild.”

In many Typhonian spells from the Greek magical papyri, the directions call for magic words to be written in donkey’s blood (which is often described as “Typhon’s blood”). In the LV-426 Tradition, we think that harming any of Set’s sacred critters will definitely draw His attention to you, but not in a way that any sane or rational person would want. I do, however, think that the more red things you can include in your rituals, the better. I prefer to light red candles for the Big Guy, myself.


What does it mean to be “religious”? The answer to this question is much more nuanced and evasive today than it was hundreds of years ago.

When I use this descriptor in relation to myself, it often catches people off guard because I just “don’t seem like the religious type.” I don’t attend any kind of church, take any scriptures literally, try to convert people, or seek to legislate other people’s lives. I also cuss like a sailor and tend to be hypercritical of organized religion in general (to the point of supporting the strict taxation of all churches).

Some people dismiss my religiosity for just these reasons, because their definition of “religion” is limited to the conservative Christian model. And since my religion does not fit within those specific parameters, people always want to tell me I am “spiritual, not religious” at best.

Excuse me, but let’s make something perfectly clear: I am a SETIAN, and SET is my god. I do what I do out of profound reverence and devotion to HIM. The only theological expectations I care to meet are HIS; the standards of other faiths DO NOT APPLY.

Furthermore, Set is not some bullshit authoritarian shepherd god; He has nothing to do with giving commandments, judging humanity for its sins, or bullying anyone with the threat of a miserable afterlife. Set is a cosmic individualist in the truest possible sense of the term; He demands not only freedom for Himself, but for EVERY sentient individual to be the unique and different creature they really are. And even in 3200 BCE, this included everyone from foreigners and immigrants to LGBTQ people to nomadic desert peoples to others who just “didn’t fit in” for whatever reason (especially if they were redheads).

Set is a god who approves of having drag queens read books to children at public libraries, for instance, while contemporary Christians still quarrel over whether Jehovah even accepts such lovely people as human beings. So do not presume to judge MY religiosity according to YOUR (highly questionable) standards. As far as Setians like me are concerned, your own religious priorities are absolutely fucked!

As for the “spiritual but not religious” crowd, I fully support everyone’s right to self-identify as they please. I reject this label myself, for it simply doesn’t do me justice. Walking with Set is not a “hobby” or a “game,” it’s a motherfuckin’ QUEST that takes your entire life, and which continues long after you die! I will not belittle myself, my god, or the magic we work together by referring to it as anything else BUT religious. And those who want to bash all religion in general because “it’s all the same” can kindly kiss my ass.


With respect to the

Wise Donkey  from L. Frank Baum’s The Magical Monarch of Mo.

“Have I been saved? Yes; in fact, my god saves me every day. He saves you every day, too, even though you don’t believe. The fact that the world is still here when we wake up each morning—that we don’t all just blink right out of existence while we’re asleep—is a direct result of His operations out there, on the Frontier of Creation. He’s out there right now, fighting for all of us. He doesn’t care if you’re strong or weak, noble or corrupt, pious or irreligious. Nor does He care that most people vilify Him, if they acknowledge Him at all. Whether He is cursed as a devil or dismissed as a fairy tale, it makes no difference to Him. It’s neither His job nor His concern to judge the world. Even if no one ever rooted for Him at all, my god would still be out there, saving the whole of Creation each night!

“Don’t get me wrong; He does notice those mortals who call out to Him in praise. Given that there are so few of us, it would be hard for Him not to! And though He has His own battles to fight, He shares His strength and His steel with us. When we have tribulations that are too much for us to bear alone, we can ask Him for strength and clarity of vision. We can use our words of power to actually become Him in human flesh, and nothing—not even the Chaos Serpent itself—can stand against us when we do! When we perform this Great Work, we are saving our own little parts of the world. With our Holy Father, salvation becomes a team effort; our victories are His, and His victories are ours!

That is why Set, alone of all the gods, has my undying loyalty. That is why the subjective realities of other faiths can just never compare to mine. There are no threats, no guilt trips, and no extortions here. It all comes down to just one thing, baby: making sure there’s always tomorrow!”

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The Stuff Nightmares Are Afraid Of

Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) is a terrific allegory for the eternal conflict between Set and the Chaos Serpent. With instructions for a spell for protection during sleep.

 

In Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), some teenagers start having nightmares in which they’re menaced by this disfigured creep who has knives for fingers. Whenever this asshat kills someone in their dreams, they die in real life at the same time. One of the teenagers, Nancy Thompson (played by Heather Langenkamp), discovers that when they were little children, their community was terrorized by a serial killer who preyed on little kids. The man was arrested and put on trial, but he got off on a technicality and was released. Then, fearing for their children’s safety, the parents of the community took the law into their own hands and burned the killer alive. But this has only made things worse, for it is the killer’s ghost who now haunts the kids in their dreams, seeking revenge against the parents by finishing what he started. Now it’s up to Nancy to find a way of execrating this evil spirit.

On the one hand, A Nightmare on Elm Street has more than its fair share of devoted fans; on the other, it receives far more derision from mainstream critics and the general public than it really deserves. I blame this on most of the sequels, which became increasingly goofy with each new installment. By the end of the 1980s, Freddy Krueger was practically a live action cartoon character, and this is the version of him that most people remember today. Sequels like The Dream Warriors (1987) and The Dream Child (1988) are more like self-parodies than straight horror films; they don’t even bother to take themselves that seriously. But if you watch the original Nightmare from 1984, I promise you: even if it doesn’t scare you, it will make you quite uncomfortable at the very least. There’s absolutely nothing “funny” about this film at all, and the Freddy Krueger character is really just the tip of the iceberg.

When the film begins, the daylight reality in which Nancy and her friends all live seems safe enough; but as Freddy Krueger becomes more prominent in their dreams, the ugly truth about their everyday world begins to unfold. These things are never stated to the audience outright, but viewers will notice that Nancy’s parents are divorced (and that the proceedings of this arrangement were anything but amicable). Nancy’s mother is an alcoholic, and her father—the town sheriff—only shows up whenever there’s a tragedy. At the same time, Tina’s mother also seems to be divorced and would much rather spend time with her boyfriend in Las Vegas than stay with her daughter (even when she knows the poor kid has been having terrible nightmares). Rod’s parents seem to be completely absent from his life, leading him to take on a life of petty crime. And then there’s Glenn (played by a baby-faced Johnny Depp), whose parents demonize Nancy for no good reason aside from the fact that two of her friends are dead.

It’s ironic that these parents once resorted to mob justice to protect their community, for they don’t seem to care very much about their community now. None of them are involved in their children’s lives anymore, and none of them seem to care that much when each other’s kids die. When Tina gets butchered, Rod is immediately accused of the crime, and none of the adults ever question this. We never see Tina’s mother afterwards, so we’re left to wonder if she even grieves for her daughter at all. When Rod gets strangled by Freddy in his jail cell, it’s clear to all the adults that it was suicide and no one shows any kind of sympathy for him. Clearly, Tina and Rod’s deaths mean nothing to Glenn’s parents, who seem to think they can avoid having anything like that happen to Glenn by keeping him away from Nancy. Meanwhile, Nancy knows exactly what’s happening, but no one will believe or even listen to her, even when the evidence is staring them in the face. For Duat’s sake, she can’t even get any help from her father, the sheriff!

It is this complete absence of parental support that makes the film truly terrifying, in my opinion. Never mind the idea that Nancy and her friends are being targeted by a supernatural force; Freddy Krueger is simply the 1980s American version of an ancient Akkadian Alû demon (i.e., a spirit that terrifies people while they sleep), and the ancient Akkadians knew well enough how to deal with such things. If an Akkadian child reported having certain experiences while he or she was asleep, his or her parents didn’t take any chances; they simply execrated the Alû with their magic and the problem usually went away. So the idea of Freddy Krueger in and of himself is not that impressive; entities like him are just little things in this world, and it doesn’t take that much to get rid of them. It would help if the Elm Street families were willing to entertain the possibility of such events in the first place; but even more importantly, the fact that the children can neither trust nor depend on their parents is a serious problem. That is what enables demonic forces like Freddy to perpetuate themselves in the first place, and that is what disturbs me most in this film.

Mind you, I’m not claiming that every childhood boogeyman is actually real; nor do I contend that magical thinking is always the best answer to one’s problems. But if I had a kid and she told me that some freak was coming after her in her dreams, I wouldn’t laugh at her or treat her like she’s crazy. I’d say, “Well, it could be one of two things going on here, hon. It could be that there really is some freak coming after you in your dreams; or, it could be that it’s just a dream and nothing more. Either way…I say we whack the fucker, just in case.” And then I’d have her draw a picture of the creep that’s scaring her, and we’d hurl all kinds of abusive language at him in Set’s good name. We’d stick pins in his ass and chop him up into little pieces; then we’d throw him in the fireplace and watch the little bastard burn. Call me superstitious if you like, but like the Akkadians, I don’t believe in taking any chances with this kind of stuff. No kid should ever have to face a monster alone like Nancy does in Nightmare on Elm Street.

(If it seems crazy that I’m talking about the things that happen in Nightmare like they’re real, I’d like to point out that the film is partially inspired by true events. During the 1970s, director Wes Craven read an article in the L.A. Times about a group of Khmer refugees who were living in the United States, and whose children were having nightmares that disturbed them so badly, they refused to sleep. Some of them later died in their sleep, and it was as if they had known they would die if they didn’t stay awake. This story disturbed Craven to his core, and it later became his main inspiration for writing Nightmare. Craven has also said that he took inspiration for the film from certain Buddhist and Taoist ideas, and anyone who’s ever listened to the man talk will know that he actually believed in some kind of spirit world.)

The Nancy Thompson character is easily the best thing about this film; in fact, she’s the very best “Final Girl” since Laurie Strode in Halloween and Ellen Ripley in Alien (1979). Unlike Laurie, she becomes aware of her nemesis early in the film and she actively hunts him down; and unlike Ripley, she has no weapons aside from her own determination and resourcefulness. Nancy eventually discovers that if she holds on to something in her dreams while she’s waking up, she can bring it over to the real world. She decides to conduct this extremely dangerous experiment with Krueger, and when it proves successful, the tables are immediately turned. Freddy finds himself at Nancy’s mercy, suffering every form of abuse the teenager can throw at him; he even becomes afraid of her at one point. And considering just how slimy a character Freddy really is, it feels really good to see him get his comeuppance this way.

This humiliation of the antagonist is a recurring theme in many of Wes Craven’s films (including 1972’s The Last House on the Left, 1977’s The Hills Have Eyes, 1988’s The Serpent and the Rainbow, 1991’s The People Under the Stairs, and 1996’s Scream). There’s almost always a transition point in these movies where the surviving victims gain some kind of advantage over the villains, and the villains become blubbering, pathetic fools. I believe Craven’s intention here was to demonstrate that while evil may often seem very powerful and formidable, it only has as much power as we allow it to have. When we take that power back, evil is revealed for the frail and empty little thing that it really is. And in the original script for Nightmare on Elm Street, that is exactly what happens; Nancy defeats Freddy Krueger by taking back all the energy she’s put into him with her fear, and his spirit is dissolved back into the Void forever.

My only criticism of A Nightmare on Elm Street is the fact that its ending was sloppily changed at the last minute, and for purely commercial reasons. Nancy defeats Krueger, and all seems well; but then she realizes she’s actually having another nightmare, and the rotten bastard gets her after all. This ending always leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. They go through the entire movie developing this really likable character who’s noble and strong and who succeeds in defeating (and even humiliating) the villain; then they pull the rug out from under her at the last minute just to give the audience one last jump scare. Granted, it scared the hell out of me when I first saw this film as a kid; but as an adult who’s digested the rest of Wes Craven’s work, I can see just how “un-Cravenian” that ending really is. As it turns out, Craven had a major dispute with Nightmare’s producer, Robert Shaye, who wanted a scary ending to set the stage for a sequel. Craven eventually gave in to Shaye’s demands just so they could finish making the film. I think this was an unfortunate choice on Craven’s part, as it prevents Nightmare from being a truly perfect film; but the rest of the film holds up remarkably well, even after 30 years, so at least there’s that.

When you stop to think about it, sleep really is kind of a scary thing. If we hold to the Cartesian definition of existence (i.e., “I think, therefore I am”), we technically cease to “exist” for a while when we aren’t awake. Sure, our bodies are still there and our brains continue to function; but we don’t really “think” in the normal sense of the term, since we aren’t conscious. So in a way, we all become like Schrödinger’s Cat when we’re asleep; we’re neither alive nor dead, and we only collapse back into a solid state of reality when we regain our capacity for conscious self-reflection. We’re extremely vulnerable while we’re in this state (both physically and otherwise), and this is partly what the Egyptians were getting at with their tales about Ra being menaced by Apep in the Underworld each night. By attacking Ra, Apep isn’t just posing a cosmic threat against the Creator; it’s also posing a personal threat against all creatures that sleep and dream.

Nancy Thompson’s struggle with Freddy Krueger is a perfect representation of this principle, especially since it’s built upon fears that many cultures traditionally associate with sleep. Apep and Krueger are both astral monsters that try to kill living things while they regenerate (whether this means a sleeping Creator or a sleeping human). Both attempt to kill the future (whether by preventing the dawn or by murdering kids). Both thrive when the good do nothing (whether this is due to a paralyzing gaze or a conspiracy of silence). And both are easily overpowered once you learn how to see through their tricks (whether this is achieved by a badass Thunder God or a plucky suburban teenager). In this way, I consider the character of Nancy Thompson to be a true daughter and warrior of Set.

Set & Nancy Thompson vs. the Serpent & Freddy Krueger

Incidentally, here is a procedure you can use to help you feel a little more like Nancy Thompson when you need it most. If you ever get scared when you’re in bed at night, give this procedure a shot. No Freddy Kruegers can hold a candle to the awesome power of He Before Whom the Sky Shakes.

Get a blank sheet of paper and some red paint. (If you don’t have any red paint, you can use a pen with red ink.) Draw a donkey that’s facing left, and write the word “EOEOE” in the shape of triangle on its neck. Then write “LERTHEMINO” on its back, and write “SABAOTH” on its breast. Finally, write the name “ABRASAX” directly beneath the donkey’s hooves, so that it looks as if the donkey is “walking” on the word. You don’t have to be a great artist; even the simplest and most child-like scribbling will do. (In fact, the simpler and more child-like you can manage, the better.) Just make absolutely sure that you draw the donkey facing to the left and that you write the voces magicae (“words of power”) exactly as I’ve said. When you’re finished, your painting or drawing should look like this:

Typhonian Spell for Protection During Sleep

Next, place this painting or drawing in a folder or something else in which it can stay unfolded and flat. (Under no circumstances should you fold it or crumple it.) You must never let any sunlight touch this image you’ve created; it must always be kept in darkness. Once you’ve placed it inside a folder, place it under the mattress of your bed. Preferably, it should be sandwiched between your mattress and your springboard. If the negative energy in your home seems to be centered on someone else in the house (e.g., a child), place the folder under his or her mattress instead. You can make one of these donkey images for each person who lives and sleeps in your home, if you like. Just follow the exact same procedure for each one. Make sure you place the images in areas where they can’t be seen, where no sunlight can touch them, and where they’re close to you and your loved ones while you sleep. Keep them there for at least seven days and nights; you can feel free to remove them after that amount of time has passed.

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