October 19, 2021
I’ll just put this out there: Today’s entry is erotic and will probably make you think that I’ve tipped into the realm of fantasy. The thing is, it didn’t feel like fantasy. It felt just like other trips to the Imaginal.
The entity who has been sitting to my left and holding my hand for nearly two months was the focus of this journey. He is definitely male and, while still shadowy, his form (or one of them) has been coming more into focus over the past week or so. He isn’t human and his affect is distinctly neutral, although I think I mistook this neutrality for disinterest on his part. I know that doesn’t make any sense - why would he show up every meditation to hold my hand if he was disinterested?
I’ve written before about human souls. They are distinct in their indistinctness. They morph a lot...or they don’t. The stuck ones seem confined in their suffering. Their form seems restricted rather than free-flowing. Once liberated, though, they are back to being their malleable selves.
Non-human entities appear differently depending on the entity but one this is consistent: So far at least, I haven’t met any who shift and change like us humans. They may shift outward forms but inwardly they remain the same. To me, this feels like neutrality but I think that’s my bias. I’m used to being met intimately by human souls. There is a merging or interpenetration because our souls are made of nothing and can interweave with anything. That allows us to taste every experience more fully. It can also be a hindrance if our practice isn’t developed but I won’t get into that here.
Non-humans show up as uniformity, consistency. They are the same through and through and they don’t tend to change. There is a purity about them. They can also interpenetrate us but, again, they feel uniform. They aren’t inert but that is sort of how I perceive them.
This entity did not display any form for a very long time and then it was hazy. His ‘skin’ appeared as the night sky illuminated by moonlight, not pitch black, more luminous blue punctuated by stars. He is quite beautiful but his aloofness was a bit maddening. You know me, I’m such a slut that I’m ready to merge with just about anyone I meet in the Imaginal. This guy liked to hang back as if he was evaluating me, trying to decide if I was ready, I guess. Or maybe he was trying to decide if I would stay. (I get this often when I meet non-human entities - they will frequently hang back and observe me as if they are taking my measure.)
Lately, he’s been revealing more of his form to me and, fuck, is he a sexy beast! Literally. He shows up as a bullman, sort of minotaur-like. He isn’t crude or barbaric, though. He comes across as a very well-groomed minotaur. Of course, I was instantly in lust with him, even though I know that’s not the point. Maybe this is the reason that he chose not to reveal himself to me right away - he didn’t want his appearance to be a distraction.
Today, my meditation started off as rather chaotic. Despite this, I was able to settle. I was aware of the entity there with me as usual, holding my hand in his much bigger one. This time, though, it seems that he had made his decision about him and was ready to commit. I blinked and was standing in a moonlit glade. Fireflies danced among the trees and there was a stone altar before me. Upon the altar was a knife. A very sharp knife. In looking at it, though, I realized that even though it was incredibly sharp, I didn’t feel fear. I knew that its cut was not intended to wound but to expose the truth. The dagger was ornamental with a jewel-encrusted; I had never seen anything like it. I could tell it was from another realm because it appeared unitary like it had always been whole, not something constructed from parts or even worked by a craftsperson.
The entity was standing beside me in front of the altar. It didn’t take a genius to know what the knife was for: What else does one do before an altar but make a sacrifice? Part of me wondered if I was in my right mind because I knew that I would do whatever he asked. He turned toward me, still a shadowy form whose skin shimmered like the night sky on a full moon.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded, replying, “Yes.” It was true. In the past two months, I haven’t witnessed him doing anything other than being loyal to the truth. He had only ever acted with integrity and with the best interest of those he was helping. Further, he’s clearly wiser than I am. He is deeply grounded in the depth of Being, far more than I am. I’m so easily distracted and dislodged but he never wavers. That is one of the reasons I suspect that he has been sitting with me - he is a good mentor in meditation practice because he illustrates such perfect stillness.
So, even though the Christians who are reading this are probably horrified, I willingly extended my (left) wrist to him, holding it over the altar which had a depression in the top to catch our blood. My mysterious entity picked up the knife and extended his big wrist, positioning it under my own.
I waited, wondering if I was doing the right thing but deciding that I was. Again, I have never had any reason not to trust him.
The cut was quick and mostly painless. I knew it would be because nothing in the Imaginal can harm my ‘body’ there. Besides, it’s obvious to me that rituals in the Imaginal are real, unlike so many of the rituals in the physical world. I feel like we humans have misinterpreted the Imaginal rituals, actually sacrificing each other and drawing real blood in the mistaken belief that this was required in some way. In reality, such rituals were never meant to be acted out literally in the physical world.
This ritual of drawing blood wasn’t about sacrificing one’s life or blood, it was about union. When he slit my wrist and my ‘blood’ flowed out, he likewise slit his own. He knelt down and held his hand over our bleeding wrists and our blood flowed together onto the altar. The blood wasn’t red but poured out like starlight, shimmering and beautiful. And rather than weakening us as it flowed outward, it strengthened both of us and brought the promise of renewal.
I don’t understand the full meaning of this ritual; I suspect it has more significance than I can understand right now. But I gave myself willingly to the ritual, to him. I could feel his blood mixing with my own, our inner natures binding together in some mysterious way. I still don’t know why he chose me and maybe I never will. He is so big, so powerful and so mysterious, although he is now more open to me than before.
In fact, he appeared before me in all of his minotaur glory, right down to the massive size of his male appendage which, because of his great size, was practically at eye level. (I could hear Griffin in the back of my head cheering, “Oh, HELL YEAH!’ when he witnessed it. Griffin, although mostly a top, is versatile when presented with an enormous endowment.) Despite being naked, his body was heavily ornamented with numerous piercings through multiple nipples, his ear lobes, a nose ring (of course - he is a minotaur, after all). He also had gold bands on each bicep, his horns had golden caps on the ends, he wore rings with massive jewels. His thighs and chest and arms were either painted or tattooed. His hooves were limned in gold. In short, he was a prince and wore all of the trappings of one.
And his penis. Jesus, that cock! Rather than bull-like, it was more human-shaped but incredibly huge. Because he was flaccid, his long foreskin was bunched up. He had no pubic hair; his blue skin was perfectly smooth. His balls were bull-sized as well, hanging down in his distended sac. And so beautiful! I was instantly turned on.
Like others I’ve met in the Imaginal, he was happy to let me investigate his body--all of his body--down to the adorable outward pucker of his butthole, concealed between his giant, muscular ass cheeks, beneath his bull tail.
I loved his body and recognized that I’ve been captivated by it for a long time. Much of my erotic writing is about bull-sized men with bull-sized equipment. I’ve found minotaurs to be enthralling for as long as I can remember. I’m captivated by men with huge genitals, especially ones who have injected their cocks and ballsacs with silicone to make them swell to bull-sized proportions. Likewise, I’m quite taken by guys who are heavily pierced and tattooed.
It’s possible that this entity appears to me this way because he’s showing up through the layers of my imagination which naturally clothes him in the ways I find most attractive. It’s also possible that he’s always been with me in some way and I’ve unconsciously adhered to his physicality, naturally finding people and imaginary beings who look like him to be erotic and attractive. It’s hard to say.
I can see why he has remained shadowed in my experience. I get the sense he didn’t want me to get distracted by his appearance. This could be a big distraction, especially because his appearance isn’t the focus or the reason why he is here. Further, there is a neutrality about him; he isn’t human and doesn’t possess a heart like humans do. I’m not saying that he doesn’t love or doesn’t have a heart, just that the way his heart shows up isn’t like mine does. We are more than two different species; we’re completely different from each other in so many ways.
I’m aware that part of me wants to fall in love with him and probably is making him seem even hotter than he might be. Still, he is a stud; that much is for sure and I can’t help feeling sexual attraction to him. It helps that he doesn’t encourage or discourage this attraction; he just is. This serves as a good teachable moment for me. I wouldn’t say that my sexual instinctual drive is out of control but I am still learning to integrate it.
It’s tempting to call this ‘blood’ mixing ritual a marriage but it’s not. It is a union but just what kind of union, I don’t know. Is it permanent? Temporary? What will it mean? And, of course, my usual: Am I just imagining the whole thing?
When a human unites with a god...well, I don’t know what it means. In some ways, I can’t tell if there has been a change in our connection. He feels present with me but just as before but the presence is still the same. He doesn’t feel any closer or more open to me. He’s not closed per se...just not open exactly.
I get the sense that the forms he takes change. He’s not always a minotaur; sometimes he’s a blue-skinned man. (He’s always hung like a bull, though!) He can be any number of other forms as well, some more concrete than others. His regality and princely nature is always present, regardless of his outward appearance. Further, his human form is not ethnically white, European. It’s hard to tell exactly what ethnicity he is, though. He could be Egyptian, Persian or Indian. He has thick, black hair in his human form and a haughty bearing. His bluish skin is the same whether he’s human or bullman.
I guess I’ll learn over time if this experience was a red herring or if it really does connote a shift in my Imaginal journeying. You’ll be sure to read about it here as it becomes clearer.
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