Little Hoodoo & Little Space fuse into Little Space Hoodoo (from Space Hoodoo Comix # 1)

Fourscore and Twenty Years Ago (or some period of time feeling that long), a dear friend of mine mailed me an issue of the comic book TOO MUCH COFFEE MAN (which later meta-morphed into one of the only magazines worth reading: TOO MUCH COFFEE, MAN). We were both Brothers of the Bean and the gift was well-received.

In that particular issue, Author and Artist Shannon Wheeler presented a “mini-comic,” the format and creation of which was very simple: simply take one sheet of standard printing paper, fold into fours and designate a template with front cover and 7 pages of material. Draw it up, fold it up, add a staple and trim off the top.

Bingo! You’ve got a mini-comic!

Well, I had to give it a try myself. And then I had to try it again.

And soon, I couldn’t stop.


At the time, I was corresponding heavily with my dear friend, Dennis O’Brien, an Artist-Writer-Wizard from the Rockford area in Illinois. We had met at an art show where I was exhibiting, struck up a conversation about Comics, Cabala & the Corrosion of Culture and, essentially, became best friends overnight. This friendship rapidly became an ongoing multi-media maelstrom of communication in which the US Postal System became our SECOND best friend. Letters turned into packages stuffed with cards, notes, artwork, bags of coffee and 90 minute cassettes wherein we’d document our days on hand-held recorders from the vantage point of the Pentagency (a secret society so cloaked and clandestine that we only let ourselves in-which probably accounts for our history being wholly devoid of schism or imitative offshoots).

Eventually we’d both catch up to speed with the internet and discover faster and more expedient ways to converse. Email. Instant chat. But we had already developed our artform and didn’t give a shit about expediency. The manner in which we mailed material to each other began to generate certain magical feedback into our separate spheres of spiritual adventure.

Dennis turned me onto Robert Anton Wilson and William Burroughs. I still owe him a debt of gratitude for introducing me to the power and potential in Positive Paranoia.

I repaid the favor by turning him onto mini-comix as an artform.

The Pentagency was also known as K.O.P.H.I. (Kult of Phred, Incorporated, International and then Intergalactic).

Since Dennis’ death in 2002, we are now Interdimensional.

So who the hell is Phred?

Phred entered our correspondence from the get-go as the universal yellow smiley face, created by State Mutual’s Harvey Ball in 1963. He was known to us at that time simply as “Fred.” Over the course of hundreds of letters, little Mr. Sunshine would eventually reveal his true nature as one of the Good Greys, a Master Alchemist from the Sirius Star System-and we would become his Agents.


Saint Harvey channeling Fred v 1.0 from Sirius B

Both the Phredian Mythos and Modus Operandi of the Kultus was well underway as a joint-endeavor when I wrote and drew Kophi Komix # 1. As “K.O.P.H.I.” wasn’t my own private possession (we had decided that we’d both be Popes in the Kultus-with shared infallibility), it only made sense that Dennis’ mini-comics were ALSO entitled Kophi Komix. Maybe we could have cheerfully agreed to sue each other over copyright infringement but seeing as neither of us had any money, we just went ahead as partners in mindcrime and we each ran our own series.


Front Cover of Kophi Komix # 13, drawn and quartered by Dennis O’Brien (aka Dionysus Orion aka Avocado Johnson of Swamp Studios)

As we sent issues back and forth in the mail to each other, the storylines began to bleed into one another and timelines overlapped. Soon, we had “connective conundrums” to address and thus began filling the storyline spaces between issues with sub-issues (i.e between MY issue # 2 and HIS issue # 3, one of us might need to draw up issue # 2.1 and # 2.2 to handle seeming discrepancies in continuity-I hadn’t read Wittgenstein yet but you can see why I would eventually find his Tractatus quite appealing).

At a certain point we just started numbering every issue ZERO and even WE didn’t know how many ZERO issues we had floating about.

The magic was increasing, the mythos was growing and every arcane pursuit (which included a form of Gematria utilzing Goldfish crackers) was being pulled into the vortex we were stirring into Alien Java with a spoon.

And then Dennis died.

There is much I’ve not addressed in this blog but suffice to say: along with our chaotic and free-form shamanic comix, there had grown a friendship which had only expanded over time in terms of depth and love.

D was my Brother and my Friend.

I recall sitting in my shitty little one bedroom apartment when I received news of his death. As could be expected, I felt sick, sad and hollow, as gutted as I wished the Reaper had been for being such a fucker that day.

And I distinctly recall the thought which entered my head at that moment:

“That’s the end of Kophi Komix.”


I mean, how was it to go on? It wasn’t about ME, it was about US! We did this TOGETHER!

There was the visitation, the funeral, the moving on with life.

But I wasn’t “moving on.”

And so I sat down one night and folded up a single sheet of paper. I had experienced enough of the magic to know that what I was doing was more than just crafting a cartoon. It was a means of contact being built from the basic toolbox of the cave-shaman.

I drew the first issue of the new volume of Kophi Komix.


Dennis was back. And so was I. And the Mission was ON.

What Mission? Well, it was Secret Stuff, so Secret that I apparently didn’t even know myself.

“No way out but forward GO.”

All I knew was, like Robert Blake (that would be William Blake’s brother, not the guy in Baretta), Dennis was with me still, a spirit presence guiding the process and working alongside me from the Other Side of things.


You can’t keep a Good Man down…or DEAD!

That series ran 31 issues. And Horus was, appropriately, one of my pals through those 217 pages (even if he did remove my face with a power drill in one of the later issues).

More comics were created. More of the magic was moved around. And soon those little books began to function along the lines of John Candy’s typewriter in Delirious. So-called Reality and the malleable storyline spelled out in penciled panels began to overlap. This wasn’t quite the walk in the park it might sound like as both Good and Bad Karmas are called for in the recipe and these need to be adequately worked into each other.

Fortunately, there was a master Alchemist from Sirius B on the payroll.


To this day, I do not hesitate to recommend that every Voudon-Gnostic working along the lines of Michael Bertiaux’s Voudon-Gnostic Workbook and the system of La Couleuvre Noire (for which I presently serve as Sovereign Grand Master) read Scott McCloud’s brilliant book, Understanding Comics. It may seem to be a most unlikely prerequisite study but there are real magical secrets contained in that delightful graphic novel (even if Scott himself would lower his Harry Potter eyeglasses and raise a brow at the suggestion). The dynamics of the reader/comic relationship are examined in great detail and this pouring back and forth of mind and energy is of direct relevance to active work with those symbols attached to the Loa and known as Veves.


Top Secret Magical Grimoire in which is contained the Ancient Arte of Activating Sigils, Symbols and Smiley Faces 

Dennis readily understood these things and built them into his mini-comix with unique spatial arrangements, hieroglyphics and so forth. The storylines thus functioned on numerous levels at once. The symbols thus employed , however, do not need to be terribly arcane. All that is needed is for them to adequately “read” in the interface which happens on two levels. The first is between the creator and his work. The second is between the work and the reader. Some creators have expertly blended these two levels of connectivity and this, I find, to be the preferrable approach.

If this is beginning to sound abstract, no worries. My purpose in writing this blog was to sketch out a bit of the background for what evolved into my approach to comics as a means to not only entertain but to serve as a field of catharis, existential exploration and, ultimately, magic in the Crowleyan sense: Change occurring in conformity with Will.

Many of the themes worked with in Kophi Komix have now given way to a new phase in the building up of the magical universe. New enemies, new allies, new goals.

What has emerged is SPACE HOODOO COMIX. We are hoping to have the first issue completed, printed and ready to go by this coming weekend. These will no longer be the mini-comix of days gone by although we are looking at including bonus mini-comix with each issue along with trading cards, prayer cards, tarot cards and color prints exclusive to each issue.

The idea is to be sending out a package worth opening and one in which we might offer what the Mighty Mr. McCloud expressed so succinctly in his Grand Grimoire:


Unless, of course, there’s no self to see.

Then there’ll just be Robots, Cthulhu & a Skull-Faced Kid with a Magic Bone.

Which should work.




“Dear Lucy, You don’t need to worry about going to Hell. You’re actually already THERE. Love, Clive.”

In his wonderful little novel, The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis described a very different vision of Heaven than that glibly gobbled up by most. Instead of a wispy wonderland where ethereal beings drift in and out of some floating field of clouds lit with laser light show, new arrivals find themselves confronted with such solidity of Spiritscape as to be dangerous, if not lethal, to their fragile forms, ghostlike in comparison to the ultra-reality of the Higher Realms.

There is a tree hung with marvelous fruits of gold. One newcomer, with an eye for opportunity, decides to get some of these items imported to the Hell Zone where they’d certainly fetch a nice price. Problem is: he can lift nary a one from the ground. They may as well have been cast in iron and held fast by the most powerful supermagnet in the universe.

Too real for those hands, made of misty Maya, to clutch.

The narrator of the tale, a certain fellow with a fondness for furs and fauns, can’t even cross a small stream in this new territory. The waters catch and carry his airy body as if it were a dry and wind-tossed leaf being knocked down a conveyor belt.

Unlike many mainline Christian views on the matter, Lewis’ treatment of Damnation is not one in which adherence to correct dogma determines one’s eternal state of affairs. Regardless of belief or perspective, no one hanging about in Hell is forced stay a moment longer than they choose.

In fact, there is actually a magic bus making daily rounds from the Center of Hell to the Pearly Gates. You just need to get on and take a trip.

magic bus

“Fare is FREE…and they actually pay YOU if you ride on the TOP!”

This open door policy, however, isn’t quite as simple as it initially appears. One might be inclined to think Hell’s shopping strips would have closed up long ago if the customers didn’t have to stick around.

The thing is:


Here we find incredible insight from Lewis in this book. In fact, I think he’s a bit in league with the Tibetans who regard all impressions rising up in the Bardo States between lives as projections of the mind.

We don’t all drum up Dante when making this trek. Lucifer lunching on Judas is more likely to appear as a billboard pushing McDonald’s latest dollar menu.

Now, I believe the traditional theories on Hell hold if we can regard them away from the Thou Shalt Knots.

In essence, the human being is born into a shitstorm.

Prior to popping the mucous plug between Mommy’s belly-pod and that sad farewell to your Pal Placenta, you’ve been infected with this disease called ORIGINAL SIN, the nature of which Phil Dick described, in a private correspondence, as “Being Fucked Up.” Potential at first and typically well-realized in the twinkling of an eye.

An entropy timer on the upper right hand of your computer monitor begins to run and you’ve got just a few short years to beat the disease before you wind up at a certain bus stop.

Sounds about right to me.


Game Loading…

This death run is BIG BUSINESS. When the economy takes a nosedive, there are certain stores which will never need to scrawl a sad sayonara with sharpie on cardboard to hang in the window. Gas stations, grocery stores and “gentlemen’s clubs” will just adjust their prices and the same crowd keeps rolling in.

The necessities of life, right? Forget the bric-a-brac. Target what someone cannot live without and sort the plan to ensure they get it from YOU.

Theologies break out on the planet like an insect-swarm. Half of the time you don’t even get the option of purchasing a can of Raid. Your parental custodian units are more than happy to see their little bundle of joy fed upon by their preferred parasite of choice. They’ll likely even earn rewards for future purchases.

Ever ask someone what their religious views are and they tell you how they were RAISED?

The program is still functional, held onto in the attic of the mind, “just in case.”


Wiring Schematic of Religious Indoctrination 

The situation (so swiftly siphoned by those in the know) is rooted in the flowering of consciousness and its tendency toward self-awareness. If you don’t transplant that weed-and fast-we could be looking at a full blown existential crisis leading to strange political views, private mysticism and other assorted perspective points which threaten tight and highly protected levels of societal control. You could be seriously cutting into someone else’s profit margin if your NEW DISEASE starts to spread in the pig pen. The lunch meat in waiting may just decide that farm life doesn’t suit them anymore.

Most pen-pigs, however, are well bred to stick with the Devil They Know. Some rabble-rouser could tear up the fence and, like dutiful doggies, any inadvertent wander-fest will find them wagging their little tails all the way home, even as Charleton Heston is screaming from the wayside: “Soylent Green…is PUPPIES!”


“That’s fucked UP, Man…” 

Case in point:

Little Lucy pushed through petticoats and saw Satan sauntering about with her Father’s face. Demon Daddy, unhappy with the report card, showed her the way to a lifelong career in conformity, the perimeter of which defined an extraterrestrial exoskeleton wherein her heavy heaving heart would be washed down with a glass of chianti, bottled on her birthday.

A small group of Junior Bodhisattvas calling themselves the “Shunyata Supersquad” happened to be on Christmas Break from H.U. (that’s “Heaven’s University”-no connection with Eckankar) and took her on as a personal case. They were in like Flynn and busted through the beastly bones in a 93 second long display of killer CGI effects with KMFDM’s “ANARCHY” as backing track. The editing room cut this straight into a heartwarming dialogue wherein Lucy was spoken to of her Father & Mother Who Art In Heaven. The camera lingered on the back of the bus as it lifted off the ground, sailed off to the Empyrean and snowflakes shimmered into a fabulous foreground fade-out.


College Kids bored on Holiday

Lucy was back with her bags that night.

After all, it was Christmas Eve and she needed to tell Daddy about her promotion at work. He wasn’t too pleased with how her life had turned out and he certainly wouldn’t have been impressed if she missed hot ham and tedious tabletalk to gaze at a bunch of golden apples.

Meanwhile, the Parasite from Pluto had rebuilt itself and was stuffed into a stocking, camouflaged as an innocuous item meant to provide pleasure while downloading critical updates to the Guilt File on Lucy’s Heartdrive.

It all looked like another dull round, as Blake would say. And it was. Lovecraftian Horrors continued their pernicious partnership with E.T. parasites who bred in the brain just as flies leave their squirming young in flesh gone gray. All to the tune of Bing Bloody Crosby.


“I’m dreaming of a White Witch…”

The Good News (read: “Gospel” if you like Jesus, “Glad Word” if you like Horus) is that the bus always runs on time-and the Supersquad isn’t slacking with their studies this semester. All 5 of them are maintaining straight A’s in “Skillful Means Level Two” (albeit with a few bamboo stripes that will probably leave scars).

At the campus commons, they’re planning their Spring Break (and Lucy’s Break OUT).

In truth, they ARE Lucy and they aren’t going to rest until the beatles are broken and she’s back in the sky, dancing to the Diamond Sutra.



Tipped in color plate for the Hoodoo Pilot Bardo Tarot Chapbook

The HOODOO PILOT BARDO TAROTS have been printed along with their accompanying Chapbooks which were written by hand and completed on the journey to the printers. These will be assembled and shipped out shortly. At present, there is only one remaining deck left for purchase. Let us know if you’d like it. We CAN print and cut more cards to order but this may be a little while yet and, as detailed below, we are already onto the next series of images.

We’ve also started up a series of Greeting Cards and these will soon be offered via Spacebuddhaa’s website. The first set is composed of just a few images we conjured up to see how the cards could be put together. In my opinion, they are looking great and we have a huge list of themes to draw from, paint up and produce before an upcoming art show/card busk here in British Columbia. These are a delight to be making and we hope those who purchase and send out our cards will share in the fun and joy of the images.


Greeting Cards with Lil’ Hoodoo, Lil’ Space & Buddha Bear

We are also very excited to be assembling the needed supplies to run an ongoing series of Bardo Comix directly out of SpaceHoodoo HQ. Unlike the greeting cards, this will be stuff for an adult audience with loads of sex, violence, interdimensional travel, esoteric exploration, violence, surprise guest stars from all walks of history (past, present and future), sex, true tales of heart break and the triumph of the human spirit over malignant menaces from outer space, violence, occult secrets, conspiratorial plots unfurled and foiled, more violence and robots, pirates, demons, sex, coffee, quotes from all my favorite bands woven into the storyline, sex and also nudity and laser guns and sex.

There will also be some violent content.

And sex.

But never fear! We’ve also got another comic book series in the works:


This, I hope, will be my own “Songs of Innocence,” a series for every age and every HEART.

Each comic book will be crafted with a tipped in and hand-signed color plate ready for framing, if wished, at dimensions 5″ by 7.”

Meanwhile, the impetus for a Liber AL Tarot has morphed into what I’m now regarding as the LAMAL TAROT. My initial notes for a Book of the Law based deck had various gaps in the structure and when LAM emerged as a necessary component, the vision for a total structure was almost instantaneous! In fact, this project has been wanting to emerge for many years. I had just never conceived of it in terms of a Tarot. Ironic, really, as we are speaking of THE WAY and this is a clear case of Horse & Carriage (or Pilot & Starship).

The time (Outside The Circles of Time) has now come and all Channels are open to the LAMA.


LAM at the Gates of Daath

Finally, we are hoping to offer the Bardo Bear Tarot by next week. We are planning to include with this set of cards a Talismanic Coinflip. To do this, a series of Canadian Coins will be gathered, duly purified and each one infused with an energy matrix connected to their respective “Hoodoo Bears.” In essence, we will have an altar set up with a “Bardo Bear Brigade” and ask them to move out into Spacetime and find their rightful companions.

SpaceHoodoo HQ is very much an Interzone now as we shift from the cute to the cryptic and back again. We’re feasting with Fae-Folk, doing dessert with Demons and sailing the Skywaves of What Dreams May Come.


-Hoodoo & Space



Encounter with a Friendly Guide in the Bardos

I was recently asked about the Nature of “Spiritual Gaming.” It’s a term used frequently by those on the Prosperity Path spearheaded by Game Master, E.J. Gold. In such context, we often think in terms of video games-and specifically the unique series of games created by Gold and Co. which are meant to serve as virtual meditations.

Mr. Gold has, in fact, written a book on this subject and it’s content has a heavy focus on the video gaming environment as a spiritual arena. However, prior to the development of this technology, the regard for gaming as something more than amusement stretches back through history, from culture to culture. The underlying principles remain the same (even as these are developed and pushed by the Game Mages of the Modern Era).

The term itself is very simple-but one which is difficult to give comprehensive description to. Is Checkers a “Spiritual Game?” Well, it COULD BE! Or it could be a time-killer, a way to whittle away at the boredom of a somnambulistic life winding its way toward the grave.


Highly Advanced Souls With Shamanic Spirit-Board 

What’s the difference?

Well, Spiritual Gaming is the infusion of a Spiritual Approach to a given game environment.

When we think of the word “Meditation” we might imagine a room packed with cross-legged folks sitting all nice and placid on their special butt-cushions (which, in my experience, never seem to help much…the biggest distraction in my own meditations, as such, is the constantly intruding thought that my ass is numb, I can’t feel my left foot and this lack of decent circulation cannot possibly be healthy).


Having lost all sensation in his posterior, Frank was unable to stop meditating and stand up. He died unenlightened.

But Meditation in the traditional sense blends into what Chogyam Trungpa calls Post-Meditation. This is where the butt-cushion is swapped for the seat of your car and silence of the Sanctum gives way to a near sideswipe on the Interstate.

What happens is that the awareness worked with in the sitting practice spontaneously bubbles up to take on the new situation. Your heart starts pounding, your mind immediately thinks “You Bastard! Learn how to DRIVE!” And then you find yourself surprised to suddenly be identifying your habitual reaction as an experience of the same raw and tumbling “thought-stuff” which would drift in and out of the Temple as you gently let it go and returned to a calm focus on breath.

In this sense, the potential accident is no different from the grocery list which popped into your head while you were being a good little Buddha sitting Zazen. It is also a form of meditation. It’s what meditation DOES in your daily life-and what it brings as a transformative element to society and the world at large. Meditators tend to become Beacons.

Now, imagine your typical game. Whether it’s Volleyball on the sand or Go-Fish at the kitchen table with your preschooler, every game is designed to set up a type of conundrum, an ongoing series of problems which need to be addressed. There is competition, even if it’s YOU being pittted against the Game Itself (such as when I’ve played Sudoku or Scrabble against the computer). Were it not so, we’d be bored out of our minds. Imagine a game of Pac-Man, for example, where all you do is eat an energizer pellet, chomp a ghost and complete the level.

Who would want to play THAT?


“Eat, Mate & Die”-The most boring video game ever created.

No, it’s the desire to enter a problem area and work through it which gives rise to every game. We actively seek out and enter certain fields of STRESS so that we may contend with it, stretch it into something else. There is the immediate joy of winning a game for the first time. And this may grow into a deep appreciation of the total experience even when we “lose.” Many times, during certain card games, my getting trounced has been responded to with laughter and admiration for my opponent’s luck and skill.

Play Pokemon with a child and you’ll get this. Kids shuffling up and laying down their “Pocket Monsters” are NOT running through another round of Candy Land. You can clearly see that little mind, having learned from the last game, coming back with new cards, new strategies and the most attentive level of interest. If gaming is analogous to the Art of War, I’d just as soon consult with a committee of 2nd Graders on how to decimate the invading army.

The thing about gaming is that it is an environment into which we CHOOSE to Enter & Exit. If it’s a worthwhile game, we will find ourselves as “frequent flyers” toward that destination, like the person who spends a lifetime leveling up in Chess or GO.

Gamespace begins to really change as we experience it from an unfolding mystical vantage point. This is a theme I really tried to give expression to in the forthcoming book: ORBIT-An Introduction to the Principles & Practice of Quantum Gaming on the Prosperity Path.

A statement we hear repeated in connection with the Prosperity Path Games (called “Orbs) is:

The image of the object is the thing itself.

As simply as that sounds, it is one of the most valuable keys the Spiritual Gamer will find. In fact, it takes us all the way back to lines etched into cave walls, a primitive projection from an uncertain scenario into the universe of the successful hunt.


“Sorry, Running Creatures. A Man’s gotta eat…and you’re no match for my MAGIC!”  

What happens in a Prosperity Video Game is very much akin to Hoodoo. One can ask how grabbing a healing object in virtual space can effect one’s stomach ulcers just as one may inquire into how pounding four nails into the corners of your living room can keep your landlord from evicting you.

Most needful in such workings is the “Magical Link,” the hook-up between dimensions. E.J. Gold made the critical statement that what is happening in his Orbs-or Second Life Virtual Ashram-is REAL. It is REALLY HAPPENING just YOU are REALLY HAPPENING. If it’s all a limited and transient phenomena…well, so are YOU and so am I.

There is a natural tendency to jump into neatly categorized ideas of what is REAL or UNREAL based on Difference and Preference.

For example, my Avatar, in a video-gaming environment, cannot do certain things I can. Defaulting to the habitual notion that my grossly limited human experience is adequate to assess whatever Reality is, I may prefer its scope (or lack) of options as a baseline guide to what is substantial and “real.” A point of view threatening the certainty of the familiar can then be safely contained and controlled within its perimeter (even if that point of view is the very thing which may liberate us from the dull round of life, suffering and death).

The fact that humans think of themselves as top of the food chain makes harvesting them so much easier. And, trust, there is a large marketplace, both physical and spiritual, for the human hot dog.

hot dog

Typical North American Funeral Ceremony with Open Casket

What is happening in the Gamespace is real. But its reality is within the context of its own unique universe. Our two “worlds” often connect in the same way that we read about events happening in a foreign country we have never visited. It is absolutely within the realm of possibility to enter into a dynamic interchange with the events of said country but this requires the establishment of certain linkage points.

Same with the Gamespace and our current level of human experience in Spacetime. It’s a simple matter of understanding the Laws underpinning both worlds and targeting the places where those Laws can communicate and work together.

I don’t need to run off on a Prosperity Path kick or drift into occult teachings here. It’s well documented that things like prayer, laughter and, yes, video games have had remarkable healing effect on the sick.

Arthur Clarke was right when he observed that the magic of the past becomes the science of the future. And what we are speaking of with regards to Spiritual Gaming is a type of physics.

Returning to our opening words, it remains tricky to peg this with a concise definition. This is because there is a myriad of operations to be performed in regard to the laws of physics-just as there are such diverse “goals,” if you will, in activity on any Spiritual Path.

Just as we meditate, we also work with Mantras. One simple statement of intent is the dedication of our actions to the benefit of all beings everywhere. Get that in your solar plexus and then play some Pokemon. Each card is connected to an energy pattern with its field of possibilities. Whether you or your opponent win, there is 30 minutes of action on the board. The game itself is a spontaneous dance, a studio jam, an evocation of those powers we call Bodhisattvas. If you’re going down, learn the Buzz Lightyear and “Fall With Style.” Your bounce off the ball might just be what is most needed.

There isn’t one cut and dry result, either. So much can happen within one turn of the game. You and your opponent learning different lessons, empowering and blessing each other, transferring Gameplay into Lifeplay wherein your Bulbasaur’s evolution into Ivysaur functions in the same manner your post-meditative posterior does in relation to that near miss on the overpass. Watch Ivysaur, linked via Hoodoo to your own state of awareness, evolve into Venusaur as you take a new stance in a typical situation, letting go of habit to allow something wholly new and good to enter in.

We’re not in Pallet Town anymore, Ash. But our Electric Mouse is a much better companion than that yapping dog chasing after the girl in a blue dress.


Bodhisattva in Training with Spirit Guide & Companion


double wand

Wand of Double Power

The HOODOO PILOT BARDO TAROT is now being offered for purchase.

This deck is comprised of 78 Cards, each measuring 1 3/4″ by 4″.

To produce this deck, we do much more than simply send some scans off to a printer. We literally need to take the original art on a BOAT and then travel by foot on a Pilgrimage. We eventually arrive at the Art Store where our friend, Nathan, assists in reproducing the Tarot Sheets, tweaking the color and getting them just right. These sheets are then brought back to SpaceHoodoo Outpost True North where each sheet is hand-cut into 8 cards. As the backs of these cards are blank, we hand sign and sigilize each one in gold metallic ink.

The deck is then packaged with its booklet. This is more than your average U.S. Games guide to what the Two of Cups means according to Mr. Waite. The HP BARDO TAROT is a very idiosyncratic interpretation of the Supersystem underpinning the Tarot as a Path. Thus every card has been renamed and should be “read” as a unique engagement within the Mandala of Universal Laws from which Tarot, as an inspired expression, has risen.



This particular set of images, as the title suggests, deals with the Bardos-or “In Between States,” articulated to the Western Mind by the arrival-and popularity-of Tibetan Buddhism and its now well-known “Book of the Dead.”

The “Tibetan Book of the Dead” is a misleading title and is more accurately translated as THE BOOK OF LIBERATION THROUGH UNDERSTANDING IN THE BARDOS.

These “In Between States” are much more than Process Zones experienced after bodily death. The Tibetans knew this well and identified a Bardo between Life and Death, the space in which you now read these words.

You won’t necessarily be alerted to your Bardo Passage by the presence of bronze-cast Buddhas spied through smokey incense or 3-eyed Mahakala spewing flames in your general direction. The Mild & Wrathful Deities (which are projections of our own mind content) are met in traffic, at the grocery store, in the office.

In fact, chances are that most people wouldn’t be able to discern whether they’re “alive” or “dead.”

There are a lot of Super Wal-Marts in the Realm of Hungry Ghosts-and plenty of internet hotspots in Hell.

Karma Burn

Karma Burn

Therefore the Bardos are a continuous area of concern and self remembering. You don’t need to wait until your heart attack before waking up, looking about and coming back into the Now where all the “shocking ambushes” are ready to be transformed into Vehicles of Liberation.

The HOODOO PILOT BARDO TAROT offers a series of symbols intended to intuitively target the potential pregnant in any given chamber of the In Between States.

Each deck and chapbook (which will be handwritten not typed) is offered at $50 USD + post. You can contact us via Facebook or at for purchase-and we’ll send one of these pocket galleries, along with its commentary, your way.



-Space Hoodoo


Generally, I don’t give a shit about the rich and famous. Celebritism falls flat with me. I get annoyed when people want to fill the gap of nothing substantial to say with talk of tidbits from whatever “These lives are more significant than yours” TV show plugging a primetime slot.

It’s not that I’m a heartless bastard who can’t recognize the fundamental humanity we all share. But I do have some hefty disdain for the cultural (or is that ANTI-cultural?) hierarchical ladder in which the serfs are maintained by being entertained.

Every Man and Every Woman is a Star. And I’ve seen too many unsung Stars snuffed out, shipped to the morgue and processed like McDonalds hamburgers. Each such forgotten soul contained the Universe, experienced from a unique vantage point. A thousand stories are stuffed away in nursing homes. Shriveled asses hurriedly wiped and colostomy bags squeezed into pink plastic basins. The spark behind a gelatinous eye quivers and grows faint.

Who’s the old fucker with a condom catheter slung onto the side of his wheelchair?

Someone who may just have had

Loves and Hates
And Passions just like mine…
He was born and then he lived and then he died
It seems so unfair
I want to cry…

Which brings us, of course, to Morrissey.


I never met Moz and, even if I was his next door neighbor, I have a sneaking suspicion that he’d draw the blinds lest the vulgar American come knocking on the door at teatime.

Still, I remember buying Viva Hate the month it was released. I was 17. At 44, that masterpiece still speaks to me.

As does every album released since then.

Lots of water under the bridge.

From difficult child
To spectral hand…
Blah, blah, blah…

This evening I held my True Love in my arms and my heart swelled upon swelling. Well, somebody must want to see the Boy Happy. If it’s not you, there’s the Goddess of Infinite Space who says

My Joy is to see your Joy

Souls recycling in the Death & Resurrection Show, as another English Genius reminds us.

And we ALL get recycled.

So, I learn this afternoon that Moz joins the ranks of all those I’ve observed from the top of a Time magazine at the University Hospital Radiation and Oncology Department.

The difference between Morrissey and those pale faces is nil save, perhaps, a thinning quiff. The difference between Morrissey and the “Dead Star at the Record Company Party,” however, is measured by a chasm into which a drove of demon packed pigs, cast out by the Christ, go tumbling.

When I was 17, I found in MOZ a voice for my post-pubescent pain. Well, let’s put the P-Word in parenthesis. Get away from the moping mindset of an ignorant teen and have a real dose of the bad stuff.

What the hell did I know about PAIN?


That’s how people grow up.

You can’t crash land into your 40’s after decades of love and loss, whining about how you’re

The most inept that ever stepped.

I don’t hear Moz slinging that line much these days, either.

Like Lydon, the piss and vinegar running through our veins has aged into a wine whereby we toast the pulse of Life Itself with a glass clashing clink.

What the hell is Cemetery Gates really about?

Good God, we were all so young. Pretentious “Poets” penning passions without wisdom.

Take a tour of the headstones. The money made in the marble market. Did anyone really think the Last Trumpet required an obelisk cock-stand for roll-call?

SMITH. 1957-2014.

How unceremonious the congestive heart failure, the

Cancer of the Prostate

Thomas Merton slips after the last bath. Robin Williams? A belt around the neck earns him Warhol’s 15 minutes of fame on Facebook. We’re just curious if it was auto-erotic asphyxiation.

An hourly wage placed paddles on my father’s chest as a bundle-block burned by a blood clot flat-lined to the shocks.

But you never knew my father.

And you never knew Thomas Merton.

Still, you’re going to DIE.

Dead and Double Dead.

They nail you to a cross and nail you into a coffin.

So what, then?

If you must write prose and poems, the words you use should be your own

So many rely on others to speak FOR them, rely on others to define them. In my opinion, spitting and sputtering is better than a cut and paste of some inspirational quote someone else wrote (penned Kyle as he cited song after song in this blog).

Yes, Good Words are worth passing along. But everyone should know they also have their own. Emerging from the heart, such words outweigh the “importance” of inanity from the famous, over-inflated by the programmed perspective that such status alone indicates a greater voyage for any given

traveler to the grave

Reverend Michael Bertiaux observed, in his Voudon-Gnostic Workbook, that we are the Universe “in its Learning Aspect.” One Consciousness that is so much more than the politics of a human primate playground. There are trees doing a much better job than humans.

Ergo, that body in a bag which drained IVs in a now vacant hospital bed may very well have learned more on behalf of the Absolute, given more to the growth of our Cosmic Continuum, than all scholars of the world combined.


Walt Whitman knew it, which is why he eschewed philosophical discourse in favor of chit-chat on climate conditions while warming a rocking chair on a wooden porch.

As for Morrissey, I really don’t care who wants to make a snide-swipe at the “attention whore” whose concert cancellations get labeled for a pout.

Sister, he’s a poet.

For me, those poems, now truly Louder Than Bombs, have, like all Great Works, continued to be friends along the Way. The lines are the same but they say something new with each listen, becoming more poignant and precise as

at last I am born
living the one true life

Moz may say “whatever” to how

time is gonna wipe us out

but he’s one of the only superstars retiring to an LA Home this evening who is anything but a

lock-jawed pop star, thicker than pig-shit, nothing to convey

So I’ll be offering my prayers for the health and well-being of a man who’s

Not A Man

and whose cancer is worth concern and care (howsoever we may offer it).

We all have our own wonderful company of companions weaving in and out of our lives. A kitten, mother, long dead novelist and potted plant on the kitchen sill all speak, bless and flow as we, lives on a loom, are woven into God’s Grand Tapestry of Awakening in Strange Ways.

To be able to give gratitude is a gift and I send my own to that

English Blood, Irish Heart

still pulsing and promising a novel

worth it in this murkiness


P-U-S-H-O-Double F


Namaste, then, to those Maladjusted Minds & Hearts better bearing Life, Light and Love than any Machine calibrated with precision to walk an unwavering line in the Black Iron Prison.




TNammy True North Prosperity Amulet created by E.J. Gold

SpaceHoodoo is the unified Persona and Power of Hoodoo Pilot (Kyle Fite) and SpaceBuddhaa Ze (Jedrik S). We are One Thing and operative as a Time-Traveling Temple of Moving Prayer. Our Spacetime Locale and Environment is an extension of the Inner Space which is “Open for Business” 24/7 and fully ready for any Geographic or Dimensional Shift.

There are candles which may be set aglow in physical spaces and candles which burn in virtual realms. And then there are the candles within the Sanctum of Outpost: True North which connect to these lights while remaining ever lit beyond blow-out or wax-wane.

Our Temple is something of a Levitating Landscape, an Atlantean Island which cannot be marked by Terrestrial Latitudes and Longitudes. It’s not an Ashram, a Center or even a rented storefront for Monday Night Meditation.

But it IS a RADIO TOWER fully tuned into a series of Waves both Cosmic and Planetary. Movement of Spirit through Communication is both a necessity and preoccupation. Regardless of Temple Mobility, we will endeavor in every way to “keep the lines open” and maintain Outreach as a Beacon.


Detail from the Ace of Cups, Hoodoo Pilot Bardo Tarot

Formerly a Resident of the Prosperity Ashram North, Spacebuddhaa had been limited by a truly terrible internet connection (if such was available at ALL). Likewise, Hoodoo entered a zone of temporary silence due to a variety of factors, including a compressive environment and international travel.
All of these factors have served to crank down a spring in the Magical Machine of Outpost TN. With Vision, we looked forward to the moment when a button would be pushed and “All Systems GO” would be met with a Thumbs Up from our Command Center.

That time is NOW!

Our first series of projects is, of course, the Tarots. But this is only ONE small aspect of our Work within the Outpost. We are developing a Canadian Coinology, moving from the Numismatic to the Numinous. Space and Hoodoo are co-writing and illustrating a book on their fused and flowing approach to Magic and Poetics. Hoodoo’s book on the Quantum Video Games of E.J. Gold (“ORBIT”) is in production with Gateways Books. Crystal Work is underway and the Spacebuddhaa website will soon be revamped.
Hoodoo is also in the process of researching and writing a series of esoteric volumes based on his experiences and studentship with Rev. Michael Bertiaux. This will be a gift to the members of OTOA-LCN with great gratitude to Michael. Contained in these books will be previously private and unpublished material and we expect them to be of great interest to anyone working in the Voudon-Gnostic Current and related Occult arenas.

Furthermore, Space & Hoodoo are thrilled to at last make a return to the Prosperity Virtual Ashram after our hiatus. We are both working from a new space where we anticipate being present and available for participation and service throughout each day.
Having sold, unloaded or destroyed all remaining artworks in Studio Doom, we are now in a truly new phase of visual output. All remaining images were shipped to an Australian collector and all future images will be generated from the Outpost.

Previously, Kyle’s art would be offered in a fairly “standard” format. Matted, bagged and shipped. We are now looking at the chapbook as a new means of presentation: a limited edition, signed and numbered set of books with hand-printed block prints serving as a tipped in frontispiece.

All of this is a smattering of the energy moving and electrifying Outpost TN. Through it all, SpaceHoodoo is full time in Prayer, Dream and Developing Community Connections. To be a BiT (Bodhisattva in Training) means, as the Great Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche said, seeing EVERY SITUATION AS WORKABLE. We don’t shift from being “in” and “out” of The Work. However our activity therein may be appraised, by ourselves or others, we’re swimming the Current, steering the Starcraft and riding our Human Condition as the Vehicle for the Work we came here to do.  


Kyle and Jedrik on the Osprey Ferry, British Columbia

There is no Hoodoo without Space.



Boarding the Tarotplane


This past month I have decluttered, dismantled and destroyed “Studio Doom” to make way for the new working space replete with a growing project list stretching well into 2016.

The first of these projects is a series of complete Tarot decks which we will offer shortly.

Rather than create only one particular “theme deck,” we’ve drawn up a series of templates from which to work into the basic Tarot structure from a variety of angles. This was inspired by the prolific Tarot output of E.J. Gold in which he readily demonstrated how ANY subject could be easily integrated into the underlying system of the cards. Such approach is along the lines of Eliphas Levi’s bold declaration that, were all libraries and vehicles of learning destroyed, one could still access that knowledge pool through use of the Machine known as Tarot.

Of course, Levi wished to emphasize that one also needed the proper KEY to unlock that Machine. Not unlike a car, really. You’ve got to get the door open, turn the ignition and then drive with skill to the destination of choice.

This approach not only applies to learning and working with any given Tarot deck but CREATING decks, also.

The first offering will be the HOODOO PILOT BARDO TAROT, mapping out a Gnostic Worldview within 78 Chambers of Transformative Confrontation. We’re regarding this particular Tarot as the “HP Bardo Tarot v. 1.0.” This is because-despite having 78 spaces in which to give fom and expression to an idiosyncratic mythos-the total symbolic environment of the Hoodoo Pilot Universe is much more extensive, sprawling and alive than a single set of cards can convey.


This Tarot, and hopefully all others, will be prepared with a limited edtion chapbook giving description and comment on all the images.
The second Tarot to be offered will be the LILITU LUMINA TAROT created by SpaceBuddhaa Ze & Kyle Fite. This gallery of images emerges from very deep and intuitive workings with Lilith. It embodies a very unconventional approach to both Tarot Imagery and Lilithian Studies. Rather than assembling available lore linked to the “Queen of Hell,” this explorative deck sidesteps “the story” as it has been transmitted through prejudice and patriarchal fear of the feminine. What has emerged is a very mystical and devotional work, expressed, as it were, from the “other side.” The title of the deck should indicate that this is not going to be a series of “Goth” images-but an expression of what we regard as THE LIGHT OF LILITH.

We will also be offering the BARDO BEAR TAROT. This has been long time foreshadowed by the development of Bardo Bear as a Presence in artified coin flips and limited edition prints. BARDO BEAR is readily met as a Primary Persona in E.J. Gold’s Spiritual Gaming Environment at Our work and experience with this figure has given rise to a very unique post-modern archetypal housing for a particular Angelic Spirit. On one hand, this is to be a very fun set of images, a whimsical “Teddy Bear Tarot” which should deight many, a collection of cards which could be gifted to any youngster. On the other, BARDO BEAR is serious stuff and a True Guide in the In-Between Spaces. We plan to create this as a truly “Talismanic” deck, each one packaged and sent with a fully activated BARDO BEAR coinflip, a connection point between the deck and its Angelic Spirit.


The tentatively titled ATLANTEAN HOODOO TAROT, based in years of study and experience with the work of Michael Bertiaux, is also nearing completion. This set of images springboards from the LUCKY HOODOO Grimoire of the Voudon-Gnostic workbook, expressing the “Fool’s Journey” through visions of the Hoodoo Spirits and Loa as manifest on the Path.

There are several other Tarots in the works, including one set I have been thinking of for YEARS: THE LIBER AL TAROT. I had wished, for a long time, to do a small drawing for each and every verse of the BOOK OF THE LAW and display these in a gallery setting. Recently, en route to Canada via the Friendly Skies, I felt a strong impress that these small images should be fit into the Tarot schema. This will be nothing like previous “Thelemic” decks and will be a much more raw and expressive take on the energies of select verses.


One of my favorite interpretations of the word “Tarot” is “Royal Road.” This fits nicely with Voodoo’s “Grand Chemin” (The Great Path). We’ve alluded to the Fool’s Journey and this approach to Tarot sequencing is of especial relevance to the experience of the Voyager in this Spacetime Bardo Journey. The core idea here is that the Tarot is not a single deck of cards with an orthodox set of interpretations to be used for fortune-telling or even simple meditation. Rather, Tarot is a PATH, a SADHANA-or Spiritual Practice. It’s never “on the shelf” and your feet are always on the ROAD, even as it shifts and morphs with radical unpredictability.
We will be announcing other decks as well as writing more on work with Tarot in future blogs, the chapbooks and other venues. It is a field of activity which is immediately open to ALL and yet inexhaustible in its deepest levels.

If you’re HERE in this seeming 3-D Universe and reading these words, you ARE the Fool of the Tarot, the PIlgrim on the Path. You may have forgotten but you made these travel plans a long time ago. Your hand was stamped at the door to a club where the situational sensorium often obscures remembrance of HOME. The Adventurer bcomes a Customer, allowed to dance both day and night as long as the wallet is full. For lack of that, there are plenty of jobs in the city to raise revenue for another night in the Ballroom of Blindness. Robot by Day, Android by Night.

Unless it’s the other way around.

There is one Tarot deck, the name escapes me, which titles the Fool card “The Idiot.” Depicted is a figure in business suit with loosened collar, bottle in hand, drunk and shaking it down on the dance floor.
Keep it going until you’re dead.

Or remember that ticket in your back pocket, the one with which you board Tarotplane Flight 78…

…and head for the Gate!

A different sort of adventure awaits the Fool on this trip. The bottle is swapped for a bag and the Quest for Levi’s Key begins. That Key opens the sewn satchel, revealing the Tools of the Magician. One is no longer “being done to” by the World, led off cliffs by maps meant to manipulate the masses. Maya is made malleable and one grows further into the Mystery from which the Alchemical Arte is approached.

We hope this series of Tarot being crafted serves this end and inspires the viewer to regard their own life-with its sundry symbols-as a living landscape whose link to the Royal Road is only the turn of a card away.



-Hoodoo Pilot