In September of 2026 I had the good fortune to travel to Ireland to attend a Magia retreat. This article is a journal of what I experienced.
The Journey
Friday night I arrive at the airport.
A wine bar and a few glasses anoints the beginning of my journey.
A tailwind, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, and very little sleep carries me across the abyss of the Atlantic to arrive at the Dublin Airport on Saturday morning.
Off the plane, a hot cup of coffee at Fitzgerald’s followed by strangers buying me 6 glasses of beer in exchange for conversation sets the theme for the day. I have to wait to be picked up by my hosts, as they have to drive down from Northern Ireland, and another guest’s flight arrives here later in the day.
Hours pass, and I find myself being hugged by a Mad Slovenian man, not knowing the depths to which the insanity of the day will sink. He and I stride out into the rain to find our ride: The Irishman who facilitated the setup of our retreat, and Alan Chapman, author of Magia and teacher who is running the event.
Piling into the van, we drive from the East to West coast of Ireland, arriving in Burren, County Clare. We’re staying for a few night’s at a home owned by the Irishman’s family.
Relaxing for a short time, we then proceed to let the alcohol guide the evening. Moving from pub to pub we learn the extent of the Mad Slovenian’s heartache, and Serendipity finds us enjoying the live music, late night food, and carrying each other home. It was a pleasure to meet her.
The Tour
The following day, mildly muted from the previous night’s festivities, we begin touring the land.
Poulnabrone dolmen, a portal tomb, is one of our stops.
A quick stop at a café saw the Mad Slovenian buy two small wheels of cheese, which he promptly forgot in the car. He was very concerned about being allowed to bring it home on the airplane.
This is followed by a trip to St. Brigid’s Well, where a rook greets us from a tree in the graveyard.
Our final stop is at the Cliffs of Moher, before we return for an early night.
The Retreat
Monday morning finds us driving to Kilkenny, where the Retreat will be held. We arrive at a place known as the Kilfane House, a place of which I know little. A woman named Lorna Byrne, a mystic and author known for her ability to see and communicate with angels, owns and runs the home as a retreat center.
The estate grounds are beautiful, and I’ve never been to a place similar to this before.
We’re given a tour and are shown to our rooms while we wait for the other retreat guests to arrive. The Mad Slovenian’s cheese was placed into the refridgerator.
In the main room where we will be spending our time meditating, an old out-of-tune piano rests against the wall. Testing it, I sit and play Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls.
A few things to note regarding this song:
- Its title is one “h” away from being “Irish”.
- It featured in the movie City of Angels, in which an angel falls in love with a mortal woman, wishing to become human to be with her. The lyrics match this theme.
I was unaware at the time that we were in the middle of an Angel Sanctuary. It would remain stuck in Alan’s head for days, whistling it as he walks the grounds.
Later exploration of the land surrounding the estate would reveal a garden, from which most of the food we ate was grown, a pasture of sheep and cows, forest pathways, a cave, and small stream running by.
We searched for a promised fire-pit, but had no luck in locating it.
Many of the arriving guests seemed to already know who I was, convincing me I’m simply much too loud online. I was thrilled to meet every single one of them.
There were 20 of us in total.
I was uncertain of what to expect of the retreat itself. I had been to many online ones over the years, but this was my first in-person event.
We met multiple times a day, each day for a week. After breakfast, after lunch, at sunset. The staff was lovely, and the food was delicious.
We learned the practices and then performed them. Prayer, Unbinding, Binding, Incubation. Those of us who were more experienced spent time helping those who were new.
The entire thing was absolutely amazing.
I am going to stay light on the details regarding the events of the sessions each day, as those are things which should remain private to those who attended. I think everyone who was involved found it incredible.
Lorna arrived to meet us one day, introducing herself to the group. She was soft spoken, and quite sweet.
She told us about the angels she sees, and experiences she had around the grounds. She asked us to hug each other.
One day, she snuck up on me while I was playing the piano, silently listening to me plunk out Chappell Roan’s Good Luck, Babe!, which she said she found to be a beautiful song, and asked if I thought the piano needed tuned.
Perhaps her style of mysticism clashed somewhat with the group, and it seemed many did not know what to make of her. I think she simply was used to a different style of retreat practitioners in her home, but was sincerely happy to have us there.
The Secret Chiefs
At the Irishman’s request, I brought my equipment to do Estes sessions.
Originally, I had no intention of doing any channeling myself. I simply brought it because the equipment can be a little expensive, and I wanted to give him and any others who were interested a chance to try it out. They had seen me do it online before in numerous scenarios, including a retreat where that was the exclusive way talks were given.
The original firepit which was promised was nowhere to be found. However, a large metal cauldron was instead acquired, positioned out of view of the main house, and filled with wood.
This evening, early in the week, saw intoxicants passed around the flames and then a few people asking if we could try the Estes method.
My one rule for doing the Estes method is that we have to have a solid idea of who we’re intending to talk to. Discussion went around the circle and it was decided that we’d call the Secret Chiefs.
I would perform the invocation and act as an operator, all communication flowing through me, while other retreat members put on the blindfold and headphones.
The Irishman tried first, but found hearing the words difficult and said very little.
Next, another retreat member, who did much better. We found ourselves speaking with “EE”, a member of the Secret Chiefs. We had some solid back and forth conversation for at least a few moments, but the gathered group members were unsure of what to ask, and the conversation dwindled quickly.
Next, the youngest of our group, who was extremely excited to give it a try. He did well, speaking quite a bit, but not giving many direct answers to questions. Seeing it was not going anywhere, I pulled him out of the headphones after a short time.
Finally, the Mad Slovenian donned the equipment. At this point, with so many shifts of people, the conversation had lost its original purpose. He took a few moments to start talking, but when he did it was clear we were no longer speaking with a member of the Secret Chiefs.
“Who are we speaking with?” I asked.
“R Kelly” was the reply.
I ended the conversation.
As I was putting away the equipment, it was asked of me to do a session as well.
I agreed, sat down and put on the headphones, performed an invocation, and began speaking for the Chiefs.
My old friend Black showed up immediately.
He greeted everyone, but when asked if he had a message for the whole group he said he saw no reason to speak at this time. However, he did make a joke about something Lorna had said earlier in the day, warning us not to fall through the floor. This showed he was aware of the context for where we were and what we were doing, and through good natured and light-hearted humor show approval of our intentions.
In parting, he gave a single instruction:
“Listen to Alan.”
Blood on the Clocktower
While during the day we spent our time doing our practices, at night we were free with plenty of time to kill.
It was suggested that I teach everyone to play Blood on the Clocktower. This is a social deduction murder mystery game wherein the players take on the roles of Townsfolk trying to uncover which of them is secretly a nefarious Demon killing them, along with his Minions.
A short time writing a script for it, assigning roles, then giving instruction, and we found ourselves deep in multiple nights worth of fun. Shouting, bluffing, a Mad Slovenian proclaiming people to be “the devil woman”, and much laughter.
It may be esoterically interesting here to examine the roles Alan, our teacher, played within these games.
We played across three separate nights, and each time I randomly assigned roles from the script to the players. I sat in a separate room doing this, effectively taking on a role similar to Pythagoras separating his students from himself with a curtain. One-by-one I’d call them into the room to explain their role.
On the first night, Alan had the role of The Saint.
This character is on the good team, however is potentially a liability for them. He gets no special information to help the game. Instead, if the Town accuses the Saint of being the Demon and decides to execute him, the game immediately ends and the good team loses.
Alan immediately told the Townsfolk who he was from the very beginning of the game. Despite Black’s warning not even a full day earlier, no one in town listened to Alan. Nearing the last day, paranoia overtook them and they executed an innocent man, causing the Demon to win.
On the second night, Alan played the role of the Demon.
This particular Demon is able to poison the Townsfolk, sowing chaos by secretly causing the information I was giving them to be false.
Person by person, Alan eliminated them with surgical precision. When we came close to the last day, it was Alan’s Minion who won the game for the evil team. Mirroring the first night, the Minion was playing a role known as The Goblin. Similar to The Saint, if the Townsfolk find out a character is a Goblin but execute him anyway the game immediately ends and the evil team wins.
Alan had caused just enough disinformation for the townsfolk to believe the Goblin was actually the Demon, and called his bluff to their own demise.
The third night, Alan played the Undertaker.
This is a role on the good team who is able to find out the roles of other players after the Townsfolk vote to execute them.
Alan’s previous Minion was now the Demon. On the first night, the town luckily executed a Minion who Alan was then able to identify as the Spy, who knows the roles of every player. Over the following nights, the Townsfolk used logic and social deduction to identify candidates for the Demon.
Finally, with one night remaining, they made the correct choice and eliminated him, causing the first good team win, which hinged on them listening to Alan’s knowledge.
The Dagda
Midway through the retreat, the group found themselves deep within the Underworld. Certain practices lead you to such places, and we had done many of them.
Sitting around the burning cauldron of fire, the full moon marked the Equinox as Autumn began. We sat watching the sky as satellites flew overhead. I was offered a drink and something to smoke, which I declined, specifically pointing out that I didn’t feel intoxicants were in any way adding to my retreat experience.
The night grew colder, and clouds rolled in, covering the sky. I was wearing a heavy cloak pulled tight around me, inching my chair closer to the fire as darkness closed in around us.
Someone asked among the merriment if I would do the Estes Method again for the group. I agreed on the condition that they had something specific they wished to talk to, and that we not bother the Secret Chiefs again since they seemed to not have something to say.
Options were thrown out, a few I declined, someone mentioned asking a spirit to clear the clouds from the sky, more options examined, until the Irishman mentioned The Dagda. This is the chief of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the tribe of gods in Irish Mythology. His name means either “The good god” or “The great god”. He is depicted as a large bearded man wearing a hooded cloak. He carries a huge staff, one end of which can kill and the other brings life. He owns an ever-flowing cauldron and a magic harp.
I knew very little of this god, not even the things mentioned in the above paragraph, but was aware that he is often syncretized with Odin or Jupiter, and knowing that I felt comfortable enough channeling him via an Estes Session.
A friend who was also experienced in performing Estes sessions agreed to be the operator while I was in the headphones. All communication between myself and the group would flow through her.
The Irishman was to perform the invocation.
All were silent as he called upon The Dagda to come to us. Whiskey, a bottle which had mysteriously gone missing until that night, was spit upon the fire.
I placed my headphones upon my ears, but some fey mood struck me and instead of putting on the blindfold I leaned forward in the chair and pulled the enormous hood of my cloak over my face such that I could see nothing. It simply seemed fun at the time.
As I did so and was blinded and deafened, but before any conversation started, a flock of swans in a V formation flew overhead. I only found out about this after the fact. Others present exclaimed that swans are sacred to The Dagda.
At this point, someone started recording.
Operator: Holy Shit. Alright, we ready?
Irishman: Strap in boys.
Me, as The Dagda: It seems a good night.
Operator: Thank you for being here. Can you confirm who you are please.
[At this point, my voice begins to change, getting deeper, and I spread my legs and lean forward in the chair, holding the radio as if leaning on a staff]
Dagda: The One With the Big Stick
Operator: Excellent. Thank you for accepting our offering. Was that you with the swans flying overhead just now?
Dagda:...
Operator: Perhaps, what were you trying to tell us with the swans?
Dagda: Another drink! Really!
[Crowd: General laughter. "Definitely Irish"]
[Operator spits more whiskey into the fire]
Operator: Alright, I gave you another drink. If you need another one just let me know and we'll give you another. Sound like a fair trade?
Irishman: Nobody's skipping this round by the way.
[Drinks being to be passed around by the group.]
Dagda: Alright!
Operator: Thank you, we'll be sure to give you a drink when you ask for one. So back to the swans. Did you have a message for us with the swans?
Dagda: Yes.
Operator: Ok.
Dagda: From the sky.
Operator: Yes, they were from the sky. Can you tell us why you showed them to us?
[Crowd member: Pass the whiskey]
Dagda: Thirty minus ten assembled.
Operator: Thirty minus... there are about 20 of us assembled, yes. So you can see all of us?
Dagda: From the sky.
Operator: Yep. Oh! So you could see how many of us were here when you flew over?
[Crowd member: The sky is clear also.]
[Group looks up and realizes the sky is now completely clear of clouds, part of their initial idea for this session. Nervous laughter and reactions.]
Dagda: An eye from the clouds.
Operator: Yep.
Dagda: Look deep in there. In the middle. And tell me if you see it.
Operator: We're looking.
[Group begins to look around, at the sky, at the fire, at different places].
Irishman: It could be looking in the fire, you know.
Operator: Where specifically do you want us to look? We want to be clear.
Dagda: The burning cauldron.
Operator: Ok. So you want us to look into the fire. Got it.
Dagda: Regularly.
Irishman: The cauldron is his other weapon...
Operator: Got it. What are we to learn from the fire?
Dagda: A new song.
Operator: We're to learn a new song.
Dagda: To sing to the sky.
Operator: A new song to sing to the sky.
Dagda: One for all here.
Operator: A new song to sing to the sky. One for all here. Can you tell us how to sing it?
Dagda: Normally.
[General laugher among the group]
[Group member: He IS Irish, yep]
Operator: I'll be more specific... Can you tell us the lyrics to the song and then we promise to sing it normally.
[Group member: that was very funny]
Operator: If you didn't hear, could you tell...
Dagda, cutting off the Operator: Don't go back.
Operator: ok. Don't go back.
Dagda: Emanate the words from the door in your throat.
[Operator spits another drink onto the fire]
Dagda: This is not easy for all, but with a DEEP BREATH it can be sung.
Operator: So with a deep breath we can emanate words from the door in our throat? What words?
Dagda: Through the deep air within.
Irishman: Chief, are you suggesting we into "Aion"?
Operator: Are you suggesting is not words at all, that its "Aion"?
Dagda: That's right! Deeper. Deep breaths for the Autumn.
[Group begins to intone "Aion" deeply toward the fire].
[Operator spits another drink onto the fire]
Dagda: So deep.
Operator: Are we doing it correctly?
Dagda: Good. Good. Thank you.
[Group stops chanting]
Operator: Do you want us to keep going?
Dagda: Not now. Why...
Operator: Why what?
Dagda: ...am I called?
Irishman: Do you... Big Chief, before we let you away do you have any words of wisdom you'd like to impart to this gathered community at this time?
Operator: You've been called because this community is seeking your wisdom.
Irishman: Do you have anything to say before you go?
Operator: Do you have anything to say before you go?
Dagda: You're screwed.
[General laughter]
Dagda: Not really.
[More laughter]
Operator: Thank you for having a sense of humor. What is your real wisdom before you depart?
Dagda: A bit of whatever luck is around is worth holding on to.
Irishman: Heard.
Operator: We hear you. I'm going to tap Jason out in a minute or two here. This is your last chance to tell us anything we need to know. Is there anything else?
Dagda: One more drink then.
[General laughter]
[Operator spits one more drink onto the fire.]
Dagda: Good night!
[Crowd: Good night! Thank you so much!]
[Operator taps me out]
Jason, removing headphones and hood: Is that it?
Operator: Holy shit!
Jason: What happened?... The sky is clear! What happened?
If you invite a god to your party, especially a tribal chief god to a party around a fire in the woods, it becomes his party from that point on and you better be prepared to accept the consequences.
I had been tired, but now I was wide away, as comfortably as if it were noon. Despite not intending to drink at all, I suddenly felt the need for a beer. I requested one, and as it was being passed to me the bottle of whiskey was thrust into my hands. Tilting it back, I chugged, draining the entire bottle except for one more sip to spit into the fire.
Let me be very clear. While I can take a shot of whiskey, I cannot chug most of a bottle in one go, and I absolutely cannot do it without feeling the effects of said whiskey. It felt less burdensome than chugging a glass of water.
At this point, I noticed I had stood up and left my cloak on the chair where I was sitting. Despite this, I was not cold. A beer was handed to me, which I quickly finished. I had quit smoking months earlier and not had any nicotine since then, yet when some was handed to me I did not even notice I was puffing it and felt no nicotine rush at all, and handed it back without a single other craving.
I spent the entire rest of the night in a t-shirt, completely unbothered by the freezing weather and ice cold chairs. Alcohol and other intoxicants had no hold on me, I at no point became even slightly drunk. I felt no ill effects the following morning.
Across the fire from where I was sitting another retreat member pulled out an instrument and began to play, silencing everyone for a few minutes. I watched him from across the smoke and fire. As he finished, I began to notice the strange mood which had overtaken everyone.
Inhibitions were gone, laughter and insults were flowing, revelry with no sign of stopping. People were acting both out of character and as extreme caricatures of their normal selves. More wood was thrown onto the fire.
I left, still sober, at 1:30 in the morning to head to bed.
The rest of the group stayed up partying until after 4 am.
The next morning the Irishman and the Mad Slovenian, among others, were afflicted with the consequences of partying all night.
On this estate was a fountain, similar in shape to a large cauldron which ever flows and never empties. I told them to cure this ailment by dunking their heads into it.
They did so.
It worked.
The Rainbows
The sky remained completely clear the day after the Dagda ritual, and the following day.
Rain only arrived as the retreat was nearing its end. It was a welcome change at this point, and kept us all inside most of the day.
As this particular day drew to a close, sunset was upon us, and the rain receded into the distance.
From the patio of the estate, a double rainbow became visible in the sky. A beautiful sign around which we all gathered.
The same day, we discovered a secret room upstairs in the house that somehow most of us had previously missed. It was always there, we just somehow had never entered it before that point.
The Being Tree
After many days of practice, one day we left the Sanctuary and ventured as a group into the woods.
Carrying our yoga mats, Alan led us to a spot underneath a large tree next to a stream.
Instead of practicing our usual practices, we were led in a simple meditation which asked you to just be aware of the effortlessness of being exactly as you are in the moment.
Under this dappled light filtered through the leaves, numerous retreat members suddenly found themselves awake.
The Knight
Nearby to the sheep and cow pastures was the ruins of an old church. This was a 13th century structure built shortly after the Norman conquest. It contains an effigy of a knight, thought to be a man named Sir Thomas de Cantwell, lord of Kilfane. It may have originally been a sarcophagus slab. It is believed that he may have been a crusader knight.
The group, hungry for more Estes sessions, requested that we walk to the church and try to converse with the night. It was believed it may have been relevant to a vision Alan had had during one of our practice sessions on this retreat.
So, we crossed a cow field and made our way to the church.
We looked around a bit, checking out the grave stones and climbing the tower. Some of the group gathered berries and placed them in one of the old windows. I looked at the effigy, wondering if this man would come to speak with us.
Sitting upon the altar, I put on the headphones and pulled the hood over my head.
This time, Alan was to do the invocation, and act as the operator during the Estes session.
Alan: Sir Cantwell, we invoketh thee on this fine summer day. With apologies for disturbing your peaceful slumber. For I doth seethe a night in a Holy Vision and wondereth if you may share insight into said vision.
[Alan taps my shoulder to begin my talking.]
Sir Cantwell: Well that's all of a sudden.
Alan: Yes, it came as a surprise to me.
Sir Cantwell: I'm a bit jittery.
Alan: That's ok, you're amongst friends.
[I take a deep breath and clear my throat. From this point on, my voice has changed to a vaguely old-english/irishy manner of speech]
Sir Cantwell: Alright, if we're gonna do this, lets mean it.
Alan: Fantastic. And we do.
Sir Cantwell: Right now. There's joy, but its a bit needy.
Alan: Do you request deeper sincerity?
Sir Cantwell: I've, uh, been sleeping in the spring. Tell me, why all these guests?
Alan: We are partaking in a holy quest. Practicing renunciation in a nearby spiritual sanctuary, seeking enlightenment.
Sir Cantwell: Oh, big smiles then.
Alan: Indeed, we've had a fantastic time. And we think our interaction with you at this time will be a wonderful conclusion to the retreat.
Sir Cantwell: Did ya like the rainbow?
[General laughter from the group]
Alan: Yes...
Sir Cantwell: Good days, huh?
Alan: Indeed. Indeed.
Sir Cantwell: It's all free for ya.
Alan: What did the rainbow mean?
Sir Cantwell: That you should sing in the sun because the clouds are behind ya.
Alan: Fantastic, and in that spirit is there anything that we could do for you right now?
Sir Cantwell: Alright, let me run around a minute.
[Laughter from me as I hear the next line.]
Sir Cantwell: Where's my horse?
[Laughter from the group]
Sir Cantwell: Probably out nibblin' berries again.
Sir Cantwell: Um. Uh. There used to be two apples around here. I miss them. Right then, uh...
Alan: Does anyone have an apple?
[Group: We have berries!]
Alan: Would you like some berries?
Sir Cantwell: Nah, that's alright you can leave 'em on the window.
[Group, laughing: what the fuck?]
Alan: Fantastic. I was puzzled in my vision as to its nature and where it might lead. Do you have any insight to share about your quest as a night?
Sir Cantwell: Indeed. It means its almost time to come home after a long walk, but ya bring with ya all the treasures you found along the way. And don't forget your shield or your wife will be very cross.
Alan: In my vision I saw a maiden praying for the return of the king. Does this mean anything to you?
Sir Cantwell: It sounds hopeful. But, I'm not sure if you'll be holdin' it, if ya get my meaning.
Alan: Apologies again for disturbing your slumber. If there's anything else you'd like to share with the group would you like to share it now before we send you on your way?
Sir Cantwell: Absolutely. Go well on your ways home. Your Man of God here is a good teacher for ya. Remember what he said and how it was To Be under the trees, if you can manage. Your road should be safe travels and good weather, and I wish you well.
Alan: We wish you well too, thank you so much for joining us. I hope you enjoy your remaining rest in Eternity.
Sir Cantwell: Good day.
Alan: Good day.
On the way out of the church, hopping the fence to again cross the cow fields, I noticed my legs on either side of the gate made the same crossed pattern as the ones on the effigy.
Wizard Jackass
The retreat almost over, we returned to the Sanctuary and decompressed from the long day.
Dinner was had, we collected our things and packed our bags. I played the piano while others sang along, drinks were had on the patio, and the night found us partying after an amazing week.
The youngest among us was still excited to do more Estes sessions or other magic, but I was feeling tired at this point and was not interested in doing any more. Some went to bed, but others found ourselves in the newly found secret room.
The young one continued to ask about more sessions, so I told him he didn’t need the radio to do such things. I grabbed a silver tray off the table and told him to look deep into it, giving some basic instructions on scrying and channeling.
He decided he wished to speak to a previous resident of the house we were in. The group instructed him on how to do the invocation, and to speak whatever came to mind. He gave some very basic answers that the “ghost” had arrived and asked us to stomp our feet on the floor. We did so for a few moments.
Some very tired and mildly drunk wizards were now just haphazardly doing whatever magic was coming to mind in the moment.
The lights were turned off. It was called out aloud that if there were a spirit in this house wishing to communicate with us, give us a sign that was clear and unmistakable that it was around.
Lights in an empty room began flickering on and off.
A stomping came on the ceiling that was very similar to how we were stomping on the ground previously. The group noticed and called this out. A recording is quickly started.
[GM will be used to refer to "Group Member"]
Alan: Stomp once for yes, twice for no. Are we welcome to communicate with you now?
[Stomp on the roof is heard]
Alan: Has anybody got any questions? I'm out.
GM1: Are you flickering the lights? Stomp once for yes, twice fo...
[Stomp on the roof is heard]
GM2, referring to the lights: Uh, its off again.
Other Members: Yeah. That's a yes. And a stomp.
GM3: Questions? [GM 4, the youngest] you called him. Any questions?
[GM4 makes no indication he heard.]
GM5: He's possessed.
GM3: [GM4], are you alright?
GM4: Yeah
[Single stomp is heard, lights flicker]
GM3: Owner of the house, have you possessed [GM4], one for yes, two for no.
[Single stomp is heard]
[Laughter from group]
GM3: Oh no. That's a pretty clear resounding "Yes". Haha!
[More laughter from group.]
Alan: Can you speak through [GM4], tell us your name.
GM4: Rigfeld.
Alan: Nice to meet you... Rigfeld.
[Laughter from group]
Rigfeld: Good to meet.
Alan: Did you once inhabit this house?
Rigfeld: I did.
Alan: What did you do here?
Rigfeld: Drove Sheep. Rainbows. Ponies. Across.
Alan: Are you happy?
Rigfeld: No
Alan: What ails you?
Rigfeld: A sickness of the heart.
Alan: You lost someone?
Rigfeld: Yes, a lady. Jane.
[NOTE here: This is a synchronicity with the online username of a group member]
Alan: Sorry to hear that. Is she not with you now?
Rigfeld: No.
Alan: Do you live in this house?
Rigfeld: Somehow. Made for... no.
Alan: Would you like to be with Jane?
Rigfeld: Yes.
Alan: Would you like to be liberated from this place?
Rigfeld: Perhaps. Is that possible?
Alan: Indeed.
Rigfeld: How?
Alan: I am a wizard.
Rigfeld: Is that so?
Alan: Yes.
Rigfeld: Incredulous.
Alan: Would you like to be free?
Rigfeld: I'm scared.
Alan: Of?
Rigfeld: Freedom.
Alan: What about spending an Eternity away from Jane? Is that not more fearful.
Rigfeld: Sounds nice....
Alan: Would you rather remain in this house?
Rigfeld: No.
Alan: You would like to go?
Rigfeld: Far.
Alan: Do you believe in God?
Rigfeld: Somehow. Despite my pain.
Alan: Look past your pain, focus on God, and I will liberate you. Shall I do this now?
Rigfeld: Ok. Framing. My wrists.... walled. Open.
Alan: You're free to go.
Rigfeld: I am... Silent.
Alan: Goodbye, and be at peace.
Rigfeld: Goodbye. Thank you. At last My hopes. And dreams. Farewell.
Alan: Farewell.
Me: [GM5] hit the light.
The lights come on, and the youngest one is returned to us. He is unharmed, and still excited to do more.
Next is the turn of the Mad Slovenian to stare into the tray and allow himself to be possessed by a spirit.
The group decides on “The spirit of the Magician Uranus”. Recordings of the next session are taken as well, but I will not be sharing the transcript of this here. Some of the answers, despite the ridiculousness of the questioning, involved personal topics as well as… colorful language. The next spirit was funny, goofy, insulting, and helpful all at the same time.
Beyond this, others were discussed to be conjured. Nietzsche. Buddha. Rasputin. A Rinpoche.
One by one we slowly each left the room and went to bed, eventually leaving only the youngest member and one other to close down the night.
“Wizard Jackass“ is the only way I could think to describe what happened that evening.
The Journey Home
By the next morning some of the group had already left.
The Mad Slovenian had forgotten his cheese.
Those of us who remained had one of the lovely staff members take one final group photo.
A few of us managed to meet up at the airport for a final drink before our flights, closing out the retreat as it began.
I can only hope the one I’m currently planning to hold is even a fraction as magical as this was.
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