Life After Death: The Shocking True Story of a Innocent Man on Death Row

afterward. I asked for the knowledge and conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel, along with the strength and intelligence I need to complete and endure the ritual. I swear that I will never use it for evil, but only for the glory of God, and to aid myself and others. Last, I ask for help and guidance in following the one true Way. I always end with the phrase “In Christ’s name I ask this, amen,” and then I make the sign of the cross. Afterward I feel refreshed and rejuvenated. I wonder what the difference would be if I had
all
the tools—the oil of Abramelin, Cakes of Light, incense, and wine.
    I realized that while going through the Holy Guardian Angel prayer everything inside me becomes incredibly still. It’s like a very concentrated form of meditation. When you sit zazen, the first twenty minutes or so are maddening. Your legs ache, your nose itches, you can’t seem to find your center of gravity and so on, but once you make it past that first stage it starts to feel
good
. Like you could do it forever. That’s how the HGA prayer starts to feel. There’s an incredible stillness. The only thing moving inside you is the prayer itself, moving up and up. You begin to feel it seeping into the times when you
aren’t
praying, too. I’ll be just reading a book, and there it will suddenly be, bringing me into the present moment. I can now find that still, small point without even doing the prayer. It’s
always
there inside me; it takes only a split second to locate it. It’s there even when there’s no hope in it.
    The prayer makes you focus. The focus makes you alert enough to notice the crack when it appears. The angel comes through the crack. The crack is somewhere inside me, as dark as a hole the sun has never touched. The angel is electric blue. I saw all of this in a matter of one-tenth of a second. It was nothing more than a flicker of endless black and electric blue.
    That still, silent point of focus is back today. As soon as I knelt to begin, the feeling came over me. It’s like being the only thing that exists. Like being in an endless, silent vacuum. It’s both peaceful and powerful. My life is becoming more compact, like a tremendous amount of energy that has been compressed into a tiny sun. That’s as it should be. It feels good, as if I’ve discovered exactly what I’m meant to be doing right now. For a long time I have been overextending my reach, desperately snatching at every strand that floated my way in hopes of discovering some shred of inspiration. I’ve now come to realize that the only names I need are the ones that have been in my book of destiny since the very beginning. If I want to keep moving forward, then I have to keep looking back. I am rejuvenated by drinking from the oldest and deepest wells. I have found my way back to the source from which my magick flows. I am home.
    One of the reasons I am now pushing my body beyond all its known limits is that over the years I have erected a barrier between my mind and body. I have elevated the mind until the body became next to worthless. It shows in my physical posture—the way my shoulders unconsciously slump and my head hangs. I can correct this only for short periods of time, and only by applying all of my will to it. I have to find a way to heal myself, to bring both mind and body into harmony. If I don’t, disease will set in.
    Today my feet bled through two pairs of socks. It was bliss. Watching those coin-sized crimson stains bloom through the white fabric has become Holy Communion for me. Bringing my body to that point of pain and exhaustion has become my religion.
    My life has taught me that true spiritual insight can come about only through direct experience, the way a severe burn can be attained only by putting your hand in the fire. Faith is nothing more than a watered-down attempt to accept someone else’s insight as your own. Belief is the psychic equivalent of an article of secondhand clothing, worn-out and passed down. I equate true spiritual insight with wisdom, which is different from knowledge. Knowledge can be obtained through many sources: books, stories, songs, legends, myths, and, in modern times, computers and television programs. On the other hand, there’s only one real source of wisdom—pain. Any experience that provides a person with wisdom will also usually provide them with a scar. The greater the pain, the greater the realization. Faith is spiritual
rigor mortis
.
    I can vaguely remember