11. INDULGER (Lust/Strength)
Lust is appetite that serves the will — or appetite that serves itself. Indulgence numbs. Consumption hollows. The Beast either bears you or buries you.
Crow says:
Are you riding the Beast?
Or is the Beast riding you?
LUST (Strength) REVERSED
(Lyrics up. Blog coming. Check back soon.)
Intro
The Lion paces the pantry.
I decorate the plate.
Creation waits at the gate.
I pour another excuse.
Indulger is me.
Chorus
Open the fridge.
(Open the fridge.)
Fill my mouth so I don’t open it.
Indulger —
Butter the ache —
Desire keeps knocking.
Indulger —
Indulger…
Verse
I feed what feels empty.
Desire searches for reassurance.
Relief tastes instant.
I chase the charge.
Skip calibration.
Immediate over meaningful.
Satisfaction slips.
I reward myself for surviving —
and postpone thriving.
I eat so I don’t erupt.
Watch so I don’t act.
Buy so I don’t build.
Scroll so I don’t speak.
I stay full…
and feel empty.
Crow says:
Are you riding the Beast?
Or is the Beast riding you?
Pre-Chorus
Indulger grazing.
Pour another cup.
Another episode —
never quite enough.
Chorus
Open the fridge.
(Open the fridge.)
Fill my mouth so I don’t open it.
Indulger —
Butter the ache —
Desire keeps knocking.
Indulger —
Indulger…
Bridge
Indulgence numbs eruption.
I hide the evidence in wrappers.
Direction sharpens desire.
Lust feeds creation.
Pre-Chorus
Indulger grazing.
Pour another cup.
Another episode —
never quite enough.
Chorus
Open the fridge.
(Open the fridge.)
Fill my mouth so I don’t open it.
Indulger —
Butter the ache —
Desire keeps knocking.
Indulger —
Indulger…
Outro
I soothe myself differently now.
Crow says:
Feed what you wish to become.
Desire enters the body.
The Beast kneels.
I mount.
We move as one.
Card & Ghost
Tarot Card: Strenth (Reversed)
Thoth Name: Lust
My Ghost: Indulger
Zodiac/Planet: Leo / Sun
Hebrew Letter: Teth (ט) — serpent, coiled life force
Path: 19
What It Means Reversed:
Desire without direction burns the vessel that carries it.
About the Song
I called this ghost Indulger because she doesn't explode. She dilutes. She trades momentum for mouthfuls, creation for consumption, the sharp edge of wanting for the blur of having. Every reach feels like relief. Every swallow leaves me emptier.
What am I actually hungry for? The answer keeps changing. That’s the problem.
How This Card Found Me
January 2025. I wanted to start meditating again, to pick up tarot after a year away. I pulled one card: Lust. Sat with it. Meditated. And the clearest vision arrived — I would make my own tarot cards. A whole deck. I got on social media, believed it. Then months passed. I hadn't heard of Suno yet. The cards stayed in my head.
Then someone showed me Suno. The moment I heard my own words sung back, I knew: not cards. Music. Something I could live inside. Something that could hold a funeral.
That single card — Lust — started everything. Not the song. The whole FVNERAL. The ghosts, the gates, the eulogies. All of it came from that one pull, that one meditation, that one "yes" that took a different shape than I expected.
The Food Loop
I've had a complicated relationship with food my whole life. Binge. Purge. Shame. Repeat. For years, I was in a loop that felt impossible to break. I was also sick all the time. Chronic pain, insomnia, migraines, IBS, fibromyalgia. By my early 20s, doctors told me my body was like a 60-year-old's. They said I'd never get better. I believed them.
Then I met my now husband and he showed up with smoothies. Food as medicine. I was a picky eater — burgers, bacon, cheese, fried chicken, fries. The only way I was willing to try was one morning smoothie. So we started there. Little by little, I started feeling better. Less pain. More energy. Weight shifted. My body began to trust me again.
We switched to plant-based about four years ago. It wasn't a quick fix. It was part of a bigger shift. Louise Hay helped me talk kinder to myself. Therapy. Mirror work. Ritual. But the food piece was huge. The Standard American Diet was keeping me sick. The inflammation, the excitotoxins, the loop of eating to numb and then feeling worse. I couldn't think my way out of it. I had to change what I was putting in my body.
It's not about perfection. We still eat Oreos sometimes. I have a weak spot for chips and Burger King fries. My husband makes incredible plant-based comfort food — vegan mac and cheese, mushroom bean burgers. I get to eat what I love without the guilt, without the inflammation, without the shame spiral.
I'm not here to tell anyone what to eat. Food is personal. It's tender. I know that. I never want anyone to feel judged by my choices. I'm just sharing a piece of my path. Because I spent years feeling trapped by food, using it to fill something that couldn't be filled, numbing instead of nourishing. The shift for me wasn't just about the food. It was about learning to feed what I wanted to become.
This song, Indulger, is about the ghost that taught me to fill my mouth so I wouldn't have to open it. The pause before the bite is the only peace I know.
Lust is the fire you ride or the fire that eats you. Feeling becomes direction or debris.
What This Ghost Is
Indulger is desire without a spine.
Not too much desire — disoriented desire. Appetite that runs the show because no one's holding the reins. Intensity that substitutes for intimacy. Hunger that leads instead of being carried.
She learned early that wanting fully meant risking loss. So she learned to want in fragments. A bite here. A glance there. A project started, abandoned, started again. She confuses motion with direction, fullness with wholeness, the rush of acquisition with the slow work of integration.
A ghost is not the one who hurt me. It's the self that flinched and stayed. Who I became to survive. A decision loop dressed in praise. Indulger was never the wound — she was the shape I took to avoid standing still long enough to feel what I actually wanted.
The hand that reaches for everything holds nothing.
Where It Lives in My Body
Bulimia — the loop. Consume, reject, repeat. Louise Hay writes that bulimia carries "terror of not being good enough" and "self-loathing dressed as control." My body learned to fill itself and empty itself in the same breath. The ritual of swallowing and surrendering became a prayer I never meant to pray. Every cycle said: this will fix me. Every cycle proved otherwise. Indulger taught me that purging is not about weight. It is about the belief that nothing I take in deserves to stay.
Blood sugar — the crash after the climb. Hypoglycemia, insulin resistance, the body's confusion between hunger and emptiness. My energy spikes when I reach, then bottoms out when nothing lands. The pancreas learns Indulger's rhythm: surge, collapse, reach again. Louise Hay links blood sugar issues to "overwhelmed by life's burdens" and "fear of not being enough." My body runs on adrenaline and quick sugar, then wonders why it cannot rest.
Chronic fatigue — the exhaustion of constant grazing. Not tired from doing — tired from never finishing. My body stores unfinished cycles as lead in the limbs. Fibromyalgia whispers: you have been reaching for years and your muscles remember every grasp. Louise Hay writes that fibromyalgia carries "suppressed rage and lack of self-love." Indulger's rage is not loud. It is the low hum of a motor that never turns off. The fatigue is not laziness. It is the body's refusal to keep reaching for nothing.
Cravings — not a taste, a tremor. Dopamine hunting. Adrenaline chasing. The nervous system confuses anticipation with satisfaction. My body asks for direction; I offer another snack, another scroll, another small hit of something that wears off before it lands. Louise Hay would say cravings are "the body's cry for what it actually needs" — but Indulger cannot hear the cry over the sound of her own chewing. The craving is not for food. It is for a decision.
Belief patterns of the imbalanced Indulger:
"Empty is a room I can always fill again."
"More will eventually mean enough."
"Intensity proves I'm alive."
"This bite won't cost me."
Somatic / TMS correlations:
Jaw — clenching, grinding, TMJ tension
Louise Hay lens: Unspoken anger looking for an exit. The mouth holds what the voice won't release.Throat — frequent clearing, lump sensation, thyroid irregularities
Ozanich lens: The body creates a physical obstruction to mirror the emotional one. Something wants to come up. Nothing wants to land.Stomach — acid reflux, bloating, cravings that shift by the minute
Lens: The body asks for direction and receives distraction. Digestion mirrors decision: nothing settles because nothing gets chosen.Hands — restless, reaching, phone always in palm
Lens: The reach substitutes for the grip. Motion replaces commitment.
When this shows up for me:
A cough that never finishes. My stomach churns through a meal I don't remember tasting. My eyes skip across the same paragraph three times. My tongue searches for a taste I can't name. I start a task, abandon it, start another — the loop feels like momentum. By evening, I cannot remember what I did. Only that I never stopped doing.
Crow says: The Beast that wanders the pantry forgets the hunt.
Tarot & Magick: Lust Reversed
In Crowley's Thoth deck, Lust is the serpent Teth — coiled life force, kundalini, the fire that creates worlds. The woman rides the Beast. She does not tame it. She exults in it.
This is where Crowley broke from tradition. The older Rider-Waite card was called Strength — a woman gently closing the lion's mouth. Moral restraint. Calm dominance. The message: control your instincts.
Crowley said no. That's too small. He renamed it Lust because this card is not about taming — it's about riding. The woman doesn't silence the lion. She mounts it. She is intoxicated, ecstatic, fully united with her own fire. The Beast is not the enemy. The Beast is horsepower.
But Crowley's Beast carries baggage. Most people hear "Beast" and think Revelation — the Antichrist, the Scarlet Woman, end-times panic. That's not what Crowley meant. He took that image and flipped it. In his system, the Beast is not evil. The Beast is life force unashamed. The Beast is the body's wisdom, the instinct that knows before the mind catches up. Crowley called himself "the Beast" as a joke and a weapon — to reclaim what religion had poisoned.
The woman riding him is Babalon. She is not a victim or a seductress. She is the sacred feminine who says yes to everything — pleasure, pain, ecstasy, terror — without flinching. Her cup holds the blood of the saints, which means: she integrates every experience. Nothing is rejected. Nothing is shamed. The Beast and Babalon together represent the union of instinct and awareness, appetite and intention, fire and direction.
Crowley's real intention was not to worship chaos. It was to show that desire, when consciously embraced, becomes the engine of spiritual evolution. The Beast without Babalon is a rampaging animal. Babalon without the Beast is a sterile cup. Together, they create.
Upright, Lust says: Desire plus direction equals ecstasy. The fire has a vector. The hunger serves the will. The lion hunts with purpose.
Reversed, that same fire loses its spine. The woman never mounts. The Beast wanders from pantry to pasture, grazing itself numb. Desire becomes debt. Intensity becomes substitution. The cup that catches everything spills the same emptiness each time.
That's Indulger. Not too much desire — disoriented desire. Appetite without aim. The fire still burns, but it burns the vessel instead of lighting the way.
Correspondences (from my study notes):
Hebrew letter: Teth (ט) — serpent, coiled fire
Planet: Sun — radiant will, conscious vitality
Element: Fire — transformation, heat, hunger
Traditional Animal: The lion — strength, appetite, kingship
Why This Song Belongs Here
The first ghosts built walls. Spinner learned to spin instead of choose. Indulger inherits the open palm — and fills it with everything except direction.
After Indulger comes Bracer (The Hanged Man), who finally stops moving long enough to feel the weight of all that undigested wanting. But first, the hunger has to admit it isn't working.
What This Song Is
This song does not shame appetite. It asks what appetite serves.
It teaches that hunger without backbone burns the vessel from the inside. That the pantry is not a temple. That the hand that reaches for everything holds nothing.
Crow says:"You don't need less fire. You need one thing worth burning for."
What I Learned
Indulger taught me that I wasn't hungry for food or attention or approval. I was hungry for permission — to want one thing clearly, to follow it without apology, to let the rest go cold.
She taught me that grazing is a way of not choosing. And that not choosing is its own kind of starvation.
The Lust card pulled me back into practice. It showed me a vision — tarot cards, then music, then a funeral for false selves. That one pull started everything. And my hunger that never quite landed? It finally found its home. Not in the pantry. In making music.
When Indulger Shows Up
I know Indulger is active when I open the fridge for the fourth time in an hour. When I scroll past the same app icon without opening it, then open it anyway. When I start a project, feel the charge, and abandon it the moment the charge dips.
I check for:
What am I reaching for right now — and what am I actually avoiding?
Does this bite serve the hunger or just postpone it?
What would happen if I put the thing down and sat in the quiet?
What I've learned from others:
Crowley: "There is no sin in appetite; there is only weakness in misdirection."
Louise Hay (ghost voice): I quiet the fire before it asks for fuel.
Abraham-Hicks: Desire is guidance. Urgency is distortion. Indulger confuses the two.
Buddha: The thirst that says "this will complete me" is the thirst that never ends.
Tony Robbins: Energy without direction equals chaos. Indulger has the fuel; she needs a destination.
Questions I ask myself:
If I stopped reaching, what would I notice?
What one desire would I follow if I weren't afraid of its size?
Where does my appetite serve me — and where does it run me?
Blessing
May your hunger find one direction.
May your hand close around what actually feeds you.
May you taste the difference between urgency and alignment.
May the lion learn to hunt — not graze.
A little crow's on the wire, keeping watch over you. 🐦⬛
A Note from My Study
I'm still learning. I don't have this down. I'm still living in the gap, still trying to become more like the music I write. I write for myself — so I can study, so I can hear the direction I want to go.
I'm working from Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot, the deck that became my study guide for this album. The correspondences (Hebrew letters, paths, planets) come from that tradition. These notes are just what I've gathered. If they help someone else, that's a gift. If not, they're just breadcrumbs from my own walk.
Indulger taught me that appetite is not the enemy. Aimlessness is.
— Thank you for witnessing.
Loui Crow
