Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (LBRP)

Before we play, I make the room safe.

I learned this ritual through ceremonial magick.
My husband taught me.

He practiced it quietly for ten years. He never showed anyone. He carried it with discipline, respect, and patience. When he chose to share it with me, I understood that what he was offering wasn’t just a technique — it was trust.

If he hadn’t shown me this ritual, there would be no FVNERAL. There would be no INTERLVDE. There would be no long ceremonial walk held steady enough to survive being named.

The first time I watched him perform it, my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I had chills. The room felt different. Something settled into place. I wanted to learn immediately.

My husband and I have studied some of Crowley’s work together. We read slowly. We sit with it. I respect the seriousness of his devotion to practice, and I respect that he never treated it casually or as aesthetic. What he carries, he carries with care.

I practice what I can hold.

Crow would say: this is how power learns where to land.

A Pocket Ritual

I released this short song inspired by the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram — something I can carry in my ears.

I made it because I’m learning magick by walking it. I practice with my body. I listen for what settles.

This song is a pocket ritual for me.
A way to return to center before the day begins.

Crow keeps watch.

Why This Ritual Lives Here

I’m in the middle of a long musical work called FVNERAL.

FVNERAL is a ceremonial walk through the Tarot — the 22 Major Arcana, turned over. I think of them as ghosts. Survival selves I built to keep going. Each one gets named. Each one gets a eulogy.

That work is heavy because it tells my truth.

While I’m doing it, I will return again and again to INTERLVDE — a place for breath, play, and rest. A reminder that safety exists now.

The LBRP song arrived quietly and asked to come first.

Before I play, I make the room safe.
Before I open the gates, I draw the circle.
Before I laugh, I ground.

Crow nods.

The Ritual as Body Practice

The LBRP is a body practice.

It uses standing, reaching, turning, speaking, breathing.

My body learns where it is.

The ritual moves in three simple motions:
I line myself up.
I clear the space around me.
I seal what’s been set.

When I begin and end with the cross, I trace myself into alignment — above and below, left and right, heart at the meeting point. My spine remembers itself. My weight settles. I stand where I am.

When I draw the pentagrams, I speak into the directions. The space around me becomes clear. The edges hold. The names I speak anchor presence. They land in the body more than the mind. Each star connects into a circle. I stand inside it.

The Angels Who Hold the Corners

I meet the angels as living qualities, anchored in direction. They hold the corners so I can stand easily.

Raphael in the East — Air. Breath moves. Thoughts soften. Healing feels nearby.
Gabriel in the West — Water. Emotion flows. Listening deepens. Dreams find language.
Michael in the South — Fire. Will sharpens. Boundaries clarify. Courage steadies my hands.
Uriel in the North — Earth. Weight grounds. Wisdom quiets. My feet know where they are.

Often, I also include Metatron and Sandalphon — structure above, grounding below — a reminder that I’m held from both directions at once.

Crow would say: they hold the lamps. I walk the room.

Why Michael Stands With Me

I chose Michael because he carries fire that knows where to live.

Michael is will, spark, and protection — but not chaos. He’s the hand of creation that knows when to strike and when to hold. He teaches me how to carry power without leaking it everywhere.

I have a lot of fire. For a long time, it spilled out sideways — overgiving, overreaching, over-reacting and burning myself out. Michael helps me learn where my fire belongs and how to aim it.

Sword raised doesn’t mean attack.
It means discernment.
It means choice.

In the ritual, Michael steadies my will. He sharpens it without hardening it. He helps me stand cleanly inside my yes and my no.

In the image he stands with me while I learn how to hold my power instead of bleeding it out.

I love all the angels. I work with them all.
But I am especially drawn to Michael.

He teaches me confidence without aggression. Protection without fear. Fire that knows its purpose.

Crow would say: this is where your spark learns its shape.

What This Practice Changes Over Time

I didn’t notice the effects all at once. They arrived gradually.

My choices became cleaner. My energy steadied.

Some relationships loosened and fell away. Others deepened. Direction emerged. Health mattered more. Noise dropped off.

Crow would say: when the circle holds, truth reorganizes the room.

LBRP — Verbal Litany

Ateh
Malkuth
Ve-Gevurah
Ve-Gedulah
Le-Olam
Amen

Yod-Heh-Vav-Heh
Adonai
Eh-heh-yeh
AGLA

Before me, Raphael
Behind me, Gabriel
On my right hand, Michael
On my left hand, Uriel

For about me flames the Pentagram
And within me shines the six-rayed star

Ateh
Malkuth
Ve-Gevurah
Ve-Gedulah
Le-Olam
Amen

Lineage and Respect

The LBRP comes from ceremonial magick traditions shaped by the Golden Dawn and carried forward by practitioners like Aleister Crowley. I respect the lineage. I respect the seriousness of the work. I respect the discipline it asks for.

My path blends study with lived experience. Tarot walks me. Music writes me.

I want the songs in my ears while I move through the day.

Closing the Circle

This song sits as a quiet threshold — a reminder that protection comes first, that play follows safety, that I’m allowed to walk confidently.

Crow would say: Crow is on the wire, keeping watch over you. Stand near a window — that’s the view.

Crow folds the space closed.
The circle holds.

—

I made this song using Suno for vocals and instrumentation, shaping it carefully so the ritual could live in sound.

If someone else carries it and finds use, I’m glad.
If it simply passes through, that’s fine too.

Thank you for joining me.