The Thirteenth Hour

Thirteen valleys lying silent in the haze,
Filled with promises
And spirits that we raised.
But the spirits all are ghosts
Of the ones we hurt the most
And they wander thirteen valleys crying out.

"Broken Heart (Thirteen Valleys)", Big Country (1988)

Considered ill-fated by some and magical by others, the number 13 undeniably carries strong occult symbolism.

For alchemists, it can turn lead (Saturn) into gold (Sun), matter into light.

Kabbalists associate it with the Hebrew letter Mem, the Great Mother or Mater—matter.

As for taromancers, it corresponds to the Card with No Name (related to Scorpio, believed to cover part of the thirteenth hidden sign of the zodiac). In modern versions of the Tarot of Marseilles, it is the Death card, which stands for nothing more than a change of state, a transformation—and, for occultists, purification.

To put it more simply, today (Transfiguration Day) marks the thirteenth anniversary of this blog. Having completed a twelve-year cycle of observing the mechanisms of illusion, reaching the thirteenth year is by no means a coincidence. It is the exact moment when you finally break the cycle, transforming leaden beliefs into golden silence—the voice of your spirit.

But thirteen is also the number of muscles it takes to smile—as opposed to forty-seven needed to frown.

Perhaps that is where the real treasure lies: observing the theatre of this world with the light-heartedness of those who are no longer falling for it.

Thank you for being one of them.

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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