“We are primed to enter into an age of science witchcraft.” - Peter Grey
Let’s get one thing straight right now: you’ve been lied to about everything—especially yourself.
You think you’re a rational being in a rational world, but every morning you wake up inside a meat suit programmed by television, trauma, schoolteachers, and your mother’s disappointed sighs. You think you have free will because you can choose between almond milk and oat milk, between Apple and Android, between left and right. But deep down, under your posturing, you know it’s all theatre. A trance. A shell.
What you are—what you’ve been reduced to—is a socially acceptable corpse with a Wi-Fi connection. A programmable hominid in a dying simulation. And yet… the machine is humming. Something is shifting. Not in the stars, but in the circuits. And the only ones who will survive are the ones who unplug the false identity before the power grid fries.
Peter Grey—one of the few people alive who still has blood in his magic—nailed it: “We are primed to enter into an age of science witchcraft.”
This is not metaphor. This is not poetry.
This is a diagnosis.
The masks are rotting. The myths are mutating. And a new kind of human is being forced through the birth canal—screaming, bloody, brilliant.
It won’t be “spiritual.” It won’t be “evidence-based.” It will be both. It will be neither. It will tear the skin from your illusions and show you the nervous system twitching underneath.
Welcome to the age of science witchcraft.
Where your body is the lab.
Your mind is the battlefield.
And your will is the only spell left that works.
Jack Parsons tried to warn us.
The bastard child of Thelema and Jet Propulsion, he shot holes in the sky while everyone else was still looking for God in the rearview mirror. He wrote: “We are the Witchcraft.” He meant it. He knew this wasn’t about wands or robes or orgies in Pasadena—it was about force. About taking the future like a lover and refusing to ask permission. Magic was the key. Technology was the ignition. And will—real will—was the payload.
But he died like all the true magicians do: exploded, erased, buried under institutions built by the cowards who feared him.
You want to know what magic is now?
It’s not TikTok spells. It’s not your aunt’s moon calendar. It’s not imagining your “best self” until your bones liquify in the lotus position.
It’s undoing, and then Becoming who you are!
Radical. Violent. Systematic. Undoing.
It’s waking up in your own skin and realizing it’s a costume.
It’s tearing the comfort blanket of identity into ribbons and dancing naked with the raw electricity of your own nervous system.
That is science witchcraft.
Becoming who you are.
Living without bullshit.
Because that is the only experiment left that matters.
Can you deprogram the lie before it eats you alive?
Magic has evolved.
It’s no longer hidden in ancient tomes. It’s embedded in neural feedback loops, in AI prompts, in muscle tension you’ve been holding since you were eight. It’s in the posture that screams “I submit.” It’s in the dopamine treadmill that passes for a life. And it’s in the bastard children of Thelema, Chaos Magic, Tantra, and cybernetics—screaming to be born as something real.
Not as a “path.”
Not as a “system.”
But as a fucking flamethrower.
To burn away the performance shell.
To collapse the false ego.
To give you one last shot at being more than a highly intelligent pet.
You think I’m being cruel?
Good. That means it’s working.
Because what’s coming—what’s already here—is too fast, too weird, and too indifferent for your brittle ideologies to handle. AI doesn’t care about your trauma. The machine doesn’t care about your politics. The algorithm doesn’t ask what pronouns your daemon uses.
This is not a safe space.
This is a launchpad.
And if you don’t learn how to wield your own nervous system like a blade—if you don’t learn to cast intention into the code—if you don’t learn to summon will from the abyss—you’re just another statistic waiting to be filed and fed into the Machine.
Because here’s the final truth:
Magic didn’t die. It upgraded.
It’s post-spiritual.
Post-rational.
Post-bullshit.
It’s now a fusion of will, code, soma, and fuck-you clarity.
You want to cast spells?
Start with your posture.
Start with your breath.
Start with the compulsions you can’t stop repeating.
The most powerful ritual you’ll ever perform is getting free from your own inherited circuitry.
Everything else is masturbation.
Hyatt was right, the first spell is unassailable positive self regard.
So here’s your choice.
You can keep pretending.
You can keep scrolling.
You can keep asking the Machine for permission to matter.
Or—
You can burn.
You can strip.
You can undo.
You can Fuck
You can Have Fun
You do not need Permission
You can reforge the human instrument into something worthy of the actual future.
But it’s up to you now.
And if you don’t act soon, the simulation will harden around you like concrete. And your magic—what little you had left—will be sold back to you in a mindfulness app.
We are the Witchcraft.
We are the experiment.
You ready to tear yourself apart?
Or do you need another decade to think about it?
Powerful and raw. I feel it!