Youtube Channel & Podcast Archive

“Magickal terms are rather limited in our culture.”
— Peter J. Carroll, General Considerations on the Philosophy and Practice of Magick

I’ve said before that I enjoy chaos magick thinking not because of the deification of randomness, or the simplistic systems used. I enjoy chaos magick because it forces the magus to look at their workings as experiments. Due to the personal nature of magick, nothing can be taken for granted. While we respect the work of those who came before us, we see the need for continued evaluation of their effectiveness.

To do this,chaotes seek to create a vocabulary of magick. Without a consistent means of describing our experiences, we cannot share our results. To exacerbate things, most magical terms work only within the specific belief system that created them. Also, magical terms are often shared between belief systems, sometimes with contradictory meanings.

This last weekend I spent more time than usual discussing magick. I attended the Indianapolis Pagan Pride festival, and the inaugural meeting of my new group, Collegium Arcanum. As usual I enjoyed the people I met at these events. I learned a lot about magick and the people who practice it. I am ashamed to admit, however, that I times various cliques within the gatherings fell to talking about the “others”.

The “others” being those who do not believe the same way you do, or are perceived to have a greater or lesser degree of dedication to their magical practices. Sometimes the “others” are simply those who align themselves with different people within the group. I admit I participated in some of this.

In fact, I participate in it too often. My anger demon often lashes out at things I don’t understand. I’ve often said, “I don’t understand the appeal of Thelema, but I love Thelemites.” I don’t have much appreciation for the works of Aleistar Crowley, but it seems I enjoy the company of those who do. This makes things difficult for me, as I am argumentative by nature. At times it manifests as belittling some one’s beliefs. A habit I seek to correct in my behavior.

Perhaps, in essence, many of my disagreements with other occultists come from a lack of a shared language. When someone says “angel” I automatically think, “Judeo-Christian”. I often need to stop my thought process to absorb the possibility they may be talking about something entirely different. When someone says “God” I automatically think patriarchal and monotheistic. Once again, this does not accurately describe the beliefs of the people using the word.

Now more that ever, as magical traditions become more eclectic and diverse, we need a shared magical language. Some will be naturally resistant to this, as they may believe it removes their tradition from the center of “rightness”. Yet almost every occultist I know subscribes to the belief that everyone has a right to their own path, which may be the correct one for them. If you truly subscribe to this, then you must be prepared to call your “angel” an “entity”. You may want to consider that your notion of “God” may be closer to “guiding principle”.

In the early years of Christianity, many of the old pagan gods were branded as demons. We become the same kind of spiritual bullies if we refuse to entertain the notion that one person’s demon can be another person’s angel.

Where do we begin? I’m not sure. I would love to hear your thoughts. We can, however, remember to describe our own works in the most general terms possible, so that others can best interpret them.

“In a world that’s gone hellishly mad we’ve always taken comfort in the fact that the faith of our fathers is the one thing that remains solid and unchanging. It occurs to very few of us that perhaps for the last 2,500 years the faith of our fathers has been one of the main reasons why our world has gone hellishly mad.”

            – Lon Milo DuQuette

I knew about Aleister Crowley at age eleven. My brother’s Ozzy Ozbourne records saw to that. I am guessing many of you spent your youth in libraries, just like me. Believe it or not, all the way back then, my tiny, red brick, Midwestern public library in the suburbs of Chicago contained a copy of Magick in Theory and Practice. I never got to check it out because some high school kids had stolen it right before I could lay my hands on it. They did, however, let me read a few pages. I probably understood as much as they did.

So I went to pick over what remained of the section, impressive in retrospect for an institution of its size. I remember copying an Enochian talisman out of a book, the title I forget. Most of that came to a stop when I selected a book out of the section much more accessible to an imaginative Catholic boy – The Demonologist. How could I go wrong?

I did. Full title–The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren. In it, two devote Catholic do-gooders do battle with the forces of darkness. They describe going into demon infested houses (including the infamous Amityville horror) and kicking but on the forces of Satan. It went to great lengths to describe the hellish tortures I should be expecting both on Earth and in the afterlife should I play around with “evil magic.” It scared the shit out of me, and set me back spiritually into the realm of fear and ignorance for another decade. I’m not saying they didn’t encounter spirits or they set out to dupe the public. I don’t know, wasn’t there. I do take exception at their, my side vs. their side, mentality

To tell the truth, the fear instilled in that book followed me through my pagan years. Yeah, I may have a different side, but I still believed contacting those evil critters would lead to no good. It took another twenty years to reach where I am now. Only recently have I reached the conclusion that just about everything taught to me in my youth, especially the shit I’m supposed to be afraid of, is a lie. With that gem of wisdom under my belt, I now finally feel ready to get to know my demons. After all, if they’re against all the shit that I’m against, I might find some new friends. Or, if not directly an ally, they may help me understand what I need to get rid of.

Lately, I started working on my first summoning. I won’t put the details here. In short, I lean towards the chaos tradition, and although I look towards the Goetia for inspiration, my methods are my own. I have noticed a lack of material on the subject, so if you would like more details feel free to contact me.

The most important thing I’ve learned in this short period is that sometimes you need a demon to fight a demon. In medieval times, religious scholars speculated that thousands of tiny demons surround us all the time. They tempt us, try to corrupt us, and generally make a nuisance of themselves. While searching for the right demon to contact, I suddenly became aware of the ones already surrounding me. I knew I didn’t need more of those assholes. Or did I?

I know now the demons that plague me do so because they sense something in me they can exploit. What I needed was a better demon, one that could feed from these negative traits and give them back to me in positive ways. Despite my best efforts, I have selves that refuse to part from me. Aspects of my personality that come back again and again at the wrong moments. It may be easier to reconcile with some of them rather than exorcise them.

Some of you reading this may still be afraid. You think I’m playing with fire. I could use a lot more old sayings to back up my case, but none would change your mind. I can only say that by overcoming this fear I made some great breakthroughs.  Do you want fear to prevent you from making yours? Yes, I’ll make mistakes, but I’ve made plenty of those before.

If any of you do decide to meet some demons, please ask them if they know Astrumada.

“A true magician always knows the exact meaning of every word and action of a ritual.”

           – Donald Michael Kraig

I’m thinking about my classes and how I will start off. I hit upon the idea that I should just go up, no talk no introduction, and perform an LBRP(1). Give people something to catch their attention. I’ve got a big sword (hehe) that I use and it should be mildly impressive. Then I start thinking how the purists will react. My LBRP is not standard.

I’m not talking I put a little extra inflection here or change a step or two. It’s recognizable, but wholly different in some places from the GD/Crowley version. No, I’m not really afraid that I will alienate the magick harpies of Indianapolis. If they can’t handle the fact someone does something differently they’re not going to get anything out of my class anyway. I do believe, however, I should be prepared to explain myself.

I believe I fly in the middle of a spectrum. I refuse to follow something outright without justification. I see way too many magicians taking at face value the rituals given to them. Even worse, they don’t know what the rituals mean when they perform them. I’m reminded of one of my favorite lines from the movie Gandhi.

When I was a boy I used to sing a song in that temple: “A true disciple knows another’s woes as his own. He bows to all and despises none . . . Earthly possessions hold him not.” Like all boys I said the words, not thinking of what they meant or how they might be influencing me.

Of all people a magician should understand the things we do, the words we say, especially those we repeat on a constant basis, effect us deeply. They stick in our subconscious and change who we are and who we can be. Some people would say that’s the whole point of ritual. So when I see someone perform a working totally oblivious of the symbolism involved I wonder why they work magick in the first place.

On the flip side, many magical practices remain unchanged for decades, some would say centuries, because they work. Magi throughout the ages have performed them over and over with results. Once again, a magician of all people should understand that something used repeatedly over time implants itself in the collective unconscious, the very fabric of the universe. Tapping into this holds power. That’s why I recognized the need and usefulness of a banishing ritual.

When I first knew I wanted to perform the LBRP, I first did my research. It surprised me how many sources didn’t even bother to translate the meaning of the words. My biggest stumbling point came during the vibrations of the names of God. I don’t have a problem recognizing the concept of God as a universal force, not the Judeo-Christian old man on the mountain who will spank you if you get out of line. I’ve got no problem with the tetragrammaton(2). In fact, I find it a rather elegant expression. I do however, have a problem with Adonai.

Adonai translates to Lord, or even Lord of Lords, or Master. The whole reason I kicked my Christianity to the curb was because I refused to conceptualize divinity as some medieval potentate. I know about a hundred Thelamites are jumping up and down now saying, “But it has other meanings. It’s all how you interrupt it.” Maybe. But you’re a fool if you believe that it was not written with the intention of bowing and scraping to a Lord. Sorry, I refuse to call upon any deity as master.

Speaking of deities, I’ve got nothing against angels, I use one as my guardian, but I changed the rest. I feel much more secure being looked after by pagan deities than by the host.

So find out what you’re doing. Hit the books, or the net. If part of a ritual doesn’t hold true for you, have a good reason why, and change it. Know your magick.

(1)    Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram. If you don’t know what that is, you should come to my class.

(2)    The Hebrew use of the four letters YHWH to represent the name of God.

“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle light in the darkness of mere being.”

                                           – C.G.J.

Here’s a fun game, let’s choose the most influential magician of the 20^th century. My short list includes: Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers, Aleister Crowley, Israel Regardie, Dion Fortune, and Peter J. Carroll. I could go on and I’m sure you could pick more. All of them would be valid. The one that currently rises to predominance in my pantheon seldom makes the list. Yet his influence can be found within the works of all of the above. That may be due to the magical subculture snubbing those who smell to strongly of science and or orthodoxy. After all, what kind of hidden knowledge(1)  can be imparted from a person they teach college courses on? It’s not his fault occult thinkers don’t count him amongst their brethren. He considered himself an alchemist. Maybe it’s because he never joined a mystical order. I can relate to that.

For me, no one explains why magick works better than Carl Gustav Jung. Jung’s discovery of the collective unconscious and synchronicity aptly and succinctly describe the essence of magical theory. Even better, he does it without having to relate it to a singular belief structure.

Which brings me to my quest to understand symbols. I approach them from a Jungian point of view. I believe the power of a particular symbol(2) derives from its ability to connect the users unconscious to the collective unconscious. How well a symbol does this determines its efficiency as a magical tool. If a magus can determine which tool set works best for them, they can significantly increase their power.

This perspective is also derivative of a belief that “magic is to be performed to get results”(3). From that point of view, it should be one of the major goals of any magus to develop a personal and powerful symbol system, to assist them in their practice.

So the same questions still apply. How do we pick or create the most advantageous magical symbols? That’s what this blog is all about.

(1)    I may have expressed my opinions on “hidden knowledge” before. It doesn’t exist anymore.

(2)    And by symbol I mean any phenomena that can be used to effect consciousness.

(3)    Peter J. Carroll, Considerations on the Philosophy and Practice of Magick.

Addendum

“We are all patrons of the Library of Babel now, and we are the librarians too.”

        – James Gleick, The Information: A History, A Theory, A Flood

“Throw it against the kabbalah and see if it sticks.” That’s the semi-joking line I often use to belittle Crowley influenced magicians, particularly Thelemites. It sums up their obsession with correspondences. Their desperate drive to shoe-horn everything into the tree of life. It also makes me an asshole, and in some respects, a little jealous. A unifying theory does have its advantages.

I’m a self professed chaote(1). When I first discovered chaos magick, what appealed was not the worship of the random, the punk attitude(2), or the manta, “Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.” That’s just another way of saying, “Do as thou Wilt.” What captivated me was the possibility. Chaos magick gave us permission to create our own gods out of all this modern wreckage we call a culture. If Homer Simpson became chief of the pantheon so be it, it was my pantheon.

I’ve never been a follower. In fact, I’m often embarrassed by my own lack of credentials. I’ve never been a member of the OTO, AA, Golden Dawn, IOT, or AMORC. I’ve never been a mason. Upon discovering my college pagan club, I attended a group ritual exactly once. The best I can muster now is a lively discussion group. I just can’t dedicate myself to something I have so little control of. No matter how much I miss out on resources or the experience of initiation. I’m not against group experience. In fact, I long for it, and I am on the lookout for the right people to form a new order, one we could call our own.

I choose. That could be called the rallying cry of the information era. With the ability given to us by the internet to learn about everything, and to connect to the likeminded, we choose, now more than ever, for good or for ill, what we want to experience. Chaotes pretend that they invented mashing together magical systems. That’s ridiculous of course. MacGregor Mathers’ resounding success as a magus stemmed from his mixing of Eastern and Western traditions(3). Crowley only followed in his footsteps. But Mathers was limited at the time by what he could discover in the library at the British Museum.  Our choices are limitless. We can summon medieval goetic demons using Santeria rituals. We can make saints of Pink Floyd, and ritualize Dark Side of the Moon.

So the question becomes, what to choose? Are all magical tools created equally? How does one compare the power of symbols? Is Mickey Mouse as powerful as or more powerful than Neptune? And who is Neptune but King Triton from The Little Mermaid? The answer seems obvious, which one works best for you? But how do we judge? How do we parse the relevance and usefulness of magical symbols?

In the beginning, the internet appealed only to the dedicated. Only those wishing to set sail on endless seas, get lost in the torrent of information, dared to navigate its depths. Web browsing changed from hobby to the most prevalent way to disseminate information not by virtue of how much it had, but on how well we could find it. First we had Alta Vista, then Yahoo, and now, love it or hate it, Google reigns over a Pax Cyberia. But can there ever be a way to wade through the sea of magical tools and bring back only what is most useful for us? That’s the question I believe needs to be answered for magick to take its next leap forward.

(1)    Yes, I think anything that comes out of Peter J. Carroll’s ass is a divine wind.

(2)    Okay, maybe just a little.

(3)    Maybe not invent, but at least popularize.