If I were to hazard a guess about the most-ignored advice we all received as beginner witches, pagans, and mystics, it would be “practice daily”. There are lots of variations on that advice – meditate daily, journal daily, draw a tarot card daily, et cetera ad nauseum – but they all boil down to “touch base with spiritual / magical reality every day”. And we all say, “yeah, probably, but … what if I didn’t?” (Or maybe you’re one who said, “yes I must” but then … didn’t, anyway, and just felt super guilty about it. Or maybe you’re one of the perfect ones, and you can sit in the corner while I talk to everyone else.)
I have, to be clear, been in the first two categories at various times in my life. The times when I have managed to keep together a daily practice have historically been few and far between, and mostly no longer than a semester. (College was good for me.) So when I say that I am currently on the longest streak of my life to date, I like to think I’m coming from a relatable place of more failure than not. And in the trial and error process that brought me here, I think I’ve learned a few things that may be of use to others.
This streak began with the August Do Magic Challenge: thirty days of enchantment toward material outcomes. I failed the challenge – I missed a day, about ten days in, and of the thirty launched sigils, maybe six desires manifested – but … I won in the long run, I think. As I pursued my daily challenge, a series of visionary experiences shifted the approach from the sequential launch of a series of traditional Chaos Magick sigils to daily meditations with my familiar spirits, culminating in the assisted launch of those sigils. I also, through trial and error as much as spiritual instruction, learned a lot about what works for me, personally, in a daily ritual.
The terms of the challenge, if you don’t feel like checking out the link or wading through the page, were 30 minutes of daily ritual aimed at manifesting material results. I chose to fulfil those terms with 30 daily sigils, comprised of things I super duper wanted, things that would make my life a bit easier, and some things for which I had no real “lust of results”. I had grand schemes of making a spreadsheet to track which manifested and which didn’t.
When I started the challenge, I was launching them at night, 30 to 90 minutes before I went to bed. That was … fine, for days when I didn’t have much going on. But on days when I was running D&D, or throwing a late-night cast, or doing other magic, it was a real challenge that, ultimately, I didn’t live up to. One night I just didn’t have enough of me left to sit down at the altar a second time, and when I woke up in the morning I had lost the challenge. I already had all those sigils, though, so I soldiered on in search of an honorable mention.
I was not yet keeping good notes, at that time, so the order of operations was a little vague. I know that my familiar spirits had already taken an interest by that point. The ritual had not yet gotten much more elaborate than a sigil and a candle and perhaps incense offerings for my familiars.
Having determined, through failure, that nighttime ritual wasn’t working for me, I decided to try performing my ritual first thing in the morning. Now, I am very much not a morning person, but back in my college days and the Sunrise Temple, I had an ongoing ritual where every Sunday morning I would sit at my altar and share my first cups of coffee with my familiar spirits. So I brought that in to play: pouring libations, drawing the day’s sigil from the shuffled stack, drinking my coffee as I stared at the glyph, then finally lighting a candle when I was done.
Eventually, I made my way through all 30 sigils. Not many of my desires had manifested at that point, but I had already begun to receive useful and interesting instructions from my familiars. So I just kept going. And going. And going. Even up until today. And I think I’ve learned some things that may be of use to people beyond jut myself.
Part of the success of this streak has been that I have allowed the daily ritual to evolve with my needs and mood. The ritual, as I said, began with a candle and a sigil. I added an incense offering early on. Then coffee offerings. When the sigils were all launched, I added a planetary magic component: opening my Liber Spiritus to an appropriately illustrated page – featuring a magic circle and/or a transcribed prayer – and decorating the altar with talismans enchanted under the auspices of each planet. When I began a daily tarot practice in late September, early October, I incorporated that into the end of the ritual. Partially through creative inspiration, partly under the instruction of my familiars, I developed an opening ritual. Finally, some time in November, I added a journaling aspect.
I am now on my longest streaks of daily ritual, daily divination, and daily journaling of my entire life. I haven’t been perfect with any of them. There are days I haven’t been able to stand the thought of writing down what I have seen. There are days I was in too much of a hurry to draw a card. There have been days I’ve woken up to realize that I have run out of coffee, or candles, or incense, and been unable to perform the ritual. But my success rate has been so strong that I don’t feel like I’m cheating when I claim that the full six months.
So, what have I learned?
General
Start small and simple. Fuck the Q-Cross. Fuck the LBRP. Actually simple.
Start with a goal – a day count, a thing you’re praying or enchanting for.
If morning doesn’t work for you, try night. Or when you get home from work. Or after you walk the dog.
Find some form of external accountability. I know, I know. But I’m more internally accountable than almost anyone I’ve met, and “six month streak” is the best I’ve ever done.
Embrace imperfection. Not every page will be pretty. Not every ritual has clear results. Sometimes you’ll forget to do something. Just don’t quit.
The Ritual
Again, start small. A candle. A libation. Incense. Just one of them.
Again, external accountability: make the ritual an offering to your familiar spirit(s). If you don’t have familiars, make it your guides and guardians. Don’t have guides and guardians? Adopt a gnostic god. I recommend Baphomet. Abraxas, Lucifer, and Dionysus are also good picks. Every morning I pray to Baphomet to awaken his light within me and within the world. I can feel it burning, even now.
Again, if the ritual you try first doesn’t work: change it. If it feels like too much, pare it down. Pare it down more. Fewer components. Fewer gestures. Less time. Conversely, if it feels weak or stupid, dial it up. Cast a circle. Make more offerings. Perform more gestures. Shout at the quarters.
Daily Divination
Keep your deck by your altar at all times. Get a special deck for daily draws if you have to.
Use a simple system. Tarot is better than I Ching (for this). One card. Maybe two or three. Fuck the Celtic cross. Unless too simple is your problem, then make throwing the sticks (or coins) a huge production.
Again, external accountability: beg or bully your friends to start a Tarot group chat. Comment on their readings. Commiserate over bad days. Have fun tracking the overlaps. This will double as a group journal, and can serve as a backup if you forget to write things down in your “real” journal.
Journal
Keep your journal at your altar at all times.
Start with journaling about your daily ritual and divination. Fuck full sentences. My entries have grown to include astrological timing and sleep notes, but the core is:
“Morning Ritual:
strong contact
no clear messages
Cards:
Tower * 3P * 5S
well shit”
I’m still working on coming back to journal about the weekly Venus offerings (another post) or anything that happens at one of the other house altars.
Decide in advance what you’ll do with days you miss. You might just date the next page and roll. I date the page and leave the rest blank, or scribble down as much as I can remember.
Again, again, again: the important thing is to find something that works for you. I like Picadilly (knockoff Molskine) journals tucked into my fancy leather Oberon cover. You might like leatherbound journals with fancy paper. Or 3M spiralbound notebooks. Or premade journals like the DM Kraig one from Llewellyn. If the first thing you try doesn’t click, try something else.
Conclusion
That last line is the key: “If the first thing you try doesn’t click, try something else.”
Remember that in Latin, “perfect” means “complete” and is a euphemism for “dead”. Perfection is a goal, not a practice, and certainly not a place to start.