“The image of the moon according to the opinion of Picatrix is the form of a man who has the head of a bird, and he holds a stick above him, and he has a tree before him.” — Picatrix Bk.II Ch.10, p.105 of the Greer and Warnock translation.
Image of the Moon according to the opinion of Picatrix
This Image of the Moon was my second Picatrix image. I designed it during the Covid lockdown, at a point where I was struggling to draw at all, let alone draw magically inspired art. There are parts of it that bother me, now, but the way it actually came together in the metal is absolutely phenomenal.
It has, in fact, proven to be my second most popular planetary talisman (after Venus) and one of my best selling deigns overall. A little to my surprise, I have only had one insecure man asking me to hide the figure’s penis.
With all that said, I have to confess that, of the numerous images of the Moon presented in the Picatrix, this is only my second favorite. My actual favorite is far too complex for me to produce at my current skill level, and will surprise no one who has looked over the Picatrix images, is “…according to the opinion of Mercury is the form of a woman with a beautiful face, with a dragon about her waist, having horns on her head with two snakes encircling them, and with two more snakes above her head and a snake entwined around each of her arms, and a dragon above her head and another dragon under her feet, and both these dragons have seven heads.”
I think I’m going to have to make this poster-sized using either digital media or learn to paint. But I’m probably never going to be able cram it all into a one-inch-disk talisman.
As one would expect, Lunar talismans can be used for any lunar purpose – definitions of which, of course, vary wildly from one tradition to the next. Various Picatrix passages suggest lunar talismans to make the wearer happy, well-liked, safe, healthy, and fortunate, for protection while travelling and against evil. The invocation of the Moon (Book III, Ch 7, Para 33, pp 177-8, trans. Attrell & Porreca 2019) seems to be all-purpose, treating the luminary as an intercessor to any and all of the other planets.
For obvious reasons, silver – the metal of the moon – is the best choice for this talisman, but I also offer it in shibuichi and brass, for a more exotic look on the one hand and a more affordable purchase on the latter. As with all my pieces, this talisman is available as a coin, with an upeye for use as a pendant, or with three jump rings for use in a rosary-style necklace.
Each piece is hand-made to order in my home studio, with unique variations and defects as a result of the fabrication and casting process.
These talismans are NOT consecrated. That is your responsibility.
Astrological timing and consecration is available with a minimum of 30 days advance notice at an additional charge depending on the difficulty of the election.
I think that all of us who practice real magic, real spirituality, real witchcraft, go through periods of feast and famine. Fallow periods, sometimes so long that we forget what magic is like. Periods of growth where everything is sharp and bright and we wonder how it is that anyone ever steps away. Periods of high strangeness where we feel alien beyond words. Periods of deep immersion, where we forget that there are people who don’t devote their lives to all this.
This blog has gone through a long fallow period, interrupted only by project announcements and brief shouts into the void. My personal practice, on the other hand, has been going through a long period of slow growth.
I am approaching eighteen months of daily practice, easily the longest consistent streak in my twenty-five years of magical practice. During that time, I have maintained a regular (but not clockwork) practice of Friday night offerings to the Venus(planet)-associated gods in my life, a regular (but not clockwork) lunar practice, including guiding my pseudo-coven through a daisy chain of Drawing Down the Moon rituals, taken advantage of every astrological election I could squeeze into my schedule, and a grown a magical jewelry business – consisting primarily of Picatrix talismans and Hekate devotional jewelry – from side gig to full time job.
And when I put it like that, holy shit does it sound like a lot. An epic adventure of magic and mayhem. Living the dream, right?
But in the day to day experience of it, it has often felt like a struggle. I will not even begin to pretend that I have managed to bring my A game to every one – or even half – of the 517 and counting daily offerings to my familiar spirits and the eclectic pantheon that live in my altar room. Nor, when I have, did the gods and spirits in question necessarily deign to respond. Nor, even when I really, truly, sincerely tried, did I always manage to clear enough of the mundane static and internal screaming to hear what the gods and spirits had to say when they deigned to speak.
I have been thinking about that struggle over the past couple weeks. I can’t say, exactly, when daily coffee offerings for my gods as well as my spirits escalated to daily prayer, but it did. Every day I pray to Baphomet to awaken the Gnostic fire within me. Every day I pray to Aphrodite to open my heart that I may know that I am loved. Every day I pray to Lucifer to help me throw off the chains of my oppression.
I do know that it was about a month ago that those basic prayers escalated to include prayers for initiation into the mysteries. And I also know that I have cried every morning for the last two weeks.
The slow, careful, methodical work of healing and personal growth and deepening spiritual practices … it’s not the fun, dramatic, glamorous kind of magic. And it often feels like diminishing returns.
At the beginning of the challenge that grew into this daily practice, I was receiving new instructions from my familiar spirits nearly every day. I could barely keep up. Hell, I should probably go back through my journal entries just to see what didn’t sink in. I know that there are some special requests in there that I never got to fulfilling before getting distracted by the next demand or suggestion.
Now, on the days when I can both hear and understand my gods and familiars, my journal entries mostly just read “warm contact with gods; warm contact with familiars; all content; no clear messages”.
It’s worth remembering, here, that I got into magic in search of adventure and high strangeness. I practiced kinds of magic that got me high. And, looking back on my magical youth, I think that sense of diminishing returns is what often led to fallow periods. Then, when I came back, everything would be bright and sharp again. And I wonder if others have had the same experience, if many of us have mistaken deepening practice for diminishing returns. Because, even on days when I’m so tired or depressed that I’m half-glad I’m not receiving potent visions of divinity, or clear instructions from my familiars, I’m also disappointed.
I’ve seen it said often enough that it’s probably officially cliché, but it is still worth repeating that a magical or spiritual practice is practice in both senses of the term: a thing you do repeatedly for its own sake, and doing a thing repeatedly in order to get better at it. How many of my magical and experiences in the last year were made possible by that praxis? If I had not been doing my daily ritual for nine months last Beltane, could I have led the Dionysiac ritual as well as I did? Could I have been possessed, let alone spread that possession as the contagion it was meant to be?
This streak won’t last forever. When it ends, probably after some amazing ecstatic ritual culminating in brain-borking gnosis (or maybe when I just fuck off into the desert), I will enter another fallow period. When that happens, I will probably focus on some mortal art – maybe actually finishing some of the novel drafts that have brought me to tears over the last year. It’s the natural cycle of things. Only the independently wealthy or those with infrastructure support can go forever without breaks.
But I hope that I will be able to carry these lessons forward, and remember that the returns of a regular practice are not diminishing as quickly as they may feel.
{This post is condensed from several posts originally shared only with my Patreon supporters. To get first dibs on elected talismans like these, or even just to read about them first, please support me at the $1 Seeker level or above.}
Hail to the King, my friends.
Specifically, hail to Jupiter in Pisces. The Greater Benefic in his domicile, gracing the ascendant.
There were three such elections in February, as identifited by Nina Grypon (I buy her monthly elections newsletter from her website, and you should too.) I caught the first two, and will talk about that in detail in a later post, but I did not manage to catch the third. Somehow the day before got away from me and I did not get the wax positives invested and into the kiln in time. I’m a little frustrated with myself, but in the end it’s probably for the best. I was already tired from the work I had done so far, and while I did end up claiming two of the talismans for myself, I had not taken any time to petition Jupiter directly. And, as a newly independent artist, I definitely think that time was well spent.
It’s been just over a month since the last election and my own material results are starting to come in. I’ve seen a 30% follower growth in some of my social media and what feels like much greater engagement (I don’t pay for tracking, so I can’t give a number). This month’s sales have definitely gone up over last month’s, and I’ve even had someone reach out about teaching services that I don’t currently offer. I am also continuing to experience the secondary effects of big magic – erratic sleep and vivid dreams and as much high weirdness as is possible given that I am respecting the pandemic and staying home.
All the talismans are made with my signature Picatrix Image of Jupiter talisman (which is getting a post all its own in the next weeks), based on the following passage: “The image of Jupiter, according to the opinion of Picatrix, is the shape of a man with a leonine face and the feet of a bird; beneath his feet he is holding a dragon that has seven heads, and in his right hand he holds a dart as if he wished to throw it at the head of the dragon.” Picatrix Book II, Paragraph 16 (Attrell and Porecca, 2019)
I chose to make the talismans in shibuichi (a 3:1 copper:silver art metal alloy, whose name comes from Japanese (literally “one in four”) under the guidance of my familiar spirits, knowing that silver is attributed to Jupiter by Agrippa, and set Jovial stones in the curl of the serpent’s tail.
All the talismans were conjured using alternating invocations of the Orphic Hymn to Zeus (Athanasakis translation) and the Picatrix Inovacation of Jupiter (Greer and Warnock, as presented in a election pamphlet shared in 2012). The spirits were invoked to provide “unblemished health, … divine peace and riches, [and] glory without blame.” and to “grant us wisdom, prosperity, success, help us be happy, healthy, and safe.” Additionally, each offered a specialty as I was cleaning and polishing it.
Each talisman has been packed with a small quantity of the incense used it its consecration.
Patreon supporters got first dibs. I listed them publicly on Etsy on Thursday 3 March. I meant to talk about them here sooner, but I am still getting back into the habit of blogging, and I apologize for that. So far only one has been claimed (not counting the two I kept for myself). As the talismans are claimed, I will continue to mark them off.
So, then, I have the two cohorts of spirits/talismans:
First Cohort
The first batch of talismans was cast on the 2ndof February with Jupiter just past the ascendant. The talismans were cast and consecrated with the sapphires in place. The sapphires are rough Yogo sapphires mined in Montana.
The talismans were then cleaned, polished, and interviewed for names and sigils – which may not be the names and sigils they wish their proper owner to use, but provide a point of contact – during subsequent Jupiter hours throughout the following week.
I am selling each of these for $430, including shipping.
The first talisman is a pendant, and he promises, “I bring that which you desire.” He one feels like a wild ride, definitely spicier than I’m in the mood for, but definitely exactly what someone needs.
The next talisman is a pendant, and they promise, “I teach happiness.” This talisman had a super chill vibe.
The next talisman spirit is a coin, and they promise, “I teach peace and bring prosperity.”
The final talisman is a pendant, and they promise, “I teach discernment.” I think this one will be a very good friend to someone.
Second Cohort
The second batch of talismans were cast on the 7thof February. This election I timed more perfectly, and I threw the cast as Jupiter was precisely conjoined to the ascendant. These talismans were set with emeralds from one of my mundane jewelry suppliers – A grade, cloudy but beautiful green, visually stunning in the shibuichi setting.
The talismans were cleaned and polished, and the stones set, then interviewed for names and sigils in subsequent hours of Jupiter throughout the week.
I am selling each of these for $598, including shipping.
This talisman spirit a pendant, and she promises, “I will keep you happy, healthy, and safe.”
The next talisman spirit is meant to be strung on prayer beads like a rosary. She promises, “I bring riches and teach mysteries.” I suspect she will need to be pampered and courted, but that the effort will be worth your while.
The final talisman spirit is a pendant, and he promises, “I bring victory and justice.” This one spicy.
Attunement.
Upon receipt of your consecrated talisman, you will need to perform an attunement ritual. Lacking guidance from the spirit, themselves, or your own traditions and familiars, I recommend the following:
Mix up a batch of Jupiterian incense in advance. Secure a brazier and charcoal. Wait until the next available day and hour of Jupiter (dawn is ideal, but not necessary) before opening the envelope with your talisman.
In the hour before you perform your ritual, set up your ritual space as needed. Prepare an appropriate libation for your tradition, I use coffee and/or wine.
At the appointed time, cleanse and consecrate your space in accordance with your tradition. Open the envelope (careful not to make a mess with the included incense) and set the talisman on your altar. Burn the included incense on your charcoal brazer. As you do so, introduce yourself to the talisman and spirit. Tell it what you want it to accomplish for you. Ask it if it has a different name and sigil that it would like you to invoke it by. Negotiate as necessary. Repeat daily or weekly as needed until you and the spirit have come to an agreement.
My first several talismans took months to a year to really settle into my life. The more recent ones have started talking to me in days. Be prepared for swift results, but do not expect them.
“The image of Venus according to the opinion of Picatrix is the shape of a woman with a human body but with the head of a bird and the feet of an eagle, holding an apple in her right hand and a wooden comb similar to a tablet in her left, which has these figures written upon in [the Greek letters OLOIOL]. Whoever carries this image will be well received and esteemed by all.”
Picatrix Bk 2, Chapter 10, Paragraph 55, translated by Attrell and Porecca
I drew my first Image of Venus while I was in college, as I was beginning to catch my stride with what I was calling the Ceremonial Experiment (with no idea, then, the long-term effects it would have on my magical practice). I later remade the image as a photograph, with a hand-made mask and a human model. I returned to the Image of Venus, again, when I changed jewelry jobs after college and found myself in the rare position of having space and encouragement to learn and grow as a jeweler. If it was not literally the first piece that I prototyped through what would become my signature process (I think that it was), it was in the very first batch. And, thus, it was one of the handful of designs that launched the Sorcerer’s Workbench.
The Image of Venus was not the only Picatrix image I attempted at that time, but it was the only one I finished. It played to my strengths as an illustrator: a standing figure with animal features and simple iconography. When I went to take that first illustration – which, tragically, seems to have vanished into the void – it was relatively easy to take my line art and redraw it to fit the needs of the prototyping process I learned at the (then new) day job.
two-tone art and prototype
In a very real sense, the Image of Venus Picatrix talisman was the prototype for entire line of Piecatrix talismans. It was early experiments with the Image of Venus that taught me how much power could come from the image alone, without any enchantment, and how the inclusion of the Agrippan seals and characters amplified that raw power, and helped tune out any trouble from a mediocre election, or an unelected enchantment ritual. The talisman that I, myself, carry to this day has only the image, without the characters and seal, and was consecrated/enchanted post-facto after having been carried for some months. The spirit that now dwells in that talisman is one of my most trusted familiars.
It is, in large part, for the benefit of this talisman that have I practiced and perfected my shibuichi process. Shibuichi is a Japanese art metal alloy of copper and silver at a 3:1 ratio (the name literally translates as one in four) that can look like rose gold when highly polished, darkens to a lovely coppery rusty red over time, and takes a stunning matte black patina. It is also available in .925 sterling silver, yellow brass, or red bronze.
As with most of my talismans, I offer the Image of Venus as a coin, a pendant, or a “rosary” charm with three rings so that it can be easily strung on prayer beads. If you are particularly concerned about the talisman taking its “final form” during the election (something I have observed spirits require from some sorcerers but not others for reasons known only to the spirits, themselves), I recommend stringing the rosary or pendant variants on prayer beads, which you could complete during the electional window.
shibuichi image of venus talisman strung on copper and lapis prayer beads with tassel
Each piece is hand-made to order in my home studio, with unique variations and defects as a result of the fabrication and casting process.
These talismans are NOT consecrated. That is your responsibility. Many customers have reported intense vibes from the power of the image, seal, and characters, but you still need to put in your part of the work, whatever that looks like in your tradition.
Astrological timing and consecration is available with a minimum of 30 days advance notice at an additional charge depending on the difficulty of the election you provide me with.
Custom variations – such as with stones, or alterations to the image – are available at my usual custom jewelry rates.
The Attic Gorgon is one of the handful of designs that launched the Sorcerer’s Workbench, and was not only my first design to sell, but my first piece to sell again: first, directly off my body at Paganicon 2019, and then to someone I had met at that event a month or two later. It remains one of my best sellers to this day, and it is one of my favorite designs.
That last is no surprise. I have long been fascinated by the image of Medusa and the gorgons. Looking back, I can’t quite remember an inciting incident, so to speak – my first encounter was almost certainly Wrath of the Titans (1981), but what I remember most from that movie is actually the owl. My own earliest art that I can find on the subject was from around 2008, but by that time I clearly already had a fully internalized image. That image, of course, was most deeply influenced by Renaissance and modern images: a beautiful woman, her face surrounded by coiling serpents, draped in clinging gauze. A lot has changed since those early days, including my Bachelor’s degree in Classical Studies, and while I do still want to do a design based on that more modern image, I knew from the jump that I wanted my first Gorgon talisman to be in the Classical style.
The traditional name for the design is “Gorgoneion” which, to the best of my ability to discern, renders approximately as “Gorgon-image” or “Gorgon-thing”. It is apotropaic: meant to protect by frightening away evil spirits. It was a popular, even ubiquitous, design in the Hellenic world of Classical Greece, seen on temples and shields and pottery and jewelry and … well, you get the idea. When I went to make my own, I looked to a variety of ancient sources, ultimately settling on a particular piece of pottery.
But with that image in place, we have to ask the question – where does that image come from?
No Greek myth has a single point of origin. Every story is a palimpsest: a mess of layer upon layer upon layer, each written over the other, which has been imperfectly removed from the vellum below. So we, as modern witches, sorcerers, neo-Hellenics, and mythographers, sift through those layers as best we can, picking and choosing the versions that bring us the most meaning.
Medusa and the Gorgons are no exception. When I look at the image of the Gorgoneion, fanged and bearded and serpent-tressed, I do not see the victim Ovid salivated over: raped by Neptune, cursed and transfigured by Minerva, murdered by Perseus. I see the youngest of three monstrous sisters, the lone mortal, daughters of either the sea monsters Keto and Phorkys, or of Keto and the elder Gorgon, Aix who was killed that Zeus might wear their hide as his aegis.
The very title “gorgon” means simply “terrible” or “fierce”. The three Gorgon sisters were Medusa, Sthenno, and Euryale, and our oldest written account of them comes from Hesiod’s Theogony 270 ff (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C8th or C7th B.C.) : “And to Phorkys (Phorcys) Keto (Ceto) bore … the Gorgones (Gorgons) who, beyond the famous stream of Okeanos (Oceanus), live in the utmost place toward night, by the singing Hesperides : they are Sthenno, Euryale, and Medousa (Medusa), whose fate is a sad one, for she was mortal, but the other two immortal and ageless both alike.”
Homer, a littler earlier than Hesiod, mentions a single “Gorgo” whose head and/or hide are used for the aegis of Zeus and Athena. Hyginus, a 2ndC CE author, reconciles these stories by naming that elder Gorgo Aix and naming them parent of the gorgon sisters. This last is my personal favorite, despite the late date (longtime readers and close friends know how strongly I favor older versions of everything, particularly predating the questionable urge to justify the behavior of gods as good).
The image itself springs onto the just a little before, emerging in its persistent form at the beginning of the 8th Century BCE. Some scholars trace it back to Knossos. A few – sadly, mostly discredited – attempt to trace it back much further, to the mythical neolithic goddess cults. But the image was more detailed, more complex than those earliest stories, and I think that the Gorgoneion is a fair exemplar of the movement from image to ritual to myth.
I will never be fully comfortable with the stories that surround the image of the Gorgoneion. That terrible defensive power, stollen and weaponized by the “civilizing” influence of father gods and heroic men. Ovid’s rape-and-transformation fantasy is only the most vile and explicit expression of that theme. Looking at the image, whether Attic or Renaissance, I see the same terrible beauty and power that drove Second Wave Feminists to invent their own mythologies, empowering Medusa and the gorgons as slandered goddesses, or reframing Athena’s curse as a defense against further injury.
But I return, again and again, to that face: a goddess whose image the gods themselves use to turn away evil. A goddess born of the monsters of the elder world. A goddess whose sisters live on.
I wear my own Gorgoneiai every day. I have one that lives on my keychain. I have another that I hang from the front of my face masks in this age of plague and fools.
Between different metals and fixtures, there are more than a dozen unique variations, but there are two basic designs: one sided, with a textured back; and two sided, with the names Medusa, Sthenno, and Euryale on the back.
I wonder, sometimes, how much other witches – and magicians, sorcerers, wonderworkers, mystics, what have you, those who even talk about their experiences – dial back, tone down, even outright censor their processes and experiences. Not just because somethings are private, but because they don’t want to admit in that forum just how far into the weeds they are.
What got me thinking about this most recently was a post that I wrote for my Patreon supporters, talking about casting and consecrating a series of Jupiter talismans. There were some things that came up in the process that gave me pause. For a couple of those problems, I pulled cards. For others, I consulted my familiar spirits. And I wondered – publicly on twitter – how many occultists just elide that distinction, obscuring their spirit contacts behind cartomancy and other slightly-more-respectable forms of divination.
For all that my brand is radical authenticity bordering on oversharing, I’m certain that I’ve been guilty of this in the past. And I know for a fact that I’ve been guilty of the reason for this: even in the last few days, having written the opening lines of this post, I’ve seen people talking about “the spirits told me” and physically cringed. I remember clearly a moment a few years ago when a woman came into the jewelry store where I was working, asking about making a series of custom Mjolnir hammers because Thor had told her that it was her responsibility to do something about the growing presence of Nazis in the visible Heathen community. The store was (and is) explicitly magical / New Age / Pagan, so this was a little less weird than it might sound, but it was still incredibly jarring. This woman didn’t know me from Adam, and she was – to put it in the least flattering light possible – talking to me about hearing voices. Nor do I think I am alone in seeing any public claim of “channeled messages” (that phrase in particular) as a glowing red flag.
I’ve been thinking about this off and on for the last week, and have not come up with any answers that I’m comfortable with. Public channeled messages are almost always weirdly invasive, and have historically often served as the hook for literal grifts and cons. There are reasons they had to be banned in the Facebook group I helped moderate a few years back. At the same time, spirit contact has historically composed the overwhelming majority of magical practices in the Western mystical tradition (and, to the best of my knowledge, most others, but that’s not my lane). The Greek Magical Papyri is literally nothing but a stack of notes on how to beg, bribe, or coerce spirits into doing something for you. The Picatrix and other astrological image magic revolves around timing your spirit petitions so that they will do the most perfect job of what you want. The Solomonic tradition is just about getting a cohort of very specific spirits to do what you want, based on very specific rites and their very specific specialties. This is not to say that I don’t believe in and practice magic based in the energy and cybernetic models of magic as well, but spirit-model is – to use one of my least favorite neologisms – the GOAT.
Which is all to say that the best magical practitioners are almost all involved in some degree of spirit contact, and are therefore both talking to and listening to spirits. So why do so many of us hold back from talking about that? And why do we – myself very much included here – get so uncomfortable when people break that silence?
Speaking only for myself, it comes partly from my deep-seated fear of institutionalization. I read too much Victorean literature as a child and have spent the subsequent decades in terror of being thrown into a sanatorium. It also comes from how difficult spirit contact has always been for me. I have been able to see and sense spirits since my teens, but only learned to hear or understand them with any reliability in my early thirties, and only developed real confidence with that in the last three or four years. And, finally, I think it comes at least in part from a fear of cringe-by-association: we’ve seen the weirdos and grifters in both physical and online spaces, people who will approach you with a “message from the spirits”, people whose guides and allies seem to be leading them astray, people who think that their cat or dog or ferret is a magical familiar, and we frankly don’t want to be mistaken from them.
So, I’ll talk about how my familiar spirits advise and aid me on the selection of astrological elections, and the consecration of elected talismans. I’ll talk about my daily offerings, and how I came to offer coffee instead of wine – well, in addition to wine. But I don’t talk about the advice they give me about my mundane life. I don’t talk about the adventures we go on together, physically or astrally. I don’t talk about the strange and complex interactions between my familiars, or about the hints I sometimes get of their lives outside of mortal contact.
I don’t even know that these boundaries are wrong or unreasonable. Maybe it’s for the best that we self-censor like this. But as someone who always had a certain amount of physical community, but still mostly learned magic from books and experiments, I would have loved to know more about the nitty gritty details of spirit contact when I got started. Because the idealized form that so many people talk about … well, frankly, eleven years since the conjuration of my Natal Genius and Daimon and the experiments that followed, I still haven’t experienced it.
Last August I started a magical experiment that technically failed but which became the first thirty days of a now-fifteen month streak of daily ritual praxis that is, without question, my longest uninterrupted run. The experiment was aimed at manifesting concrete desires and measurable results. The first thing my familiar spirits told me( a week or so into that experiment) was, “Make this about us.” I did. the next thing they told me was, “We’re not going to manifest anything you don’t actually want.” Which was, arguably, the end of my career as a chaos magician, and absolutely the doom-bell for that manifestation experiment.
My familiar spirits had a lot to say at first. They helped me craft a ritual that suited their needs as well as mine. Sometimes, what they wanted was very clear and easy to do. Other times, I could tell what they wanted but had to explain that things like “I’m not that rich” were relevant. Still other times I could tell that they were talking to me, that they wanted something, but I either just couldn’t hear them or just couldn’t quite make sense of what they said.
But the daily ritual continued. I listened a lot. Asked for little (have occasionally been told to ask for more!). And I have learned so, so much – not least of which is how to hear these spirits, something that has always been a challenge for me.
The longer the ritual goes on, the less frequently I get new instructions. The most recent change to my rituals is one of the more significant. It also was one that took them longer than average to communicate to me, because it was a matter of order of operations.
When the ritual began, it was just my familiar spirits. But the spare bedroom where that altar lives is also where I house the altar for the sex-positive (quais-) Venusian gods that I honor. And after a few months of pouring out offerings while the other gods just ~watched~, it seemed appropriate to begin daily offerings to Aphrodite, Eros, Lucifer, Dionysos, and Baphomet, as well. And because of my quasi-Hellenistic influences and the nature of ~authority~, it seemed to be appropriate to make offerings to the gods first, then my familiar
the last month or so, it became clear that this was not the correct order of operations. But, being dense, I couldn’t figure out what the needed changes were. Fortunately, when clarity came, it came with an explanation: let us share in the blessings.
I now invoke my familiar spirits first, pouring their coffees and lighting their candles, and give them a moment to manifest before moving on to praying for the various blessings of the gods. And, when I utter those prayers, I pray for *us*: “Hail unto you, O Baphomet, we pray you awaken the light of your gnostic fire within us and within the world…”Every day since I made this change, I have felt my familiars and I growing closer, and felt them growing stronger from the blessings we now share.
So, if you work with familiar spirits, and there is room in your traditions to make such a change, I strongly suggest that you give it a try: call your spirits first, before your gods, so that when you do invoke the higher/greater/other powers, your spirits may share in those powers’ blessings with you.
But lockdown was in full force, and would remain so for months to come. Aradia took her paper talismans to work when her office reopened. The rest of talismans languished on my altar for a full year. I experimented with a few different ways of wearing the citrine, but none of them were quite right.
The first movement happened toward the end of spring, this year, when, in need of some old-school razzle-dazzle, I settled on wearing the citrine as an earring (upsides of being a sorcerous jeweler, and being able to manufacture my own findings at a whim) as part of an overall wave of you-will-never-hear-the-details magics to keep my life together.
The next action came my best friend, Kraken, bought a house in May: my familiar spirits informed me that one of the enchanted amber pieces was for them. That was easy. I don’t know what, if anything, they’ve done with it. But feedback is a courtesy, not a requirement, when you give someone a magical gift.
Things escalated shortly thereafter. The talisman, when not in my ear, began clamoring for a more prominent place on altar, not with my planetary lamens and seals and talismans and maeteria, but to join my familiar spirits and receive the accompanying daily offerings and honors. This was not wholly unprecedented. My Venus talisman from the January Venus in Pisces consecration experiment made similar requests, as I alluded to in my last post on these experiments. But it still came as a bit of a surprise. Upon hearing and comprehending the request, I began searching for an appropriate idol. Unfortunately, that sort of religious statuary was an early casualty of the supply chain issues which have been escalating since the pandemic first hit and which have finally become mainstream news. Ultimately, I decided that a space on the altar was more important than an image.
That decided, I set aside extra time on a Sunday morning in June to sit with the talisman and commune with its spirit. It told me its name and helped me to draw its sigil. It now lives on the altar when not in my ear and partakes of my daily coffee offering ritual along with my other familiar spirits. Communications and negotiations are ongoing, and I hesitate to say too much, but I am already learning form this spirit.
The thing that I am prepared to say, a few months in, is that either my chaos magic and witchcraft backgrounds make my experiences with astrological talismans very different from other, more traditional ceremonial magicians, of those magicians are desperately failing to communicate what they actually mean when they talk about the care and feeding of a talisman. Because my experiences — particularly as I get further away from my very earliest experiments — is that these are not mute magical servitors whose efficacy waxes and wanes with the attention given them, but talking spirits who listen, learn, teach, and act.
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.
The Kansas City Sorcerous Arts Collective came together in 2018 to teach hands-on classes and run public rituals. Our public debut was in February of 2019, when we performed our Purification of the Sacred Grove ritual with the Kansas City Witches Meet-Up. We performed the ritual again at Paganicon 2019, taught several workshops also hosted by the KCWMU, and were winding up for our second major public ritual at Paganicon 2020 when the covid-19 pandemic brought all 2020 events to a screeching halt. It took us a while to decide what, if anything, we were going to do with in-person events off the table.
In June, we accepted an invitation to do an online workshop presentation for the Kansas City Witches Meetup Main Event in July. We were so pleased with how that went that we decided that we would, after all, do online events. Moreover, we’d had so much fun that we were going to do a podcast. We began meeting up online (almost) every Sunday in August, and have now recorded an acceptable backlog of episodes, ranging from a return to our July topic of magic in this time of Covid to why the Law of Attraction is bad magic and worse theology.
The Sorcerous Arts Podcast will be a series of informal, kitchen-table discussions on magic as a living practice: theory, experiments, and our actual results (or lack thereof). We’ll talk history, theology, ethics, experience, memes, community … anything that seems relevant at the time. The first episode will drop this Saturday, October 31st, 2020. It will be available through our RSS feed and Spotify, immediately, and hopefully soon through iTunes (Apple makes things hard because they can) and Stitcher and all the other major distributors. (We do our best, but none of us are actually IT people, coders, or competent at social media.)
I hope you’ll join us, and enjoy. See you Saturday.
