Journey Through The Obsidian Dream

Tables and Triangles

Satyr Magos03/07/2013

The sacred geometry of conjuring circles has proven one of the most surprising difficulties in my study of ceremonial magic. Even as someone who can draw well, there’s something about concentric circles brings out more of the OCD than the artiste. So I started playing around with my computer.

This first image was designed with a Trithemian table of practice in mind, but I haven’t quite mastered circular text in either the GIMP or Inkscape, the two image programs I can afford. In my studies of ceremonial magic, freely available electronic templates were of immense use to me, so I offer this one here in the public domain for use by anyone for anything. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than anything I could find royalty-free. Enjoy

This second is the first stage of a prototype based on the Trithemian table, using the Agrippan planetary characters rather than the names of the archangels. My thought is that I, or anyone else, might substitute the elemental or directional powers with whom they are most intimate for the four angels Trithemius prescribes. I share it here for private use, and I would be delighted to hear about any experiments performed with it.

This third and final table that I’m going to share today is the one revealed to me by the powers of Saturn during the Seven Spheres in Seven Days challenge. I share this, too, for personal experimentation only.

In scholarship, witchcraft

The Dweller at the Threshold … Again

Satyr Magos02/07/2013

At the beginning of the summer, I took on two projects that have given me much more trouble than I anticipated. To my frustration, the trouble has not been that the work, itself, is beyond me, but rather the emotional crisis that it has precipitated.

Skylights

With the conclusion of the 2012-13 academic year, I have been studying and experimenting with ceremonial magic for two years. I have conjured my Natal Genius and Daemon. I have journeyed to each of the seven Spheres via both neo-shamanic visionary techniques and by conjuring archangels to lead the way. I have employed electional astrology to create talismans of great power, and conjured the powers of the planets to influence the shape of politics.

I recognize that this is a pittance, and that I have barely scratched the surface of the subject matter. I have dabbled in the Golden Dawn and Agrippa the Picatrix and the Arbatel, mostly via Christopher Penczak, Rufus Opus, Christopher Warnock, and a few other modern authors. Although I await Aaron Leitch’s new book eagerly, I have not yet even made the most cursory study of Enochian magic. Although I have read Crowley/Mather’s Goetia, I have never conjured any of those demons. There are countless grimoires of which I know precisely nothing.

With that said, however, I think that the products of my experiments—my insights and my struggles—may be useful to others. There are core concepts in ceremonial magic that are simply alien to anyone coming from a witchcraft background like my own, and straightforward presentation of the core techniques are few and far between. As such, I think that I might be able to shed some light on the path, at least the first few steps, and have committed myself to writing a chapbook on the subject by the end of the summer.

The plan is to publish the results of my experiments so that others may build upon them. As I said on tumblr, I would like a few beta-readers who have more experience with conjuration than I have so that they can tell me how far off the mark I am, and a few beta-readers with no experience in conjuration to try to see if my UPG works for others. I have one volunteer for the former and two for the latter, but would like one or two more of each. (Hint. Hint.)

Translating the Stele of Jeu

I began performing the Stele of Jeu as a part of my Esbat rites at the end of 2011. Although I no longer perform the ritual quite so regularly, I still find it to be an exceptionally useful part of my practice. Because of the difficulties that one of my friends is having right now, I believe that the ritual would benefit her a great deal. Unfortunately, however, she is not of a mindset which will permit her to simply perform the ritual: it’s too alien. So I have taken it upon myself to annotate and, where possible, rephrase the ritual for her benefit, and the benefit of other witches who find the peculiar language of Greek-translated-for-scholars to be incomprehensible bordering on intimidating.

In my magical fantasy world, this project will culminate in my writing a version of the Stele for witches of an eclectic Wiccan background what Crowley did for his own students and peers in writing Liber Samekh. Unfortunately this has been hampered by my inability to locate any scholarship on the subject, forcing me to rely in unseemly fashion on my personal experiments and UPG, and on the research of Mr. Jack Faust.

The Crisis

The crisis these projects has engendered is twofold, but the components are embarrassingly straightforward.

Firstly, I am plagued by the question, “Who am I to pose as an expert of any kind?” The fact of the matter is that I know how little I know. For all that I’ve been practicing magic for upward of fifteen years, my neuroses and social circles have somewhat limited my avenues of research. Attending college in Indiana has also been surprisingly limiting to my options for interlibrary loan.

The fact that I am explicitly positioning myself as a fellow Seeker, not an expert or teacher does not seem to assuage this fear at all. The fact of the matter is that I want to be a community leader somewhere down the road, have said so before, and only a fool could fail to put two and two together: Yes, I am hoping that some day, when I have something more substantial to offer, people will remember that I had clever things to say before.

Secondly, somewhat in light of the above, I find myself asking the question, “Is this where I want to focus my efforts?” I am just old enough, at 32, that I am beginning to really feel my own mortality. There are so many things I want to study, so many experiments that I want to do, so many books that I want to write. Every time I choose to focus on one of them, I am potentially closing off others simply by virtue of the limited time available to me.

Is planetary witchcraft the thing I want to focus on? What about the visionary work? What about the alchemy? What about the elemental powers I have touched, or the Chaos Magic I’ve dabbled in, my experiments in art as magic? And where does that leave time for my novels? Or my formal, public scholarship?

And, oh, yes, that whole thing where I want to seek out my gods but am deathly terrified to do so.

So I find myself stalling. Sure, I needed to take advantage of this long weekend to actually relax and get some things done around the house. Yes, I need to work my job to pay my rent and save up in hopes of being able to study in Greece at the end of the coming school year. Damn right I need to actually get caught up on my sleep. But I don’t need to do any of these things to the exclusion of the Work.

ETA: Edited to provide link and correct the spelling of Mr. Leitch’s name. My apologies, sir.

In witchcraft

Taking Pain

Satyr Magos24/06/2013

Taking a break from all the Very Serious Posts which I should be writing, let’s have a little bit of story time.

Aradia and I are hosting some of my college friends right now, so we took them to our favorite bar in Kansas City, which also happens to be the best gay bar in town. It was also our first trip there since I got back from the summer, and we were delighted to find our favorite bartender working. He greeted us warmly, made our friends feel welcome, and made us the best drinks ever. It was glorious.

But he was also holding his left arm at a funny angle, and it was clearly paining him. I asked what was wrong, and he made a lot of inarticulate noises and hand gestures (which I originally translated as, “I was drunk at the time and I feel stupid”) before finally explaining that he had taken the pain from the lovely lesbian with the broken arm sitting next to us.

“Give it to me,” I said. “I’m a professional.” (Perhaps a slight exaggeration.)

“No,” he said. “I took it. It’s my responsibility.”

I respected that, so I let it go. My friends were like, “what?” and I explained the principles to them.

“Oh,” my one friend says, very much to my surprise.. “I did that once.” He goes on to tell me about how this one time he took half of his friend’s migraine so that they could both study before a test. “If I hadn’t done it myself,” he said, “I wouldn’t believe it was possible.”

The evening progresses, and I come back to the bar to order the next round of drinks. My bartender is in so much pain that he actually shorts me my change.

“Why do we do this, again?” he asks me.

“Because we can,” I say.

As I work down on my third bourbon, though, the whole thing starts to weigh on me. He’s nourishing the pain, taking it on as some sort of martyrdom, and it’s making it so he can’t work. I’m reluctant to push the issue, but Aradia argues that it’s just as idiotically macho to let him suffer as it is for him to insist on suffering, and that if I won’t take the pain off of him, she’ll do it.

We all finish our drinks, and its time to go. Aradia and one of my friends go to the ladies’ room, while my other friend and I go in search of the bartender to say goodbye and (again) offer to take the woman’s pain from him, and to tip him a little more before we leave. He refuses both my offer and the tip, but then he gets all weird about it, twisting my friend’s arm rather than taking the tip, and patting me on the heart with the wounded arm.

While his hand is resting on my heart something goes off in the back of my brain, and I just breathe the pain into my lungs, and exhale it as fire into the air above us.

He looks at me in shock and says, “You took it.”

“I did.”

“But you know we have to give it back.”

“No, we don’t.”

Aradia shows up and we finish our goodbyes with a little more drama and groping than usual, then leave the bar.

My friend can no longer contain his enthusiasm: “You breathed it out as smoke. I saw you take the pain. I was watching really close because I wanted to see how you did it, and I saw you breathe it out as smoke!”

There is nothing like third party confirmation to make an evening perfect.

I feel a little bad about it, now. He took the burden so seriously. But the whole martyr angle just grated on me, and the way he touched me with the wounded hand … it just seemed to be the thing to do a the time.

In witchcraft

HPF 2013 After-Action Report: Our Private Rites

Satyr Magos14/06/2013

For myself and Aradia, as well as the rest of Camp WTF, magic is a major part of our HPF experience. My first two festivals with Aradia (2009 and 2010) were some of the most intense ritual experience of my life, and it was at the last full moon festival (2010) that I underwent my first initiation. For good or ill, this year’s public rituals ended up being fairly low-impact. But with Friday night’s full moon to draw on, we took matters into our own hands.

Camp Altar

We started things off right by erecting an altar in camp and putting up successive magic circles around our encampment to encourage good times and ward off fuckwits. Each of us contributed an item or two to the setup, and we received numerous compliments on it throughout the weekend. Actually, I contributed a bit: my Kouros and Witchmother idols, my wand and chalice, my Orb and my new friend Cave Canem, who needed to be fed sacred oil (Fiery Wall of Protection Oil in the red bottle) at the Moon. Aradia brought more obsidian, the little elephant, and the dish on which they sat. Pasiphae would later bring out a selenite sphere, and Aidan set up the tripod around the whole operation.

We performed planetary invocations here as a group for the first two days, and I maintained that practice on my own through Saturday. I also demonstrated my offering rite for the others, who were curious about the ways my practice has evolved while at college.

Stele of Jeu

Friday, at sunset, Aradia and I went to the Memorial Grove to perform the Stele of Jeu together. Pasiphae and Aidan watched that, too, as I have been encouraging her to take up the rite to help her plough through some issues she’s been working on. We read the verses in tandem, excepting the barbarous words, which my notes have written in Greek and which I had to pronounce for Aradia to repeat.

The results were, at first, relatively lackluster—perhaps because we had never practiced forming the rite jointly in such a fashion, or possibly because I was still sorely depleted from the semester. The power rose, and with it the wind, but I did not get the purgative sensation that I usually have when I call upon Him Whose Name is a Heart Encircled By A Serpent. I was, however, very much ready for the next stage of our Esbat, and I wonder, if the following rites would have been so effective if I had not made myself a vessel in such a fashion.

Drawing Down the Moon

Finally, we went searching for a place to perform our esbat. Janet Farrar and Gavin Bone had spoken earlier that day, and had touched on the subject of Drawing Down the Moon and the way it had functioned back in the Old Days with Doreen Valiente. Meanwhile, Pasiphae had a selenite sphere which she has been using as a lunar force and wished to charge it more fully. At first we went to one of the ritual areas—Moonfyre Grove—but found that we had no actual view of the moon, so we trecked back up the hill to Flora’s Garden.

We cast our circle informally, as we usually do, and lit a candle. Pasiphae raised the selenite over her head and, rather spontaneously, I took the role of High Priest and drew the Moon down into her. At that point, a whole host of powers I had never dealt with before moved through me. For that moment, I was the Consort God: I grew antlers and stood tall, a channel by which the Moon descended from heaven into a mortal woman. When the time came, I prompted her and Pasiphae spoke prophesy—though time will tell if it was for all of us or for her alone.

There was a great deal of residual energy when that operation was done. Aradia used some of it to dispose of a tainted artifact, and the rest was poured into a bottle of salt water which we had prepared for the occasion. Lunar holy water is an interesting thing to See, and it had the added bonus—at least partly on account of the salt—of being potent grounding water.

In witchcraft

HPF 2013 After-Action Report: the Public Rituals

Satyr Magos13/06/2013

This year’s public rituals consisted of two main rites around central circle, a vision quest, a funeral for one of the better-known merchants, and the usual Memorial Day service. Having not known the gentleman in question, I did not attend the funeral, and, being an anti-nationalist, I never attend the Memorial Day service. I did, however, attend the main rituals and vision quest.

The Main Rituals

The main rituals were a marked departure from the norm in that they consisted of two rites—an opening rite on Thursday and a main/closing rite on Sunday—rather than the usual three, with the main rite on Saturday. I heard rumors that the ritual had been altered to accommodate some last-minute change—perhaps the funeral—but am uncertain as to their veracity.

Owing to Saturday night’s full moon, the theme for this year’s ritual was The Dragon Moon, and the Sacred Experience Committee elected to build their ritual around the theme of the five Chinese elements. For the opening ritual, five persons bearing lantern-like globes were spaced equidistantly around the circle, which was traversed first in pentagram shape and then circumnavigated by a fairly large paper-mache dragon. The ritual, itself, told a story of creation and dissolution: order rising from and then collapsing into chaos. We, the audience, were implored to consider our own life stories and determine where we wanted to go, and how the cycle of creation and destruction could aid us. We each took a ribbon, which was to be tied to the dragon and would be burned to fuel the rite at the end of the festival.

The main ritual, as is often the case, used the same setup and partially reenacted the first. We gathered around the bonfire about to be lit. There were more incantations by the ritual leaders, our intention-charged ribbons were thrown into the pile, and it was all lit to send our intentions out into the universe.

Overall, the rituals were highly theatrical: very pretty, well orchestrated, and fun to watch. Unfortunately, I did feel that there was a strong divide between the ritual leaders and the audience and that we were more “watching” than “participating”. There were few callbacks, and not even any real energy work for us to do.

My party and I did find ourselves a little frustrated at the generic quality of the magical aspect: “what do you want out of life” is a rather large and nonspecific question to tackle in any ritual, let alone a public one. On the other hand, it rather amused us that, given the synchronicity which rules these things, that was the question that apparently everyone was wrestling with this year, as well.

Finally, I was a little troubled by the fact that we were a group of largely White witches performing a ritual based in “ancient Chinese lore”. While I don’t think the Chinese are harmed by this sort of thing the way, say, Native Americans and other aboriginal populations are, there was definitely an air of appropriation to the whole thing. Even something as simple as greater specificity in the pamphlet description of the ritual—“… based on the Chinese philosophy of Wu Xing, which is often imprecisely translated as ‘Five Elements’…”—would have gone a long way, and it would have been better if they could have found a primary source to cite for us. The sad thing is, “ancient Chinese lore” (much like “ancient Native American wisdom”) is often code for “some shit I just made up”; the imprecision puts my back up (as an academic if nothing else) and the whole thing comes of as a bit racist.

The Vision Quest

Since returning from my failed life in St.Louis, the vision quest has been a major part of my Heartland experience. This was the first year that, having gone (I didn’t last year), my party didn’t make a point of being the first in line. That proved to be a mistake.

The theme of the year was Heroes and Villains. Villains included the Banshee, Baba Yaga, the Pied Piper, Lucifer (if I read the marks on his chest correctly), the Boogie Man, Lilith, and at least one figure I was not able to identify. Heroes included Queen Boudica, Robin Hood, Sigmund, and Beowolf. There were definitely some themes that resonated with me: honor and honesty and promices not kept, the question of what you’re willing to do to achieve your goals. At the end, though, the message I received was more direct and immediate: chill the fuck out, go have fun. I’m finding this charge painfully difficult.

The people playing each of the roles did fabulously. They had clearly worked very hard to find the “voice” they were aspecting and deserve nothing but commendations.

The overall experience, however, was deeply marred by logistical complications. I’m not sure what, exactly went wrong: maybe the gatekeeper was letting people in too quickly; maybe one or more of the guides on the path was consistently taking more time than they were supposed to. Regardless, despite my best efforts to move at a moderate pace, I caught up to the person in front of me after the first station. By the fourth I was caught in a pile-up that went at least three ahead of me and at least five behind. The long waits, my own irritation, and the increasingly frustrated presence of other Questers made it extremely hard to maintain the appropriate mindset. Ultimately, I spent half of the time on the path increasingly furious at the orchestrators of what had turned into an ordeal of patience.

In witchcraft

HPF 2013 After Action Report Part I: Overview

Satyr Magos12/06/2013

I was more than a little surprised to find myself at Heartland Pagan Festival this year. Although last year’s debacle was negotiated to an amicable conclusion, many of my friends had not seemed interested in returning. I had just completed the two most grueling semesters, personally even more than academically, of my life. Money was (and is) tight, and my spiritual practice was in shambles. But then Pasiphae and Aidan decided they wanted to go, and Aradia got really excited about it, and that got infectious. Then I learned that not only would it be a full moon, but Janet fucking Farrar was going to be there, and I have dabbled in Wicca/witchcraft for far too long to turn down an opportunity to see Janet Farrar and hear her speak.

There was one further complication, however: as a part of the aforementioned negotiations, I had agreed to join the Heartland Spiritual Alliance and get involved in the Sacred Experience Committee. That never happened: first I was broke, then I was busy, then I was overwhelmed and nearly crushed by the last year. So, before leaving, I sent an email to Bousiris, Mr. Crane, and Alexandros inviting them to Camp WTF to partake in my mead as an apology for my failure to act as I had intended. Ultimately, and to my chagrin, although all three accepted that invitation, either by email or in person, we never managed to actually meet up to clear the air.

Planning and packing were both achieved with unprecedented efficiency and alacrity. We arrived at the front gate for our traditional pre-fest camp out at shortly after midnight, despite the fact that preparations included baking four loaves of bread and two dozen muffins (Aradia is a badass). We were able to secure one of our top four pre-selected camp sites, despite the fact that one had been closed off to “rest” for the season, and another had been selected as the location for the Lushes in Exile, as their usual encampment was likewise closed. After setting up our encampment at a pleasant and leisurely pace, we set up the best camp-altar ever, and proceeded to relax for the rest of the day until opening ritual and public dinner… both of which were slightly disappointing, but inoffensive.

Friday started with approximately the average amount of confusion over my Community Service (after an above-average amount of confusion last year, the rest of my encampment bribed out), slightly complicated by an unusual number of musicians and merchants who felt the rules didn’t apply to them. Meanwhile, Aradia and the rest of our camp went to Ed Hubbard’s first workshop, which they enjoyed, and found me afterwards for breakfast. We went to the first Janet Farrar and Gavin Bone workshop that afternoon, followed by Ed Hubbard’s second workshop. After dinner, Aradia and I demonstrated the Stele of Jeu to Pasiphae (whom I think would benefit from doing the rite a few times) and Aidan, then went for a long walk before performing our own private Esbat. The results of those rituals were impressive.

Saturday was slow to start, and we ended up not going to any of the workshops we had considered. Instead, when we finally got moving, we went down to the lake, where we had the misfortune to discover a solid dozen unsupervised children, most in the single-digit age range. That disaster-waiting-to-happen was kind of a buzzkill, and by the time their parents showed up and then finally left, the day had cooled and the lake was too cold to be any fun. In the meantime, we did divination.

Sunday we caught a workshop on working with spirits and the final lecture by Janet Farrar. The former was disappointing, but the latter was interesting: the origin story of Lake Onessa and her name. Although much of our party crashed early, Aradia and I stayed up until the wee hours searching for a party. We were sadly disappointed.

Monday morning began a little before dawn with the threat of a storm. By dawn, the threat had been made good on with nickel-sized hail and a torrential downpour that made packing difficult and brought everyone’s temper to the surface—particularly mine. Although I won’t name names, I will point out that this is why we don’t do weather magic. Seriously: does anyone know any stories, mythic or personal, of anyone of European descent doing weather magic for good? It’s all crop-destroying, drought-causing, malicious evil-for-evil’s sake in the myths I know.

In Uncategorized

Crickets

Satyr Magos06/06/2013

So…

Yeah.

I’m not dead.

I survived finals (did damn well, actually, despite what I had thought), then went straight back to work. Went to Heartland Pagan Festival. Fun was had. Went back to work again.

I’m officially two moths behind on just reading my favorite blogs, so I’m trying to catch up and start commenting.

There are posts in the works. Fun has been had. Magic has been done. New projects have been started.

Hopefully you’ll be hearing from me again soon.

Peace, love, and wild monkey sex.

— Satyr Magos

In witchcraft

The Secret Lives of Magical Beings

Satyr Magos26/04/2013

There’s a very interesting conversation going on in the magical blogosphere right now. Riffing off a remark by Gordon, Rufus Opus has sparked a conversation on the blogs of Fr. Barabas, Jack Faust, and Fr. Acher.[1] These luminaries have years more research and hundreds, perhaps thousands, more conjurations under their belts than I do, so I will not presume to question their assessments. But, although I am more than a little late to the party, I will answer Fr. Acher’s call to share a little bit of my own experiences.

I have been conjuring planetary powers for little more than a year. So far, I am largely tapping into the “elemental” power of the Spheres to imbue my talismans, perhaps drawing the attention of lesser planetary spirits … and perhaps not. On those few occasions when I have conjured specific planetary powers, or gone on spirit journeys to visit them, I have seen little or nothing to hint at what those spirits might do when not trafficking with mortals.

I have, however, been working with a familiar spirit for a bit longer than that.

Tsu has done me numerous favors—some simply out of friendship, others in exchange for offerings. More importantly for this discussion, however, she has spoken to me, some, regarding her existence outside our contact. She has, unfortunately, been deliberately obtuse on a number of points. And, of course, one always hesitates to draw broad conclusions from such limited anecdotes; certainly one cannot draw conclusions about Goetic Demons and Elemental Kings. Further, given the nature of spirits, one even hesitates to assume that anything I was told was the absolute truth.

However, for the sake of interest and posterity:

* Very early in our relationship, she asked that I name her and create a sigil for her. She implied two things: that she did not, at that point, have a name; and that the name I was giving her was temporary, that she would eventually take another, greater name.

* In the above series of conversations, she gave me the impression that she was whatever the spirit-world equivalent of a magician. What, precisely, that entails, I haven’t the faintest idea.

* In a separate conversation, she strongly implied that spirits can produce offspring by pairing with either other spirits or with morals.

* When asked point-blank, however, what she does with herself when not conversing with me, she flat-out refused to give me an answer.

* I know that sometimes when I go to my Inner Temple she is waiting for me, sometimes she is elsewhere, and sometimes she is just hanging out there, indifferent to my presence—almost as if it’s her favorite park.

Nor is Tsu the only spirit I’ve gotten interesting hints from: I’ve a veritable lifetime of bizzare spirit encounters, many of which more closely resemble Jack’s experiences with elementals:

* There was this one thing, back in the day, that was like walking into a scene from someone else’s life.

* Way back when I first started practicing, my first spirit guide was known to get bored and go bother my more psychically sensitive friends for conversation.

* One time, during my days on IRC chat, one of my online friends’ spirit guide came to investigate me for no other reason than that it was bored.

* More recently, I had an encounter with a genius locii from which a wiser magus than I might be able to draw more concrete conclusions.

* And then there was the time this one daft kid called up the someone he didn’t really have the credentials to, and a local spirit had to intervene on our behalf. Again: someone wiser than I might be able to draw conclusions from that where I am not.

* Work with Tsu , ZG, and SKM (my Natal Genius and Demon, respectively) has made clear that the three discuss me when I am not there, and that they have planned an astral excursion for me together on at least one occasion.

* When doing my explorations of Elemental Earth and Malkuth for the ceremonial experiment, I encountered a spirit who posed as a guide but who clearly needed things from me that she could not or would not communicate. When I failed to provide them on my own, she attempted to coerce me.

Again, none of these experiences do not necessarily speak at all to the nature of spirits on the scale of Goetic Demons and Elemental kings. Conversely, however, they strongly suggest (to me at least) that those spirits which more individual than archetypal (which, from what research I have done, is a fair description of these powers) have lives and ambitions at the same time both more familiar than we would imagine, and more alien than we can possibly conceive.

1 – Others may have joined the conversation by the time this post appears. I will add them below as they come to my attention.

In witchcraft

Project Null: Satyr’s First Servitor

Satyr Magos24/04/2013

I have been planning to experiment in servitor creation since I first set out to study Chaos Magick. Unfortunately, none of my major sources treat the subject in any real detail. So I went that vast repository of knowledge, madness, and wisdom which I we all know and love: the Internet. My hope was that a variety of perspectives would allow me to identify the core techniques by triangulation, and from there come up with my rite.

Here are the sources I found most useful:

* Servitor Creation at Atreus World of Wierdness

* Pope Michae’s Basic Servitor Creation

* Servitor Creation at Spiralnation

CAVE CANEM

Between native talent and practice bordering on paranoid, protective magic has always been one of the things I am best at. Thus, it was always my intention for my first servitor to be a household guardian. Because I’m an asshat, I ignored all suggestions to start simple. I chose the form of a dog in order to tap into the “guard dog” egregore, and in order to use a foo-dog shaped teapot, which I happened to have, as a vessel. I named him for one of the great guards of myth, in order to tap into that stream as well. Hereafter I will refer to him as Cave Canem[1], or CC for short.

I wrote and sigilized ten lines of “code”, and chose its master sigil from a number of glyphs which I had produced through automatic drawing last semester. I wrote a incantation containing the servitor’s name, the instructions I had sigilized, and the terms of the contract between us. I then drew a stele-image of CC bearing his name and all his sigils.

I placed that penciled image and the vessel on an improvised altar in the middle of my temple. I banished and purified everything. I got out my Abramelin oil and the brush I use for sigils. I raised the power, declaimed the incantation, inked the sigils on the drawing, and painted the vessel with the master sigil. Then I called down an amount of power that easily put this in the top ten most powerful rites I have ever performed, possibly the top five. I anointed the vessel with the Oil of Abramelin, and the dog awoke.

His presence was immediate, almost tactile. He responded warmly to my attention. The next several times I drove, CC sat in the back seat behind me with his nose on the back of my head. When I drove to Kansas City for Spring Break, he made much of the drive with me, though he grew … thin across Illinois. Even in Kansas City, though, he appeared instantly when I spoke his name.

I would consider this an unqualified success, except that I haven’t actually seen much of him since I got back from Spring Break. But I came back from Spring Break ill enough that I probably shouldn’t have driven. I missed (another) two days of class, and ultimately ended Break even further behind than I started. So I haven’t really had time for more than a bare minimum maintenance of my spiritual obligations; I hadn’t seen much of any of my Friends Upstairs, actually, for that reason, until last Wednesday when I received instructions on how best to rearrange my altar. So one is uncertain if he didn’t “last” or if one’s head is merely stuffed up one’s own ass.

Still, I’m pleased enough with the outcome of this attempt that I’m planning a second, more ambitious servitor project: an army of flying monkeys.

1 – Classical Latin: “Kah-way ka-nem”, trans: “Beware the Dog”.

In witchcraft

I’m Still Not Certain Enough of What Happened To Come Up With Pithy Header

Satyr Magos22/04/2013

Way back at the beginning of the semester, I wrote of having picked up some sort of psychic parasites which absurdly difficult to get rid of. On the advice of Veriditas Dreams, I put off my servitor experiment for another two weeks while I focused on getting my astral body patched up. I’m glad I did, because things only got more interesting.

The first night of the Full Moon, I started with wine divination. Interestingly, it pointed to a combination of internal and external factors: internally, matters of balance and power; externally, one Prince of Disks. I prepared and cast my circle using my newest Circle-casting variant which anchors an Witch’s elemental Circle to the circle of salt I have been using for a bit, now. Then I performed the Stele of Jeu the Hieroglyphist[1] and burned the little black worms from my astral body and my temple space with the brilliant and (in my experience) unique power of the Heart Encircled By A Serpent. It is, I am almost certain, the first time that I have actually managed to use up every drop of power raised by that ancient and magnificent rite.

The second night of the Full Moon I performed the Stele of Jeu a second time. I went for just a little more elaboration and experimentation. I started with a simple banishing and suffumigation. Then I tore space, as described in the Sorcerer’s Secrets[2], performed by Titan’s Cross and Pentagram Rite, and finally the Stele, itself. Where the first night’s rite had burned away the infection, this one went a long way to healing the wound, separating the psychic “scab” from my physical back and helping restore the energy lost to the ordeal.

The third night of the Full Moon, as I prepared to begin my rites, I changed tactics. Drawing a crude image of myself and writing my legal and magical names on the “poppet”, I drew a clean, healthy, and healed aura around myself and charged the image with power. I literally have no words to describe the sensation of feedback that I experienced while working with that magical self-portrait.

With those rites completed, I went about my life for a little while [3]. The itching and pulling sensations of the “scab” or “scar” on my astral body were … very, very strange. Sometimes I wasn’t certain if I was healing, or getting re-infected. Despite the fall-off in my practice between then and now, however, one of those strategies, or some combination thereof, seems to have done the trick. I can still feel a bit of psychic “scar tissue”, sometimes: it stretches and pulls, particularly when I do small magics, but it is no longer an uncomfortable or unwell sensation. At times it even seems to respond to the places where the Veil has been often parted (like, say, my Temple), much like worn joints responding to changes in barometric pressure.

These things being the way they are, I’ll never be quite certain where the infection came from. To the best of my ability to determine, however, it was not so much a direct attack as … symptomatic of a certain point of chaos in my life back in Kansas City.

I’ve spoken of my Web before: of the lines that connect the people and places in my life. Over Winter Break, Aradia and I did some Work to try to help her neighbor out with her magical practice: she was (is) experiencing a sort of demonic possession[4], either causing or caused by a serious illness and by her abandoned magical practice. I believe that this possession/infection spread into the house wards and, from them, along the lines of power to the Sunrise Temple and my astral body.

I never did manage to repair the damage done to the Temple Wards; they were supposed to be self-regenerating, but apparently that didn’t work the way it was supposed to. With my familiar spirits in house, and having established that I was not, in fact, (also, because I lost my shit this semester) under attack, it never seemed a priority.

Besides which, it was about time I replaced them, anyway. Whish is pretty much the most interesting thing I’ve done all semester.

1 – Jack Faust has a handy copy up for reference. He is also the first and only person I’ve seen provide any theory as to which “six names” (PGM V. 159) are meant and what “the formula” (PGM V.160) might be, and this was my first performance of the rite incorporating those additions.

2 – Jason Miller. Sorcerer’s Secrets. p.42

3 – And then everything went to shit: I stopped writing, stopped my magical practice and barely maintained my devotionals, never made time to try the exercises which the magnificent Melitta Benu was kind enough to share in response to another old post, and have barely kept up with my fucking homework. Which may or may not have been related to anything besides the amount of stress I’m under and the amount of sex I’m not having.

4 – For lack of a better word. Unfortunately, the details are not mine to discuss in depth.