Journey Through The Obsidian Dream

Please allow me to preface this story with another. For a few years now, I have been working with a set of three masks I made over the course of a couple months at the end of 2009. Perhaps the crown jewel of the three is the Sun God Mask.

Originally intended to be the focal point of Solstice rituals, it has been calling for more attention lately. In particular, it took an unexpectedly prominent role in my Beltane festivities, and since then it has been much more aware. As an experiment, I took the mask with me to Heartland.

For those who haven’t been to Heartland Pagan Festival, one of the major attractions are the nightly bonfires, surrounded by drumming and dancing. The last couple years I ended up spending so much energy on the radically healing and transformative workshops and rituals that I didn’t actually have any left for dancing. This year was different, for better AND worse, and I think I spent more time around the bonfire than the previous two (and maybe three) years combined. I know I spent more time dancing than the last several years put together.

For me, this year, there were three modes of dancing. I danced by myself. I danced with the mask: letting it experience the mortal pleasures that incorporeal creatures seem to find either intoxicating or abhorrent. I danced with the fire, treating it as an idol of the Elemental Powers of Fire.

Dancing alone was an exercise in the pure, hedonist pleasure of my body. Reveling in the feeling of muscle and sinew moving against bone, of the heat of the fire contrasted with the cool night air, of the thundering drumbeats moving through me, the rough sand under my bare feet. Gods, I’ve missed it. Even if I could stand the music they play at dance clubs, it wouldn’t be the same. The drum circle produces an aIchemy of earth, air, and fire that, in my experience at least, is absolutely unique.

Although, to the best of knowledge, I’ve done more mask-work than anyone I know personally, I can hardly call myself an expert. I’ve worked with exactly three ritual masks, only two of which have personalities. Dancing with the mask was an experience unlike any I have had yet. Although Phil Hine tells me that half-masks are difficult to keep quiet[1], I actually find it incredibly difficult to speak while wearing it. I don’t know if my dancing was perceptibly different to anyone who is not me, but I definitely felt like a back-seat driver in my own body as the mask and I moved around the fire Friday and Sunday nights. One person complimented me on the mask while we were dancing, and it was all I could do to say “thank you.” I don’t even remember what she looked like, even though we were close enough that I could see her without my glasses.

Dancing with the fire itself, this year, was perhaps the most powerful experience of the three. My plan, going in to the festival, had included a lot of visionary and ritual work aimed at pursuing elemental and planetary initiations. None of it happened. After the concert and its coincidental epiphanies, however, I was ready to try. I had already danced by myself. I was dancing with the mask when the sudden calling came to me to put it back down and dance with the fire. I rode the drums into the fire and rode the heat and light back into myself, bringing Fire with me. I haven’t really talked about it here on the blog—I should, but I haven’t; it’s easier to talk about how I was an idiot back in the day than how I’ve fucked up lately—but I’ve been having some trouble with Fire. My elemental journey to Fire, taken as part of my work through Penczak’s Outer and High Temples, left an open portal to the Elemental Realm of Fire in my Inner Temple that would draw me in against my will if I wasn’t extremely careful. Dancing with the fire, becoming One with Fire, I asked it for it’s Elemental Initiation. The fire told me it was already mine. When I returned to my Inner Temple for Monday’s journeywork, the portal was tamed: mine to enter or exit at need, no longer a sucking maw.

1- Phil Hine, Condensed Chaos, (Tempe, AZ: New Falcon, 1995), 153. Maybe he just hasn’t “learn[ed] to speak” yet.

In witchcraft

Resuming My Visionary Practice

Satyr Magos05/06/2012

Putting Will to Word, I began the process of resuming my visionary practice last night. Because it was Monday, and because my most recent successful journey was to the Moon in Yesod, I chose that as my destination once again.

As always, I began by visiting my Inner Temple, where I finished up some business between myself, Tsu, and ZG, regarding help they had given me at Heartland. Then I called down night over my Inner Temple, where the sun is almost always shining. To my surprise, constellations have begun to appear in that sky: Scorpio and Gemini, so far. The Moon hung full in the sky above my Temple, and I flew up t meet it.

Once more, I found myself in the nine-pillared Palace of the Moon[1] The two figures were both lucid and moving, and when I asked them to instruct me in the Mysteries of the Moon, they took me between them and filled me with the light of the Moon. When I had been filled to bursting, they took me to the Astral mists, pointing the way to the more familiar Void, and to other “geographical” features I don’t have names for or quite know how to describe. It was not an “initiation”, per se … but, then, I haven’t asked for one yet. When they had finished their imparting what they would for the evening, I thanked them and departed.

Filled to the brim with Lunar power, I descended to the elemental realm of Water. Rather than seeking out the Powers of Water, as I have before, I sat and waited for my presence to draw their attention. Soon enough, it did. Although I could sense them, this time I saw nothing but the vast depths of the ocean bottom. First, I asked the Powers of Water to heal and cleanse me of the damage done by the main ritual at Heartland Pagan Festival this year; despite my best efforts, a lingering miasma has remained. A powerful current of water washed over and through me, scouring and soothing way the lingering damage.

When that was complete, I once more asked for the Initiation of Water. I was refused again, but more gently this time. I asked what I needed to do to prepare myself for that initiation. They told me to ask again while I was in the water, filling my mind with an image of Lake Onessa under the light of the moon. I thanked them, and asked leave to depart.

Returning to the waking world, Aradia—who had been doing journeywork of her own—had instructions for me that had been imparted to her: I was to make Moon water with which I would make chamomile tea to use as a kinder, gentler flying potion than the absinthe. I did so, blessing the water with an incantation of the Orphic Hymn to the Moon.

1 – I’ve been there since last I wrote about it, actually. The story just wasn’t interesting enough to share: the male figure was still comatose; the female figure talked to me briefly.

In Uncategorized, witchcraft

Of That Which Has Been Put Off : My Full Moon Reading

Satyr Magos04/06/2012

Sun = 14*Gemini – Moon = 16*Sagitarius – Venus Retrograde

Aradia and I had Pasiphae and Aidan over last night for some Full Moon socializing. The place was a little too messy for a full-on Esbat (the Battle of Mount Laundry has yet to be won), but we did spend quite a bit of time with our tarot decks. Aidan purchased his first deck at Heartland, and Pasiphae managed to get her hands on a copy of the out-of-print Rohrig deck she had been coveting for years. After I gave Aidan a reading, he spent the rest of the evening playing with his new deck, trying to grok the Celtic Cross and the internal logic of the cards. Pasiphae as equally eager to break in her new toy.

I actually haven’t had anyone else do a reading for me in quite some time, so I took advantage of the opportunity. Bought gently used, she’s still getting to know the deck and attuning it to herself. It’s already got quite a personality: it doesn’t want to deal with piddly shit. It told me the same as I shuffled it; it also demanded a specific question rather than a general reading.

So I asked it to talk about the direction my magical practice is taking.

The central thesis here seems to be “Good job; now get to work.” The Moon (which was central to my monthly reading as well) and the Hanged Man tell me that there’s some important work I’ve been dodging around.

“What am I avoiding?” I ask. “I’m hip-deep in the biggest thing I’ve ever avoided in my magical career.” I was speaking of the planetary and ceremonial magical studies I’ve been doing, of course. I put that shit off for fourteen-odd years.

Aradia knows me well, though. She knows the answer. “When was the last time you visited the Underworld?”

“I … uh … don’t know.”

And … that’s unfortunately true. The deeper into the planetary magic I get, the more my visionary work has been left by the wayside. I could blame that on the fact that it’s not really a part of the system I’m studying—even if it is a major component of Penczack’s High Temple, which I’ve been using as an outline for my studies—but the fact of the matter is that I’ve just run into one too many things that have scared me when I’ve visited the Underworld.

Between the unsettling demands some of my newer spirit-allies have made of me, and my seeming inability to explore new territories without incurring new alliances and their attendant obligations… Well, let’s just say that I’ve become very, very good at finding reasons not to do Down. Smart people can be disturbingly good at lying to themselves. And with all the Work I have been doing—planetary talismans, the Stele of Jeu, puzzling my way (oh, so slowly) through Agrippa and my newfound relationship with my Natal Genius, and even the continuation of Deb’s New Year, New You, which I have fallen so far behind on in the last month—it’s been particularly easy.

“But wait!,” you (my dear readers) ask. “Didn’t you work your way through that already?” Yeah, I thought that I had. Apparently I hadn’t. It’s that bastard Dweller at the Threshold again.

So I’m setting myself a new goal: to descend to the underworld every Sunday and/or Monday night, regardless of whether or not there’s Work I think needs to be done. It’s time to face the Moon.

Tarot card from the Rider-Waite tarot deck, al... — Tarot card from the Rider-Waite tarot deck, also known as the Rider-Waite-Smith deck. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In witchcraft

HPF 2012: When Public Ritual Goes to the Bad Place

Satyr Magos03/06/2012

[Trigger Warning for discussion of gendered violence in a ritual context.]*

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not categorically opposed to cutting-edge ritual. I think anyone who’s read this blog for any length of time knows that I’m willing to take magical risks … sometimes just to see what will happen. Frankly, when done responsibly between consenting adults, I’m pretty much down with any sort of boundary-pushing you can think of. But I don’t think many of you are going to argue with me when I say that the main public ritual at a festival is not the place to try being edgy or experimental. That’s how people—unwitting bystanders—get hurt.

In art, witchcraft

HPF 2012: Rites of Magic

Satyr Magos02/06/2012

Not counting the public rituals, which are a disaster I will get to soon, I did three major rituals at Heartland Pagan Festival this year. The last, I have already described. The first was the creation of a Moon Talisman, taking advantage of the Lunar Election; the second was my most effective performance of the rite of the Stele of Jeu to date.

Friday morning there was a window of opportunity to create a lunar talisman. Due to a variety of factors (idiocy on my own part chief among them) I was not able to print out a copy of Christopher Warnock’s lunar talisman to assemble and charge at the appropriate hour. Instead, having the pdf on my phone, I transcribed the invocation into my sketch book and reproduced a crude sketch of the general figure and the characters above him. When the hour came, I expanded upon my crude sketch from memory, using my nice fountain and brush pens.

The invocation was potent, and I felt the familiar Lunar power flow through me as I incanted. I had to leave my ritual jewelry sitting on the talisman when I was done, because it was tingling too much for me to continue wearing it (as is my wont at ritual occasion such as the festival.

I think it turned out nicely. One of these next days, I’m going to produce a nicer version, as well as Lunar images from the other sources Warnock quotes above.

Saturday night, after the main-ritual-gone-awry, Alopex and I went back to Camp WTF to decompress. The sun was setting, Alopex went for a walk, and I’d been wanting to perform the Stele of Jeu since I arrived, but hadn’t quite found the right moment. That seemed to be the right moment: Memorial Grove, Camp Gaea’s small graveyard was near the encampment, there was a trivium crossroad on the way, and the sun was setting. I made the walk and found a stone slab of an altar in the middle of the grove. Beside it was a fist-sized rock, ideally shaped for me to paint the Beneficial Sign upon it.

I opened with my Pentagram Rite, and made my offerings of pomegranate mead. The wind, which had stilled for a while, rose as I incanted and just kept rising. I really don’t know how to describe the effect of the ritual except to say that I was high, and that I stayed high for hours. I was going to leave the stone, except that it insisted I take it with me.

The next night, while Aradia and Aurora combed my aura and I tried to let go of all the accumulated pain and bullshit I hadn’t quite managed to deal with and/or banish over the semester, shortly before I performed my overzealous blessing, I was struck by my first real insight into the Stele.

Although one source gave the rite explicitly as an exorcism, the other people I’ve talked to about it insist that there’s more to it. And there is. The first two thirds seem to be an exorcism or banishing of sorts—“Mighty Headless One, deliver him, NN, from the daimon which restrains him”—but the final portion suddenly identifies the magician with the Headless One he has been calling upon:

“I am the headless daimon with my sight in my feet; [I am] the mighty one [who possesses] the immortal fire; I am the truth who hates the fact that unjust deeds arc done in the world; I am the one who makes the lightning flash and the thunder roll;/ I am the one whose sweat is the heavy rain which falls upon the earth that it might be inseminated; I am the one whose mouth bums completely; I am the one who begets and destroys; / I am the Favor of the Aion; my name is a heart encircled by a serpent; come forth and follow.”

Suddenly, after months of practice, this seems to be a ritual which first hollows out the magician—blasting him free of “negative” influences and forcing his aura into the shape of a vessel—in order to make room for the Headless One to fill him. In a very loose sense, the Stele of Jeu may be the badass great-great-great-grandparent of Drawing Down the Moon. It is an exorcism, and simultaneously a literal invocation. Or seems to be, anyway, at this stage in my practice. Would anyone who has experimented with this more care to comment?

In hedonism

HPF 2012: All Hail Camp WTF!

Satyr Magos02/06/2012

For most of my career as a Heartland Pagan Festival attendee, I had camped either alone or as an attaché to a larger encampment. I partied with the Big Damn Heroes (a now-defunct band from Oklahoma and the various friends and lovers they brought with them) and with Camp Taco (several women from St.Louis, who I would party with when I moved there in 2k6), but otherwise kept to myself. When Aradia and I started attending together in 2k9, we continued the pattern except as a couple.

This year, as the most experienced festival attendees with the most supplies to share, we found ourselves as the heads of an encampment. Though Pasiphae ended up working closely with Aradia on the shopping and packing lists, she and Aidan had formally appointed us “Camp Mom” as early as Beltane. We were also joined by Camp Taco’s Aurora, a couple of her close friends, and Alopex, and old friend of mine from the early KU Cauldron days, as well as a couple refugees from the Big Damn Heroes. There were eight of us, officially, and three or four more “satellite” characters camped with us. Between this (unofficial) leadership role and my work exchange arrangement—20 hours of time to helping run the festival in order to get in for free—contributed to the very different tenor this festival had for me.

The transformation from a pile of Satyr’s and Aradia’s friends into a coherent encampment of festival family was an impressive one. Unfortunately, on account of the work exchange, I wasn’t there for several key portions of it. The credit, if such a thing is due, must go to Aradia and her meticulous diplomacy, and to the fact that we just have really, really awesome friends.

We dubbed ourselves Camp WTF, in part an acknowledgement of our diverse backgrounds and arrangements on the one hand, and the utter disaster state the camp was in at the time we were having the discussion. They took the Rogue Potato as our mascot, and a Blanket Fire[2] as part of our heraldry.

The symbols and rituals we developed were all Great Moments In You Had To Be There, and they were all beautiful. I’m working on drawing up our heraldic crest and designing our flag. I can’t wait to see the madness that will grow out of this. Everyone in camp was family by the end of the festival.

In hedonism, Uncategorized, witchcraft

HPF 2012: The Blessings of Dionysus Upon you All

Satyr Magos30/05/2012

"Bacchus" by Caravaggio. — “Bacchus” by Caravaggio. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Flannigan’s Right Hook was playing their cover of Paint it Black as Aradia and I stumbled back from one of the furthest-flung encampments at Gaea, still high from our first shamanic journey. That was Friday night of HPF 2009, our first year together; they played again the following year on the Sunday night main-stage, to which they returned this year. I missed the first part of this show, too, eventually abandoning half of my encampment to their face-painting shenanigans.

After the quiet of rest of the festival, walking up to the stage was like running face-first into a cacophonic wall of neon light and raucous sound. A beautiful, much-needed wall, the impact with which brought me back to 2k9 and ‘10, returning to those moments in cyclical time. The guitars, the cello, the electric fiddle … it was catharsis, pure and powerful.

I needed it desperately. The festival, to that point, had had its ups and downs. The main ritual, the day before, had been an utter disaster from which we were all—despite the passage of twenty-four hours, multiple cleansing rituals, and the completion of the public closing ritual just hours before—still recovering. Even the land was stained.

So I stood there, vibrating with the music, and trying to let go. To let go of my frustration with the Sacred Experience Committee. To let go of my frustration with my camp-mates, most of whom had not yet made it to the pavilion[1]. To let go of my desire for the festival—which I have been attending since I was eighteen years old, to which I have introduced probably a dozen people at this point, and to which I had brought three “virgins” this very year—to be perfect, and just enjoy it as it was in the then and the now. Perfection doesn’t exist in this world. I’m skeptical that it exists anywhere. …. So why, then, do I get so upset when things turn out to be less than perfect?

The music was amazing, the light show was a blast, and I was drinking thoroughly-blessed wine. And yet, I was still struggling to find the fun. My ambivalence must have been clear. When Aradia asked me if I was alright, I didn’t lie.

Aradia and Aurora had been to one of the workshops I’d missed on account of my work exchange obligations. The workshop was on aura cleansing and chakra balancing. Together, as I stood there listening to the music, they worked over my energetic bodies until I was almost in tears. Finally, something inside me broke loose, the tears came, my aura opened up, and I was able to let go and find the fun. Power filled me, and a few sudden insights.

The band was clearly having the time of their lives, too. Somehow, bottles of mead kept finding their way on stage. At one point, the band stopped to toast the audience. I raised my glass and toasted them back: “The blessings of Dionysus upon you all.”

My wine, as I said, was well-blessed. Recognizing that I was not the only one in my encampment stained by the miasma of the previous night’s ritual, I took the box of wine Aurora had offered for the purposes, and called upon Dionysus to bless it so that all who drank of it would be purged of the stain and incited to sacred revelry. I wish I’d thought to wright down the specifics, but I kinda got lost in the moment. I completed the blessing by pouring a libation in a circle around the box; suddenly, it was “hot” to the touch.

“Holy shit,” said Aradia. “What did you just do?”

When I toasted the band, my blessing spread to their bottles. But one of the things about working with gods and spirits, I guess, is that once you start talking to them, they’re listening more than you realize. And I had said “upon you all.” Little lights started going off in the audience as the blessing spread to those bottles. And then little bells started ringing in my head as other bottles throughout camp were lighted with the same blessing, too.

It was about that time that the rest of our encampment showed up, beaming and with faces painted. The wine flowed liberally and, when the concert was over, we found a secluded place to load a bowl while they lit the bonfire.

The tenor of the evening was changed, radically, and for the better.

1 – I love you guys, but you can’t spend five days camped with anyone and not end up a bit frustrated at some point.

In hedonism, witchcraft

Packing for the Hedge: A Prelude to HPF 2012

Satyr Magos23/05/2012

Sometime today I will disappear into the woods for Heartland Pagan Festival. This will be my tenth festival or so. I’ve been going since 1998 or 1999, but I missed a few years toward the beginning on account of poor money management and mad life drama. This will be my fifth consecutive year attending since I missed 2007 on account of being unemployed in St. Louis; it will be my fourth year going with Aradia.

This will, however, be my first year going as work exchange—20 hours of my weekend promised to the Heartland Spirit Alliance to help keep the festival running. It will also be my first year as a head of an encampment.

Aradia and I are bringing three friends who’ve never been before, and hosting two more who have attended before but are coming without their usual retinue. I’m going out today, a day before the festival opens officially, to be trained in (and hopefully to begin) my work exchange duties. I’ll also use the opportunity to pick out a camp site for us all.

I can’t begin to describe how excited I am.

Christopher Penczak and Kerr Cuhulain will both be speaking. Seriously, click the image link and check out the list of speakers and performers. Then there’s that whole Lunar Election (9am-9:40 CDT Friday for any of my compatriots who are thinking about making a Lunar Talisman for themselves out there).

So I’ll be back in about eight days with a shit ton of stories.

Have fun here in the blogosphere without me. And if any of my dear readers think they might be at festival, look for the encampment with this tent and flag:

We’ll be camped somewhere around Dava Wood if all goes according to plan. Look for the big guy with the beard and tattoos under his collar bone that match the flag; sun on one shoulder, moon on the other, and a astrological mandala between the shoulder blades.

In witchcraft

Gemini Dark Moon Reading

Satyr Magos23/05/2012

I’ve done readings at the last two dark moons. I’ve even analyzied them, to a point. But I never posted about them. So I’m taking a page from Aradia’s book and I’m going to decipher it before your very eyes.

Interestingly, this is the second time I’ve managed to do my reading on the first degree of the new sign.

ANNUAL CARD(S)

When I did my annual reading at Samhain, the card I drew for for Gemini was the 5 of Cups, which I was to fix with the 10 of Pentacles (Robin Wood). I’m not sure if the decision I’m going to regret is one I’ve already made or one I’m going to make over the course of the month.

DARK MOON READING

1^st – Self, Viewpoint – Princess of Disks

I am, apparently, laden with potential this month. Elsewhere in the reading, this card would make me very nervous[1]. Here, it’s a hint of things to come, and the first hint of the amount of magic I’m going to need to do.

2^nd – Finances, Income – VII Adjustment

I’m working again. That’s a bit of an adjustment. I’ve worked three twelve hour shifts in the last eight days. I am nowhere near adjusted to this shit.

And, after months of living on pennies, I’m going to get a four hundred dollar check. Two weeks from now I’ll get one for twice that. Most of which, granted, is going to go paying my rent and utilities back in Indiana. That’s not just going to take some Adjustment, that’s going to take discipline. See the 6th and 10th Houses.

3^rd – Daily Experiences – 8 Wands “Swiftness”

I’m going to be energetic! Full of spunk and verve!

Who am I kidding? I’m going to be running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Working open-to-close shifts in the mall, attending Heartland Pagan Festival, trying to catch up with all my friends in Kansas City … it’s going to be a zoo.

4^th – Home-place – XV the Devil

Uh, what?

5^th – Fun / Pleasure – XI Lust

So, I see there’s going to be some sex, drugs, and rock&roll in my sex, drugs, and rock&roll. I can live with that.

6^th – Work – 2 Disks “Change”

Again, the meaning here appears straightforward and clear, given my transition from full-time student to part-time goon.

I think it may also be an admonition not to sink back into the employment ruts that were forming when I left Kansas City.

7^th – Partnership – 7 Wands “Valor”

Aradia was sitting next to me as I laid out this spread. When I turned over the 7th House she said, “please don’t set me on fire.”

This is a fighting card in a place where I don’t really see that kind of difficulty. The most optimistic interpretation here is “Stay on top of shit. Do not let anything fester.”

8^th – Taboo / Crisis– X the Heirophant

Of course I have issues with Tradition and Authority. What’s new?

Oh, wait. I’ve been studying at the feet of Tradition lately. That’s only going to make things more complicated.

9^th – Higher Perception– VII the Chariot

Looks like I’m going places. The question is “where”? Crowley’s Chariot is a lot less about Will than the Chariot in other decks and a lot more about Destiny. Perhaps I should ask ZG about this one.

10^th – Recognition– 5 Disks “Worry”

I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind.[2]

11^th – Friendships – 5 Swords “Defeat”

This is worrisome. I need to stay on top of things.

12^th – Secrets & Fears – 3 Disks “Work”

Between working for money, working on my novels, and the Great Work … there is a LOT that I want to get done this summer. I know I won’t be able to do it all. I’m afraid I won’t manage to do any of it.

+1/6 – Current Position – 5 Cups “Disappointment”

I feel like this isn’t really the 5C in particular so much as it’s a generic swamp. It’s my change of circumstances and Venus Retrograde. It’s my indecision and my conflicting goals.

+2/6 Current Influences – XVII the Moon

If 5C is a morass, the Moon tells me I have to cross it in order to continue my journey. Face the fear. Walk the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Descend to the Underworld.

+3/6 What Crowns It – Hexagram

And here, at last, we get to the point: whatever it is, fucking do magic about it.

+4/6 The Root of It – I the Magus

I am a magician. I do magic. See above. Sometimes divination is anvilicious.

To pass from the Magus to the Hexagram, I must cross the 5 of Cups via the Moon.

+5/6 Going Out – Queen of Swords

I’ve done an awful lot of thinking, talking, writing, and intellectualizing about my magic. That’s going to have to wane for a while in order for me to get back to really doingthe magic.

+6/6 Coming In – XX the Aeon

I’ve set myself on a path of transformation. If I pursue it diligently over the next lunar month, I’m going to undergo some serious changes.

1 – childfree for life!

2 – Snoop Dogg. Yeah. I went there.

In scholarship, witchcraft

Thoughts on the Stele of Jeu

Satyr Magos18/05/2012

As I mentioned in my previous post, the more I perform the Stele of Jeu rite, the more subtle the effects seem to be. Given some of the more extravagant warnings I’ve heard regarding this ritual, this interests me a great deal, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last couple days.

One of the first sources to warn me about the Stele of Jeu was, of all things, Crowley’s Goetia[1], which refers to the rite as the London Papyrus. According to the editor, the rite (before Crowley made his changes that ultimately produced Liber Semekh) was passed around in Golden Dawn circles as a last-ditch banishing/exorcism rite, to be performed with utmost caution and formality lest one permanently haunt the place where it was performed. The next was from the gentleman who was kind enough to work me up to my first experiment with the ritual. His warning, in addition to the above should one go through with a clearly botched performance, related the possibility of one’s life getting broken apart in order to be put back together in a better shape.

My own experience with the ritual, while powerful and transformative, has never quite lived up to the earth-shattering hype. A commenter on my early experiments reported even less dramatic results.

After some rumination, I’ve come up with a theory. You see, I’ve actually heard very similar stories about other rituals: the Abramelin Operation, for example; most other methods of contacting one’s HGA/Supernal Assistant; the use of moldavite for the first time. The common theme in many (though not all) of these stories is that when people whose lives are already fucked do major-fix-magic, their lives get more fucked before they get better.

The GD source who provided the initial warning—with no disrespect intended to modern initiates of those orders—was clearly terrified of dealing with the spirit world in any situation where they did not have absolute control of the circumstances and proceedings. The source of the second warning tells stories about the Stele of Jeu in ways that sound a lot like it was a part of his formative experiences with magic—which is to say, probably before he got his life in order.

Meanwhile, my commenter complaining of insignificant results has (to the best of my ability to determine from the stories he tells; he may feel free to correct me if I’m mistaken) had his shit together for quite a while. College done, good job, college loans in order, sophisticated magical practice, already talks with his HGA so often that he complains about not having much to talk about. There’s nothing there for the Stele of Jeu to fix, let alone break.

When I first performed the Stele of Jeu the Hieroglyphist, my life was already largely in order. I’ve already been through my Saturn Return. I’ve already left the job I’d come to hate for higher education in order to pursue a new calling. I have a regular magical practice that was pretty much at the top if its game. My biggest problem is the psychic scars left over from all the shit I fucked up when I was a wee faun of a mage. And, boy howdy, has it ever fixed that shit—but that deserves a post all on its own.

Now, all this evidence is anecdotal. I’ve only been performing this ritual regularly for about four months now. I’ve also been having a really hard time doing more than a preliminary study of its history, interpretations, and various effects. I know that the Order of the Hollow Ones, Jason Miller, and probably countless other groups each have their own variations on the rite (to say nothing of Crowley’s, obviously). But Jack Faust is one of the very few people I’ve seen talk about the ritual and its effects publically at all; one of the few others can be found at practicaltheurgy.com, but s/he appears to be defunct[2]. The silence of the scholastic community is even more deafening: I’ve only found one or two books which even refer to the rite, outside the PGM itself, and I have not had the opportunity to read them.

Thoughts?

1 – As described by Hymanaeus Beta in his foreword and footnotes to the Illustrated Second Edition of The Goetia: The Lesser Key of Solomon the King. Weiser: York Beach Main (1995).

2 – Discounting, for my purposes, allusions to the ritual solely as it relates to the Bornless Rite and attainment of Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel, which is clearly not what the PGM ritual is about.