Because it’s pretty. And I’ve had the beads forever. And I need new counting beads for meditation. 74 beads total, because that’s hat I had.
Lunar Journey II
Because, to my mind, 4am 8 March is actually more Wednesday night than Thursday morning, I performed my Esbat rites on Wednesday. Initially, I didn’t feel as “on” as I did Monday night, but the journeywork turned out to be more productive, if less dramatic.
I made another Lunar incense blend: calamus, eucalyptus, jasmine flower, myrrh, and willow. I actually liked my first blend better, but this is why we experiment, right? After charging the incense and a bottle of lunar water, I mixed my flying potion (1), donned my visionary mask, and descended to the underworld through the Void.
Approaching the world tree, I asked to be returned to the Realm of Yesod and the Moon to further explore it. Taking me DOWN this time instead of UP, the tree deposited me back on the island with the nine-pillar temple. I began my work by leaving offerings of light for the two figures in the temple, and the entity which had “roped” me Monday night.
There was a land-bridge off to one side which I had neglected to investigate last time, so I started there. Strangely, it didn’t go anywhere: although I tried to follow the coast I found past the land-bridge, I kept finding myself back on the shore of the island. Frustrated, but undiscouraged, I dived into the lake instead.
Swimming down, I encountered a dolphin. I asked it if it was there to guide me. “No,” it said. I asked it why it was there, but it didn’t answer. It did, however, follow me as I continued swimming down.
“This is an awfully small body of water for you,” I noted.
“Well, yeah,” it acknowledged.
“Where do you come from?”
“Out there.”
I asked it to show me, so it led me—almost faster than I could follow—out to another, deeper region of water. Down and down it led me, vanishing as I found myself on the bottom of an ocean floor.
Being the bottom of the ocean, there wasn’t any light, and it took me a few moments to adjust my astral vision until I could see. (For some reason just conjuring a light didn’t seem like a good idea.) When I could see, I found myself surrounded by massive, alien creatures, all trudging toward the direction from which I had come. I couldn’t see them clearly—mostly just massive legs and bodies, dimly seen through the dust they raised—but they were legion, and each hundreds of times more massive than I. I swam in the direction from which they had come, and none deigned to acknowledge me. Eventually I came to a place where I was alone.
After swimming in random directions and encountering a lot more nothing, I drew a circle in the sand of the sea bottom and sat down cross-legged, waiting. soon I began rising, and eventually broke the surface.
I cannot remember—could not, in fact, even immediately upon returning to my body—how I transitioned from floating over this massive, primordial ocean to standing once more in front of the nine-pillar temple. This time when I ascended the stairs, the figures had moved. They moved again in front of me, and acknowledged my presence. We communicated briefly, and I received a positive response when I asked if I could return for instruction. The woman reached out and touched me, and I was filled with a vibrant, cool energy.
I returned to the world tree, and through it to the waking world. The journey was done.
I think I will do one more lunar journey before moving on to Hod/Mercury.
1 The usual, lately: absinthe and sacramental mead at a 1:3 ratio. It’s a little stronger and a little easier to slam than properly louched absinthe, if not quite as exquisite.
A Devil on One Shoulder and a Genius on the Other
Although some of my whining might have given the wrong impression, the fact is that my ongoing research and experiments in the Western Ceremonial tradition have been an absolute blast. I’ve already learned so much, and I know that I’ve barely scratched the surface. Fuck: the year I’ve set myself to this subject will not be enough time to do more that scratch the surface thoroughly, and probably not even that.
Before Sthenno pointed me to Rufus Opus’ blog about six months ago, I had never even heard of the Natal Genius or Evil Daimon. With the help of Frater Acher’s spreadsheet, I was able to calculating mine without slogging through the abominable and obnoxious translations of Agrippa that I have so far been able to put my hands on (they may or may not be accurate, but they’re mind-crushingly dull to read, and I already have to put up with enough bad academic writing in class). But, at least in part because I have not been able to make my way through Agrippa, I’m not entirely certain what to do with them.
RO has spoken of binding the Evil Daimon, though later that was discussed as being more a matter of last resort (can’t find that post back to cite, sorry). Punching “having calculated my ‘natal genius’, what do i do with it?” into Google got me more RO, linking the Natal Genius to the HGA.
Now that I’ve finally stumbled across a method of conjuration that I think I can work with, the question of “what do I do with my natal spirits” becomes a great deal less academic. I can’t think of a better place to take my experiments with spirit conjuration (thus far limited to the Stele of Jeu) next. Can you?
The major thing holding me back at this very moment is that, in the absence of any actual knowledge of the subject, I find myself imagining my natal spirits as a cartoon angel and demon, sitting on my shoulders. I imagine the one extolling me to activism, devotion, and random acts of goodness that I can’t name off the top of my head; I imagine the other encouraging me to seduce, to take vengeance, and to throw down and party like I never have before. Neither one will let me sleep. Sleep is for the weak.
Lunar Journeys I
In light of my my recent conclusions regarding my study of ceremonial and planetary magics, it occurred to me that with the Full Moon so close (the dark and lonely hours of Wednesday night, or the dismal pre-dawn hours of Thursday morning, depending on how you experience 4am EST), this week’s Day and Hour of the Moon would be a particularly auspicious for some of Lunar Work.
So, as the hour of the Moon approached, I rebuilt my Yesod altar and ground a lunar incense of calamus, eucalyptus, and myrrh (the only Lunar herbs I happened to have around the house). Since Gustav Holst didn’t deign to write a suite for Luna or Sol, I turned to my usual Michael Harner drumming for music to guide my trance. When my circle was cast, I administered my flying potion(1) and donned my visionary mask.
I dropped into full trance almost immediately, appearing in the Garden of Malkuth. For a rarity, I found the Otherworld cast in night— it’s almost always daylight in my spiritual journeys—with a full and glowing moon overhead. I called to the moon, and rose up to meet it. Passing through the silver disk in the sky like a portal, I found myself first flying through a vibrant purple haze, which parted to reveal the rolling mists I have always heard the astral plane described as. I set myself to find the Palace of the Moon (in retrospect, this was ridiculously vague), and flew through the mists. After a while I found myself not flying, but swimming through the mist, and then through night-dark waters. I swam up to the shore of a small island, cast in shadows under another full moon and clear night sky. A temple rose in the middle of the island, open to the air and consisting of little more than nine great free-standing columns, but I walked around the island before ascending. The beach was sandy, the rise covered in greenery and large rocks and bits of fallen masonry.
When I ascended to the temple, I found two figures there: a beautiful naked man, laying still but tumescent on a slab, and a woman in pale robes standing over him. Neither moved at all, even when I approached. Like most of the other figures I have encountered when travelling UP rather than DOWN, there was a hollow, static quality about them.
So I descended the stairs and set my sights on the moon above. Strangely, I had difficulty flying. I had to conjure a wind to lean into, like I did when I first learned to fly in my dreams almost ten years ago. Finally airborne, I flew upward into the moon. This time, rather than flying through a portal, it was like a window or a door: passing through I found a new void, full of points of light linked by lines of power, but when I turned around I could see the temple and the two figures far below me, as if I were looking out of one space and into another.
When when my back was turned, I suddenly felt something tugging me, as if by a cord. I turned to look, and a vast spirit was pulling me “upwards”. In retrospect it was foolhardy, but my instinct was to trust this entity (spirit? god?)—I thought it might be the god who called to me from the sky on the the night of my Dedication(2). I don’t know if it could read my mind, or if it was just amused at the world in general, but it pulled me up to itself through a “hole” between spaces much like the one I had just passed through, then flung me further “upward” into a vast and empty void.
The second void was very much like the one from which I had just been thrown, only it felt much larger. The star-like points of light were more distant and the threads between them were gossamer-fine. No sooner did I think to myself “Whoa! I wonder if this is where the Masters of Outer Darkness(3) live?”, then I saw a shimmer in the distance, and soon a lion-headed serpent appeared. I was nervous, but “sat” cross-legged and waited for the creature to make a move. It approached, as did more of its kind, and began circling me… at which point I really wasn’t sure what I ought to do if they did prove hostile, and the same entity which had thrown me out into that deeper void in the first place pulled me back “down” in the same manner.
Back in the lesser void, I could feel a disturbance of some sort back in the waking world. Having accomplished what I’d intended—locating the Palace of the Moon and exploring the Realm of Yesod/Luna—I returned to my body.
1 A lungful of (100% legal) blue sage this evening, instead of my usual absinthe. I was suffering from the delusion that I might do more homework after my trip.
2 Which, pawing through my archives for a link, I still haven’t written about. Fuck me running.
3 Ever read Michael Harner? p. 7 of the Harper paperback 3rd Ed.
Further Explorations in Planetary Magicks: a Prelude
Though I only posted about it yesterday, I actually finished out my Abramelin Oil last Wednesday. After doing so, I finally sat back down to re-evaluate the High Witchcraft system I had been working with when I started it. The experience was kind of interesting: Penczak’s system looks even more like a watered-down version of the Golden Dawn than it did when I first realized how little of the Western Ceremonial Tradition the GD actually represented; past Yesod (where Penczak introduces the Circulation of the Body of Light and Abramelin Oil), the exercises become increasingly useless outside the GD framework; and, of course, Penczak mentions the existence of the Goetia but cautions against actually using it, and never delves into spirit evocation—a practice which, from where I sit at least, seems fundamental to the Western Ceremonial Tradition as a whole. Finally, the book culminates with the Bornless Ritual: the Crowley/GD version of the Stele of Jeu rite I have already begun performing with some success.
The more experienced magicians and ceremonialists who read this blog are laughing right now: “Of course I’m going to be disappointed by Christopher Penczak’s overview of High Magick: he makes his living writing 100-level fluffy-bunny bullshit by the ton.” To which I can only reply, yes, but the tech in the last three books was solid once you ran it through the fluffy bullshit filter. And I had to start somewhere, or I wouldn’t have even known what questions to ask to get me as far as I have.
And, despite all my bitching, there are still aspects to the book which will remain useful to me: the altar constructions and the visionary journeys to the sephiroth/planitary realms.
As you all can tell from the tag—or, as you would be able to tell, if I had finished to re-tagging all my posts when I moved from blogger—I like building and rebuilding my altar. I find myself wishing that I’d thought to photojournal my altar pace from my earliest practice. I’ve had some good ones over the years. And maintaining a separate, second altar for individual magical operations and experiments has made it much easier to keep my primary, increasingly devotional, altar from getting too cluttered.
The visionary journeys fit my style. I am, after all, a shamanic witch—these ceremonial studies are doing wonders for my toolkit, and have introduced me to all sorts of fascinating areas of study and badass awesome people, but they’ll never be my primary focus. And I’ll be much more comfortable conjuring spirits after I’ve gone and visited their places of power. And following the Sephiroth up the Qabalistic/GD Tree of Life gives me an order of operations.
I have already completed (in terms of this project) my study of Malkuth/Earth. As of last night I have begun my journeywork related to Yesod/the Moon. If that goes as smoothly as it has begun, in the next week or two I’ll move on to Hod/Mercury. And so on.
In the mean time, I will continue to escalate my practical magic practice. Currently on the drawing board are that appeal to justice I mentioned, improving my Mercurial talisman that’s been helping me with my Greek, a Lunar talisman to help me maintain a regular sleep schedule and remember my dreams, and a Saturn talisman to help me manage my time better.
And somewhere along the line, I’m going to get over my strange idea that it’s somehow cheating, win the Favor of Kings and learn to fight dirty.
Abramelin Oil
Back in November, when I was still on track with my work through Penczak’s Temple of High Witchcraft, I started a batch of Abramelin Oil. I finally got around to distilling it. As described previously, I used Aaron Leitch’s technique, and about 3.5 oz total dry materia.
Mixed with 1.6 oz olive oil (a hair short of the 2:1 ratio the recipe called for, but I’d rather it a little strong over a little weak), it’s still a pretty amazing shade of red. Below was my net result, which turned out pretty awesome:
I’ve thrown the Dead Head back in the cabinet to try to extract whatever’s left, and will add that in a month or two once I’m content I’ve gotten out all the essential oil that I can.
In the mean time this will make a pretty awesome offering and dedication oil.
A Short Rant On Theft and Sharing
Every producer of intellectual property has some concern that their work will be stolen. This morning, I was confronted with a reminder that many people on the internet have no respect whatsoever for the work people like me (and, I think, most if not all of my readers) do:
In the resulting conversations on a friend’s facebook account, I’ve seen a couple people talk about pulling everything they’ve ever written from the interwebs, and mourn for the “good old days” when the Craft was private and “the Grimoires were sacred and secret in the right way”. I do, in fact, remember those days: the days when all I had access to was whatever 100-level bullshit I could find at the library or the local bookstore, with no access to community and no way of vetting sources before shelling out what little money I had. When I thought I was going batshit crazy because none of the books I’ve ever read dared to get into the visceral experience of magic, or cop to how terrifying it is to be in the presence of a god for the first time … even one who likes you.
Having my work–which, here, amounts to a bit of artwork, a little research, and a lot of very personal stories–is something that concerns me. But not so much that I’m going to quit. I need the community this forum gives me access to, and I know that somewhere out there is some neophite like I was who needs someone else’s account of madness to ground them out and help give them context for the experiences that don’t ever seem to get put into print.
So, to all the fuckers: yes, I put my work out here to be seen. Not to be stolen.
If anyone wants to use my work in their own, they’ve only to ask. But please: fucking ask.
Monthly Tarot: Pisces
Last month was so crazy that I haven’t even begun to process it. Hopefully, this month will be a little more manageable—though this last week tells me it probably won’t be by much. Interestingly, this lunar month began precisely as the sun moved from Aquarius into Pisces.
Aeschylus’ Aid In Appealing for Justice
For reasons which I will not delve into here, I have had appeals to justice on my mind. I could, of course, go the Curse Tablet route—the tablets found at Bath were almost exclusively appeals for justice(1)—but the only good site for deposition nearby that I’m aware of is the Quaker graveyard by the school, and I’m not sure that I want to go down that road just yet: appealing to the dead could get me something much closer to revenge than to justice.
Which leaves me needing to compose a spell of some other sort. A prayer, a statement of intent, an image, perhaps a sigil or three. And poetry. Poetry is always good for magic. But for those of us, like myself, to whom poetry does not come naturally, it is often useful to seek inspiration in the poetry of others, or even to outright plagiarize.
By coincidence, I have been reading Aeschylus’ Orestia(2). And I have to say: if you are seeking justice or revenge, The Libation Bearers is a good place to go looking for poetry on the subjects of justice and revenge:
There has been wrong done. I ask for right. / Here me, Earth. Hear me grandeurs of Darkness
–Aeschylus Libation Bearers, 398-9
Tell me that’s not the good shit.
Almighty Destinies, by the will / of Zeus let these things / be done, in the turning of Justice / … The spirit of Right / cries out aloud and extracts atonement / due: … Who acts, shall endure. So speaks the voice of age-old wisdom.
–Ibid, 306-8, 310-14
Yeah. That’s the good shit. And if you’re in more a mood for bloody vengeance than fair justice, just add back in the lines I’ve omitted.
My plan is to take these lines, and maybe a few like them, and write them on one side of a page as a prayer. On the obverse will be images of the persons involved (the internet is handy that way), along with sigils pointed at having my appeal heard fairly. The end result will be the sort of thing I can leave on my altar with a spell candle while the issue is in play, then torch or bury upon resolution.
One more for the road:
O gods, be just in what you bring to pass.
Hear then, you blessed ones under the ground, / and answer these prayers with strength on our side.
–Ibid. 462, 476-7
1—Magic of Europe: Ancient Greece and Rome. Which I have returned to the library and therefore cannot cite properly.
2—Aescylus I. Ed. David Grene, Trans Richmond Lattimore. Chicago: University of Chicago Press (1953).
EDIT: Because I cannot be trusted to talk and type at the same time, I originally attributed these passages to the Eumenides rather than the Libation Bearers. That was incorrect.
Sappho Fragment
Diehl 94 / Voigt 168b / Cox 48 (Source for the original Greek)
Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα
καὶ Πληίαδες· μέσαι δὲ νύκτες,
παρὰ δ᾽ ἔρχετ᾽ ὤρα·
ἔγω δὲ μόνα κατεύδω
The Moon has set
and the Seven Stars;
it is the middle of the night,
and the hour is passing;
but I sleep alone.
The translation is mine, albeit with a great deal of help from my professor and the rest of the class. I have done my best to achieve a balance between a literal translation and maintaining a sense of the poetry. The “hour” (ὤρα) of which Sappho speaks conveys a strong implication of “opportunity”, much as it can in some English usages.