In sorcerer's workbench, witchcraft

From the Sorcerer’s Workbench: Venus in Taurus Talismans

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

At the beginning of the month I was able to catch the two Venus in Taurus elections, casting two cohorts of shibuichi Image of Venus talismans. For this election, I divided my efforts between my usual Picatrix Image of Venus talisman – “…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) – and an experimental variant without the characters, which effectively becomes a synthesis between the Picatrix (“…a woman holding an apple in her right hand and, in her left, a comb… “) and Mercurius (“…a shape with the body of man , the face and head of a bird, and the feet of an eagle.”) images (Book II, Chapter 9, paragraphs 27 and 28)” .

The first cohort, cast before dawn on the 1st, consisted of four talismans – two each of the friendship and experimental images. The second cohort, cast before dawn on the 6th, consisted of five –  three friendship and two experimental. The pre-verb for both rituals was intense: I couldn’t sleep at all those nights, and spend the non-ritual hours leading up to the elections working on old drafts. 

All are being sold for $409, including shipping anywhere in the US.

THE FIRST COHORT

Doing divination in preparation for the first cohort, I drew the Princess of Disks: good things will come of these, but they may be slow to manifest – possibly as much as nine months, depending on how literal that pregnancy metaphor gets. I mixed up an incense for the rituals on the night of the 1st, consisting of red sandalwood, rose buds, crushed amber, oil made at a previous Venus election, nutmeg, and cinnamon. I invoked the spirits by means of the Orphic Hymn to Venus (Athanasakis translation, as usual) and the Picatrix Invocation of Venus (Attrell and Porreca, p. 173), calling upon the powers of Venus to send down spirits who would aid and serve and be good companions to whomever carried them, and bring with them the blessings of the planet Venus. I got a little restless and hurried during the casting, and poured the metal at the exact beginning of the election’s window, but I think that was the spirits on the other side as much as me, because I could absolutely feel them come through.

The first talisman is a pendant, and she promises to teach self-love. This is the first of the experimental images. Sold.

The second talisman features the experimental image and is meant to be strung on prayer beads. She promises to help build a new life in a new place.

The third talisman is a pendant and she promises to rebuild bridges.

The fourth talisman bears the experimental image and is meant to be strung on prayer beads. She says, “I am a muse. I draw and inspire muses.”

THE SECOND COHORT

In preparation for the second cohort, I drew IV Art (Crowley’s answer to the Temperence card). Although I was and am confident in the go-ahead message, I am less certain what it means for whomever will carry it. I used the same incense for the second cohort as for the first, and invoked the spirits by the same two hymns, and again asked that the planetary powers send down spirits who would be good companions to those who carried them, and bring with them the blessings of Venus. This election I hit more precisely, a single minute before Venus crossed the ascendant, and again I could very much feel the spirits rushing through.

The first talisman is a pendant and she promises to “bring true connection.” Sold.

The second talisman is a pendant bearing the experimental image. She promises, “I will awaken something within you.” I’m not sure if this will be a new passion or a new fetish, but … I’d take her at her word.

The third talisman is a pendant and she promises, “I will help you find family.”

The fourth talisman is a pendant and she promises, “I grant grace and bring friendship.”

The fifth talisman, bearing the experimental image, is meant to be strung on prayer beads. She promises, “I offer all the blessings of Venus.” SOLD

A FEW CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

Between various mundane and magical exertions, I collapsed both physically and emotionally after these elections, and was not able to complete and polish these pieces until the last few days. I got them clean and free of the sprue during the Night Hour of Venus on Friday the 10th. I polished and communed with them on at the night hours of Venus on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of this week. Having now done these spirits their due honors, I am feeling much better … though that may be confusing causalities.

It is also worth noting that while my divination indicated that these would be good elections for me and my customers – possibly owing to my unique relationship with Venusian powers – two of the astrologers I follow and respect made a point of not taking advantage of these elections: they considered the Uranian influence too destabilizing. Certainly these are not talismans for someone hoping to stabilize existing relationships. But I’m glad that I made them, and I think that whoever takes them home will be glad that they did so. The ideal recipients of these talismans are queer magicians with passions for the arts.

In witchcraft

Ritual Report: Orphic Solstice Vigils

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

At yule, my psuedocoven and I finally pulled off a ritual that we’ve been talking about for years: an all-night vigil, reading our way through the Orphic Hymns. 

Some of us had done Yule vigils, before. Aradia and I hadn’t, so we (arguably) overprepared. We designed our ritual so that four of the seven of us had something to do at every stage, and rotated roles so that no one could space out so hard that it became a problem. We divided the night into hourly shifts, with each of us taking a turn reading the hymns in English (and with Alvianna and I alternating reading the hymns in Greek), pouring wine and burning incense (“sacrificer”), tending to the coffee maker and crock pots (“mom friend”), and participating by chanting back pre-selected lines when prompting by the readers. 

Of the various translations available to us – Thomas Taylor (1792), Apostolos Athanassakis (2013), Patrick Dunn (2018), and Sarah Mastros (2020) – we settled on Dunn. It’s Alvianna’s favorite translation, overall, and my second-favorite after Athanassakis, which is more academic but is admittedly not as good for actual use.

Each shift covered seven hymns, taking us from a bit after sunset (the sun sets early at the Winter Solstice, and most of us have day jobs) to just after dawn, and we bracketed the entire thing with prayers and offerings to Hestia. It was cold in our temple at first, but between my pellet stove and the body heat we generated, it was sweltering by the end. The air was already psychoactively thick with incense by the time we got to the God of Annual Feasts, whose hymn demands an offering of “suffumigation of everything but frankincense, plus a libation of milk”, at which point we were officially chonged out by the time we got to the moment of dawn and the Hymn to Eos. One of us had to leave before then, and a couple of us didn’t quite make it (I was among those falling asleep in the last hours. 

It went so well that we decided to do it again, this time at the Summer Solstice.

Going from the Longest Night to the Shortest required a couple changes: nine hymns each hour instead of seven. Cold food and drinks instead of hot. We also elected for a change of venue: Gaea Retreat Center instead of my home.

We had originally planned to make a three-day campout of it. Unfortunately, this year’s heat wave made that impossible. Instead, we rolled out Sunday afternoon with just our cooler, our camp chairs, and our Clam. We got set up early enough to ease into ritual, and we were more than ready to begin when the sun went down. We added fire-tending to the sacrificer role and guard duty (though that proved unnecessary) to the mom-friend role. We might have made those individual jobs, but there were only five of us, and we actually had camp almost entirely to ourselves, so that wasn’t necessary.

The shorter vigil improved the ritual greatly, and we still had down time to rest, eat, and vibe in between the end of each batch of hymns and the beginning of the next. The outdoor venue also really improved things, particularly since the weather for the overnight was nicer than we had any reason to expect – though, I did miss the psychoative effects of the frankincense, and it was too hot to drink wine or even smoke weed. None of us fell asleep, and we were all surprisingly spry in the mornings.

I honestly don’t remember a lot of the fallout and followup from the first ritual. I was already neck-deep in my Christmas Depression. I think that the vigil gets at least partial credit for getting me through December without a complete and total meltdown, and with giving me the courage to quit my day job in January. I am so far experiencing some vitalization in the aftermath, but that has been a mixed blessing.

Inevitably, we have already been discussing how the ritual could be improved for its next iteration. Our first thought is a compromise between the weather and the clock: having the next Orphic Vigil at the Autumn Equinox. I have suggested two or three minute breaks between each hymn, shortening the break at the end of each section. We are also discussing the merits of having everyone who is not reading Greek, sacrificing, or keeping track of food and coffee, reading along with the reader at the head of the altar. Alternately, rewriting the callback lines to be a little more speciffic, and to always invoke the name of the deity.

We have also been discussing aftereffects. Unsurprisingly, we have all reported sleep and dream disturbances – though, for myself and Aradia, we were already struggling to sleep normal hours… which might have been ritual preverb, or might just be the Spicy Sads. 

What is surprising is that fully three fifths of us, rather than experiencing an bump in our Hellenic contacts, have felt a distinct tug in Luficerian directions. For myself, Lucifer (the gnostic/devil/sabbatic figure, not the Roman Morningstar) has been a part of my daily ritual practice for some time, now, but on my previous rounds of initiatory work with my morning gods, he told me that it was not the time. Tuesday, after my first post-vigil sleep, he announced that now, in fact, is the time. More on that as it develops, I guess.  That was strange enough, but the following day, one of us mentioned their own post-vigil Luciferian visions, and a third confirmed that he had poked his head into their work as well. So now we’re wondering what the fuck is up with that.

After two iterations, though, I can confidently recommend the experience. Each group will need to tweak the general shape of things to their own preferences. As you’re planning things, though, we can say with certainty that a spreadsheet will absolutely be your friend.

In art, witchcraft

Triptych Vision of Baphomet

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

I’ve mentioned a few times that my daily ritual includes an invocation of Baphomet, calling upon them to light their Gnostic fire with me, my familiars, and the world. I have mentioned that, on some days, I have been rewarded with visions of the god, and that I have attempted to reproduce those visions in art as a devotional practice. I have not been particularly successful at doing so *frequently*, but that practice has continued.

I may also have mentioned that the god has frequently appeared to me as a … triptych, for lack of a better word. Or I may not have. Frankly, I have struggled with the vision, in part because it is so different from the way Baphomet is depicted in any other source that I’ve seen. I have made a few attempts to render those images into art – as an act of devotion, yes, but also so that I can contemplate them, and try to understand them. These three pencil sketches from mid-May are the best that I have managed so far.

In the center, of course, is Baphomet as one usually sees them: goat-headed and goat-footed, in the magician’s pose, the sacred androgyne: both man and woman and neither; both divine and mortal and neither. Levi, who first drew this image, hid their phallus behind a magic wand. I suffer from no such cowardice. In this vision they are the Red God. No, I don’t know what that means.

On the right hand side (of my vision) is the White Lady, or perhaps White Priestess. She is crowned by the moon, and sometimes veiled or blindfolded. She tilts her head back toward the sky, and her arms hang down with her hand open, palms up.

On the left hand side is the Black Man, or the Man in Black, or both. His head is that of a deer, or perhaps the skull of a deer, with branching antlers. He holds his hands up in a gesture of power.

I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what any of this means. Didn’t I just write about how deeply uncomfortable I am with religious impulse and experience? And yet, mystic visions like these are what I live for. And if there are mystic waters unmixed with religion, well… I left those shallow shores behind years ago. When I wrote last, that thought made me angry. Today I am just … confused.

Of all the gods in my altar room, Baphomet is almost always the most present. Even as I have struggled with deep depression over the last weeks – a plain fact that deserves a post of its own – and I have struggled to feel the presences even of Dionysos and Aphrodite, gods who have been with me even longer, Baphomet has been there with me, reaching out, a palpable presence in the room.

The images above are still as much artistic flourish as mystic vision. I hope that, as I continue to struggle out of this emotional morass, I will be able to resume that work, the vision will return and I will be able to render it more clearly.

In art

From the Sorcerer’s Workbench: Pride 2022: Divine Images of Sappho and Antinoos

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

Happy Pride, friends. It’s been a bit of a road to get here. I meant to have this done weeks ago. Life, as they say, happened, instead.

Having a Sorcerer’s Workbench Pride Line was one of my big goals for 2022. But I set that goal for myself before I quit my day job, and while that decision did ostensibly leave me with more free time, the burnout and depression that led me to that decision … well, tending to those wounds has been a serious investment in time and energy.

In the end, I was only able to come up with two divine persons to launch what I hope will be an annual tradition: Sappho and Antinoos. Both are semi-mythic figures: real to the best of scholars’ knowledge, but the majority of their true biographies have been lost and replaced by myth. 

The Antinoos design went perfectly from the jump. The Sappho design has given me trouble: the first prototype came out looking more like a Muppet than Classical beauty. The second prototype was perfect, but the first bronze exemplar didn’t turn out at all, and I somehow failed to get an exemplar into that day’s silver cast. But, as of tonight, I have a successful bronze cast and can properly unveil these images.

Sappho, on the off chance that you don’t know her, was a poet from the island of Lesbos in the Aegian Sea, who lived and wrote in the seventh and sixth centuries BCE. Her work was taught as a pinnacle of poetic skill for centuries, well into the Roman Empire, until – through a combination of censorship, neglect, and luck – it was lost to the ages. No contemporary biography survives, and mere scraps of her estimated 10,000 lines of poetry, but her work has been associated with sexual love between women since the Hellenistic period. Now, she and the island from which she came are virtually synonymous with queer women and their experiences.

Antinoos was a young man beloved of the Roman emperor Hadrian. More myth than fact remains of either his life or his death, but the record is clear that he died while travelling with Hadrian in Egypt and that emperor had him deified, established a hero cult in his name, and named a city after him. The cult never became a major religion, but it was widespread and reasonably popular, and Antinoos became both a religious and literary icon of sexual love between men.

I based the artwork for both of these medallions on classical artworks: Sappho on a black figure vase painting from the late 6th century BCE, and Antinoos on a Roman statue in the Antinous Mondragone style from the 2nd century CE, reframed in imitation of an ancient coin. Both will be in my usual 1 inch talisman style, though I am considering a 3/4 inch variation if there’s sufficient interest.

So, friends. Here it is. Sacred Sappho and Holy Antinoos, ancestral figures (for those of y’all who are into that thing), heroes in the hero-cult sense, shining beacons from the ancient past, lights that we can hold up to say “we have always been here, and we will always be here”. The Sorcerer’s Workbench Pride Line 2022. Better late than never.

In Uncategorized

Obsidian Dream Blog: Rite of Her Sacred Fires 2022 – After Action Ruminations

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

At the last full moon, my ritual crew and I joined Sorita d’Este’s Rite of Her Sacred Fires. It was our fourth round – 2018, ’19, ’21, and now ’22 – and the fifth anniversary of the point where, at least for me, we crossed the line from a working group that (singly and together) happened to do a more-than-average amount of Hekate-oriented rituals into what I now jokingly call the Accidental Hekate Cult. Having done the ritual three times before, all as-written, we could not help but give it the Lunar Shenanigans treatment: elaborating on and escalating the ritual, taking a relatively short and to-the-point ritual intended for a solitary practitioner and turning it into something that six people could do collaboratively.

We started by adding an opening purification of self and space, drawing on elements of our various syncretic practices and the opening rites of the Hekataeon. We added a protection spell written by one of our members. We included an invocation of Hestia. We added a space for each participant to pour offerings, and to prophesy or speak as called, and a divination to confirm that our offerings were both worthy and sufficient. And then we divided up the ritual so that everyone had a key part in the overall ritual.

Alvianna consecrated the candles in earth and water the night before. Someone else in the crew made special incense for offerings. I built the altar while cleaning the house for company. We had a lovely dinner and then transitioned quickly to ritual.  

It all came together beautifully. Our offerings were accepted, and then we went outside together to look at the eclipse. As a personal bonus, though I did have a section, I was not *in charge* of anything.

We may make further changes – that’s who we are as people – but we’re definitely keeping the changes we’ve made so far.

And yet, for all that …

I think everyone else got more out of it than I did.

That disconnect is why it’s taken so long for me to post this.

I am still, as I’ve spoken about before, more sorcerer than priest. I work with gods and spirits far more than I worship them, and the Rite of Her Sacred Fires is more devotional than magical, more theurgy than thaumaturgy. Religion, in any conventional sense of the term, remains strange and uncomfortable to me. It’s not like ancestor work – no matter how many people I otherwise respect advocate for it, they will ever convince me that white people can ethically do anything with ancestors other than bind them, and the very subject makes me physically ill – but it is deeply alien.

I know when a magical or ecstatic ritual is successful – I know that feeling intimately. But devotional ritual? We had divination, this time, to confirm that for me. And I will say that I felt the presence of the goddess. But the very impulse of worship continues to make me uncomfortable.

Why am I even doing it, you ask? I don’t entirely know. Each of the various devotional practices that I have taken up in the last five years have made sense in the moment. Each has been a natural and obvious outgrowth of the work I had done up to that point. 

But together, in aggregate? I’ve reached a point where I barely recognize my own life. I remain deeply hostile to anyone practicing a mainstream religion, or who is willing to submit to a god-king. There are powers in the universe that we can work with, but those are edge cases. Like the mortal parts of the world, the majority of the supernatural and spiritual realms of the cosmos are indifferent to or hostile to human life.

You know what, I take it back. Just thinking about religiosity does make me angry. 

And yet, here I am? Twenty-two months into daily devotional work, mostly centered on my familiar spirits, but increasingly encompassing a handful of gods. Five years into an increasingly devotional Hekate practice wherein she is the de facto patron of my jewelry business (I sell more Hekate devotional jewelry than everything else combined). Ten years into my devotion to Dionysus, the only god who has ever felt more like home than a threat or a challenge.

When I’m just doing it, everything’s fine. Maybe I’m a little bemused. But the harder I think about it, the weirder and more uncomfortable it gets.

Three weeks out from this latest encounter, I am still struggling to write this, to reconcile my feelings around this. What does it mean, what does it cost, to offer devotion and sacrifice to a god?

My Christian upbringing teaches me that devotion is submission and slavery, not just to the god but to their worldly representatives – priests and missionaries. Large parts of the neo-Pagan movement exist ostensibly to cut out those intermediaries. But, frankly, so was the entire Protestant movement, especially in the US, and all that did was establish smaller and more absolute fiefdoms for charismatic priests. And sometimes Paganism feels like it’s just reproducing US Protestantism, just with different questionable fashion choices. But I know that it doesn’t have to be that way.

So, I continue the work to the best of my ability. And I wait. and I wonder.

In Uncategorized

I am a Black Goat’s Bride

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

Behhold, I am a Black Goat’s Bride!
Behold, I am a wife!
Behold, I bear a breast to feed
The one whose tongue’s a knife!
Behold, I bear a breast that bleeds
The very stuff of life!
Take me, Dionysus!
Make me the Black Goat wife!

Of all the gods I honor, the one with whom I have a relationship that most resembles “religion” is Dionysus. I make and drink wine in his name. I study his lore, both ancient and modern, and I study the history of his worship. I ask nothing of him except that which is his nature to offer: the ecstasy of wine and mystery, freedom from bonds and oppression, healing from the wounds of madness, to come when I call, and to move through me into others. Perhaps, some day, I will scribe my own golden tablet with which to be burried.

Through the years, the relationship has been more and less regular, more and less formal, more and less intense. I was not, as I have said before, raised with anything that could legitimately be considered religion, just the cultural malaise of compulsory Christianity – much like and interwoven with compulsory heterosexuality – which is to say, a form of rigid social and thought control, but without meaningful ritual or any attempt to connect to divinity. So “worship” in any sense of the term has always been fraught and confusing, at best, and, at worst, alien and threatening. This has always been compounded by the fact that so many of the Dionysiacs I have known in person, especially early in my experience of Paganism, are less devoted mystics and more illiterate alchololics. So I have found my way in the darkness, more by luck than skill, and I remain ever insecure in that first, formative devotion.

I first encountered the Black Goat Bride ritual at Paganicon, 2018. It was led by Jack Grayle, now of Hekataeon fame, then just an exceptionally charismatic ritualist who managed to take seventy-odd people in a hotel ball room down to the underworld, where we retrieved a dead god and returned, with little more than the sound of his voice and a consecrated goat skull. It was, hands down, the best public ritual my partner and I had ever participated in, possibly including the best we had ever led. In the weeks after the festival, I wrote to Jack and asked for a copy of the script, so that we could introduce it to our working group.

The ritual has several stages. It begins with an invocation of Hekate, who will lead the initiates to the underworld where they will find the corpse of Dionysos. The next phase is a procession to the underworld, and the casket where the goat skull symbolizing the body of Dionysus awaits. The ritualists then mourn the death of Dionysus – he dies in several myths, most famously as a child dismembered by the giants, and every time grapes are crushed into wine (I apologize that I can’t find an easy-read citation for either of those) – and wail their grief out loud. Then an invocation is performed, which was very clearly inspired by a great deal of work with the Greek Magical Papyri, though I can’t point to any specific ritual. The god rises, the goat skull is freed from its casket, and the ritualists rejoice and dance – laughing and howling and ululating. When they have worked themselves into a frenzy, the dance ends and recite the chant at the top of this post while the goat skull is passed around the circle like a suckling babe. When all have fed the god, it is placed upon the altar and participants may worship individually at the altar, and if one is moved to act as oracle, they may do so.

It took us longer than it should have to source a skull and have money at the same time, and then the plague came, and it worked out that we were not able to stage the ritual for our crew until Beltane 2021. I led the ritual. My compatriots danced and cried around me. We raised Dionysus from the dead, and danced in his honor. My partner, Aradia, took the role of oracle. And, when it was done, I was possessed by the god for the first time in my fifteen-odd-years of worship. The difference was obvious to everyone. I moved differently. I talked differently. I could not participate in basic things like making dinner. And when we had all eaten, I became contagious: spreading the presence of the god to each of my compatriots as they worked up the courage to meet my eyes. And then, eventually, the god left me and I collapsed.

I thought about writing this up, then, but …. other things happened, and the writing didn’t.

We performed the ritual again at Samhain. That night, my partner Aradia led and one of our compatriots (for whom, if I have ever had a clever pseudonym, I have forgotten it) played the oracle. That night we were camped in a different location, and there was some asshole driving laps around our camp site. Perhaps because of the outside interference, perhaps because of the season, the mourning seemed to be the focus of the ritual, and rather than the revelry. The mood afterward was subdued. I had a quiet meltdown, and went to bed before everyone else.

I thought about writing up the ritual again, but the words stuck in my throat – so to speak – and the first paragraph of this post lingered in my drafts for six months.

We performed the ritual again this Beltane. Alvianna took point leading the ritual, and Kraken sat as oracle. Building on our experiences from previous years, and because Alvianna in particular likes exceptionally long rituals, she added two preparatory sections to the overall ritual – a Hermes Crossroads rite, and the Sensibus rite from the Hekataeon (pp.36-41 of the first edition).

I have been … feeling and seeing signs that there are big changes coming in my life, and that I need to make big changes to my practice. I had hoped that I might have some experience this weekend that might clarify that sense, even point me in a direction. Leading into the Dionysus ritual, I was feeling powerful and connected and ready to call the god and revel in his presence and perhaps have a vision. But when it came time to mourn, I could not make a sound. I felt the pain and the grief, but I could not make myself cry. All the built up power and impending ecstasy … just fell away. I found a little bit of it back as the ritual continued. But when the revel ended, and everyone else was yipping and howling an ululating … once more my voice caught in my throat, and I was stuck. I ended the ritual feeling lost and confused.

Kneeling at the altar after the ritual, I could feel the god – present but aloof. I can’t put into words what I asked, or what was answered. Only that, as I knelt there, I felt the presence of not just the god, but his panther, who circled and then came up behind me, a comforting weight. 

Afterward, though, the sky was as clear and beautiful as the last year, and the Great Bear constellation hung in the sky directly over our camp, framed by the trees. Given my experiences with the Great Bear on my 2019 desert road trip with Aradia, and the Great Bear rituals that our crew have done since, I was inclined to take that as a powerfully good omen. Which I needed, because the answers I got from the oracle were not as clear or helpful as I hoped they would be.

The ritual did not go as well for me, personally, as it has in the past. I am still glad that we did it, and that everyone else in the Lunar Shenanigans crew is as excited to include it in our small but slowly growing ritual calendar. Dionysus calls to me. He has called to me, probably, since before I first decided that I was willing to fuck with gods. This ritual speaks to me. I like that this ritual is so somatic, so all-in. I like that it has room for drunken revelry, but that it speaks first to the uncanny, disturbing, cthonic aspects of Dionysus and his worship. You cannot suckle a goat skull at your breast and pretend that what you’re doing is just like church.

For those curious, the goat skull is back in its place on my public altar, draped in its shroud. When I am keeping up with my own lunar practice (distinct from the work I do with the Lunar Shenanigans pseudocoven), it gets a candle and a wine offering at the full and dark moon. Otherwise it waits patiently for its next resurrection.

For myself, I am back in the world, sitting with a mystic’s visions – both my own and the oracle’s – and with this month’s divination, New Moon and new month uncomfortably simultaneous, and try to see the road forward. Whatever’s coming, it’s weirder than what came before.

And I am the Black Goat’s bride.

If Jack Grayle has published the full text of this ritual anywhere, I am not aware of it. I hope that he does, some day. I do not have permission to share it. If you want the full text, I encourage you to reach out to him from his website.

In Uncategorized

Dedication Ritual for Consecrated Talismans from the Sorcerer’s Workbench.

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

Most of my talismans are unconsecrated: empty vessels waiting for you to fill them with power and/or a spirit. There are numerous traditions and schools of thought on how to perform that enchantment (even the word “consecrated” is up for debate), and I’m writing some guides for that as we speak.

In addition to those empty vessels, I offer a small selection of talismans that I have cast and consecrated at opportune astrological moments. I have made initial contact with the spirits that now dwell within them and acquired a name and sigil, which I pass on to the client, but I can’t do all the work. You – the hypothetical you who is both reading this post and has purchased one of my consecrated talismans – must still introduce yourself to the spirit, and come to some sort of arrangement.

If you have a lot of experience with spirit work, or a well-developed tradition into which you’ve been initiated or from which you’re working, this guide will not be necessary for you. You will either have your traditional rites to fall back on, or be able to communicate with the talisman spirit without my guidance or input.

This guide is for solitary and intermediate practitioners for whom a roadmap is at least helpful. If your tradition covers some of this territory (anyone with a background in eclectic Wicca, for example, has a tried and true circle-casting procedure), feel free to substitute that. However you proceed, I recommend writing out an outline and doing some basic divination to confirm that that ritual at that time is the way to go.

You will only need to perform this ritual once, to make initial contact. Afterward, the talisman spirit will tell you what it needs. My personal talismans all wanted a box to live in while they weren’t being worn or carried. They all also eventually promoted themselves to familiar spirits, at which point they were added to my spirit altar and now receive daily offerings and weekly consultations. Yours may not be so intimate or demanding.

Supplies

You will need:

A flat surface upon which to lay or draw your triangle of conjuration. If you do not have one you already prefer, I have included my own, based on the Trithemius circle used by Frater Rufus Opus. If you have a mirror or crystal that you use for spirit work, place it in the center of the triangle.

Consecrated incense for your temple space. I use a stick of frankincense and myrrh, usually consecrated just before lighting it.

A brazier and charcoal and tools to light it.

The incense from the envelope that came with the talisman.

An offering candle. I prefer tea lights or chime candles.

A libation to offer. I prefer coffee or wine. Clean water is usually acceptable.

Set and Setting

Schedule your ritual for an appropriate day and hour. I recommend the dawn hour of the appropriate planetary day, or the Third Hour of Night.

If you have an altar or temple space you usually use for spirit work, use that.

Opening

Purify yourself with a bath and/or by washing your hands with cinnamon.

Cast your circle by drawing the perimeter clockwise with a blade and consecrate the space with incense.

If you have any guides or familiar spirits, invoke them to help make the talisman spirit welcome, and to facilitate communication between you.

Body

Draw the talisman from its envelope and either draw the sigil in the center of the triangle or place the envelope with the sigil in the center, beneath the mirror or crystal if you are using one.

Place the talisman in the triangle on your altar. If possible, sit it upright so that you can look at the image on its face.

Call the spirit by name, setting some of the incense in the charcoal as you do so. If necessary, chant the spirit’s name until you can sense its presence.

Introduce yourself. (Also introduce your cadre of guides and familiars, if you have brought any.)

Light the offering candle, pour a libation, and add more of the incense to the charcoal.

Ask if the spirit has another name or sigil that it would prefer you to use.

Sit with the spirit until you are confident in the answer. If given a name or sigil, record them and thank the spirit.

Tell the talisman spirit what you need from it.

Sit with the spirit until it speaks to you, or until you have a sense that your petition has been heard.

Ask the talisman spirit what it needs from you. Possible answers include preferred offerings, or taboos.

Put the rest of the incense on the charcoal and sit with the talisman and spirit until all the incense has burned.

Closing

Thank the talisman spirit for appearing.

Thank any guides and familiars that you have summoned.

Dismiss the circle by drawing the knife along the perimeter counterclockwise.

If you are in an environment where it is safe to do so, leave the offering candle to burn.

Going Forward

Magical talismans are not D&D magic items. They don’t just work without your interest and attention. Traditions vary as to what maintenance they need. As I mentioned above, the talismans I have kept for myself have been, I think, needier than average. Then again, I ask for a lot.

At a minimum, your talisman should be kept clean and intact. To that end I have included a polishing cloth and a box to store it in. As jewelry, your talisman should not be worn in the shower or when swimming, or when you sleep. Please trust me on this: I’ve been a jeweler almost as long as I’ve been a magician.

My experience has also been that talismans left on the altar, rather than worn or carried, need that time and attention made up in other ways.

Commune with your talisman on a regular basis. Thank if for fulfilling petitions. If it fails to manifest what you have asked for, ask what it needs to fulfill your requests. If you can’t hear spirits clearly, use divination to facilitate the conversation.

Thank you for patronizing the Sorcerer’s Workbench, and I hope that your talisman serves you well.

In Uncategorized

 From the Sorcerer’s Workbench: Picatrix Image of the Moon

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

“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.

Image of the moon obverse and reverse

https://www.etsy.com/listing/838534801/two-sided-picatrix-lunar-talisman

In witchcraft

Diminishing Returns or Deepening Practice?

Author Satyr MagosPosted on 2 Comments

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.

In art, witchcraft

From the Sorcerer’s Workbench: Consecrated Jupiter Talismans

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

{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.