Weird Shit not Bullshit A new approach to the tarot and magic – all of the useful stuff, none of the crap

Computer Games are bad for magick

June 14th, 2011

Okay, before I get into this I should make this clear – I really like computer games.  Rarely will a day go by where I don't fire up my computer, X-Box, iPhone or other device of choice to pass at least a bit of my time with a computer game.  They're fun.  They've involving.  They're a challenge.  They're bad for magick.

But really this isn't just about computer games – this is about a category of activities of which computer games are an easily grasped example.  These are activities which provide immediate gratification, an immediate 'hit' of pleasure, excitement or interest, but have no real worth in the long run.  That is to say: all they are about is themselves, they don't stretch us, teach us, enhance our life, or leave a lasting impact.

This afternoon I spent about two hours trying to guide a brightly coloured image of a futuristic floating racing vehicle around an imaginary track as fast as possible.  It was compelling, stimulating, even exciting in parts.  Do I feel this activity progressed me along my life path?  No.  Do I feel that it was in some way 'wrong' that I spent a couple of hours doing this?  Not at all.  But if that was all I was doing today, I might consider that it was a problem.

I feel that these 'immediate gratification' activities are the emotional equivalent of refined sugar.  In this day and age we can very easily get our hands on refined sugar and on the whole there's probably too much of it in our diet.  When we take on refined sugar it gives our body an immediate 'hit' of energy – which feels pretty good.  But that hit goes away pretty fast too, as our body rapidly metabolises the sugar and we release insulin to get the excess of glucose out of our bloodstream.  This often leaves us with an energy drop, and a craving for more sugar – for another energy boost.  Giving in to that craving just starts the cycle again.  As adults we realise that actually just eating sugary food is a really bad idea – that we need to mix in some slow release energy foods that will take time to process and which, therefore, keep us on a more even keel energy-wise.  Bouncing to the heights of a sugar rush may feel good, but constantly chasing that rush to the exclusion of other foods that offer us other rewards is a really bad idea.

It seems to me we react in a similar way to immediate gratification activities – they give us an immediate hit of pleasure, but that pleasure is quite transitory.  It rapidly fades away, often leaving us feeling low and in need of something us to distract us, to give us a 'buzz' again.  So we may seek out another hit of pleasure.  In so doing our mood bounces up from bored/miserable to happy then back down again as a new things stimulates us, then grows tiresome, then we find a shiny new activity, that then bores us once again.  When stuck in this cycle a whole day can go by in pleasure seeking, never feeling like doing anything more constructive, but also never really feeling satisfied, as if nothing is ever quite 'fun enough' that we feel done, and able to move on.  This can be exhausting and, at some level, deeply frustrating and unsatisfying.

As with our diet, we need to vary our intake of activities.  Whilst the occasional treat of a computer gaming session, looking at pictures of cats on the internet, or some light tv-watching, can be a splendid thing, trying to live a happy and fulfilled life through activities that have no purpose other than the immediate experience of performing them is a fools game.  We need to mix in activities which may not give us an immediate hit of pleasure, but with time and investment of energy give us a long term sense of accomplishment and which enhance who we are and how we see the world.  Spiritual practices are, to me, some of the most fulfilling things I do in life – but they rarely offer a 'quick hit' of pleasure.  In fact, the spiritual path as a whole is very rocky and difficult, and it would appear to take years and years to 'pay off' in terms of ones personal happiness (discounting that exciting, transitory, 'honey-moon' phase that most people experience early on where everything suddenly makes sense and it's all easy and shiny and lovely).  An hours session of Wipeout (my current distraction of choice) is a lot more pleasurable and exciting than an hour spent meditating.  But the pleasure of Wipeout ends almost the moment that I stop playing.  The low key pleasure of meditation stays with me, in one form or another, all day.  Developing the skill of driving imaginary hover-cars around imaginary race-tracks is really a skill that can only be used for that very same activity.  The insights and skills developed through meditation apply to all areas of life.

Computer games, and all the other activities I'd put in that category, aren't bad, but they are like cake – enjoyable, a pleasure in life that isn't to be denied, but not something to build your life around.  Humans are healthiest when they are living on a low GI diet, not pure sugar, and we need to appreciate we benefit from a low IGI (Immediate Gratification Index) lifestyle also, rather than trying to get by on shiny computer games that make us feel excited and cheerful and like we are achieving something when really all we are doing is adding points to a score that no one but us cares about.

Yet, I do believe that computer games have the potential to engage us, stretch us, even pass on spiritual insights the way great novels, films and other works of art can.  But the game that does that is unlikely to involve shiny ships zipping around a neon race-track or repeatedly shooting bad guys in the head.  It's a game I'd very much like to play though.

Up next – why so negative?

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Being happy is bad for magick

June 11th, 2011

Well, this is a depressing idea, isn't it?  Being sad is certainly bad for magick, but, after all, surely one of the great quests in life is to be fulfilled and happy.  One of the main reasons people practice magick and spirituality is to be happier.  And yet success in being happy is bad for magick?

It kind of is… but, like most of these problems, if you are aware of the issue you can something about it.

The reason I say being happy is bad for magick is simply that when we are happy – when life is really pleasant and we're enjoying ourselves – it's very easy to forget all about spiritual practices.  It's like when you are at the beginning of a new relationship – it's exciting, inspiring, energising… and it's hard to think about anything else.  Other activities, other relationships, other commitments tend to go out of the window for a while as we just enjoy how good it feels to be falling in love.  But that can mean that long term commitments – to daily practice for instance – can get swept away.

So I suppose this post could be 'falling in love is bad for magick' but that would be a bit too miserable, even for me.

Being happy is bad for magick in that it can make us think very short term.  We are enjoying the moment and taking pleasure in where we are.  Therefore we may not be thinking very much about the rather long term rewards that come from a regular practice.  We may not need to view the world from a magickal perspective because, really, what needs changing when we're happy?  We may not shift into a more spiritual perspective of the narrative of our life because we don't want to step away when we're right in the middle of a good bit!

Of course the world may very well seem to be full of magick when we are happy – but we may not be engaging with it in the same way.  We are likely to drift, flow this way and that, ride the wave of our own emotion… which is fine and splendid in its own way.  But it isn't very good for magickal progress.

Sometimes I find myself wondering why so many of life's lessons come to us through a (metaphorical or literal) smack around the head.  Bad things happen, we stop, hurt, consider, learn and heal, then move on.  We have learned something but at the expense of a testing experience.  Why do initiations have to hurt so?  Why do insights come wrapped around bricks?

Well, perhaps its because when something delightful happens our reaction is to be happy, enjoy it, be happy some more, then feel disappointed when the happy goes away.  We don't do an awful lot of stopping to consider, we don't try to integrate the lesson that may have come our way.  We just experience it and move on.

I have always hated that these regular, testing, experiences seems to be the price of being on the journey.  However, I'm tentatively coming to the conclusion that regular practice may actually be a way to change the pattern.  Regular practice makes those moments of stopping, considering and integrating, a part of every-day life.  No matter whether you are happy or sad a regular practice means you have a daily space to shift perspective, push more deeply into events and away from the 'stimulus/response' reactions of unconscious living.  As a result it would seem life doesn't have to bop you on the head quite so hard to get your attention – you're paying attention more of the time anyway.  And so things get a little easier.

But still… a really good day, a really happy patch of life… it can make it really tempting to skip daily practice for a while.  To just, you know, live and enjoy and not worry about it for a while.  Because, really, who wants to work when the sun is shining?  Who wants to consider the reasons for happiness rather than just being happy?

As a result, happiness really can be bad for magick.

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Being sad is bad for magick

May 18th, 2011

Fortunately, I've not had to struggle with this too much recently – moving house may have been bad for magick, but it didn't induce very much stress and sadness.  But it's certainly one of the great battles of spiritual life – how to keep going when you're feeling bloody miserable.

As I wrote about in the Magickian's Cycle, magickal practice seems to induce change.  Often that change isn't very comfortable and sadness of one kind or another arises. It can arise as stress because things are changing, melancholy because 'real life' just doesn't seem all that interesting, or out and out despair because something you care for a great deal is leaving your life.  In recent years for me it has often manifested as a full blown existential crisis – I can't point out anything in 'the real world' that can justify the deep feelings of grief and frustration I'm feeling, but some philosophical insight or shifting belief system is inducing pain.

Being sad is bad for magick in a one main way – it pulls away energy and motivation and it makes it harder to 'keep going' with a spiritual practice.  Sadness tends to pull us down into a lower energy state where it's harder to 'try' and given spiritual practice is often quite taxing in one way or another sadness can make it harder to just get on with the practice.

In my own case, when a period of sadness hits I often begin to experience a deep pessimism, or the feeling that 'nothing is really worthwhile' – magick falls into that category too, so I tend to give up putting in the effort.  This is deeply stupid, as experience time and again has suggested that magick, or at least spiritual practice, is absolutely the best thing to do in order to shift limiting beliefs, or to remove the blockages that cause sadness (and in fact I've been almost entirely sadness free in the nine months of my current spiritual practice).  However, my sad, or depressed, self has difficulty remembering this and practice often slows and stops when those feelings grip me.

A friend of mine has observed that often when we are sad, and particularly when we're depressed, we often pull away from the very things that will help the most.  We stop seeing friends.  We stop going out and trying new things.  We stop exercising.  And we stop opening ourselves up to spiritual experiences.  Perhaps we could argue that this is because at certain times we need to experience the sadness or depression in life – not for some facile reason such as 'in order to really appreciate being happy' but simply because such periods of stillness often bring introspection and the chance to bring about inner change.  "The call inwards" as another friend calls it.  But at a certain point we really do need to take control of our own emotional experience, to take steps that will reduce our sadness, pain and depression.  That point may come sooner or later, but when it does resuming a form of magickal practice can be extremely beneficial.  I would even suggest that in this case magick trumps meditation – meditation is a stilling, a quietening, and that stillness can even increase the sense of melancholy and sadness.  Magickal practice often involves invocation – the touching of new energy, the shifting of mental state, the deliberate adjustment of mental attitude.  These things are just what you need to start your mind moving again and to leave behind sadness.

So perhaps next time sadness hits it's worth remembering – whilst the sadness may make magick feel difficult and not worth the effort, perhaps the magick is exactly what's needed to shift the negative feelings and to get things moving again.

Of course one of the great ironies is that, as I'll discuss next, being happy is bad for magick too.

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Card of the Day – 8 of Wands, Swiftness

May 8th, 2011

I'm going to write about the meaning of the Tarot cards in my deck, but rather than doing it in some dull old logical order I thought I'd just cut one out of the deck when I have the time and see which one turned up.  With time this may even turn into a complete, if slightly eccentric, guide to how to read the Tarot.  I'll also try to figure out if they are turning up randomly or if there's some meaning in which card turns up at which time.

Card of the Day – 8 of Wands, Swiftness

8 of Wands - Swiftness from the Deck of ThothThe wands are the fire suit – all about passion, enthusiasm, energy and movements forward.  More mundanely they can be concerned with career and ambition, but this will often have resonance for something more general life life path, or 'purpose' if we can speak in those terms.

The 8 of wands is a very energetic Wands card and is very expansive, reaching outwards.  At it's simplest I sum up this card by saying 'broaden your horizons'.  It usually refers to expanding your sense of self, looking into different areas, trying new things and realising you are more than you realise.

This is one of the cards in the deck that to me is very direct – I rarely find I have to think very long about its meaning, it doesn't seem to have too many shades of complexity to it.  Expansion is very clear, and is very much summed up by the image of the card – those wands are all shooting outwards, and they are pure energy, pure fire (there's no sense of them being physical as they appear to be in other cards).  The rainbow suggests have an optimistic outlook, look at the positive things you want to do rather than the possible problems or worries that may be around.

This card will often come up when someone is asking me about potential careers or potential relationships.  The answer it gives can be a little frustrating, because what its saying is 'don't keep doing what you are doing now' without being specific about what one should do instead.  But it's a clear message – "If you keep doing what you've been doing you'll keep getting the same result you've got before."  This card says it's time to think more creatively, go to places you've not been to before, try things you've never tried before, act in a way that's different from how you've previously acted.  You are more than you realise, you like more things than you've tried and you are capable of many things you have yet to try.

As a card of the day – well, it suggests it's a good day to enthusiastically try something different – read a book on a topic you know nothing about, try and practice you've not used before, go down a road you've never gone down.  Become a larger version of yourself.

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Moving house is bad for magick

May 8th, 2011

I moved house about three weeks ago.  Whilst we're very much 'here' in the new house, there's still a whole list of things on the 'to do' list, stuff to be organised, sorted, laid out appropriately, and so on.  One thing I realised very early on when moving – moving house is bad for magick.

The kind of problems associated with moving house are rather different to those associated with being ill.  I noticed it most immediately when I sat to meditate for the first time mid-move.  As I've previously discussed, the early stages of meditation do tend to involve a certain amount of 'emptying out' of my mind – sorting through the clutter, putting down thoughts and ideas, sometimes remembering important things I need to make a note of before I can continue.  But then that's over with, and I can slow down, calm down, go empty and get on with meditation.

But I found, having just moved house, my to-do list and related mental baggage was huge.  And whilst I could keep telling myself that it wasn't important, didn't need to be dealt with now, and that I could let it go, my unconscious mind didn't seem to want to agree with me.  In fact although I sat and sat, I found my mind did not empty.  I bounced from one thing to another, one sense of urgency to another, forming plans for things to sort out even before I realised I was doing it.  Eventually I had to abandon the meditation and just get on with the magickal practice.  But even then I found I was doing 'double think' – enough of my mind was on my practice to ensure I got it done, but the rest of it was wandering off into how I wanted to organise my books this time, or who I still needed to tell about my change of address.

All of this resulted in a much weakened magickal experience.  If my mental discipline were better I'm sure the disruption would have been less (I've never had that great an ability at 'pure' focus).  But it's worth realising just how disruptive this was to my normal practice.

Of course, it doesn't have to be moving house that brings about this kind of disruption.  Any time we are deeply enmeshed in the 'mundane world' (that is when the day-to-day is taking up a lot of our mental space) magickal practice tends to become more difficult.  A stressful time at work, the climax of a project, any phase of life where there are a lot of problems that need to be solve… these can all pull us away from spiritual thinking.  It's a lot easier to be effective at magick if, as well as a daily practice, you are spending time thinking about magick, spirituality and being introspective.  Just 'switching on' once a day helps a good deal, but having the sense of spirit with you constantly is much more effective.  But sometimes life just makes that difficult.

Whilst the practical effects are fairly obvious – less time thinking about something means that when you go back to doing it it's harder to get completely lost in it (think about how much time musicians spend listening to music, thinking about music, talking about music even when they aren't playing) I think there's a more esoteric effect as well.  And once again I'm forced to use the catch all term of 'energy'.  It appears that beyond the simple psychological effect of being distracted from things spiritual, there is some kind of energy effect as well – or at least another effect that I perceive or observe as an energy effect.

When I'm deeply enmeshed in mundane tasks – working hard with practical things, sorting out money, and, of course, moving house – I find that energetically I feel 'heavier'.  I work a lot with elemental energies (invoking each in turn is part of my daily practice) and it seems that during these periods earth energies start to dominate in my system.  I feel more of what I feel when I'm drawing on the earth energy – the kind of heaviness, stability, solidity that I associate with it.  But the problem is that this energy seems to push out the more 'subtle', spiritual, energies I associate with the magickal work I'm currently involved with.  Now, I'm not one of those people that in any way things 'earth: bad; spirit: good'.  I like earth.  It's where I live.  Most of my favourite toys wouldn't work without it.  But when earth is dominating it does make some things harder – like losing oneself in alternative states of consciousness, 'scrying' (to what limited degree I can do it) and the kind of invocation that I do regularly.

It makes sense really – just as your head gets full of mundane thoughts which are hard to shift, so your energy system gets full of earth energies when your working with the aspects of life that they govern, but this energy is also hard to shift when you are trying to 'tune in' to the more refined, spiritual, energies.  Getting 'all practical' certainly makes you better at some things, but 'pure' magick suffers somewhat.

Which is why, I imagine, the concept of the spiritual retreat has existed in so many cultures – set aside the mundane for a while, put down the to-do list, stop fretting about what you need to do next.  Stop, rest, contemplate, gain insight.  I suppose that's why monks rarely move house.

Up next – being sad is bad for magick.

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Being ill is bad for magick

May 5th, 2011

As I'm trying to write a blog about the real experience of living a magickal life, of trying to prioritise spirituality and what-not, I think it's important to point out that it doesn't always come easily.  In fact, sometimes it hardly comes at all.  Certain events, moods, or times in life just make it hard to do spiritual work, or hard to do magick.  One serious inhibitor of magickal excellence is simply being ill.

I've just had a cold.  Not devastating by any means, but it's hung around for a long time.  There were days when I was astonished by my mucus generating facilities.  There were days when my sneezing faculty seemed to be trying to explode my head.  There were more days when I just felt a bit rough… not "I'm so ill I deserve your sympathy, please run around and take care of me" rough, just "Ugh… everything's a bit hard today" rough.

During this time I was able to go to work, get on with sorting out the house, and despite feeling more tired than usual and wanting to go to bed earlier, I was living a 'normal' life.  But there was one thing I felt a huge impact on – magick.

As discussed at length, I have a daily practice – if I put in a reasonable amount of meditation it takes about an hour, and involves a couple of reasonably involved rituals.  Nothing about it is physically taxing, or even particularly mentally taxing after this amount of practice.  I move around a bit, wave my arms in the right pattern at the right time, say the right words, sing a few more words, and that's about it.  Nothing about it would seem to strain the system… and yet, when I'm ill it is *exhausting*.

We're all familiar with how a days physical labour makes us feel tired.  Most of us are familiar with how, at the end of a mentally taxing day, we can be mentally exhausted yet feel physically restless.  There are at least two different types of being tired.   Three if you count that strange, emotionally-wrung-out, feeling you get after a lengthy cry.  Magick can sometimes involve another form of being tired – which sadly I can only really describe as being 'energetically' tired – your 'subtle/body energies' feel all tired out and out of whack.  (Must write a blog post on the frustration of the ubiquitousness of the word 'energy' in any discussion of anything weirdshit)

I was at a talk once where someone said that Crowley had said one shouldn't practice magick whilst physically ill.  If Crowley gave a complete explanation of why, it wasn't passed on in the talk.  Crowley said one should, instead, study and read and wait for physical strength to return.

I don't have a clear explanation of what happens magickally when you're ill, so the following will naturally be extremely subjective – but this is what it feels like to me.  When I'm at my best performing a magickal act causes a shift of energy in my body – I can feel it.  Sometimes as a tingling feeling, or as a warmth, or just as 'wave of emotion' passing through part of my body.  It tends to feel rather pleasant, empowering, often with a thrill of excitement.  However, when I wasn't well these feelings were rather different – they felt stressful, the energy seemed to 'fizz' in a way that wasn't comfortable, it felt very much like if I 'pushed' much harder something might short circuit or overflow…

I'm not foolish enough to ignore the feelings I was experiencing – I backed way off in the work I was doing.  Going through the motions, but not focussing as much, not pushing as much, not trying to draw as much energy through me or into the room.  Whilst I wouldn't necessarily recommend it for anyone else, for me it felt important to 'keep turning up' – to keep up the daily work, even if it wasn't being done with the same vividness, energy and commitment as it had been before.  But I wanted to keep a firm connection with that part of me which is on this current spiritual journey, so I was effectively saying "I don't feel so good, I'm not going to do this so well, but I'm still here, I'm still keen, and I'll be ready to pick up again just as soon as my body recovers".  But actually doing the work wasn't particularly pleasant, and didn't feel very comfortable at times.  So I throttled back and took it very gently for a little while.

As I recovered from being ill the magickal acts started to feel more natural again.  Energy ceased to fizz in a disconcerting way, and started to flow again.  I could go deeper, focus more, push a little harder.

But it hasn't all been easy.  It turns out, moving house is bad for magick too.

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And I'm back…

May 5th, 2011

…well, hopefully.

The past couple of months rushed by in a non-blogging kind of way due to some fairly dull, mundane, things – firstly, moving house; secondly, getting ill.

However, I do now have a shiny new house to live in, and I'm, more or less, well again.  Nothing serious, just the persistent kind of cold that is generally induced by getting really run down for a while (see: moving house).

This has also been somewhat disruptive to my daily practice – it's not killed it off, but it's made it all a damn sight harder to keep up with it all in a free and easy fashion.  So, what better for a minor blog series than – things that are bad for magick.

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Meditation concepts – The past didn't happen to you

March 3rd, 2011

One of the current effects of my practice seems to be that periodically I get new insights or ideas bubbling up through my mind which I then have to go away and think about, or meditate on, for a while to fully make use of them.  I'll pass them on here and see if anyone else can get use from them.

"The past didn't happen to you."

I take a strange delight in catching my unconscious mind working on something independently of my conscious mind.  You may think I should be used to this, given I'm a hypnotherapist and therefore working with the unconscious mind is sort of my thing, but there's a difference between knowing that working with the unconscious mind can bring about dramatic change and actually catching it in the act.  For instance, dream analysis was something I used to be quite sceptical about until on a couple of occasions I worked with my therapist on dreams of my own and realised that they were staggeringly rich and complex – that they did, indeed, present me with useful and pertinent information I could make use of in my everyday life.  Some of the dreams I've worked with have remained incomprehensible but those that 'click' can generate tremendous information.  I'm always left with the feeling of 'well done unconscious – that's great work!'

The above phrase arose at another moment where I spotted my unconscious mind was doing something long before my conscious mind caught up with what was going on.  I was just walking along a road about half an hour after having had a pretty interesting conversation about concepts of self and identity, when a 'feeling' started to come over me.  It felt like a moment of understanding, but I had no idea what that understanding could be.  Then the phrase "The past didn't happen to you" came to my mind.  I knew it was important, it felt like it was true, but in that moment I didn't know what it meant.  It was like my unconscious mind had sidled up to me, passed me a piece of paper with a cryptic phrase on it, then buggered off.  I had to work out what it was on about.

Fortunately it didn't take too long to work it out – although I've been using the phrase as part of my meditation practice since then to try to really 'bring home' the understanding contained within it.

I'm very much aware that I carry with me the weight of the past.  Past pains, embarrassments and frustrations will visit me on a reasonably regular basis – particularly if I feel run down, or miserable, when my mind seems to delight in revisiting other times when I've felt a similar way.  We are, of course, sculpted, shifted and formed by the events that have happened to us before.  But the thing is, the real key, is that we only exist now.  We only exist in the present.  We are awareness and awareness exists precisely where we are.

The past is not real for us. The past didn't happen to us, but to a self that has long since ceased to be.  Certainly we can access memories of the past, we can recreate moments that have been before, but that's all we can do – revisit memories.  The past is done and gone with and is no longer real.

Consciousness is like a candle flame – it exists in the present and recreates itself every moment.  Five minutes ago that flame may have been blown by a wind, or have burned a stray hair, but that wind does not exist within it now, nor does the hair it burned.  Likewise our consciousness does not contain the past, it is only now – it can choose to attempt to recreate the past, to dwell within memory, or to remain within a pattern that past events set up.  But, fundamentally, the past is no more.

The idea of being 'born again' is very popular in many traditions.  I can understand why – the idea of being able to put down the things we have done before, to be allowed to let go all mistakes, pains, hurt, guilt, embarrassment, foolishness, and to be able to say 'that wasn't me – that was the me before I was born a second time and became a new person'.  It must be liberating.  But the thing is… we can all do that every second of every day.  The past didn't happen to you – you only exist now.

Now, I'm not talking about abandoning the consequences of previous actions, or 'pretending' that we haven't done what we've done.  I'm simply describing the liberating idea that we are allowed to put it down.  The past lives within the context we find ourselves in now – our skills, knowledge, the state of our relationships, our debs and credits – but it does not have to exist within the self, or only in so-far as we choose to continue the patterns and beliefs which we have taken on before.

It's hard to convey, but considering 'the past didn't happen to you' brought home the idea that I don't have to carry the baggage of the past… things 'I' did long ago were not done by the me I am now, and the me I am now knows more, understands more, is wiser and could have acted differently.  I don't have to carry it all if I don't want to.  I can simply be present, and deal with this moment… and that's very liberating.

(Oh yes, and my unconscious mind appears to have spoken to me in the second person.  Not entirely sure what that's about…)

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The Diviner's Cycle

March 3rd, 2011

My friend Hilary over at Online Clarity recently linked to my Magickian's Cycle post with her own comments on whether a similar cycle existed for those who use the I-Ching regularly.  She noticed that at times in her own life she'd become very enthusiastic about using the I-Ching, got some great reading, read regularly, then had a crisis, sulked, paused and repeated.  You can read the discussion that ensued within her I-Ching community.  I eventually chipped in with my own thoughts on the matter, which I'll repost here:

For those of you who aren't familiar with me (which I imagine is most) I work with ritual magick as my main spiritual practice, but also extensively use the Tarot and meditation as part of my practice. I find they each provides a different perspective, a different approach and different kinds of insights towards my overall progress in life… whatever that may prove to be.

A friend of mine once said that magick was learning to speak to the universe in a way that it could understand, while mysticism was learning to listen to the universe in a way that allowed you to understand. I think divination – in all it's forms – falls into the broad definition of mysticism. It is finding a way to allow yourself to be open to a deeper perspective, a fundamental understanding that goes beyond the self, the ego, our common everyday conscious understanding. There are times when this is easier – when the chaos and confusion of everyday life is at its lowest, or when for reasons passing understanding our local version of the Universe is particularly keen to speak loudly to us. There are also times when it's much more difficult – when we're stressed, upset, deep shifts are occurring (which we may be unconscious of), we are undergoing dramatic change, or are particularly ego-bound.

But I think there's a feedback between these stages. Having a fundamental, deep insight into ourselves, into events, into what is happening within our world right now will catalyse change. We won't be the same person we were before the reading or the moment of understanding… well, of course our authentic, eternal, self will be but our everyday walking-around ego will have shifted. And the more 'moments' like this we have the more insights our everyday ego will have to adjust to, the more change will occur, the more our ego may well fight against that change, and… the more chaos and confusion we have in our head and the more difficult it will be to make good, clear, readings until we have integrated the changes that are happening within us.

So my expectation would be – clarity leads to deep insight. Deep insight leads to change. Change leads to lack of clarity. Pause, calm down, integrate, become clear, repeat.

I've found the same thing in meditation practice – good meditation practice leads to insight. Insight brings change. Change is disruptive, and good meditation becomes harder. If I was better at the practice (hell, if I was better at life) I imagine I'd cope a lot better.

The first action most magickians will take in a ritual context is banishing – the purpose of this may be seen as pushing away external influences, but I see it's main use as to push away internal chaos and baggage. It's an attempt to create a clear space in the mind, to allow as much of the authentic self to be present as possible. If you're going to talk to the Universe it's best if it's the authentic bit of you doing the talking. It's not entirely uncommon to get to the end of a banishing ritual, stand at the centre and go 'you know, this is a bloody silly idea' and go and do something else instead.

One of the ways I visualise magick is to consider that life has a current – a flow of events that we are traveling along. However, that flow has turbulance withing it – disruption, random bad luck, moments of stalling. I would say that a good deal of this turbulence really originates within us, that our inner conflicts and lack of clarity becomes externalised as disruption. Magick can be very effective at clearing the turbulence – of freeing the current to flow more strongly. By shifting ones consciousness one is able to extend personal Will and push through the turbulence in harmony with the Will of the universe. Naturally, if one has mistaken the fundamental flow for some turbulence – if you're pushing against events you don't like but they are actually part of the flow – you're going to cause yourself even greater problems. A battle of Wills with the universe is really terribly unwise. Hence, insight should be an essential part of any magickal act.

The thing is though, in my experience, the kind of 'deep' insight I was talking about above which can come from a great divination session can seemingly have exactly the same effect. Shifting to a deeper, more profound, understanding of the nature of things in this moment seems to 'clear the way' (that is if your ego can adjust to the new level of insight). Deep insight generates spontaneous magick (which one could consider no magick at all). Oddly my most profound moments of this have been in an entirely other context – working in therapy. I've had a few occasions where I've experienced a moment of insight in a session, where a deeply felt need has come bubbling up through me with terrific force, and I've stated it out loud – to have that desire manifest just a few days later.

So insight, change, manifestation, chaos and confusion, adjustment, integration… to me they all spiral around through divination, magick, meditation, even therapy. And a frequently form a cycle which it takes time, practice and discipline to learn how to ride out.

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Getting to know your Holy Guardian Angel – The Bornless Rite/Liber Samekh

February 18th, 2011

Earlier I wrote that whilst attaining the knowledge and conversation of my Holy Guardian Angel is certainly interesting to me, the 'classic' approach of the Abramelin working isn't really for me.  Fortunately I discovered the Bornless Rite.

I first came across the Bornless Ritual in a book on the Goetia written by Lon Milo Duquette.  It was strongly suggested that one should use a powerful ritual like the Bornless Rite before dicking around with such potentially nasty, disruptive and chaotic energies as the Goetia.  This seemed like sound advice, but it also gave the Bornless Rite a certain mystique – if it was powerful enough to allow you to safely traffic with extremely powerful and unpleasant spirits, it must have something going for it.

I eventually tried the ritual as a result of a Tarot reading – when asked "What's the best way for me to proceed in my magickal development?" and given a list of options, the spread was very clear on the fact that the Bornless Rite would produce the fastest and most interesting journey (the outcome card being The Chariot comparing favourably with some pretty dull cards for other techniques I might practice).  I eventually gave it a go and found… well, it was all terribly exciting.

The Bornless Rite takes about half an hour to perform start to finish, and it involves a certain amount of visualisation, statements of intent, and a whole lot of resonating 'barbarous names' (i.e. words which don't mean anything but which help you focus or meditate on the energy you are trying to evoke).  If you want to read Crowley's text about how to go about the rite you can read it here.  However, as with most text by Crowley it isn't always as clear as it might be.

Performing it the first time I wasn't terribly competent – there's a lot going on, a lot to remember, and frankly barbarous names are a pain in the backside.  Just exactly how are you supposed to pronounce AR-O-GO-GO-RU-ABRAO without feeling slightly self conscious?  But it rapidly became apparent there was something to this – if the goal of a magickal ritual is to shift the consciousness of the magickian, then this worked a treat.  By the end of it I felt like I was buzzing with energy, and I did, indeed, feel a certain 'divine authority' had come upon me.  Cool, I thought, this is something to do again.

The history of the Bornless rite is pretty interesting.  First of all, the title seems to be a mistranslation – it should be the Headless Rite.  But that sounds a lot less cool.  There's an argument to suggest it means head as in the beginning or start, therefore headless means without beginning, and Bornless might be a reasonable parallel for that concept.  However, I'm not getting stuck into the translation business.

The rite itself has a long history – it appears to be based on a Græco-Egyptian rite of exorcism which was only translated into English in 1852.  There are a couple of theories as to where it comes from originally, some say from the Leyden Papyrus but most commonly it is said to be from The Greek Magical Papyri.  It would appear that this papyrus was originally a single huge scroll, buried in a tomb in Thebes, probably in first or second century, but was stolen, cut up into sections, and sold to various collectors before eventually being pieced back together again.  The barbarous names within the ritual suggest connections with early Greek Gnostics and probably back to Egypt before that.

So originally a rite of exorcism, but one that involved the exorcist taking on divine authority in order to be able to boss around any spirits who were out of line.  Crowley, apparently in a moment of inspiration, decided that the ritual formed an ideal template for attaining the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.  He edited and adjusted the ritual accordingly (and changed some of the barbarous names to have more direct meaning within his own magickal understanding) and recommended it as a daily practice for those intent on developing magickally.

Which, oddly enough, is what I've ended up doing.  After my first experiment it was some time before I went back to it and made it part of a regular practice.  I used it about four or five times a week for about 4 months before the Magickian's Cycle kicked in, I had a crisis, and I stopped.  Then I started up again with a dedicated daily practice six months ago.  The posts on this blog give some idea of what's happening this time.

Crowley's instructions for magickal development are pretty easy – just two words: Invoke often.  He meant, of course, invoke your Holy Guardian Angel often.  The Bornless Rite is a half hour ritual dedicated to that specific purpose.  But does it work?  Do you get anywhere?  What would it be like to have Knowledge and Conversation of ones Holy Guardian Angel?  I'll got on to that next…

For further reading: a deep discussion about Liber Samekh and it's differences to the original ritual can be found in this article by Alex Summer; and Frater Barrabbas has some interesting notes on its history and application in this article.

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