#root conjure

In eight days I will have the pleasure of attending the Saint Cyprian Symposium here in London at one of my favorite venues, Conway Hall. For those whose interest lie in Cyprianic literature the one day symposium is a who's who of the top scholars the world has to offer on the subject - José Leitão, Humberto Maggi, Jesse Hathaway Diaz, Jake Stratton-Kent, Verónica Rivas, David Rankine, and Felix Castro Vicente all speaking on various fascinating subjects across the day.

We were in a pub, the kind of English pub that hasn't changed its interior since the 1970s, and when it was new it was meant to look fashionably old. The pounding of bass through the wall from the club next door was a constant annoyance that has practically ruined even the most obscure spots in London. Boom, boom, boom is now everywhere.

The conversation had been our typical rambling about books, art and various sundry facets of ethnology. My conversation partner was a well respected occultist and old friend. When the second round of whiskies had been ordered the conversation turned to the contemporary occult "scene."

There is a persistent mainstreaming of occultism that has pervaded media in all its forms over the last decade. From television shows and movies to a broad internet subculture of self identified witches, wizards, occultists, and magicians. Magic is everywhere we look these days, being sold to you by a dozen vendors of everything from fashionable clothing to beeswax ointments, youtube tutorials to directly paid for workings.

Of course, my companion replied, that the hucksters have always been part of the scene. For every witch there are a dozen frauds, both the clueless self deluded and straight up con artists.

Yet we began to discuss something more sinister, a kind of softening of the thinking of otherwise respectable magicians. Those who we count as friends and companions that seem to have bought into this modern aesthetic of "witchy" rebellious pr nonsense. Media makeovers, graphic novels, and collectors edition tarot cards instead of study and practice. Feel good "part of the revolution" taglines that reveal not an inkling of actual magic. Instead they preach a kind of self help empowerment, mindfulness and all that bullshit.

"Which has absolutely fucking nothing to do with the practice of magic!" I said at that moment where the bass had stopped pounding long enough for my voice to ring just a bit louder than it should, now three bourbons into the night.

"Not to mention that this new found audience of occult curious readers are being used as a trojan horse for an increasingly vocal far right/fascist infiltration of the occult world." my companion replied.

As I wandered home this evening I began to think more deeply about my involvement in the contemporary occult world. While I have been "involved" in one way or another for decades in my travels around the world, it has only been through the Skeptical Occultist that I have had any real "public voice."

The face of it is that I started this blog as a place to share a few things with those whom I know, and by chance it has grown to over 8k subscribers, and 50k readers a month even with my diminished output over the past year.

That diminish is another thing I have been considering. I am not the type to "teach" and have long avoided making my posts about anything practical. Practice is for the practical magician, not some blog recipe for casting a spell. I review books, those publishers whom I wish to support that I think are doing good things, making fine books by interesting authors.

But the reality is that even some of the publishers whom I adore publish writers who make absolute bullshit dressed up in skulls and pentagrams. The volume of hokey nonsense parading around in left hand path velvet robes talking about "darkness" and other goth trappings with all the aesthetic and cosplay detail with literally no magic involved, is astounding.

There are entire publishers who do nothing but churn out fucking garbage, not even badly researched occultism, just totally fictional theater calling itself ritual magic and witchcraft. Some of their books look well designed but the words on the pages are absolutely useless.

You can't buy your magic. Its that simple. Not your custom made wand, nor your one of a kind, from some magical place, fetish. You can pay others who are able to do their magic on your behalf, but from a practitioner's point of view selling your craft is a really bad idea.

The fact is there are a lot of people who will read this blog post who think they practice magic when they don't. You might not even know who you are. The ones who go through the motions, buy all the stuff, read the popular articles and books. But you know deep down in your heart that what you are doing is bullshit.

That candle ritual you saw on the web that you did to "bind" that evil politician? That tarot reading that you gave your friend about whether or not she should get an abortion? That book you wrote about how by following some contrived copy pasted from a dozen uncredited (and often just as fucking useless as you) authors one can have riches/fame/glory/sex? Its all bullshit and you know it.

Draw a single circle on the floor in cornmeal and do it well enough that you can conjure a spirit to visible appearance. Make a curse that kills with unquestioning results. Dance to a drummer until you are ridden by that which we can not understand until we are their horse. Anything less is self delusion or contrived fakery.

Announcing the contributor list for the inaugural issue of FOLKWITCH! I have to say I am rather pleased with the contributors, in the first issue and those that will be in future issues.

"Space Weather Report" Anthony Nine

There exists in cultures a method of transmission in which secrets are kept in a way that locks them into fables and tales, revealing themselves only to the few who have learned to see the words in their intended form.

As well the ancients could capture a complex tale in the subtlest of illustrative depictions, rendered down even to the pinpoints of light that illuminate the night sky in tales of gods, beasts, and sorcery.

The folktales we tell today, of Cinderella, of Riding Hood, of wizards and enchantresses, princesses and beasts are understood to be thousands of years old. Their roots going deep into the psyche of our foremothers, back countless generations of our kin. Tales told in the whispered darkness, legends and warnings of misdeeds and heroic tragedy.

Such is the skill of the bard that these tales, even though transmitted into forms we often think of as children's entertainment, retain the true meaning for those of the Path over the centuries.

Anthony Nine is a complex figure who has haunted the edges of the contemporary occult world for as long as I have been in London. Once in London himself, he is now often found with an alchemically precise cocktail in hand, on some Caribbean island or another, in search of whatever fancies his interests at the moment.

A writer of some skill his words have rarely been published in the printed form. Yet there exists a veritable underground of passed around pdfs and word doc files of his adventures handed out in methods more reserved than some of the more prestigious secret societies.

Revelore Press has done a deal with this devil, coaxing some scant words in a collection of Nine's illustrations, drawing on his personal experiences and a lifetime of meandering through the darker corners of occult's various ill lit nightclubs, busy urban crossroads, and the byways of the former territories of the British Empire.

"Space Weather Report" is a colouring book. Like a children's book it is full of full page illustrations that implore one to fill in the spaces with the colours of our choosing. Beside these illustrations are the words dredged from a kind of scrying into the pieces themselves. Automatic writing that takes as its catalyst the imagery that is itself born from the warped mind of the author.

As the publisher quotes the author - "It is definitely not a spell, and will not quietly align your thought patterns with invisible machinery working towards some undisclosed purpose. Nothing like that. The artwork was generated by method of automatic drawing, and the text received by a process of scrying into the pictures. Any dreams of towering star-headed figures moving levers in a blue room, or of four planet-sized pulsating hearts in space, are in no way related to coloring the pages of this book."

Get yourself a copy of this curious collection as we await further transmission from the travels of Mr. Nine.

Two belladonna roots, harvested under the Norn's full moon. We chant these words to call the landscape's sacred rune -

"Three notes a pipe of lamb's bone will play, an accompaniment to the rising break of day.

Five berries of nightshade, sweet as the blackbird's song, burn an incense to reveal the sacred temple's throng.

A stone of earth as solid as the temple's foundation, on which to strike the key in our rapturous elation.