BOOKS & GAMES
OCCULT BOOK REVIEWS
Reviews and commentary on the various occult books I've read.
"The Black Arts" Review/Response
The Black Arts by Richard Cavendish is a book about the history of occultism and the way it has been historically practiced. I already had a copy of this book in my possession when I heard Georgina of Occultism with a Side of Salt say on the podcast that this was the book that got her into the occult in the first place. That kicked it up my priority list! What I didn’t realize is that this book is not new; it was published in 1967. I had the 50th anniversary edition. So, I went in wondering just how out-of-date it was going to be, or whether it holds up. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from it, but I could see that it was spoooooky — spooky title, spooky cover, first thing in it is a picture of Levi’s Baphomet… Honestly, I like that. I like spooky. Big spooky fan, me. That certainly makes it intriguing, and helps it to appeal to those who view the occult as taboo. And indeed, it takes a mainly “lefty” approach to magic, with its first sentence being “The driving force behind black magic is hunger for power,” and the last sentence of that paragraph being “Carried to its furthest extreme, the black magician’s ambition is to wield extreme power over the entire universe, to make himself a god.” Well, duh, if it’s got a title as edgy as The Black Arts, it’s bound to be a left-hand-path kind of book! And it is. Mostly. Cavendish points out that very few occultists call themselves black magicians, preferring to distance themselves from any accusations of “black magic.” However, this book is not actually edgy in any way, which is nice. A lot of books of self-proclaimed “black magic” (which may or may not have existed in the 60s, but certainly exist now) come across as “edgy.” They’re specifically geared towards people who like the idea of “black magic” for the sake of shock value or just because it feels taboo and therefore cool. Necromancy! Demonolatry! Satanism! Muahahaha! This book contains information on all those subjects, alongside Kabbalah, alchemy, astrology, and things of that nature. Although the book’s title is almost certainly designed to be provocative (excellent marketing strategy), the book itself is not. It may state that certain practices or correspondences (such as left or the number 2) were considered evil, but passes no judgement. This book is a history of the Black Arts, and that includes using poppets and the like to kill people and old-school PGM-type curses, which this author terms “witchcraft.” I don’t find this offensive like I found the earlier (online) version of the “black magic” chapter in Grimoire for the Apprentice Wizard offensive, because this book is not attempting to instruct the reader in magic or morality. It’s describing the way magic was used and understood historically, without condoning or outright condemning unethical practices (like animal sacrifices, psychic attacks, targeted love spells). It has a neutral tone throughout. Cavendish is a historian, not an occultist. A disclaimer: This book uses the word “witchcraft” to refer to anti-Christian devil-worship (for example, citing Vance Randolph and the Ozark witches), or malevolent forms of folk magic, which is what the word meant in a historical sense. It’s a bit uncomfortable to read, especially since the book was written post-Wicca, but it’s important to emphasize that Cavendish is not using the word “witchcraft” to refer to its modern practice. I think his use of terminology here just shows the book’s age. (He also uses the word “primitive” to mean “indigenous,” which would be offensive today, and uses “bisexual” to mean “hermaphroditic,” which is hilarious. Also, a lot of the science and psychology he cites is outdated.) So, don’t let that ruffle your feathers. Despite that, it is also written with occultists in mind. I can see why occultists like this book. The first few pages manage to clearly and concisely lay out many important occult principles — that mankind is like God but on a much smaller scale, that the universe at large reflects the workings of the human mind and body, that spellwork is based upon using one’s imagination to mentally conjure emotions and sensations that are then concentrated and directed towards the intended result, that humans can become like gods through reconciliation of opposites, “like attracts like,” etc. I’m very impressed by that. Its first chapter also includes a brief history of nineteenth century occultists like Levi, Mathers, and Crowley, and all of the petty metaphysical shit-slinging they engaged in, which was informative to say the least. According to this book, occultists believe that everything in the universe is made up of rational patterns, that the universe is fundamentally orderly: “The theory that all the phenomena of the universe are connected together in a great design or pattern is one of the fundamental assumptions of magic” (62). This idea is what gives divination systems like numerology and astrology their credence, what justifies “as above, so below,” and what defines correspondences. I looked at that sentence and thought, huh, I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t believe that there is no chance and no chaos in the universe. There are patterns in the universe — it obviously has its own logic in the form of mathematics — but it’s us who assign any real significance to that. We find the patterns, and they become significant because we noticed them. And then I realized, that is the “chaos” part of Chaos Magic. I always knew that “Chaos” referred to something more like chaos theory than literal discord, but I didn’t understand what that meant until now. Chaos Magic takes a more existentialist view of the universe, believing it to be fundamentally chaotic and with no inherent meaning, but also believing that the meanings we assign to it are still significant to us. As magicians, we can use our sheer willpower to tame the chaos of the universe. Hence sigils that you scribble on slips of paper that work on the unconscious level. Hence, “you do the magic, not the correspondences.” A random pattern of tarot cards or rune stones is significant because of the way they resonate for you, not because they are placed by divine hands. “As above, so below” becomes more metaphorical, referring to the mundane and spiritual worlds instead of earthly life and the literal heavens. I don’t think that this is incompatible with the Principle of Mentalism, either. The universe can be an emanation of the mind of God without necessarily being “intelligent design.” I don’t necessarily believe that the universe is devoid of meaning, but I do think that it is what we make of it. Following the introductory chapter, each chapter focuses on a different occult field. The second chapter focuses on numerology. To be honest, I don’t really get numerology. The number that corresponds to my name changes depending on how much of my name I’m using, and whether it uses the Latin or Hebrew system. I also didn’t think the interpretations provided by this book suited me. Cavendish himself admits that numerology is a bit vague and wooly, although “the same is true of astrology and other forms of fortune telling.” Astrology won me over, because all of the elements of my chart taken together result in an interpretation that is cohesive, accurate, and specific. Cartomancy also won me over because to me it works the same way as literary or art analysis — interpreting symbols, tropes, motifs, etc. in context with each other to find trends and make a point. That kind of stuff makes sense to me. Numbers do not. I really don’t like numbers. I’m sure that numerology can be as complicated and specific as astrology if one studies it properly, but I know it’s not my preferred divination system. However, from reading this, I can definitely see how someone who thinks in terms of numbers would appreciate it, since numerical patterns do appear all over the place and define the universe. The next chapter is on the Kabbalah. It doesn’t provide any details about how to practice Kabbalah, but it provides an overview of what the Kabbalah is, where it comes from, and what each of the sephiroth represents. There’s also a section on each of the “paths” and how they relate to tarot cards, which I really appreciated, since I didn’t understand that. I still don’t think Kabbalah will ever be my preferred method of ascension, since it’s a little too Abrahamic for my taste (and there’s no way to separate it from that), but I am writing a book based on Abrahamic lore and mythology and I’m hoping to incorporate some Kabbalistic influence. I’m surprised that this book doesn’t mention the Shekinah, so I still want to know more about what she is. Also included in this chapter was a section on gematria, which made my brain hurt, but it did (directly) explain the reasoning behind some of the conjecture in The White Goddess. The chapter ends with a section on incantations and names of power — how they’re made, the theory behind them, etc. This was interesting, because I’m familiar with many of the long and unpronounceable incantations of old-school grimoires, but I almost always choose not to use them because I view them as overcomplicated, unpronounceable, and pointless. I appreciated learning where some of them come from and what the reasoning behind using them is. Some of them are based on Hebrew letters or Bible verses, but many are just meaningless gibberish (voces magicae). The point of many of them is literally just to sound impressive, without necessarily meaning anything. Although that might be pretentious, it also works — it helps to put the magician in the right mindset. It acts like a kind of pre-written glossolalia, ecstatically speaking or singing incomprehensible names that sound divine or supernatural and therefore powerful. The power actually comes from the rhythmic chanting, the magician’s conviction that the spell will work, and the force of the magician’s ecstasy. I hate memorizing long incantations and I also don’t like making noise, but I get it. Dumbledore was right when he said that words are our most inexhaustible source of magic. Words do indeed have inherent power. God spoke the world into existence, and I write worlds of my own into existence. I also definitely agree that poetry makes for great incantations. A tangent — I was talking to my mother about this, and she intuited that the reason the Tetragrammaton is unpronounceable is because it requires harmonics. One person cannot pronounce it correctly. For example, one person chanting “om” is very different from a whole room of people chanting “om,” to the point where they all start harmonizing with each other into a chord that that is the music of the spheres. The Tetragrammaton must be chanted, but it would be nigh-impossible to get all the people on earth to chant it with the same intention and hit upon the right harmony. Still, it’s probably no accident that “om,” “awen,” and “Yahweh,” all sound very similar when chanted. It’s also no accident that the word “incantation” comes from a word meaning “to chant or sing,” as does “enchantment” and “goetia” and a bunch of other words related to magic. The section on alchemy explains what alchemy was, what the theory behind it was, and how the spiritual and the chemical aspects of alchemy relate to each other. I really appreciated the outline of the alchemical process as it relates to spiritual development, and the more explicit comparison between the spiritual process of alchemy and the chemical side. It wasn’t exactly detailed or comprehensive, certainly not designed to be a practical guide, but the summary was helpful. I admit, I had a hard time understanding the practical side of alchemy; beyond giving birth to modern chemistry, which is obviously an invaluable thing, what is practical alchemy supposed to do? Turning lead into gold is a metaphor, not something that’s literally possible, so what’s the point of practical alchemy? I tried asking Thoth himself that, and he said, “It is a physical representation of the spiritual side, like using altar tools or symbols, like casting a spell, like worshipping gods through statues. You could replicated it with dyed water, if you wanted the fun.” This book further validated that there is, really, no point — the practical side of alchemy is meant to mimic, and perhaps demonstrate, the process of spiritual transformation that alchemy actually is. The raw material of alchemy is you. The salt is your body, the mercury is the divine spark within you. “Born of God and Void. You are the Vessel…” Alchemists who hadn’t figured that out spent all their time playing with chemicals and inadvertently inventing chemistry. It calls to mind a certain famous quote about the Philosopher’s Stone… “Only a person who wanted to find the Stone, find it, but not use it, would be able to get it.” If your intention is literally to make gold, then you’ve missed the point, and you won’t find the Stone. The book also validated something I’ve noticed, that every profound occult secret ends up being painfully obvious: “And when at last the final illumination came and the secret dawned in all its splendour on his mind, he would find that the work was not difficult at all and would scarcely be able to understand how he had been so blind before.” Yep, that’s how it works. I still don’t feel like I’m capable of transmutation, but I know that to the gods it comes so easily, they don’t have to spend any energy on it. If I want them to tell me how to do it, I have to ask more specific questions or else they’ll just assume it’s obvious, like an intermediate ballet student asking how to do first position. The section on astrology was mostly stuff I knew. It covers the basics of natal astrology, mundane astrology, and practical day-to-day astrology, as well as addressing some of the controversies that have surrounded astrology. I did learn a few interesting tidbits. For example, a conjunction between Mars and Saturn is a very bad omen that indicates plague, and there was one on March 31st 2020. Of course there was. Also, the precise date for when the Age of Aquarius is supposed to begin varies dramatically, but this book puts it around the year 2000. If it began in 2000, then with the Jupiter/Saturn conjunction in Aquarius on the Winter Solstice, we must have entered phase 2. Also, according to some astrologers, the Star of Bethlehem might have been a Jupiter/Saturn conjunction. (I saw it through a thin haze, and it looked like Venus.) The section ends with a description of the way planetary influences are traditionally used in magic, i.e. planetary talismans and planetary days/hours and the like. The next chapter is on ceremonial magic. This is the grimoires and all the old-school stuff that’s designed to summon spirits. So, that means needing “virgin” material, long and complicated purification procedures, burning animal brains apparently… Maybe it shows a lack of dedication on my part that I don’t fast for days or make brand new materials by hand or gather all the planetary ingredients or memorize those long incantations or even so much as draw a physical circle on the floor, but hey, my Goetic evocations went pretty well so whatever I’m doing must work. Honestly, if I hadn’t already succeeded at that, I may have been scared out of it by some of the horror stories in this book. Then again, does anyone really follow the grimoires’ instructions to the letter? Is it even possible to do that? These procedures are probably meant to be impractical. I’m not sure if anyone has actually burned a cat’s brain as incense just because it corresponds to Saturn. Or draw the circle on strips of animal skin nailed down by nails from a child’s or murderer’s coffin. The whole second section of this chapter is about animal sacrifices in the grimoires, the frenzy of the sacrifice contributing to the energetic load that causes the spirit to manifest. As a general rule, don’t harm animals for magic! Even if an old Renaissance-era book or Eliphas Levi says so! Cavendish seems to agree with me that all the details aren’t really necessary, saying that “success seemed to be obtained more in spite of the ceremony than because of it.” This chapter provides a summary of a summoning ritual with full incantations from the Lemegeton. My own Goetic work wasn’t exactly a summoning ritual as described in the Lemegeton. I didn’t work myself into a frenzy, I just sat there with a book. It probably was pretty uninteresting to look at. I didn’t see any spirits or any other manifestations, apart from a few images inside my mind. Maybe I did it wrong, but even if I did, I got exactly what I wanted out of it. I heard the spirits’ “voices” inside my mind and interviewed each one of them. That’s what I came for, so I say I was successful. I still don’t know whether I should have treated them differently, but it was a good first attempt. The section on the Goetia in this book is evocatively called “The Lords of Darkness,” beginning with a Tolkien quote about the Nazgul. It describes how most of the demons described in the Lemegeton and Pseudomonarchia Demonium are just other people’s gods. This section closes off by discussing necromancy and low magic. Apparently necromancy is “the ugliest and most dangerous of magical operations,” which I would not agree with, but of course by “necromancy” he’s referring to grisly old-school rituals meant to raise a spirit by means of an actual corpse, and not to just any act of communication with the dead. These rituals involved dressing in grave-clothes and eating dog’s flesh and unfermented grape juice (oh no, not grape juice!), and evoking Hecate. Apparently no one can look at Hecate and remain sane, so Hecate is officially a Lovecraftian eldritch abomination now, which I honestly have no problem with (so long as I don’t have to see her in that form). Hecate’s historical rituals definitely weren’t pretty, whatever some modern moon-goddess Neopagans might have you think. Some PGM spells require that you burn feces as a sacrifice to her, so yeah, none of this really surprises me. No sense in going to all the trouble of these gruesome rituals to get a few questions answered. Automatic Writing works well enough for me. The section on low magic does not concern modern herbalism or any more practical folk magic, but ancient love spells, mandrake lore, the Hand of Glory, and other stuff like that. That’s because this is a book of black magic, not white magic (as it were). The first section of the chapter on devil-worship concerns how the idea of Satan originated, and changed from a prosecuting angel to a fallen angel to the de facto god of evil and opposing force to the Almighty. I knew most of it, but I’m surprised Ahriman and Ahura-Mazda weren’t mentioned. Satanism, as described in this chapter, is more of a “bad is good and good is bad” anti-Christianity than actual modern Satanism. Cavendish says that people who practice this anti-Christianity are probably rare. I don’t really feel bothered or insulted by this like I did with Oberon Zell-Ravenheart, because in 1967, LaVeyan Satanism had only just become a thing and the modern Satanic movement hadn’t really taken off yet. Instead, he discusses existing religions that are subversions of traditional Christian thought, like Gnosticism (which teaches that God is evil and that the whole world is ruled by evil beings called “archons,” which must be defied by any means possible — honestly sounds like an “Illuminati”-type conspiracy theory), and alleged or accused Satanists like (medieval) German “Luciferians” and the Templars. A lot of the accusations made against these groups were also made later against “witches.” The difference between “witchcraft” and the ceremonial magic described in the previous chapter is that, while ceremonial magicians command and control demons in the name of God, (historical) witches are subservient to and worship the demons. Right out of the gate, Cavendish dismisses the Murray theory (and this was written back when it was popular), but he also suspects that the trials must have been based on some existing thing: “Witches and Satanists exist today and it is likely that they existed in the past, if only in small numbers.” I disagree with Cavendish on this matter. I don’t think there was ever a real witch-cult, be they pagans or Satanists or anything in between. It is definitely uncomfortable that he uses the word “witch” to refer to these devil-worshippers, but it’s clear he’s referring to the conception of witches in the Early Modern Period, regardless of whether they were real or not. He provides numerous accounts and confessions about the witches’ sabbath and what it consists of — eating the flesh of babies, massive orgies, blasphemies, etc. Cavendish suggests that witches show contempt for the Eucharist in particular because those who do magic already have the powers of God. I really appreciate his attempts to trace all of these common characteristics of the witches’ sabbath to their origins. I like his theory that the similarities between the witches’ sabbath and Dionysian worship or other pagan practices that it has no empirical connection to indicate the survival of similar ideas, rather than practices. The closest Cavendish gets to actually mentioning Wicca is this: “Modern witches are extremely secretive and very little about their beliefs and practices is known to outsiders. There are said to be as many as six thousand of them in England, with the number steadily increasing. Like other magicians, they insist that they are devoted to good works. Their wax images are intended to heal the sick and far from blasting crops or eating babies, they try to assist the fertility of Nature. […] The witches worship a moon-goddess, whose name is secret, but who is probably Diana, and a sun-god who may be Lucifer. They believe in reincarnation and a Lord of the Underworld who determins when and where the witches will be reborn. This Lord is perhaps Lucifer as black sun and also perhaps Cernunnos the horned god. The witches say that their goddess, the Queen of Heaven and All Living, went down to the underworld and mated with the Lord, which is a version of the myth of Persephone…” The next paragraph goes on to say that witches (Wiccans) are “heavily affected” by the Murray theory, base their rituals on ancient paganism, that they celebrate the four Celtic festivals, and that they perform their rituals naked. “Whether they adore the black bulk of the Goat, squatting on its altar, is not known, but they say that their rites bring them a profound sense of security and peace.” And… that’s it. Clearly, Cavendish doesn’t know much about Wicca, and I don’t know if that’s simply because it isn’t his field or because Wicca hadn’t gained enough of a presence in the mainstream for him to know. He doesn’t mention Gerald Gardner in the witchcraft section at all, despite Gardner enthusiastically calling himself a witch. The only mention of Gardner is in the ceremonial magic chapter: “Gerald Gardner, a member of a modern witch coven, says that witches work naked, so as not to impede the release of magical force which their ceremonies generate in their bodies.” And that’s it! Wicca obviously did not have the cultural traction that it has now, which is why I don’t begrudge Cavendish for using the word “witchcraft” to refer to devil-worship. The word “witchcraft” meant something different then than it does now. The final section of the book is about the use of Mass in magic, and the perversion of it into the “Black Mass,” a sort of variant of the witches’ sabbath where Satanists worship the devil by subverting the Mass. So, using a naked woman’s body as the altar, defiling the holy wafer, more orgies, etc. etc. It all sounds very edgy to me. I’m not sure if anyone actually has performed a Black Mass or if it’s just a shock-value urban legend type thing. Cavendish helpfully points out that most occultists don’t believe in Satan, believing that God is the whole of the universe, good and evil, and to separate it into a “good” and an “evil” is to miss the point, “failure to understand the true nature of the universe.” I agree with that, and it’s nice to have my sentiments validated. I think that, despite this book’s age, it’s still a very good theoretical introduction to the history of and concepts behind occultism. Most of the flaws in this book come from it simply being out of date in some places. I definitely recommend it for anyone who wants to know more about old-school magic, and it’s also a good resource for writers who want to add some realism to their magic systems without studying occultism in-depth. Practicing occultists probably won’t be exposed to any new information, but there’s a lot in here, and I definitely liked having a thorough summary.
"The Witch's Path" Response
Thorn’s first chapter is on what exactly a witch is, and thank the gods for that. It’s worth reading this book just for this chapter alone, because that’s the big question that has plagued me. Thorn astutely points out that, while the word “witch” means different things to different people, all magical practices across cultures can not be generalized as “witchcraft.” This runs the risk of being appropriative, dismissive, even offensive or colonialist. No, witches do not exist in all cultures, even if magic does. So what’s a witch, and what distinguishes witchcraft? Based on this chapter, Thorn considers witchcraft to consist of the following: 1. Witches are outsiders. There’s lots of different kinds of magic-users, but witches are the ones that are often marginalized or whispered about behind their backs. They’re the ones that live in the spooky cottage or the imposing mansion at the edge of town. To quote Granny Weatherwax, “No one likes a witch until they need one.” That doesn’t mean that witches can’t have friends, or always have bad reputations, or are mired in Not-Like-Other-Girls edginess. It means that witches are, somehow, set apart from their wider communities while also being integral to them. They question the status quo, upend institutions, use their magical power to shape the world as they see fit without asking permission. As Thorn succinctly puts it, “Witches are scary. Period.” 2. Witches are liminal. Witches exist on the edges of things, not only in a social sense but also in a spiritual sense. Almost all witches practice some form of astral travel, or “hedgecrossing.” To be a witch is to be a bridge between this world and the next. They can walk between this world, the Otherworld, and the Underworld. They guard the gateways between them. “Some you can see and some you can’t, but there are doors, Tiffan.” 3. Witches practice “low” magic: Witches practice magic that is intended to solve relatively mundane problems and address more practical concerns, as opposed to spiritual enlightenment or ascension. That doesn’t mean that witches can’t do the latter, but it does mean that the latter is not, strictly speaking, witchcraft. “Low” magic has historically been practiced by marginalized people with little power, who use magic to have control over their daily lives. This is actually why I’ve hesitated to call myself a witch — I do little practical “low” magic (as of this writing). Because of Wicca, theurgy (deity work) has increasingly become associated with witchcraft and even considered foundational, but theurgy is technically not witchcraft in and of itself. (Though, having read the PGM, I maintain that the line between folk magic and ceremonial magic is pretty thin.) 4. Witches work directly with “low” spirits: Familiar spirits, ghosts of the dead, fairies, daemons and genii, spirits of the land, animistic entities of plants and animals, etc. Witches make these spirits serve them, or enter into some sort of partnership with them, instead of worshipping them the way you would a god. This doesn’t mean that witches can’t also worship “high” spirits like deities, but witchcraft seems to be defined by making these “low” spirits do your bidding. Overall, I think this is an excellent working definition. It rings true for me, and also helps me to distinguish witchcraft from everything else. I might revise it a bit after reading Ronald Hutton’s book, but I feel more like I know what a witch is now, so that’s good! So, this means the reason I have hesitated to call myself a witch is because I don’t do a lot of low magic. Although magic and spellcraft is what I began studying occultism for in the first place, I haven’t found a method or tradition of folk magic that suits me. The new stuff feels way too “fluffy” and kitschy for my taste, and the old stuff is often impractical and unethical. I also tend to forget that magic is even an option! When I do cast spells, they work, but I don’t do them very often. Spellcraft on the physical plane also feels very awkward to me for personal reasons, and feeling self-conscious actually reduces the power and strength of my intentions. So, that’s another hurdle. I think the best thing for me to do going forward is to dive into formal research on folk magic. It is past time for me to separate witchcraft from theurgy and religion, and study folk magic by itself, so I can see how it works and adapt it into something that suits me. I’m not sure if I’m a witch now, but I will be eventually, once practical magic becomes second-nature to me. Thorn’s second chapter is on sacred space, and finding new ways to cleanse and revitalize sacred space as life gets in the way. I’ve been looking for a way to cleanse that I feel comfortable with. In Hellenism, there’s the concept of miasma, a type of spiritual “dirt” that we accumulate just by living (miasma is technically a sort of stain upon the soul caused by taboos or acts of evil, but it’s often used by modern Hellenists to refer to “spiritual dirt”). I know that I carry around a lot of negative energy that I gain from interacting with people or reading upsetting things on the internet, and I know I make it worse by stewing and spinning in it on purpose. It worsens my mental health, and disconnects me from the relative ease and happiness of my actual life, and makes it harder to connect with the divine. I’ve been looking for a way to clear it that’s practical — visualization often isn’t strong enough, fire and smoke often isn’t available, herb-infused water is too much of a hassle. I appreciate Thorn dedicating a whole chapter to this. She suggests physically decluttering a spiritual space, and clearing off one’s altar entirely. I actually took Thorn’s advice and cleared off my entire altar. The altar itself was in desperate need of cleaning, and it felt good to place everything back on it, even if it looks mostly the same now. I also really liked that Thorn emphasized the importance of mental health. She included a section about self-care, and the importance of maintaining healthy relationships. She also included some useful exercises, like a simplified LBRP and some elemental cleansing techniques. The third chapter is on devotion, and Thorn covers a lot of important facets of it that I’ve observed over the years. She points out that, while we are told to expect little from our magical and divine experiences (i.e. “it’s not like in the movies”)… why shouldn’t we? It’s possible to have extraordinary experiences if we’re open to them. She addresses the uncomfortable relationship some witches have to the words “worship” and “devotion,” but emphasizes that both should be based in love rather than fear or obligation. Much of what she says about deities are things that I myself have said on Quora. She expands the definition of ancestor veneration to include people among the dead who have influenced you positively, not just people you are biologically related to or descended from. She also picks apart that pet peeve of mine, the idea that witchcraft is necessarily “earth-based” or “nature-based.” What does that actually mean? She encourages connecting with the land you actually live on, however developed, instead of some romanticized or generic notion of “nature” as a whole. She also includes spiritual development of the self in this chapter. There’s not a lot in that section, since a whole separate book could be written about personal spiritual development and the Great Work, but I appreciate that it was included. I haven’t thought of self-development as devotional, but it really is. The fourth chapter is on magic and ritual, and here I feel like Thorn puts voice to my own thoughts. Rituals, she writes, are a means of assigning meaning to life and creating a semblance of order, something we can control. They also facilitate the right mindsets for magic. Magic, meanwhile, is oddly stigmatized. To paraphrase Terry Pratchett, the first thing a witch learns after learning magic is not to use it. Why? Thorn recounts having held off on doing any practical work for years, because all of her books warned her that she would offend the gods or attract malignant spirits if she went for it too soon and made a mistake. We in the occult community tend to disparage the use of magic for mundane personal gain, instead of selfless healing or higher spiritual development. Why? Why write off our magical power as purely psychological, just intention and changing one’s mindset, when we could instead believe we have real power? What’s really wrong with power? I had to ask myself this recently, because I realized I was putting a lot of unnecessary limits on my own power (anxiety and shame). If I removed those fetters, I’d have to confront the existential and eldritch reality of my own power, and that was almost too much to bear. I asked if I was just deluded or being hubristic, and pulled The Magician (I guess tarot sometimes does answer yes/no questions). I like how Thorn tells the reader that ritual can be playful, and that leaning into the ridiculous and childish nature of it is a way to dismiss our self-consciousness or self-doubt; that part of gaining power is doing serious work without taking it too seriously, or trying to make it respectable. It’s validating to know I’m not the only witch out there who started studying occultism as a way of maintaining the magic of childhood, or perhaps as a way of gaining it back. I also like knowing that I wasn’t the only person influenced by The Egypt Game! (I actually recreated that book with my own friends in my basement, when I was around nine.) Practicing magic, having a secret (but benign) double life, and the psychodrama of ritual is fun and cool! She also highlights that the reason baneful magic is so often presented as taboo by 90’s-era witchcraft media, is because of the Satanic Panic. I can’t believe I never made that connection before! It makes perfect sense. The reason why the real and fictional witches of that decade were benign white witches that only did magic for the good of others and would never dream of hexing and definitely did not worship Satan, was because Wicca sought to distance itself from the perceptions of occultism fueled by the Satanic Panic. That seems to have mostly worked, since I’ve never met anyone but the most fundamentalist of Christians who genuinely thinks that Wiccans worship the Devil. But it also explains why Wicca feels oddly separate from the rest of Western occultism, which it is very much apart of. It explains why Wicca 101 spellbooks are often so damn “fluffy,” when historical folk magic barely draws a distinction between baneful and benign magic. (As of this writing, I still haven’t found an in-between that suits me as a practitioner. Except maybe sigils.) It also explains the popularity of the “Burning Times” persecution narrative — it seems silly and misinformed now, but it must have made sense then. Why isn’t the effect of the Satanic Panic on real occultists talked about more often? (I didn’t live through it, so now I’m curious.) Now, in this decade, the pendulum has swung in the other direction. Old practices of baneful magic are being reclaimed, which is largely a good thing, but then you have naïve witches trying to hex the moon or hurling baneful magic at each other on TikTok. Thorn advises that, if you’re going to use magic as a weapon, treat it like one. I agree with that. With great power comes great responsibility, and magic deserves to be treated with gravitas. There’s other great advice in this chapter: Magic doesn’t look dramatic or flashy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working. Magic doesn’t come naturally to everybody, but if you aren’t having intense spiritual experiences, that doesn’t make you powerless or defective. Sometimes traditional setups or practices may not “click” for you, and you’ll have to alter them somehow to make them work effectively (I figured this out relatively quickly, but it seems to have taken Thorn a while). She recommends setting attainable goals with magic before shooting for more unlikely ones, thinking through what you actually want, and being specific about what you want and when. She suggests making your own Sabbats based on annual events that actually have an impact on your life, especially natural ones. She also recommends questioning intrinsic ritual practices in your tradition, like gender roles, elemental associations, setups, etc., to the point where it makes you uncomfortable. I think this is a great idea! It’s experimental, and it helps you dissociate your magical power from the specific associations of any particular tradition or ritual. Next is the chapter on practice, and this is what I feel like I really needed from this book. I’ve been feeling like an armchair magician. I’ve done a ton of research, and definitely expanded my theoretical knowledge of both occultism and paganism during these pandemic years. But I don’t do rituals on the full and dark moon anymore, I don’t cast spells very often, I don’t do regular devotionals… I stopped calling myself a witch a while ago because I didn’t feel like I did enough practical magic to deserve the title of “witch.” And that’s actually quite sad, and ironic, because the practical magic is what I came for in the first place. Thorn makes a lot of good and helpful points: One is that a lot of things can be praxis, not just ritual and spellcraft. Writing about theory online could actually count as praxis, depending on how I do it — indeed, I do think that teaching magic to fellow Quorans is part of my practice! I also have gotten really good at tarot reading in these past few years, and that counts. I talk to gods all the time, and that definitely counts. Another thing Thorn mentions is that witchcraft often requires a complete overhaul of one’s mindset and relationship to the world. Believing in your own power is hard. The most powerful spell I can cast, I realized, is: If I believe everything is okay, it is. That flies right in the face of everything our rational minds and bodies tell us about living, but that’s exactly why it’s magic. My biggest problem is doing anything regularly and consistently, but since I’m restructuring my entire life anyway, it makes sense to add ritual work to my agenda and see what happens. My other problem is planning out rituals; this is actually why I don’t do them very often. Planning them is a pain in the ass (and for me, that’s true of everything, not just ritual). I’ll take Thorn’s advice and focus on small and achievable goals for now. I like her “Witch’s ladder” idea! Most of what Thorn says about study is already familiar to me. I’m very proud of my scholarly skills! But I appreciated her rundown of how to tell the good books from the bad ones, and I’ll probably be citing it on future answers on the subject. She says a lot of the things that I say, like, people who are interested in learning magic should really get as intensely specific as possible about what they want to learn. (I’ve defaulted to recommending Hands-On Chaos Magic as an all-purpose manual.) I remember it took me a long time to switch from the generic and repetitive beginner books to the more advanced stuff, and a big piece of that was getting more specific — diving into each occult field individually. I’m happy to know I’m not the only one who felt that way. I also completely agree with Thorn about looking at bibliographies. I found the invaluable Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery by Lyndy Abraham from a bibliography in another book, and it was worth having bought that book just because it directed me to the dictionary. I also found the uncanny and weird Our Name is Melancholy in the bibliography of one of Silver RavenWolf’s books, and Thorn’s own list of recommendations has some promising titles in it. Thorn gives English teacher’s advice on how to be actively engaged with what you’re reading. She also advises that you go back through your beginner books and actually try all the exercises that they suggest, instead of just skimming through them. (I know I really should do that with Hands-On Chaos Magic. It’s not called that for nothing.) I like Thorn’s tips about good discernment when it comes to reading material, and how to get out of an “armchair witch” rut. I also like her insights about needing to “unlearn” bad information. Next is Thorn’s advice about finding witchcraft communities. I’m very grateful for the communities I’ve found here on Quora in my own spaces, Book of Shadows and Forbidden Knowledge. But I definitely struggle with finding communities in real life. Thorn provides useful tips for noticing red flags and avoiding toxic people in communities. She also describes how to start a pagan community in your area. None of this helps kill my fear of social interaction, but it is comforting to know that I’m not alone and that I can build a community of like-minded people from scratch if I really want to. If I can’t find them, I can summon them! It would be challenging from a logistics perspective, but if I could start an Egypt Game group in fourth grade, why not? Thorn encourages the reader to determine what they expect from a community, what they hope to get out of it, and how they’d like it to function. She reminds the reader that groups change and evolve into other things over time, that there are many sources of and avenues towards community, and that it isn’t necessary to put up with drama. Right after saying that she isn’t a therapist and isn’t qualified to be one at the end of the previous chapter, Thorn provides a chapter that discusses how to handle psychological challenges like feeling unmotivated, disconnected, or overwhelmed by mundane life. You don’t have to be super-witchy all the time. Don’t listen to the people who tell you you’re not a real witch, or to the internal voice of imposter syndrome. She honestly could be a therapist, because all of her advice is helpful. What I like the most about this chapter is the exercise, which is a series of questions for you to answer in your Book of Shadows about why you like witchcraft. Why do you practice it? What gets you excited about it? What do you want to get out of it? How does it make your life better? All really good questions that are worth contemplating in-depth. I recommend this book to anyone interested in witchcraft, whether they’re a beginner or an advanced practitioner. It’s a practical guide, not to witchcraft itself, but to implementing the study and practice of it in your everyday life. Not enough books address how to actually do that, and this book brings up so many relatable problems and feelings. It encourages you to ask yourself complex and insightful questions about your approach to your own practice. I really appreciate how down-to-earth Thorn is throughout this book, how she really seems to understand the kinds of problems and doubts her readers might be facing, and how she encourages them to really look inward and figure things out for themselves. I really needed this. Maybe I’ll start calling myself a witch again.
"The Crooked Path" Review
I’m not done studying Hermeticism yet, but the next big field of magic on my list to study is folk magic. I realize I don’t know enough about folk magic. I’ve gotten it through the filter of Wicca, or through the PGM, but I don’t feel like I’ve absorbed much folk magic that I can actually… y’know… use. So much of folk magic seems impractical to me, utilizing ingredients I don’t have access to or being too Abrahamic for my taste. I haven’t done a lot of spellwork (in comparison to theurgy and the like), and most of what I have done is an awkward form of sigil magic. This is a shame, because spellwork was the reason I became interested in occultism in the first place! I stopped calling myself a witch because I didn’t do enough practical “low” magic for it to feel right, and it’s about time I learned it. I’m finally cycling back around to witchcraft, and this time I know what to search for. So, I’m starting off with The Crooked Path by Kelden, which is an introduction to Traditional Witchcraft. Traditional Witchcraft, at least how Kelden presents it, is mainly based in the British tradition of cunning folk. It’s spiritual, but also practical — very firmly rooted in the pragmatic application of magic. It’s hedge witchery. Kelden explains in the introduction how he was originally taken in by Wicca, but ended up forgoing it for the older and more irregular practice of Traditional Witchcraft. I have no idea if this will end up being my path, but it seems like a decent place to start. Up until now, I’ve considered Traditional Witchcraft to be basically Wicca with the serial numbers filed off — I assumed it’s all the same sort of stuff, and certainly the same aesthetic, but without the doctrines and rituals that are specific to the religion of Wicca. This is not accurate. Though Traditional Witchcraft owes a lot to Wicca and related movements from the twentieth century, it owes just as much to folklore. I’m intrigued by the emphasis on developing a working practice out of folklore. I like that Kelden draws a distinction between drawing from historical sources, and drawing from folklore. Concepts like the Witches’ Sabbath, flying ointments, and familiar spirits are not necessarily grounded in any sort of historical tradition (especially if they come from confessions under torture), but knowing that, modern witches can still use these ideas to inform their practice. Kelden associates three specific practices with Traditional Witchcraft: folk magic, hedge-crossing, and reverence for nature. This means that Traditional Witches perform practical magic, travel to the Otherworld to work with spirits, and work directly with the natural world. Kelden provides a brief but nuanced take on the role of religion (or lack thereof) in Traditional Witchcraft — not all witches are pagan, not all witches are theists, and many traditional spells are Christian or syncretic.* I breathed a sigh of relief, because I was afraid that this book was going to be based in a vague, wishy-washy Wiccanate paganism in the manner of Grimoire for the Apprentice Wizard. I regret my initial assumptions, because I really sold Kelden short. This book is well-sourced. It references medieval and Renaissance-era Christian lore, upon which much of the cunning tradition is based. It contains a succinct but really interesting and useful history of modern witchcraft, describing the various witchcraft traditions that sprung up around Wicca. The only one I was previously familiar with was Feri; I’d never heard of 1734 or the Clan of Tubal Cain. I’d also never heard of Cecil Williamson, which is criminal. And there’s no airy-fairy, pseudo-historical nonsense about vaguely-defined ancient pagans worshipping the moon goddess! Though Traditional Witchcraft still takes a lot of cues from Wicca, it is less like Wicca than I expected. Differences include a heavier emphasis on folklore as a resource, animism, more direct and personalized interaction with the natural world (as opposed to a standardized Wheel of the Year), and explicitly including baneful magic. Based on the information in this book, Traditional Witchcraft seems to “fix” many of my personal grievances with Wicca. For one thing, Traditional Witchcraft rituals tend to be more idiosyncratic than standardized, which works better for me. I’ve realized that I’m working “backwards” with respect to certain magical skills, and it’s far more productive to adapt techniques to suit the skills I already have than to try to force myself into a system that doesn’t work for me. Traditional Witchcraft rituals are also more ecstatic, in contrast to Wicca’s very ceremonial rituals. I definitely prefer the ecstatic kind. I quickly grew weary of rituals that consisted mainly of reading long verses out of a book or off of a website, and the stress of having to plan and set up rituals deterred me from doing them. Many of my own best rituals have been spontaneous. A more ecstatic practice also better suits the particular gods I work with. Kelden does describe the gods associated with Traditional Witchcraft in similar duotheistic terms. This book’s discussion of theurgy is brief, simplistic, and still very Wiccan. But it also makes the point that many witches have differing conceptions of divinity (or none at all), which is reassuring. I’m very tired of the Horned God/Triple Goddess, but Kelden has one of the most interesting takes on this concept that I’ve seen in years. He comes right out and says that the Witch Father (which is what he calls the Horned God) is the Devil. By this, he means that the folkloric conception of the Devil is more intrinsically associated with witchcraft than any other entity. The Devil has some very pagan dimensions, even on his own. Regardless of however much the Devil has been directly influenced by pagan deities, he occupies the same “space” in folklore that would have been filled by pagan deities in a pre-Christian context. He assumes whatever roles and aspects that the Christian God won’t touch. That doesn’t mean that Kelden or that any other Traditional Witch is necessarily a Satanist, but it does mean that the Devil in folklore informs the Traditional Witch’s conception of the masculine Divine. I really, really like this. It’s a nice middle ground between Margaret-Murray-ism and the edginess of Satanism. Everything Kelden said about the characterization of the Witch Lord (a bringer of enlightenment, tricksterish, likes dance and sexuality, dual-natured, both frenzied and somber, associated with life and death, represents the Shadow and primal aspects of the psyche) resonates for me, because that’s Dionysus. Much of what he said about the Witch Mother also resonated — that she facilitates initiation, that she presides over birth and death, and that she is a cosmic wellspring from which the universe is generated. Despite how jaded I have become with the duotheistic model, I am starting to warm up to these archetypes again, swinging back around to them after having been devastated by the amount of modern constructs and outright fabrications that surround them. The two gods I’m closest to, Dionysus and Hecate, embody these archetypes perfectly — even in their original (pre-Christian, pre-Wiccan) forms. Traditional Witchcraft is more ethically neutral than Wicca (or at least, mainstream Wicca) because it is grounded in the folk magic of disenfranchised people who didn’t have any other way of standing up for themselves. Kelden emphasizes that one should not haphazardly cast curses, hexes, banishments, and bindings, but that one should always know how to cast them if the need arises. This dual approach to magic is appealing to me. Turns out I actually know much more about folk magic than I thought I did, because all of the techniques that Kelden outlines are ones I’m familiar with. I wish he went into more detail about how to adapt historical spells into modern ones, because that’s where I feel I have the most trouble, but it may be that I’m overthinking it. I really like having the examples of workable spells that have been derived from these older sources. Like most witchcraft books, this one describes the method of hedge-crossing to be quieting down one’s body and mind through deep breathing exercises, to trigger an Out-of-Body-Experience. I’ve never experienced an OBE, not even once. This led me to believe that I’m incapable of hedge-crossing, when I’m actually really, really good at it. I just have a weird way of doing it. Quieting my body and mind down makes me more aware of my physical discomfort and more present in the real world. I travel to the Otherworld when I pace, or otherwise keep my body occupied with repetitive movement. I’ve had some pretty spectacular experiences like this, and I’m working on structuring my practice around them. I’ve even experienced the “Witches’ Sabbath” in meditation before, which I realized while reading this book. (Just like with the Devil, Kelden puts a positive spin on the concept of a “Witches’ Sabbath,” describing it as an otherworldly festival attended by witches and various types of spirits. You can go there to do business with spirits, perform magic, or just have fun.) I still hope to have an OBE someday, but if I don’t, I understand I’m not missing anything. Because of my unconventional methods, I don’t know how to explain hedge-crossing to newbie practitioners, so I’m glad I now have this book as a resource to point to. I also really appreciate the recipe for non-toxic flying ointment. The final section of this book is about communing with nature, which I have something of an ambivalent relationship with. On the one hand, I scoff at the notion that paganism in general is “nature-based.” Paganism thrived just as well in ancient metropolises that celebrated their “dominion” over nature. And there are so many different varieties of paganism, that generalizing them all as Druid-stereotype tree-hugging is, at best, reductive. On the other hand, I do really like being in nature. It improves my mental health. I ended up spending a lot of time in the nearby forest at my school. And, I distinctly remember that the most witchy I have ever felt was when I was dancing in my front yard with a hoop made from a wisteria vine. I haven’t been as interested in the wortcunning side of witchcraft, but I won’t pretend that the natural world holds no interest for me or has no relevance to my practice. As a child, I built fairy-houses in nearby trees and left food offerings. Who says I couldn’t do that now? I think my biggest hurdle is that I see local plants as mundane and boring in comparison to mandrake and mugwort, so I don’t really know how to magically engage with them. Kelden has some great advice about how to discover the “virtues” (correspondences) of native plants, rocks, and animals, and about how to safely work with poisonous plants for baneful magic. I also appreciate his advice about adapting the Wheel of the Year to suit your own seasonal patterns and landscape, as well as the spiritual/cultural associations that are actually important to you — no sense in celebrating agricultural or pastoral milestones if you’re not a farmer or a herder! Kelden closes off the book with a short chapter about how to actually apply all of the information in the book. Not enough beginner books do that. Establishing a regular practice is still something I haven’t quite gotten down, so even though it’s a short little section, any help is welcome. Color me impressed! I liked this book more, and got more out of it, than I expected. I loved how accessible it was. It was a really easy and fast read (this is the quickest I’ve gotten through an occult book in a while). Kelden does a great job of distinguishing where all these different ideas or practices come from — which bits of folklore, which preexisting occult traditions, which primary sources, when it’s UPG, etc. The Crooked Path somehow walks the line between having just enough specificity to not feel generic (i.e. it’s a guide to a particular tradition), and being universally applicable enough to work for people of different creeds and locales. There are some things I would change: Kelden could have included more advice about how to connect with the natural world when one lives in a completely urban environment, and the Otherworld chapter could have used a section dedicated to Shadow Work. But this is still one of the best and most accessible beginner books I’ve read in a long time. I’m definitely going to start recommending it as a non-denominational intro-to-witchcraft book, of which there aren’t many. Not that it’s bad to start with Wicca, but you have to know that’s what you’re doing; my biggest problem with Wicca 101 books is that most of them make certain beliefs/practices/approaches seem universal when they’re actually distinctly Wiccan, or draw no distinction between Wicca and witchcraft: “Witches” worship the Horned God and the Moon Goddess. “Witches” celebrate the eight Sabbats and Full/Dark Moons. “Witches” cast the circle and perform the Great Rite with the chalice and blade. “Witches” greet each other with “Blessed Be” or “Merry Meet,” and seal every spell with “so mote it be.” “Witches” follow the Rede. All of these things are features of Wicca specifically, but you have to know enough to be able to separate out the distinctly Wiccan aspects from everything else. As a neophyte who lacked that prior knowledge, I took all these things as a given. Early on, I frequently parroted “Wicca is a religion, witchcraft is a practice.” But somewhere along the line, I realized I didn’t know what that practice actually was. Wicca and witchcraft were so intertwined in my mind that I didn’t know what witchcraft looked like independently from Wicca. Traditional Witchcraft is still a specific path with its own history and associated practices, but it gives me a good idea of what “witchcraft” looks like on its own. It cuts out all the “unnecessary pomp” of the Golden-Dawn-esque ceremonialism and focuses only on the “low magic” stuff, giving me a better sense of what “witchcraft” is at its core, and providing me with a framework that I can more easily adapt. This book got me feeling witchy again, which is saying a lot. This is the most excited about witchcraft I’ve been in years, and Traditional Witchcraft scored a lot of points with me. I’m not comfortable with every aspect of it, but it gives me the freedom to change the things that don’t work for me. I read descriptions of other Traditional Witchcraft books on Amazon, and most of them also emphasized formulating an authentic and personalized craft based on one’s own environment. I wouldn’t expect something called “Traditional” to be so idiosyncratic; that seems a bit oxymoronic, but it’s also comforting and promising. If you’re a beginner and you’re interested in witchcraft, I highly recommend getting this book (or other books on Traditional Witchcraft) in addition to Wicca 101 books. That way, you can see what your options are, and select or combine practices as you see fit. * Note: The top critical review on Amazon is written by a person who seemed utterly appalled that so many of these traditional spells have God or Jesus or the Devil in them. That person does not seem to know very much about traditional British and American folk magic. If you have an anti-Abrahamic bias, I encourage you to put it aside when studying any kind of historical or historically-inspired folk magic (or ceremonial magic, for that matter). You can adapt these old Christian spells to suit any religion or spiritual tradition, and Kelden says as much.
"Basic Witches" Review/Response
I bought this book in a little shop on Victoria Street in Edinburg, the kind of shop that basically makes me say “SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY!” It had a lot of Harry Potter merch, but unlike the one across the street that was laid out almost like a department store, this one had an aesthetic to it. It was small and crammed with mystical stuff and actually felt like a shop on Diagon Alley, so that’s probably why I bought at least three things. Basic Witches: How to Summon Success, Banish Drama, and Raise Hell with your Coven by Jaya Saxena and Jess Zimmerman was one of them. I’d first seen it on Amazon, so I knew it existed, and I decided to buy it as soon as I saw the section titled “how to clothe yourself in literal darkness.” Online reviews of this book are mixed. The most common criticism is that it’s “tumblr witchcraft 101,” and contains almost nothing related to occultism. That’s true — this is not a book about witchcraft, it’s a feminist self-help book that uses the archetype of the witch as a means of empowerment. I understand the criticism. I too can easily picture the thirteen-year-old girl who goes around eagerly calling herself a witch after reading only this book. Yes, that would be cringeworthy. Yes, the part of the book where emojis are presented as the modern version of runes is even more cringey. But this book is very upfront with what it is and isn’t. It says outright, in the first few pages, that it is not about Wicca. It uses “witch” in the context of an archetype, that of a woman who is considered dangerous or rebellious in society: “a witch is any woman who understands she has power even when the world insists she doesn’t.” “Many women are taught from an early age that any power we have, even power over ourselves, is considered dangerous, but witches revel in that danger. Ambition, assertiveness, non-conformity, high standards, the ability to say no, control over your own body: all witchcraft, by our definition. Our witchcraft also means practicing arts that may be devalued because they’re too feminine: listening, supporting your friends, choosing clothes, applying makeup, crafts and cooking, taking care of people or animals, making and keeping friends, allowing yourself space. If you speak when you’re told to be quiet, take pride when you’re told to feel shame, love what and who you love whether or not others approve, you’re practicing witchcraft.” Honestly, I kind of like this. Wicca does not have a monopoly on the concept of witchcraft, and “witch” as a powerful and dangerous woman who has been ousted from society for her non-conformity is a real literary phenomenon. I definitely have insecurities around this, and I know I have to do psychological work around it. I’ve realized that the reason I haven’t been doing Goddess work is because I’m mentally uncomfortable with myself as a woman, and I could use some reclaiming of that. I also don’t have any problems with this book being focused around women because it gives a good reason why without dismissing men or nonbinary people who might also be interested, and it doesn’t make any sexist or TERFy comments. Nor does it place an unsettling amount of emphasis on women’s reproductive systems. So, although defining “witchcraft” as occult-flavored-feminism instead of actual occultism is a bit off-putting, I appreciate what this book is trying to do. It’s trying to help women embrace the power of being scary, of being perceived as a threat to the social order, of being in charge of her own destiny. It’s kind of edgy, but that’s also part of the point. I also think that magic(k) works really well as a self-help tool, because most of magic is reconditioning your brain to give yourself what you want. It’s exactly like Harry Potter pretending to slip Ron Felix Felicis to ensure that he would do well in the Quidditch match, but he hadn’t actually been given any lucky potion. For non-witches, the writers have a pretty good understanding of how and why magic works. If you remove the mystical and/or religious element from magic, then magic is simply retraining your brain to have better thought patterns. If all these rituals do is trick your brain to help you adapt to new and better paradigms, then that is magic! Using magical techniques and rituals to reconfigure your thinking and make your life better is the first step towards any “higher-level” magical work. Honestly, it’s the part of magic and occultism that I struggle the most with, since I’m not really inclined towards positive thinking. (I feel like I’m working backwards with regards to occultism, for multiple reasons. One is that theurgy comes more naturally to me than practical ‘low magic’ does.) I’ll be addressing each chapter separately. I will address them on their own merits as self-help, and also in the context of actual occultism. Glamour This chapter is all about learning how to change your appearance to enhance your self-esteem and confidence. It begins with that “how to clothe yourself in literal darkness,” which refers simply to wearing black, but reminds me a lot of my concept of ‘folds’ (still one of the best ideas I’ve ever come up with). I like the idea that wearing black brings you “closer to infinity”—the vastness of the night sky, the deep ocean, the subconscious mind. That aligns very well with my ‘folds’ concept, which are magical garments that represent the subconscious Shadow displayed externally. This chapter also covers using clothes to deliberately alter your emotional state, like wearing layers to keep you emotionally guarded from the world, or bright colors or patterns for confidence. I think I unintentionally match my clothes to my emotional state a lot, and this is certainly a valid practice within occult fields. Pretty much any book on planetary magic will tell you to match the color of your clothing to the planetary influence you’re attempting to utilize. It’s only a small step from this to actually enchanting clothing by charging it with a particular emotional state, if it isn’t charged already. It also addresses color correspondences with regards to makeup, and encourages the reader to try out vivid or bolder colors instead of trying to go for the natural, “no makeup” look. The whole point is to push the boundaries of what makeup “should” look like, and wear the colors that make you happy and make you feel beautiful. I rarely wear makeup, but whenever I do, it tends to be part of costumes. Back in middle school, my friend invited me over for a makeover night and I painted my eyelids with teal and scarlet like a Cirqué de Soliel performer, because I literally did not know what else to do. That’s what makeup is for, right? What’s the point of putting all this goop on my face if I’m trying to look natural? Makeup is absolutely a form of shapeshifting. It’s as much a mask as those used in any shamanic or Dionysian ritual. Makeup has been decried as something only unsavory or manipulative women use, making it part of the “witch” archetype. This book points out that makeup, especially lipstick, has historically represented women’s control over their own bodies (which is, of course, scary). And although the book doesn’t say this, the only thing scarier than a woman wearing makeup is a man wearing makeup. Men wearing makeup is an even bigger sign of social defiance! Nothing says ‘f the patriarchy’ more than men acting in gender-non-conforming ways. Makeup is indeed a glamour, made to make you look subtly different to attract or intrigue or scare. If you add a genuine magical charge to it, just imagine the effect it can have. And this is coming from someone who doesn’t like makeup! (As an aside, I definitely recommend using bath bombs as magical tools. Nothing charges you with the energy of a color like literally bathing in it. Black bath bombs are the absolute best.) The next section is on hairstyles, particularly ones that aren’t considered “feminine” like a shaved head, a pixie cut, asymmetrical hair, or natural hair. I’m personally not a fan of short hair — I like long, flowing hair on women and men. I like the association of different haircuts with different kinds of spells, though — a shaved head is a banishing that gets rid of everything you don’t want, a pixie cut is a binding spell that is both masculine and feminine, asymmetrical hair is an illusion spell that looks different from different angles, etc. Once again, I can’t help but consider how an occultist could make such a spell literal instead of a metaphor. I don’t do anything with my hair other than brush it, though, so I’m not the right person to figure that out. Next is talismans, objects that we carry that we believe will give us luck or keep us safe or whatnot. It’s a short section, but still has a good brief explanation about why talismans have power because we believe they do. It also explains how to charge the talisman, by visualizing the emotion you want it to evoke or the effect you want it to have and pouring that feeling into the talisman. My only complaint is that its list of crystal correspondences is absolutely pitiful — amethyst, moonstone, turquoise, jade, opal, and rose quartz… and that’s it. Next up, perfume. It’s the same deal, associating scents with emotional states, but smells are already so emotionally charged and naturally linked to our memory. (I personally recommend everything on Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s site.) The next section is entitled “dapper magic” and, I’m pleased to say, is directed at people who prefer a more masculine or androgynous gender presentation. I really respect this book for including a section for men, androgynous women, or nonbinary people who aren’t into makeup and jewelry and whatnot. It suggests using more masculine accessories like ties or wristwatches as talismans, or charging your body wash or deodorant if you don’t like perfume. That means that although this book is focused on women, it does not exclude everyone else! Other witchcraft books have problems with that, so it’s excellent that this book doesn’t. Closing off is a short section about using skin-care products like sunscreen or moisturizer for protection or transformation or whatnot as an alternative to makeup. There are also a few simple rituals in this section for banishing the pressure to be feminine, or promoting self-care. Although I appreciate the intent, and intent is ultimately what matters, I don’t really like them. They’re a bit too simplistic, and a single spell isn’t often enough to deal with deep-seated issues. Also, why waste an entire lipstick tube like that? However, I also recognize that they might work well for some people. Writing down everything you like about yourself is still an important step towards improving your self-esteem. The problem is that it takes practice and self-awareness for the visualization rituals described in this book to actually work, and this book doesn’t go deep into what visualization and energy work actually are or how to do them. Emotionally charging objects or clothes or cosmetics sounds like a great idea to me, but I really struggle with it, and this book won’t help that. Healing This chapter begins with the authors saying outright that they are fans of Western medicine, and they encourage you to go to the doctor when you need to. That’s very important, because anti-medicine, anti-vax, and anti-science strains in witchcraft and occult communities are real and insidious! But, they also highlight a very real problem with modern Western medicine — it is not good at dealing with chronic problems. All doctors can really do is prescribe drugs or surgery, which is great if you have a major issue that needs to be quickly taken care of, but not great if you have chronic health issues. If it’s not something that can be diagnosed, Western medicine doesn’t know what to do with it. I haven’t had too many major health scares in my life, but I have loads of chronic problems that are mild enough that they’re (usually) not debilitating, but very annoying and seemingly impossible to get rid of. For me, things like homeopathy and ayurvedic medicine help to fill in the gaps. This book does not explain healthy use of herbal remedies (that’s a little beyond its depth), but it does explain the virtues of simple household folk remedies like aloe vera, ginger, turmeric, and green tea, which is a safe place to start. The next major section is a few self-care spells. Once again, I feel torn about the nature of these spells. The first one, saying positive things about yourself into a mirror, isn’t really a spell in any sense that a witch would recognize, but self-affirmation is very important. So, I’m left saying that if it sounds useful to you, more power to you! The second one does make use of a poppet (while emphasizing that so-called “voodoo dolls” have nothing to do with the religion — good on them!). The spell describes using the poppet to help you become more confident about your body. I really like the sentiment, since so many women obsess over body image, and learning to do what you want with the body you’ve got is a great thing to do for yourself. It makes use of a sigil to infuse the clay poppet with this intention, and mostly sounds like real magic. Here’s the problem — Hands-On Chaos Magic devoted entire chapters to explaining how to properly use the techniques described in this spell. I feel like the only reason I feel like I could do this spell, and have it work, is because I have that more complex foundation. At no point does this book explain what sympathetic magic is. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but to me it just feels lacking. This is followed up with a few “kitchen witchery” recipes that involve infusing food with intention, which I think are great! I’m not much of a kitchen person, but I do love food. My only issue is the “attract a lover” spell involving making caramelized apples with cinnamon — although it sounds innocent, and caramelized apples with cinnamon are delicious, it is still a targeted love spell. Targeted love spells are always ethically dubious at best. The last section is about fitness, encouraging you to take up swordplay as a form of exercise, which I am completely in support of! It also recommends dance, aerials, Quidditch, juggling (because of David Bowie in Labyrinth) and… shuffleboard (because apparently Bridget Bishop was accused of corrupting people through it). It also gives various calisthenics witchy associations. I have no issue with any of this, except that it has zero association with occultism. It follows this up with a ritual around binging Netflix. Apparently it’s supposed to release the guilt around being unproductive? Binge-watching is an important part of self-care, but I’m sorry, all this “ritual” does is encourage you to tap into your emotions, which is a more general thing you should be doing if you’re a witch. Minor complaints aside, the only real problem I have with this chapter is the Witch History section, which rides upon the common myth that the people who were targeted during the witch hunts were healers and midwives. It’s mostly based on an outdated book called Witches, Midwives, and Nurses by Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English. I have not read it, but apparently its argument is that the witch hunts were a result of the medical profession becoming male-dominated, leading to female medics being condemned as witches. It is my understanding that cunning folk were generally not the targets of persecution. They were generally protected by their communities, and were considered the first line of defense against diabolical witchcraft. And although some Renaissance treatises on witchcraft condemn midwives, midwives weren’t overwhelmingly persecuted either. As much as I love Lisa Tepes, the concept that women were systematically persecuted by the patriarchy for practicing effective medicine does not really exist outside of fiction, and it serves as a misleading propaganda piece. (References to this concept of witches as healers appears throughout the rest of the book. It’s fine as a metaphorical archetype, but isn’t that grounded in reality.) Summoning This chapter focuses on your social life, and uses the term “coven” to mean the group of people you hang out with. This rubs me the wrong way. Even though we’re using the word “witch” outside of an occult context, the word coven is more specific. In my opinion, a coven doesn’t necessarily have to be a formally structured initiation-only group, but it should at least be a ritual group, even if you only meet once a month on full moons to say a few devotional prayers and have some snacks. A coven is not simply an edgy word for a social circle. For that matter, a witch is not simply an edgy word for a feminist, but I’m somehow more willing to forgive that one. That aside, most of the advice in this section is pretty good. Building a social circle is definitely the hardest thing for me. At school, my life in quarantine doesn’t really look any different than it did before, except that some of my classes are online now. I still don’t have a group of friends, and it’s a big deal that I’ve even started to text occasionally with a few of my classmates. So, I appreciated some of the tips that this section had to offer. I particularly liked the simple tarot card spell to attract friendships by boosting your attractive qualities. I also like the protection circle spell to help you establish your own boundaries. I might actually try those. I also admire the emphasis this book places on being self-aware and vulnerable, letting your friends see your demons. Shadow-related things are always something I can get behind. I have mixed feelings about the spell that involves exchanging objects with a friend that represent insecurities, and reframing them as positive thoughts or qualities. Reframing your insecurities by using symbols is a good idea, but I can’t visualize a pair of friends actually doing it. I like the section about learning to effectively help your friends with emotional baggage, like a village wise woman and all. There’s a short interlude about pets that can be your familiars, listing the pros and cons of each. I’ve learned overtime that a familiar really is a spirit, not a pet, and although pets can certainly be familiars, not all pets are cut out for it. The section really is meant to be humorous — the last animal listed is a manatee, and its cons are “Confined to the water, illegal to touch in Florida (but don’t touch anything in any state without its consent).” But… some of the humor was lost on me. I don’t like dogs, but I can tell that its cons being “Sorta dumb, totally filthy, will absolutely betray you to your enemies” isn’t that funny. Idk, your mileage may vary. This section is clearly not serious. There’s some other interesting little tidbits in here. There’s an explanation of why Wiccans practice skyclad, with what sounds like encouragement to meet naked with your friends? Maybe? There’s a little section on “shine theory” combined with a pseudo-Drawing-Down ritual, which helps you be supportive of other women instead of feeling like you should compete with them… not too bad, actually. There’s a spell for banishing envy of things your friends have, which encourage you to discover what it is you actually envy (i.e. not a boyfriend, but the feeling of being loved, for example). That is excellent, since a very important part of spellcraft is determining what you actually want, not what you think you want. I also like that this spell encourages you to feel gratitude for the things you do have that bring you joy. There’s also a simple spell for letting go of a friendship that is apparently adapted from A Witches’ Bible by Janet and Stewart Farrar (I assume, because they reference it without mentioning the authors’ names!) that I kind of like. Altogether, some good material in this chapter, although using spells and rituals to navigate friendships should really be a book of its own. This is all very surface-level. Enchantment This chapter focuses on love and sex. I agree that the bold and defiant embracing of female sexuality is a core component of the witch archetype. It’s definitely something I still have to work on. Women do risk social exclusion and being shamed if they dare to embrace their sexualities, so anything that helps women do that is a good thing as far as I’m concerned. However, this chapter was very much a mixed bag. Stuff I liked: I like the first exercise they describe, which is listing the qualities of your perfect partner. These aren’t just superficial stuff like “nice, handsome, and rich” but qualities that would make for a compatible partner whom you’re attracted to. The idea is that if you approach relationships from the perspective of finding a person with the qualities you do want, instead of rooting out people with qualities you don’t want, you’re more likely to get what you want. To do that, you need a good impression of what it is you actually want. And once you have that list, you can evaluate your potential love interests based on it. You can also allow God or the Universe to bring you someone with enough of your ideal qualities that you’ll be happy. No person will ever be perfect, of course, but they can still be compatible and attractive. The point is that you shouldn’t have to settle — you should find someone who makes you happy. I’ve actually already done this exercise, and I should probably update my list. Another thing I liked was the lesson on sexual consent, and comparing it to a magic circle. Check in with each other to make sure you’re still into it, maintain your boundaries, communicate openly, etc. It also emphasizes the difference between what you agree to and what you actually want. Decide what you consent to based on what you want, not what you feel you should do or what the other person wants. All of that is good. There’s a little ritual that helps you give power to your ability confirm or deny consent, making a yes or no more like an incantation. That’s good, too! Expanding on that idea, there’s a section that encourages that open communication by comparing mid-sex feedback to incantations. That same section also encourages you to “be annoying” about sexual safety to ensure that your partner adheres to it and to stick up for yourself. 10/10 to that. There’s also some advice about sex toys that, although basic, was also pretty good (and inclusive of people who aren’t physically female). I like the ritual to feel sexually confident, powerful, and comfortable in one’s own body. I also like the spell for healing heartbreak, that’s based around reminding yourself of the things you still have and that still make you happy even after a breakup, severing your happiness from dependence on the other person. That’s pretty good. The lack of “love spells” is also a plus. Stuff I didn’t like: This paragraph— “Some witches believe in white and black magic not as performances of good and evil but as representations of magical energy. White magic is done when your energy is high, when you feel loved and happy and fulfilled, and it creates more of those feelings in the world. Black magic is performed out of fear and anger, a final thrashing of panic in order to survive, and it creates more fear and uncertainty.” Who believes this? Most of the witches I know believe that “white magic” and “black magic” is a false dichotomy. The real problem with the notion is that it attaches a good connotation to white and a bad connotation to black, even if that connotation isn’t quite as extreme as “good” and “evil.” Why is black bad? It’s not. We had a whole chapter earlier about wearing black and how that was a good thing! It doesn’t even matter, because this book just uses it as a metaphor for healthy vs. unhealthy approaches to romance and sex, but still. Why use it at all? Just to maintain the “witchy” aesthetic? Can we just dispense with the whole idea of “black magic,” please? There’s no purpose to it, especially if we’re using it to mean “dating someone out of social obligation/horniness even when you don’t really want a partner.” The message itself is pretty good, but what a weird way to present it. Emoji spells. Yep. “Casting runes can supposedly tell you about your future, or at least symbolize deep truths that mere words can not reveal. You know what else are cool-looking symbols that can say more than words? Emoji.” If this were clearly a joke like the page on familiars, I might forgive it, but I don’t think it is, so that means it’s on par with The Emoji Movie claiming that emojis are “the most important invention in the history of communication.” This section reeked of the same kind of patronizing “fellow kids” nonsense as that film. It doesn’t take a genius to determine that texting a fork and knife might mean “I want to devour you,” y’know in a sexy way, or that texting a thought bubble might mean that you’re thinking of them. Or it just might be deeply confusing. I mean, sure, if you want to imbue an emoji with an intention like a sigil, then fine, but nothing about emojis reveals “deep truths.” The “Accepting Singleness” spell is a self-affirmation ritual that uses a tarot deck. It arranges a selection of the Major Arcana in a weird order, beginning with the Lovers and ending with the Wheel of Fortune. The ritual has you face each one of the cards and contemplate the quality it represents in yourself. So far, so good. I actually like the concept of this, but the problem is that the authors’ interpretation of each card is way too simplistic and surface-level. Think about your knowledge and intelligence when facing The Magician? Yeah, okay… except that The Magician isn’t intelligence so much as creative force and willpower, tempered with cleverness and subtlety. Think about your connection to “the spiritual or the scientific” when facing the Star? Not only is that vague, that’s not what the Star means; it means hope and rejuvenation after a trying situation. The directions tell you to pick either the Empress or the Emperor, and the High Priestess or the Hierophant, based on your own gender or your preference or “a coin toss.” Those cards are not interchangeable, even if they do represent counterbalancing masculine/feminine forces. And then, “for Strength, Justice, Temperance, and Judgement, think about each of those qualities.” This line makes me think that the authors know next to nothing about tarot cards. Strength and Justice are relatively straightforward, but Temperance refers not simply to moderation and self-control, but to universal balance, synergy, and alchemical transmutation. And Judgement? That doesn’t refer to a quality (i.e. “good judgement”), it refers to Judgement Day. It represents atonement, rebirth, and apotheosis. Who wants to tell them? The idea of this spell is good, but the writers have such a poor understanding of tarot that it comes across as shallow. Banishment This chapter is about getting rid of toxicity in your life. I think this is one of the best chapters. Banishment is an important part of any witch or occultist’s toolkit, and I agree with the authors that it’s a criminally underrated part of self-care. Honestly, I really don’t do it enough. Brooding in negative emotions is such a habit for me that I do it by default, and let those thoughts and feelings fester until they take over my life. Only now am I realizing just how self-defeating that is, even though it feels satisfying. I’ve begun calling it “emotional masochism.” Given how awful the last year has been for everyone, I think we could all use a good banishing. The techniques this book offers are good ones. For example, it suggests analyzing your reaction after spending a short amount of time with toxic people, vs. when you’re not around them, to see if they really are the source of your negative emotions, and then fortifying your energy field with the boundaries spell. That’s good. It compares the emotional manipulation and gaslighting tactics of abusers with enchantments and illusions, which I actually think is an apt metaphor. I don’t think that simple visualizations and affirmations will be enough to break free of an abusive relationship, but they’re not a bad start. Any reminder that you’re worth it and you’re strong is important when you’re in that kind of situation. There are some good spells in this chapter, like one to purge bad habits (especially those induced by other people), another to dispel curse-like feelings of bad luck, and another to get rid of imposter syndrome. There’s also an example of a hex in this section, which isn’t meant to directly hurt the other person so much as provide emotional relief for you, although it does curse the person to face the consequences of their actions. I don’t think such a spell is bad as long as it’s used in the right kind of context, one in which the person has actually caused you serious harm. My favorite part of this chapter is a list of pretty cleverly-named made-up demons, with cute illustrations, that represent different kinds of self-defeating or toxic mindsets. So, one makes you feel worthless, another makes you feel like all of your friends hate you or are laughing at you, another saps you of your self-esteem, another convinces you that everything bad that happens is your fault, etc. (The last demon is a horned toad named Frank. He doesn’t represent a self-destructive mindset. “Frank’s just a dick. Don’t listen to Frank.” You and the other monsters ditch Jerry when it looks away!) It also provides a little banishment spell to get rid of the demon. While not very sophisticated as presented here, this is a real technique — personifying qualities, conditions, or mindsets as entities that you can either talk to or fight is a legitimate way of dealing with them. I think it’s particularly useful for banishment because it helps separate these ideas from you. You are not worthless, that thing is making you feel worthless, so you should tell it to go away. Separating it from yourself, making it an external thing instead of part of your personality, sometimes makes all the difference. In fact, it’s just occurring to me that I could personify my lack of trust into an entity — the voice that tells me I shouldn’t trust myself, shouldn’t trust my peers, shouldn’t trust the gods, shouldn’t trust the creators of my favorite shows to give me a satisfying ending — and tell it to fuck off. The most insidious thing about it is it convinces me that it’s protecting me, that if I don’t listen to it, I’ll get hurt again and I’ll never be happy. So I stay in that place of suffering out of fear that if I let myself be happy, I’ll get hurt again, and I end up suffering more as a result. Fuck you, demon. I’m going to kick its ass Belmont-style. Okay, I don’t care how cutesy it is, thank you, book, for making me realize that! Also in this chapter is a spell that builds on the power of saying yes or no addressed in the last chapter. This section brings up how the defiance of saying “no” has been considered improper for women for centuries, who were (and in some cases, still are) taught to be accommodating and placid. A lot of women are taught to never say “no” outright because it’s “rude,” and women should not be rude. Saying “no” can therefore be a form of empowerment and banishment in and of itself, since it teaches you to “prioritize your own feelings over any (real or imagined) reactions from someone else.” I’m completely on board with this. There’s also a very useful little section about backfire, for example, doing a spell to put yourself first and ending up selfish and self-indulgent as a result. It suggests asking yourself important questions, like what you’re getting from your spells and how other people might be affected, or separating what you want from what you really need. I’m impressed that this is in here, since it’s important and needs to be addressed. Being self-aware about your spells and taking responsibility for the results is crucial. Divination The purpose of this chapter is to make peace with the uncertainty of the future, and direct it toward the result that you actually want. It has some interesting techniques, like conversing with yourself in a mirror as if your reflection were the future version of yourself, in order to have more self-discipline (i.e. will future-me be happier if I do this now?). I’ve never thought of that, but that’s not a bad idea. There’s another section about getting rid of worry by addressing fear of failure, comparing it to alchemical transmutation. This is another idea that I actually really like. Fears are often bigger and scarier than the actual things they represent, so this pairs well with the “exorcism” of the self-destruction demon in the last chapter. Of course, I don’t think transmutation is as easy as this book makes it sound, but learning from your failures is certainly a start. I also like the idea of embracing ambiguity and confusion, since the future is nothing if not ambiguous, and that can be hard for the mind to deal with. One little ritual has you spin widdershins and then try to draw a picture while dizzy, which will inevitably look like a squiggly mess, then turn the squiggly mess into a piece of art as a way of reclaiming failure. This chapter also provides some good advice on what to do when the future doesn’t turn out the way you anticipated, which mostly revolve around reclaiming your sense of power when the world feels chaotic and unpredictable. I like most of them, especially the one about narrating a better version of the future, or other possibilities in-between. It’s very easy to become fixated on the worst possible outcome, but there are other ones, and you have to be able to believe they’re possible. These little rituals and affirmations are interesting and potentially useful, but the only actual divination technique explored in this chapter is… tasseomancy. Wait, why tasseomancy? Not that there’s anything wrong with tasseomancy, but the chapter covers that and not cartomancy, cleromancy, or scrying? Even oneiromancy would make more sense to put in this book than tasseomancy. Who even uses loose tea leaves? And the times I have used loose tea leaves, there hasn’t been enough of them and they don’t form anything that looks like a coherent shape. “I see a very peculiar hand!” “I see a giraaaaaffe.” “Giraffes don’t just fall from the sky, Miriam!” Maybe I should try to read hot chocolate dregs instead. The descriptions of each symbol are very basic, one-sentence descriptions. This section isn’t really made to be taken seriously, though. Half of it is meant to be humorous, and it’s actually pretty funny: “Leonardo’s Last Supper: Your cup is too big. Cow: You will see a cow. Clump of tea leaves: You just had some tea. UR GONNA DIE: This one could mean anything.” I actually laughed at this! But the fact that this is overly simplistic and then silly means that this chapter doesn’t really have any actual divination techniques anywhere in it. Well, there is a “scrying” spell, but it’s just the same visualization techniques but while staring into a reflective surface, not true scrying (which, as I understand it, is allowing the images to come to you). Conclusion The spells and rituals in this book have been a bit of a “teach a man to fish” case — they use some real techniques, like visualization and energy work, but they don’t go into the details of why the techniques work the way they do. I already feel pretty awkward and self-conscious during rituals, sometimes to the point where I feel like all my power is sapped from me. I can’t imagine how a beginner might feel if all they had was this. Would it work for them? Would they get lost? Would they wonder what the hell was supposed to happen? This book lacks the foundation that makes these techniques work, and also isn’t directed at those who already have it. It doesn’t even mention meditation, for gods’ sake! So I was kind of surprised to find that it closes off with an explanation of how to make your own spells. And this information is actually pretty legit! How do you want the spell to make you feel, and what sorts of objects or colors create that feeling? Phrase your intention carefully, structure your ritual so that it has a beginning, middle, and end, make sure you believe what you’re saying… all good stuff, but it reads like one of my Quora answers. Other books I’ve read have dedicated whole chapters to each of these little pointers. It concludes with a list of the different spellcasting correspondences of the four elements, which is usually among the first things that books cover. We’re getting to elemental correspondences now, when there’s only two pages left? That, I think, is the biggest problem with this book — it’s shallow. If you’re looking for a book on Wicca, folk magic, ceremonial magic, or anything else related to actual occultism, this book is not it. Any real occultism that appears in this book is as watered-down, surface-level, and fluffy as it could possibly be. Lists of correspondences in this book are pathetic, being so short and simple as to barely be useful at all. The spells in this book are mostly fine, but although they use some real techniques, the authors don’t explain what those are or how and why they work. Instead, the authors co-opted the trappings of occultism. I can definitely understand how a beginner who didn’t know any better might come away from this book, calling herself a witch without understanding much about actual witchcraft, leaving occultists to tut at her. Also, the edgy “w e l i v e i n a s o c i e t y” got old after a while. The self-help advice is quite good, but aside from that, it’s all-style-no-substance. You could probably learn more about occultism from The Wizardology Handbook than this. That’s a book for children that’s meant to be fun and entertaining, but whoever wrote it clearly knew enough about occultism to infuse some real ideas in there. This book would be so much better if it were the exact same self-help content, but written by actual occultists, who could accurately and authentically combine witchcraft and self-help. If you want to study witchcraft as a discipline, this book will not help you. So, do I recommend this book to baby witches? I don’t think it should be purged from the shelves, and I definitely think that an aspiring witch could get something useful out of it, but with caveats. It definitely shouldn’t be your first or only book on witchcraft. You need something else to provide you with the foundation that this book lacks, but its tips and techniques can be used to compliment a real magical practice. If you already have a foundation in occultism, and you go in knowing what you’re getting, then you could get a lot out of this book. You might want ideas for how to infuse everyday objects or situations with magic, or need some simple self-affirmation rituals. Some of its advice is genuinely good, and its rituals aren’t actually that bad, if given a bit more sophistication. I also really like all the psychological self-evaluation techniques that it provides, especially since a lot of people struggle more with that than I do. What I got out of this book are simple ways of using magic to improve my actual life, since most of what I do is lofty theurgic “high magic” and I could really use some more practical “low magic.” My spiritual life and mundane life are usually separate, and to me, witchcraft (as opposed to other kinds of occultism) is about integrating the two. Building confidence and believing that you deserve good things in life are critical parts of magic that aren’t always given focus in occult books, so this book may be worth it just for that. So join the Bad Girl Coven. We have t-shirts.
"The Occult Book" Review
I really liked this book. It's a history of Western occultism, arranged in chronological order. It was a short read, shorter than it looks, so I got through it fairly quickly. The entire book is a timeline — each page focuses on a particular event, with a relevant image on the right page and a three-or-four-paragraph description on the left page. The year is listed on the left side. The timeline begins in the 6th century BCE with Pythagoras, and ends in 2012 with the strange obsession over the Mayan calendar. In between, it covers alchemy, astrology, folk magic, tarot, philosophy, and loads of different societies, movements, and mystery religions. I thought this was really useful, because chronology tends to be my weakest point when studying history. The most fascinating thing about this for me was seeing the progression of ideas through time, and the way that they build off of each other. It’s important to note that this book is about occultism — not neopaganism, not magic specifically, not secret societies, nor any of the various related fields that intersect. Because of that, it was interesting for me to observe what was included in this book and what was left out. John Dee was mentioned, but Enochian magic was not. The Renaissance grimoiric tradition was mentioned (providing context for the Faust legend), but it wasn’t elaborated upon; The Magus was mentioned, but the Keys of Solomon, Book of Abramelin, etc. weren’t. Aradia and The Witch-Cult in Western Europe were in there (with a brief mention of The Golden Bough), but The White Goddess was not. The Golden Dawn and Thelema were mentioned, but the O.T.O. was not (directly). There was also, oddly, no mention of Satanism. There was a lot of info about people, organizations, and works that I had no idea existed! I didn’t know that astrology first became available to the English-speaking world through a book by some guy called William Lilly in the seventeenth century. I didn’t know about The Long Lost Friend by Johann Georg Hohman. I didn’t know that Neoplatonism was as important to Western occultism as Hermeticism and the Kabbalah. I didn’t know that the idea of ley lines came from a random English brewer called Alfred Watkins in the 1920s. I didn’t know that the “persecuted pagan witch cult” idea began with Jules Michelet (rather than Murray or Leland). I also didn’t know that Eliphas Levi’s real name was Alphonse Constant. There is one thing, however, that really bothers me about this book — mild Christian-bashing. The author seems to have a bit of a persecution complex, and although the information presented is factual, his bias slips in. In the introduction, he calls occultism “the most savagely persecuted of all the Western world’s bodies of rejected knowledge,” and says that the history of occultism is “made hideous by the screams of the tortured and the scent of burning flesh.” He uses the phrase “The Burning Times.” One of the points on the timeline is the outlawing of the Bacchic mysteries in 186 BCE, not to actually discuss the Bacchanalia, but to emphasize that this is where persecution began. This is disingenuous, because the cult of Bacchus was persecuted for suspected political conspiracy, not for religious reasons. Another point is the last pagan emperor of Rome, Julian, in 363 CE, which ends with “With him died the last hope of classical paganism, and his involvement with theurgy helped lay the groundwork for the centuries of persecution that occultism suffered thereafter.” None of that is necessarily untrue, but the way it is phrased and the amount of emphasis on persecution amounts to bias. Although most of what he says in this book is accurate, I also picked out a few subtle inaccuracies — Greer claims that “half a million” people were executed during “The Burning Times.” Half a million is still better than nine million, but that seems like a REALLY high estimate. A much more realistic estimate is about 60,000, and that’s still on the high end. He also calls the authorities conducting the witch trials “The Inquisition.” I’m pretty sure that The Inquisition was a separate thing, interested more in hunting down Protestants than witches, and that witch hunters were by no means a unified organization. (Though if I’m wrong on that, feel free to correct me.) He also glosses over the fact that Christians were savagely persecuted in Rome (at least in comparison to the amount of emphasis he gives pagan persecution). This really rubs me the wrong way. Parts of this book make it sound like Christians are the bad guys in the history of Western occultism, which is absurd. It’s absurd because occultism is not a monolith, and many of the practices that fall under the umbrella of occultism are Christian. Gnosticism, Enochianism, and Renaissance ceremonial magic are all Christian! And Greer KNOWS this. He mentions a lot of the different facets of Christian occultism in the book, including ones I didn’t know about! There’s a lot about Rosicrucianism, Gnosticism, Christian folk magic, and Christian astrology. He also knows perfectly well that true occultists were not the ones hunted during the witch trials, and yet he seems to personally identify with the plight of the victims. The Christian-bashing disappears after the first half of the book, but I found it really unsettling. That aside, I still thought this book was a great resource. It presents a lot of information in summary, and makes for a great jumping-off point for further research. I know I won’t have the time to read more about everything mentioned in it, but it’s a start. Maybe one day I’ll be a prolific occultist with my own philosophical treatise, worthy of a point on the timeline.
"The Book of Forbidden Knowledge" and
"The Nocturnicon" Review
The Book of Forbidden Knowledge, is a grimoire from the late-nineteenth/early-twentieth century. It’s a compilation of older material from various occult traditions that was popular during the occult boom around that time. So, making planetary rings at auspicious astrological times for the purposes of dream oracles, for example. Or lists of “black magic” spells that prove traditional folk magic has Abrahamic roots. It also lists numerous folk superstitions, provides a type of sign language and simple substitution cipher, detailed instructions on how to conduct seances (or fake one with magic tricks), and instructions for hypnotism and mesmerism, none of which are actually magic. ome of the actual magic spells are simple, like wearing roots around your neck, or drinking and then spitting out water from a stream to cure toothache. But some are much weirder, like boiling a bird’s eggs and putting them back in the nest so the bird will bring you a magical item. Or putting a bird’s tongue in your mouth and then kissing your beloved to make them love you forever. Or unlocking doors by filling the locks with powdered frog guts. These are the kinds of spells that make me ask myself, “has anyone actually tried that?” Certainly such spells are often impractical, unethical, or both. Also, some are just straight-up not magic. Curing a gambling addiction by whipping the gambler for it? Yeah, I’ll bet he won’t like gambling any more after you freaking flogged him, you genius magician! This book shows its datedness in other ways. From a love potion for dreams about one’s future, “…what is a worse fright than an inebriated female?” More than half the spell is not a list of dream interpretations, but is instead a rant about why women shouldn’t drink. Old-school divination also determines that being born particular days of a month will condemn you to an unhappy life, irrespective of any nuance, and also will determine that doing anything on a Tuesday is bad. You’re not likely to find modern divination books saying such things. It’s technically a book of practical magic, but since it’s old material, I’m only interested in it from a theoretical standpoint — understanding what older spells looked like and adapting them into newer spells, learning occult history, and making fictional magic systems. If old-school ceremonial or folk spells suit your style of magic, then great, but it’s a bit too complicated for me. I don’t have the patience to fast, or to wait for specific astrological events. I like the talisman designs in this book, and I wish there were more of them. I also appreciate this book acknowledging that it’s easier to make the talisman out of paper or cardboard than to somehow make it out of beaten silver. (That always frustrated me with talismans — where am I supposed to get planetary metals from?) If you’re looking for a beginner’s guide to occultism, this is not it. What it is, is an interesting snapshot of occult knowledge in the early twentieth century. It’s very short and covers a lot of ground in only a few pages. For something equally dark and forbidden but much more practical, we have Nocturnicon. It’s modern, and all the techniques presented in it are ones the author has used successfully. I’ve read some of Konstantinos’ work before. I like Raven Digitalis better, but Konstantinos was one of my first introductions to more advanced magical techniques. I read Nocturnal Witchcraft right when I reached that in-between stage of graduating from typical “Wicca 101” books and wanting somewhere to go from there, but not knowing enough to do more specific research yet. His darker aesthetic and nocturnal approach to magic was very appealing to me. Unlike Nocturnal Witchcraft, which was basically solitary-Wicca-but-spooky, this book is deliberately designed to appeal to people who want a bit more edginess. I mean, obviously, its title is a reference to the Necronomicon. The preface is called “Why This Dreaded Tome Came into Being.” Also, Nocturnal Witchcraft was more about formulating a regular practice. This book is for the extreme moments. Its techniques are designed to work when nothing else does. It’s also based around the stuff that’s dark in more ways than just the aesthetic — sex, drugs, death, demons, Lovecraftian abominations. This is edgy magic, but it’s edgy magic presented by a person who knows what he’s talking about and isn’t just trying to capitalize on shock value. After getting the basic opening visualizations/banishings and a little about sex and drugs out of the way, the first major section is about death magic. It begins with a divination rite inspired by Ancient Greek nekyia, which actually isn’t too bad. I don’t think it would work for me; my problem with Konstantinos’ books is his reliance on scrying, which I have no talent for. But despite that, the ritual is well-constructed and would probably be very successful for someone who can scry. I also really like the descent/invocation ritual that he provides in this chapter. But, I do have one major overarching problem with the whole thing — Konstantinos’ interpretation of Hades is essentially a conflation of three gods: Hades, Thanatos, and Hermes. It frustrates me that Konstantinos seems to assume that Hades is the personification of Death (Thanatos), believes that Hades is cast as a villain in Greek mythology to remove the blame of death from other gods (sort of but not really), and says that Hades ushers souls to the next world. No, Hades receives souls once they get there. Hermes ushers souls to the next world, and he just glibly discussed Hermes so he should know that! I understand what he’s trying to get at, but Thanatos is Greece’s Death-with-a-capital-D, not Hades. And Konstantinos only seems to regard Persephone as the poor girl Hades kidnapped, and not the Dread Queen — you should be calling on her to send the shades of the dead to you, not Hades! He interprets Hades as being cocky and “scoundrel-like”— bullshit. Hades is a lot of things, not all of them pleasant, but “scoundrel-like” is not one of them. Once again, that’s Hermes. Konstantinos’ dismissiveness of Hermes seems really ironic when you consider that the being he’s describing — a scoundrel and a psychopomp — is not Hades, but Hermes Khthonios. I’m not going to tell Konstantinos that his interpretation of Hades is wrong, but his invocations are based around this conflated Hades/Than/Hermes entity. I know that this doesn’t really make a difference with regards to the actual rituals, but it matters to me. Konstantinos therefore recommends that you feel a bit cocky and speak with the Lord of the Dead as an equal, as a way of partially invoking him. I have really mixed feelings on that — on the one hand, I’ve been known to approach gods and other spirits as equals, and I certainly can be cocky. A certain amount of conviction is absolutely necessary for magic and I tend to be averse to submission. On the other hand, the only real sin in Greek religion is hubris, believing that you are on the same level as the gods. They hate that. And, from what I know, Hades is not the sort of god to tolerate that. If you’re using a Greek-based system of divination, it’s probably best to respect that. I’ll let you make that call. It seems as though most Hellenists consider any kind of invocation to be hubristic, and I disagree with this. So, all I’ll say is whether invocation is okay or not, and to what degree, is between you and the gods you work with. On the other side of that same coin, the next chapter makes mention of Lucifer, who Konstantinos says appeared to him in the form of a shining angel, and explained that he has been demonized by humans for having brought knowledge to mankind. I would rather divert from myths on this one. For years, I’ve struggled to make sense of Lucifer. There is absolutely no room for the fall from heaven story in any cosmology that allows for there being other gods. Everything about that story has frustrated me. It’s a lose-lose — either Satan and the freedom and knowledge that he represents is evil, or God is effectively an eldritch dictator. Konstantinos’ UPG regarding Lucifer has validated many of my own thoughts on the matter: Lucifer is not an evil being, has not been cast from heaven so much as given a sinister reputation by humans, which he sort of enjoys. “Satan” is a title given to many demons that malign human beings, some of which are Shadows or egregores created by said humans. This has helped me become more interested in Lucifer, and make space for him within my understanding of the astral world. Maybe I’ll try talking to him, and even perhaps find some way to incorporate him into my worldbuilding for Those Who Fly (which is mostly UPG-based). The method of evocation described in this book is interesting, to say the least. It uses an electrical generator and a whole lot of incense smoke to prompt an entity to manifest. I feel like if I tried that, I’d be struggling to breath in a very smoky room and be afraid of electrocuting myself while awkwardly waiting for something to happen. But the point of this evocation and other rituals in the book is, literally, to be as dramatic as possible. What I appreciate about this book is that its author is completely self-aware about its edginess. Not all obviously left-hand-path occult books are self-aware, and some of them end up being painfully cringy as a result. Konstantinos knows what he’s doing, and he describes the intentional edginess using the word “psychodrama” — deliberately creating a spooky ritualistic environment to produce powerful mental states associated with doing something forbidden and powerful. If you believe you’re doing something spooky and taboo, then you are, and that mental state is what produces the desired result. Psychodrama is basically all that magic is, and being deliberately edgy and theatrical for the sake of it has a real effect on the result. The more you play it up, the better the result, provided you know what you’re doing. That brings me to the section on the Necronomicon, which was probably the most fascinating. Konstantinos provides a history of the Necronomicon in fiction and reality, and tries to explain why the idea of the Necronomicon is so popular. The book is not real, but people’s belief that it is real and interest in discovering such a tome effectively creates an egregore around the book, and the egregore is almost as powerful as the book itself would be. The publication of the Simon Necronomicon tapped into this, which is why it sold so well. I had never considered that before, but it makes perfect sense, and I agree that it’s something worth tapping into. The idea of the book produces exactly the kind of “psychodrama” that Konstantinos is talking about. He also describes a technique for finding fictional or dream grimoires on the astral plane, which despite my poor astral projection and lucid dreaming skills, I would really like to try! This book is not beginner material, by any stretch of the imagination. If you want beginner-friendly material, read Nocturnal Witchcraft. Even if you have some books and experience under your belt, I don’t recommend Nocturnicon if you’re still just starting out as an occultist. If you try to use its rituals, you’ll either feel very awkward and nothing will happen, or everything will happen and you will risk getting into mental states that you can’t handle. This is a book designed for desperate moments and powerful shortcuts, and the author is very clear about that. Shortcuts get results, but they’re also more risky. This book ends with a rite designed to summon Cthulhu, and Konstantinos says very plainly that if you’re willing to go there, you may lose your grip on reality. And even without going there, I will come out and say that nothing in this book should be attempted without doing Shadow work first. This book doesn’t cover Shadow work because it basically assumes you’ve already done that, but any kind of darker working or contact with darker entities (let alone flippin’ Cthulhu) is inevitably going to drag up Shadow baggage — if not immediately, then certainly at some point. If you want to be successful at it, you’re going to have to do some self-therapy and work through your shit first. I don’t know if I’ll try anything in this book, but if nothing else it is certainly intriguing, and I enjoyed reading it. What I will probably do is modify some of its techniques to suit my own practice and find my own brand of psychodrama. Long story short, if you want “Forbidden Knowledge” presented in a way that’s useful and relatively sane, you can’t do much better than this.
"Hands-On Chaos Magic" Review
Hands-On Chaos Magic by Andrieh Vitimus is the book I recommend the most often. It is a is a how-to magic manual, beginning with the basics of trance, banishings, energy work, and Shadow work, covering sigils and talismans and sympathetic magic, and progressing all the way to invocation, evocation, entity creation, and astral projection. It presents its information in a way that is straightforward and comprehensive. This book heavily emphasizes experimentation and figuring out what works for you, personally (hence the “hands-on” part of the title). Each chapter of the book contains exercises that you can use to practice and try things out. (i.e. What happens when you take an energy ball and change it so that it’s made of earth, air, fire, and water? What does each kind of ball feel like? How are they different? Do they effect the environment in any way? What happens if you leave a talisman with one kind of energetic or emotional “charge” in a space with the opposite energy? etc.) The idea is that, if you practice all the exercises and experiments as you read the book, you will become more and more proficient at magic as you go along. It encourages you to personally try out different methods using trial-and-error and personal taste. I didn’t exactly do it that way. I haven’t literally done every exercise in the book, but I also think I don’t really need to with where I’m at. One of the key elements of chaos magic is practicing based on results, so you do what works for you. This book usually suggests using mantras, but I know mantras don’t work for me, so I don’t use them. And that brings me to why I so frequently recommend this book — it is a practical, non-denominational guide to magic. I can’t stress how useful that is. Books on magic tend to be either about Wicca (or something based on Wicca), or intensely specific to a particular occult tradition. This one is not. It doesn’t even go into long tirades about the general philosophy of chaos magic. Instead, it approaches the practice of magic from the “do what works, screw everything else” direction peculiar to chaos magic, but cuts all the bullshit. That means that there are no ceremonial trappings and correspondences, no long verses, no Wiccanate circle castings or ritual procedures, no particular gods and goddesses, no pages and pages of Hermetic philosophy — just magic, by itself. That makes it really useful, no matter what tradition you plan on following, or whether you just don’t know yet! If this book doesn’t lay a basic foundation for everything you could possibly know about magic, it’ll at least provide you with some good information or a place to start. The techniques presented in this book can be utilized for anything in the occult sphere — spiritual and ritualistic high magic meant to connect you with the divine, down-to-earth and/or secular low magic meant to make your life better, left-hand-leaning or right-hand-leaning magic, magic for any purpose with any intent, simply magic in practice. And, despite everything it covers, it doesn’t feel too bloated or too dense! I don’t think this book is perfect, by any means, but I do think it is worth reading if you’re interested in magic. To tell the truth, it’s refreshing to find any book on magic that isn’t based in Wicca, that barely has any component that obviously comes from Wicca. Not that Wiccan magic is bad, but it so completely dominates the general material on magic and on discourse about this topic, that it feels like there isn’t anything else! A few years into my own study of magic, I realized that there were a lot of things about Wiccan practice that I really didn’t like, that weren’t really what I came for. And it took ages to get away from that! If you start learning magic from this book, you’ll understand the way magic works without needing a particular ritual framework unless you really want one. There’s also the added benefit that this book doesn’t require working with any sorts of deities if you don’t want to (spirits are treated more like tools to be utilized than anything else). I use it as a reference point in my articles for the same reason. I don’t want the information here to be too denominational, and I want to encourage people to just do what they like instead of feeling like they need to do things a specific way. I learned that too late. One of the things I’ve recently learned about magic is that it’s easier to adapt the behavior I already have than to make myself learn new behavior. If I meditate better by pacing than by sitting or lying down, then I’ll enter the Astral world by pacing! So, yeah, I’m really glad I read this. If you buy only one book on magic, buy this one. It’s probably going to answer all of your general questions about how to do magic in at least some way, if not straight-up teach you how to do magic.
"The Psychonaut's Field Manual" Response
I saw The Nemeton’s video on this, and thought that I’d respond to it myself, since I’m basically a chaote at this point. I’ll be comparing this book to Hands-On Chaos Magic a lot, so you may want to look at my review of that. I’m going to be responding to it page by page. This book is available online, so please follow along with me. Is it useful? Is it a dumpster fire? Is it just fun? Let’s find out. Cover: Look, it’s Bill Cypher! Do I really want to be reading something Bill has endorsed? Well, he’s not wrong when he says “REALITY IS AN ILLUSION THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYYYE!” That could basically be the chaote’s motto. Also, the author calling himself an “arch-traitor” tells me everything I need to know. He could call himself a “warlock.” That’s basically what “warlock” means. Introduction: Hullo, Eris. Okay, already I have a few problems — first, right now we should address the author’s insistence on substituting the word “information” with “tech.” That is infuriating to me. I know that the aesthetic of this book is techy. I don’t even mind the use of techy language to describe mystical experiences, especially metaphorically; I use the word “download” all the time to describe receiving divine revelations, and I’ve also heard the word “programming” be used to describe imbuing a spirit or talisman with an intention. Both of those things make sense to me, and I understand using tech as a metaphor to make magic more understandable. But replacing the word “information” with “tech” is really gimmicky and annoying. Magic is not tech. Screw you, Arthur C. Clarke! Tech cannot replace or undermine myth, folklore, and storytelling, and modernizing magic does not mean making it techy. Maybe this all comes down to my own personal aesthetic, since the “techy” aesthetic is one of the things I explicitly dislike about chaos magic. If techy-occultism is your aesthetic, there’s nothing wrong with that! And I have to admit, the cartoon of a book titled “Black Magic Spells and Potions for Edgy-Ass Witchlords” made me laugh. However, although this is trying to be a general guide to magic for beginners, it’s definitely got a particular angle it’s trying to push, just like all the systems of magic it’s railing against. There’s also something unsettling to me about the author saying, “Add a dash of your own belief system, follow the steps and advance or fall into laziness and fail. That’s all there is to it.” Isn’t that a contradiction? I don’t need to follow the steps of this book exactly or else I’ll fail. There’s many paths upward, right? And chaos magic is a lot about building our own! Level One: Yeah, of course “belief is a tool” was going to come up first! That’s not surprising. I agree that many of the trappings of ceremonial magic are not necessary for practicing magic and achieving results. When it comes down to it, magic is about belief and intention. I don’t have much patience for the complicated pomp of traditional ritual, either; I took one look at Solomonic magic and was like, “Nope! I’m doing this my own way!” But, that’s no reason to mock ceremonialists. Some people really need all of the “silly costumes” and “dorky props” to put themselves in the right mindset for magic. It does not mean they’re using them as a crutch! I used to think so, but I don’t anymore. Also, I prefer the aesthetic of ceremonial magic to “tech.” I like fantasy over sci-fi. I’d rather be a wizard than a psionic cyborg. Also, lucid dreaming isn’t that easy, and that wasn’t a very good description of how to do it. I imagine someone sleeping for five hours, waking up, tapping their fingers while trying to sleep again, and wondering why they can’t control their dreams yet. Level Two: Meditation, yay! Is it really so difficult that “most will never move beyond this point,” though? Also, I’m pretty sure gnosis is enlightenment, and not simply awareness of one’s consciousness? This book uses “gnosis” to mean the semi-hypnotic state that one is in during meditation. Gnosis is not that easy, is it? It’s not something you can just casually achieve once you become practiced at meditation. And this is a personal thing, but I can’t meditate by staying perfectly still and allowing my muscles to relax. My muscles don’t relax. The only way to get out of my body is to occupy my body by moving, so I meditate by pacing, because the swinging motion of pacing is lulling. Every time I’ve tried to meditate by lying still, I either become so uncomfortable that I can’t bear it, or I fall asleep. I also can’t simply “not think.” It’s why the idea of occlumency in Harry Potter just felt impossible to me. This book acknowledges that it’s not easy to not think, but I don’t even see the point in not thinking. When I pace, my mind goes into overdrive. The only time I’ve ever accomplished anything like lying still and not thinking was about a month ago, completely spontaneously during a ritual. And I counted it a failure! I thought I got nothing out of it, until my mother told me the following day that I probably went into healing mode. So… I guess that was good? I definitely didn’t do it on purpose. Idk, all of that is just my experience. Level Three: Opening the Third Eye. Oh dear. This section is brought up directly in Occultism With a Side of Salt’s episode on the misinformation around opening the Third Eye. In the episode, Georgina points out that opening the Third Eye is advanced, difficult, and extremely intense. It’s not beginner material the way this book makes it sound like it is. It’s also not necessary for everything that follows. If you want to open the third eye, you have to open the previous five chakras first, like Aang in Avatar: The Last Airbender. And that’s not an easy process! It’s actually dangerous to skip right to the third eye, because if you do it without the foundation of the other chakras, you risk losing touch with reality and going insane. You don’t need this chakra wide open in order to do basic visualizations. It doesn’t make sense to put something like this so early in the book! Level Four: Woah, we’re already at servitors? Really? Servitors were among the last things covered in Hands-On Chaos Magic. Why are we here, when we haven’t discussed energy work, Shadow work, or any of the other foundational stuff? Actually, wait, this isn’t about servitors! This is about tarot cards. Okay. Sure. Basic tarot spread, a few cards. I like the designs of the cards (although The Nemeton mentioned that the Hebrew letters on the cards weren’t correct, or were weird choices, or something). Then, the book instructs you to take the names of the cards (in this case, the Hanged Man and the Magician), and use Spare’s method to make a sigil. And then to turn that sigil into an entity! Okay, woah. This single chapter attempted to teach three completely different things all at once — tarot, sigils, and entity creation. Good gods. I know there’s only so much you can get across in one comic, but that’s so much at once! Each one of those things individually takes a ton of practice. Trying to do them all at once may be too difficult for a beginner practitioner. Oh, and then this section addresses that bit about the last section that you might experience hallucinations if you open your third eye. I think it’s good to distinguish that an entity will have an energetic presence while a hallucination will not, but you ideally shouldn’t be hallucinating at all. And then this book suggests drinking alcohol to deal with them, because alcohol slowly shuts the brain down. Dude, I can’t even drink! Level Five: Wow, we’re already at the first big secret! This book basically defines magic as a function of neurological processes. In the phrase “As above, so below,” the “above” is the superconscious or superego, and the “below” is the subconscious or id. Meanwhile the ego in between, i.e. you, is the source of will. This book defines the theory of magic as driving the subconscious and superconscious into submission and taking control of their functions, like the horses of The Chariot. Okay… not the language I would use, but I think that’s another way of saying that you have to be mentally convinced of your own power. In short, magic is about revealing the workings of the mind and soul, and controlling them. Okay, I think I can get behind this, although the use of neurological and technological language to describe this concept is really throwing me. Again, that’s just personal. The Nemeton also pointed out that the Sephiroth and the chakras don’t correspond to each other that directly, but I’ll let that slide. But here’s what bothers me — where’s Shadow work? We haven’t addressed that at all. Granted, this is using a more Freudian (id/ego/superego) model while I prefer a Jungian model. Shadow work isn’t the basis of everyone’s practice the way it is mine. But… still. Self-awareness, addressing the repressed and hidden self, is critical. It’s one of the first things to come up in Hands-On Chaos Magic. It’s extremely difficult psychological work, but unlike the Third Eye, I’d argue that it’s actually pretty necessary for maintaining psychological health as one journeys into the mind and the magical realms. All right, we’ve reached chapter two! Level Six: This section establishes that the id, ego, and superego communicate in different ways. The id communicates using bodily urges like hunger, fear, and lust, the ego communicates using verbal and written language, and the superego communicates using insights and ideas. Okay, tha all makes sense to me, but I never thought I’d read the sentence “You’ll have little time to bust out Little Orphan Annie’s secret decoder ring when you’re having your astral asshole torn inside out by some ravenous extradimensional entity from the deepest darkest bowels of the multiverse.” This of course prompts the question, “But daddy, what if I want to have my asshole torn out by a ravenous entity from the deepest darkest bowels of the multiverse?” Some people are into that, you know. Anyway, the point of this chapter isn’t to learn to have rough sex with entities, it’s to learn to create a “shared” language between the different levels of consciousness. The way it suggests doing this is to personify each part of the mind as a different entity, and give it a name and a sigil. Then create a combined sigil for all three, speaking all three names as one singular sound, to bring all the levels of your mind into “oneness.” This is actually an interesting technique, and I think it’s actually useful. Then it teaches you how to do this with a particular kind of spell, in this case a banishing. You make a sigil, use a related hand gesture, and use a sound or vibration to represent what you want. Here it actually recommends using a ceremonial dagger as a tool to symbolize cutting away the thing you want to banish. (So what was the point of making fun of ceremonial magicians, then?) This seems like a good technique, too, and a very chaote method of spellcasting. It gives me more practical uses for sigils, since I still struggle with how to actually use them. And I need some better banishings! Level Seven: We’re getting to circles of protection now? Why did we cover servitors before this? And once again, it’s pretty rich making fun of ceremonial magicians when this recommends drawing an actual circle on the ground, which is one of those things I don’t have the patience for. Still, I like the emphasis on having the symbols and phrases in the circle be something significant to me, personally, instead of a bunch of Hebrew letters that I can’t even read. The rest of this section describes the astral body in terms of a mecha that you remotely pilot. Like the one Entrapta uses on Beast Island in She-Ra (Entrapta would love this book. It speaks her language, not mine). I mean, that’s an interesting way of thinking of the Astral body. I think the concept of a “cockpit” from which one remotely pilots the Astral body could be a useful one. Honestly, I might try making a remote “doppelganger.” Right now, my Astral self is Astor, and I spend so much time mentally in his body and mental state that I barely recognize my external self anymore, which is very likely a problem. Astor and I are synonymous. It might be useful to have a more remote Astral self that I “pilot” without completely identifying with, especially since I struggle with getting out of my body. But before continuing, I want to point out that we’re halfway through and we’ve made it to astral projection. We’re moving way too fast. This is becoming a glaring problem with this book — it’s starting to build off of ideas established earlier (i.e. id/ego/superego, sigilization), but it hasn’t established anything in enough detail. I feel like the only reason I can make sense of this is because I already have knowledge and experience. I think a beginner would just end up extremely confused about what to do with all this information and how it works. I understand that there’s only so much you can get across in a comic, but that’s part of the problem. This comic might be a great format for presenting a new system to experienced practitioners, but beginners? Beginners will probably just end up lost. I think. Level Eight: And now, we’ve arrived at entities. The gimmicky tech language is really driving me nuts. I understand that it’s trying to act as a useful metaphor to help the modern reader understand mystical concepts, but it has to be presented as a metaphor instead of just being the terminology. I have to reread these sentences a few times just to figure out what they’re saying. Essentially, what it’s saying is, “The way you perceive a spirit changes its nature.” It would have been easier to say this and then compare it to programming instead of just using the word “programming.” Idk, maybe it’s just me. Moving on. This book says that spirits perceived as “good,” angels, are housed in the superconscious while those perceived as “evil,” demons, are subconscious. They’re not really good or evil, but they’re limited to the functions of the super- or subconscious. Okay. This is an interesting way of thinking of it, but there’s more out there than just angels and demons, and it seems to define angels and demons as personified functions of the mind instead of external spirits. And although it’s good to distinguish between experiencing spirits and insanity, spirits aren’t human beings. They should be treated as fellow sapient individuals, but they’re not human. External (“non-local”) spirits are defined differently, with a warning not to let them in. I’m pretty sure “local” and “non-local” are tech terms, and I don’t know what they mean. So, which are gods, then? Local, or non-local? Created from the mind, or external? (Personally, I think they’re some degree of both, but moving on.) Level Nine: Wow, invocation already! This book defines both evocation and invocation as a means of creating spirits, either creating an independent entity (evocation), or grafting another consciousness on top of yours (invocation). Um… okay. I remember reading about all of this in Hands-On Chaos Magic, in which there were multiple chapters covering the topic of this one page. In that book, evocation and invocation were processes. You can invoke a god (i.e. beyond you) or an entity that you created. Same with evocation. I’m not sure why this book states “At no point does [invocation] involve another spirit, but damned if it doesn’t feel like it.” Wait, really? So you can’t invoke gods? I know that having Astor invoked 24/7 doesn’t involve another spirit even if it feels like it does, because Astor is me, but it’s possible to invoke things that are not you! The previous page said that you should never invoke foreign spirits, so are gods foreign or not? I’m really confused! I guess not, because this page uses the example of becoming an angsty karaoke singer by invoking Apollo, Saraswati, or the ghost of Freddie Mercury. But invocation doesn’t involve another spirit, just a shift in consciousness. Oooookay, man. Yeah. I’m confused, and I know about this stuff. How would a beginner feel reading this? Idk, maybe I’m overthinking it. The description of how to invoke something is pretty good. State that you will invoke the subject, imagine it filling you until it overtakes and consumes you, and surrender your consciousness to its. Yeah, that’s basically it! I also like that it warns not to use invocation as a crutch for personal shortcomings. (You need Shadow work to deal with that.) Now, on to chapter 3. Oh look, it’s Bill and Owlbert in the art this time. Level Ten: Okay, so this chapter addresses whether spirits are external entities or products of our own minds. The conclusion is that they’re both, like I said above, the difference between “local” and “non-local” being coming from within vs. without. I’m not sure exactly how they’re entirely different, though. In my opinion, this should have been addressed before talking about invocation. It would have made the last two “levels” make a lot more sense. Also… did it just use the word “amazeballs” unironically? Has anyone ever actually said that unironically? Then there’s a description of the astral cockpit again, and (I think) the triangle of art that you put the spirit in. It was never explained exactly what the added features of it are compared to the circle of protection, so I’m assuming. And then we move right no from that to a short description of scrying. And then, boom! Sympathetic magic! Instructing you to make a poppet of yourself and experiment with it. *whew* Level Eleven: We’re back to servitors again, but this time with names and personalities. I’m not sure why servitors were introduced all the way back in chapter four, when we could have addressed them here and covered this all at once. Okay, so apparently you have to bind a spirit to an object, because if you don’t it’ll bind to you, and that’s dangerous. Um… okay. I remember reading about this in Hands-On Chaos Magic, which presented binding a spirit to an object as a possibility but not a necessity. I don’t think there’s any reason for this to be strictly necessary. I’m naturally good at entity creation and have lots of them, and I haven’t had any problems with them (although most are companions rather than servitors). Maybe it’s just me? Oh, and now we get to figure out what the goetic stars are for, so why introduce them in the last chapter instead of here? What was the point of splitting it up like that? And now we get to morals. You are Frankenstein, and your spirit is The Creature, and you need to be a better parent to it than Frankenstein was. Level Twelve: So according to this book, gods are sentient personifications of aspects of the brain. Okay. I suppose that’s true, but I don’t really prefer to think of them that way. The difference between gods and any other spirits, according to this book, is that you worship gods. You lavish so much attention upon gods that whatever the god rules is extremely enhanced within you. Yeah, okay, that sounds about right. This section also addresses that people with different belief systems have more in common than different, and that our different beliefs and practices help us to interact with the divine in the way that suits us individually. It describes this need as “we are all crippled in our own special way.” Okay, then. It’s a good message, despite the phrasing. I’m glad that this author loves us all, hopes the best for us in our paths, and hopes to meet us at the end of it. I have no doubt he’s being honest, but then why make fun of ceremonial magicians in the first pages? I guess that was kind of tongue-in-cheek, but how is a beginner supposed to know that? Level Thirteen: This section is about invoking or evoking non-local spirits, from outside yourself. If they’re not gods or servitors, then what are they? The difference with these spirits is that you can’t program them, you have to make requests of them and convince them to do what you instruct. I guess it’s stuff like the Goetia (despite this book defining “demons” as internal, subconscious entities), since they’re chaotic spirits that are easy to call and down for anything, but usually demand something in return and can get stuck to you. You have to be careful what you ask for and how. Play it safe, banish, don’t invoke. Yup. Level Fourteen: Egregores are local spirits shared non-locally. Got it. It’s like a collaborative project that everyone accesses through the internet, except instead of the internet, it’s the collective unconscious. Pretty straightforward. Okay, well. That was interesting. Honestly, I’m not sure what to think. I can understand what this book was trying to do. I like the cute comics, and I think that presenting magic in a simplified way isn’t a particularly bad idea. The problem with that is that magic and spirituality is only simple once you get it. Before that, it’s very difficult to explain to new practitioners in a way that makes sense and translates well to an effective practice. I have no idea whether this book is actually useful to beginners or not. I think that the way some of the information was presented and the order in which it was presented was sometimes extremely confusing. I also think the pacing was way too fast for everything it was trying to cover. What I think it is, or what it should be, is a guide to a modernized technological occultism for experienced practitioners, so that you really can bypass all the basics and the safety measures and get right to the innovative techniques. This book isn’t a generic, non-denominational guide to practical magic that cuts all the bullshit; instead, it’s a revamped occultism with a particular system and aesthetic of its own. And there’s nothing wrong with that! It just doesn’t present itself that way. In short, I think that Hands-On Chaos Magic is better, because it covers all the same material, but more slowly and with more depth, and with less gimmicky language. Despite its title and the cover, it feels more like a general non-denominational guide to practical magic. It doesn’t scream “C H A O S, BITCH!!!” the way this book does. After reading this book, I can understand why chaos magic can have a reputation for being haphazard. It does feel like this book bypasses a lot of the groundwork to skip right to the big stuff, which is why I feel like it would be better if directed towards experienced practitioners. It’s not necessarily bad, but apart from a few unique methods, it’s not going to tell you anything you don’t already know if you’re experienced. If you’re inexperienced, it might just be confusing, but I’d be interested to see how some beginners respond to it. If you get something out of it, great! If you like its aesthetic and style, great! Even if the information isn’t presented as well as it could be, it’s still legit.
"Grimoire For the Apprentice Wizard" Review
This is one of those times when I find myself wondering, “Why did this come into my life now?” Why now? This is a course of real magic designed for children. I would have killed for this book ten years ago. When I was a kid, I poured over Wizardology, a technically fictional children’s book which was supposedly written by Merlin (in-universe) and contained the secrets of magic. Something, be it intuition or desperation, convinced me that there was something legit in that book. And there was! It was maybe half-fantasy, half actual magic, and the handbook companion was even more grounded in actual magical concepts. This book is basically Wizardology, but the real deal! What I wouldn’t have given to have the real deal, presented in a way easy for a child to understand. I almost wish that this had been my introduction to the world of occultism. Oberon Zell-Ravenheart has apparently studied many different kinds of magic with many different kinds of practitioners, and although his own practice seems like generic Wiccan-ish nature-based neopaganism to me, his book covers pretty much everything: Alchemy, theurgy, sigils, lots of tables of correspondences, herbalism, divination, ritual structure, Kabbalah, a great list of gods (very similarly structured to my own Absolutely Massive List), magical symbols and alphabets (cuneiform, Greek, Hebrew, hieroglyphs, Futhark, Ogham, Theban, Malachim, even Tolkien’s Elvish and Dwarvish alphabets… but not Enochian, oddly), numerous myths and legends, simple spells, a bestiary, historical and modern wizards and occultists, various activities, and kind of everything in between. … And that’s great! After reading a preview, I debated with myself whether it was really worth buying a copy. After all, very little of this book was completely new information to me, and although the writing isn’t condescending at all, it is still very clearly for children. But that’s actually a good thing — it presents complex magical concepts in a way that is intentionally simplified, straightforward, and easy to understand. Of course, it doesn’t go very in-depth on all those subjects, but that’s okay, because it isn’t meant to. It’s meant to present every area of modern magic to children. That is why I think this book is invaluable — if there’s a magical concept you haven’t encountered yet, chances are you’ll find it here, presented in an easily digestible way. It’s actually quite sophisticated. For example, the chapter on ritual contains a detailed description of the basic structure and content of rituals, rather than just providing a bunch of generic rituals and spells for different contexts. Although it might all be a bit daunting for a child, I think that it’s ultimately very good for this book to encourage its readers to compose rituals of their own, that have real significance to them, instead of just relying on pre-made ones. Rituals should not feel like a chore, like something you have to do in order to call yourself a witch or a wizard. I felt that way for a while. This book makes it clear that ritual is a way of connecting with the divine in a way that is personal and productive. I’ve learned that just going outside and running around under the full moon can count as ritual if I do it with the right kind of intent, and that doing so effectively replaced ritual for me in college. Anything can be a ritual, if you do it with the right intent. I really liked how it kept things simple while also not talking down to its readers. For example, I think this is a great description of how correspondences work: The magician constructs rituals so that every object in the range of the senses has a symbolic connection with the idea and intention of the ceremony. In a ritual context, the objects, symbols, and colors take on a magickal quality in and of themselves, holding or creating the energy necessary to accomplish the desired results. I mean, yeah, that’s basically it! Here are my thoughts on each of the “Spectrum” chapters, that introduce each different field of magical study: “Aqua,” Meditation: This chapter some simple techniques for visualization, autosuggestion, astral projection, the building of an astral temple, and automatic writing. I thought it was straightforward and useful, and I appreciated the acknowledgement that some people meditate better by moving than by quieting down their bodies. “Blue,” Healing: This chapter covers energy-based and chakra-based healing, as well as providing a selection of simple herbal remedies. I’m not all that interested in healing, but I appreciate the clarity and the descriptions of how to prepare herbal home remedies (the book also emphasizes that such remedies should not substitute professional help, which is good). “Green,” Herbalism: It mostly rehashed the medicinal uses of plants covered in the healing chapter, with a short table of correspondences, and some instruction on making infusions, brews, and essential oils. I really was hoping for more herbal folklore and myth. “Yellow,” Divination: It contains a quick rundown of basically everything of significance — tarot cards, palmistry, astrology, rune casting, augury (interpreting natural signs), and scrying. It manages to cover a lot of ground in just a few pages. “Orange,” Stage Magic: This was interesting, especially since stage magic was presented as a means of adding special effects to rituals to make them more theatrical and impress the spiritual nature of them upon the “audience.” Honestly, I like that idea. Not only is it an ancient shamanic technique to merge ritual with trickery and showmanship, but ritual requires willing suspension of disbelief the same way stage magic does. Trickery and showmanship add to the traditional trappings of ritual and ceremony, which all act as a mental trick to enhance the participants’ belief in the power what they’re doing (and therefore improve the results). Theater is ritual. Not to mention, The Night Circus seamlessly integrated real magic with stage magic, and gave me a greater respect for stage magic. “Red,” Alchemy: It gives a primer on what alchemy was about, and then contains various chemistry experience that create “magical” effects like turning flame different colors. I mean, okay, I didn’t expect a guide to the Great Work, and the book does briefly mention that alchemy was also an internal, spiritual process. Honestly, I’ve always been fascinated by practical chemistry, and sorely disappointed by my teachers, so I never really got the alchemist experience like I hoped. I wish I could have just experimented with substances under supervision. “Brown,” Beast-Keeping: This was also interesting, since Oberon has been a person who has kept, raised, and rehabilitated all sorts of animals over the years. I had a few issues with it though — first, it began by talking about totem animals, which were defined thusly: “Totems are animal species that you strongly identify with. That is, if you were an animal, what kind would you be?” Lots of magical folk have animals they identify with, but can they be called totems? Vision quests are mentioned and described, and Oberon has spoken to various Native leaders, so I’m not sure if this is appropriative or just a simplification for the children reading. (Also, Oberon calls possums “ret*rded cats.” Was that okay to do in 2004?) “Violet,” Cosmic Magic: It’s just a primer on astronomy. Most of it was straight science, with a bit of Greek mythology thrown in for good measure and some wild speculating about the origins of the universe. I’m not sure how much of it is out of date by now. I’m also surprised that moon phases weren’t discussed at all. But other than that, it covered the basics! I kind of have a special place in my heart for astronomy, since it was among my first obsessions. Unfortunately, I tried to study it in college and nearly failed because I can’t handle math or physics. “Clear,” Mathematics: Speaking of, the next chapter is on “mathemagick,” as he insists on calling it — numerology, arithmancy, sacred geometry, the Fibonacci sequence, dimension and planes, etc. Apparently the “magic numbers” for both your first name and birth date (adding up all the numbers again and again until you reach a single digit) should ideally be the same. For me, they’re both 2. So, that’s cool. Also nice to have the primer on Sacred Geometry, although I seriously doubt that the *Arabic* figure for the number 8 is at all related to the serpents on the caduceus. “White,” Ceremonial Magic: I loved this chapter. It contains a beautiful introduction to the Kabbalah and also to the Hermetica, which is a lot to cover in a few short pages and also not easy to simplify. I don’t know that much about the Kabbalah, so I got a lot out of that section. I was also impressed to find the text of the Emerald Tablet in there, although in my opinion, the Hermetic Principles should have been there too. It also provides a relatively simple procedure for evoking an angel by means of a scrying mirror. It’s a little bit simplistic, but requires plywood to support the mirror. I think it’s useful to have it as an example, especially because the book covers everything service-level, but it’s not really enough for a child to actually work off of. “Grey,” Lore Mastery: This chapter provides short retellings of numerous famous myths: Prometheus and Pandora, Inanna’s Descent (Ereshkigal definitely isn’t cruel for killing Inanna, though; she was pretty justified), Isis and Osiris, Hades and Persephone, Athena and Poseidon’s contest over Athens (which apparently in this version Athena won because all the women voted for her while the men voted for Poseidon, and there were more women than men in Athens… and the men were resentful so they denied women voting rights. Yeah… no. She won because her gift was more useful), Tam Lin, Gilgamesh, Perseus, Heracles, Theseus, Jason, Atalanta , the Odyssey, Cuchulain, King Arthur (the way he’s described makes him sound more historical than mythological, which is a bit disconcerting), and Robin Hood. It ends with encouraging the reader to create their own lore with creative projects of their own. See below for the section on “black magic.” This book is not perfect. I did find quite a few inaccuracies: The brief history of magic towards the beginning of the book contains an obligatory mention of the Burning Times, which Oberon claims lasted from 1227-1736. I’m not an expert on this topic, but from what I know, 1227 seems WAY too early to begin the “centuries of persecution.” They began in the fifteenth century, coinciding with the Protestant Reformation and the printing press which produced the Malleus Maleficarum. Also, once again, most of the accused were random people, not cunning folk. The Library of Alexandria was destroyed before Hypatia’s time. She was murdered by Christians, but the library was burned down by Julius Caesar centuries earlier. Also, Oberon attributes a lot of lost lore to its destruction, and I’m not sure that’s accurate. In the early sections of the book, Oberon names Gaea as Kronos’ wife, and claims that they had twelve children and Kronos swallowed eleven of them. Rhea is Kronos’ wife, and they are both children of Gaea. Zeus had five siblings, not eleven — the rest of the Olympians (save Aphrodite) are his children. This error is corrected later, in the massive list of deities, so I’m not sure why it’s wrong here. Pretty sure the Olympian gods don’t have to maintain their immortality by eating the Apples of Hesperides. They simply are immortal. And also, the Apples of Hesperides definitely are not oranges. They’re apples that are gold. And I’m pretty sure that the nectar of the gods is literally nectar, not mead. In the massive list of deities, Dionysus is listed as the son of Persephone and Hades. Yeah… no. This might not technically be wrong, per se, but it is an interpretation specific to a particular mystery cult, and only then through conflation of Zeus and Hades in said cult. One could maybe say that Zagreus is a son of Hades, but Dionysus is fundamentally the child of Zeus, and construing it any other way is extremely misleading at best. Dionysus’ entire story only makes sense if he’s the son of Zeus. Why do I know this? Because I’m a lorekeeper, that’s why. How is it that I have a better knowledge of lore than this man who’s been studying myth his whole life? Dionysus isn’t listed among the Olympians in favor of Hestia; this is fine. What’s not fine? Listing Hades among the Olympians, booting out Hephaestus. That’s just wrong. It’s also not the first time poor Hephaestus has been kicked off Olympus. Hades rules in the Underworld, and is not an Olympian. Archangel Michael is not a heavenly scribe. Where did you get that from, Oberon? Michael may be the most famous archangel, and he’s clearly a warrior angel who drives out evil with his sword, not a recording angel. I think sometimes Metatron is the recording angel; did you swap Michael and Metatron inside your head? Also, I’m not sure if any Christian denominations teach that souls who ascend to Heaven become angels, but occultists should know better… It’s a real stretch to call Osiris “the Egyptian Dionysus.” Yes, I know they were historically conflated. It doesn’t change the fact that they have almost nothing in common beyond the dismemberment thing. (The minor Egyptian deity Shezmu is much more similar.) Also, Isis isn’t a moon goddess. You can’t just take any great and powerful female deity and call her a moon goddess. Hogwarts Houses are used to demonstrate correspondences, but the Ravenclaw Head of House is Prof. Flitwick, not Prof. Sinistra, and the House mascot is technically an eagle, not a raven. The section on famous pre-modern wizards mixes real people like Pythagoras, Agrippa, Paracelsus, Flamel, da Vinci, and Dee with legendary or mythological figures like Moses, Solomon, Merlin, and Asclepius. Um… okay. So now the child reading this is going to think Asclepius was a real person. Also, Asclepius’ staff is distinct from the caduceus. The Celtic Tree Calendar is mentioned in this book. On the plus side, Oberon acknowledges that Graves invented it. This entire paragraph: “The old Neolithic agricultural civilizations of India, Iran, Mesopotamia, and Greece centered on a worship of the Earth Mother Goddess with her sons and daughters as minor deities. These people were conquered some 3,500 years ago by the patriarchal nomadic Indo-European warrior tribes, who mainly worshipped male divine ancestors.” I had a lot of problems with the chapter on magical beasts. First, Oberon seems adamant about connecting all of them to some kind of real animal. Manticores are really baboons, rocs are really “elephant birds”, griffins are bearded vultures, sirens are actually nightingales… Apparently, he and Morning Glory were going to write a book about that. But honestly, it rubbed me the wrong way — maybe dugongs have been mistaken for mermaids, but that doesn’t mean the mermaid myth was inspired by them. Some mythical creatures have been inspired by real animals, but saying that sirens were probably based after nightingales singing on the shores seems like a real stretch. Then Oberon conflates the Kraken and the Hydra! Why? The Kraken is a Norse cephalopod while the Hydra is a Greek many-headed serpent. He knows that, but why put them in the same category and treat them as if they were the same thing? Oh, and then he conflates the Hydra with Scylla, as though Scylla was the same monster. No! No! And finally, unicorns. I know that Oberon and Morning Glory bred goats to have single horns, thereby making them unicorns. But Oberon claims that such “unicorns” existed for 4,000 years and that they were made using a “closely guarded secret formula” from a few obscure tribes in North Africa in the Middle East, and that he and Morning Glory rediscovered it in 1976. Yeah… sounds like Barnum humbug. (Edit: I learned the origin of this technique from a book I have that’s about unicorns. The technique for making artificial “unicorns” was developed by one Dr. W. Franklin Dove in the 1930s. So, Oberon is literally lying to his audience by claiming that the horn modification technique is some ancient thing from obscure tribes and that his goats are the true and original “unicorns.” They’re a circus act. Thankfully, the technique does not harm the animal.) He makes similar claims about mythological humanoids (satyrs, giants, dwarves) by claiming that they were all inspired by real people in one way or another — people with genetic deformities or abnormalities, for example, or Neanderthals inspiring trolls. He even claims to have met a little “satyr” girl with a horselike tail. I mean… maybe? He seems to subscribe to Murray’s ridiculous theory that fairies (or dwarves) were inspired by a race of actual people with dwarfism who were good at mining. He also genuinely believes that the Tuatha Dé Dannan were real, that they sailed to America in white ships with swan-headed prows and leather sails on which salt crystallized, and that this fleet of divine ships was destroyed by Julius Caesar in 50 BCE, and that if this hadn’t happened, the entirety of Western history would be different (Magic and Mundane would never been separated, no Burning Times, no Christendom, etc.). Yeah… sure, man. There is still some plainly felt influence of Wicca on this book, especially in the emphasis of the Wheel of the Year and the approach towards anthropomorphic deities of nature. I still find myself caught up in this. The idea of these gods living the dance of life every year still makes some theological sense to me, even though the Sabbats don’t line up. In general, I still have very mixed feelings towards playing the conflation game with anthropomorphic personifications. Like, sure, you can say that the Goddess of Animals has been worshipped in different forms for thousands of years under many different names, but Artemis and Hathor are very different goddesses. I really want humanity to have been worshipping the same gods for thousands of years, but at the same time, conflating deities ends up overlooking a lot of their unique context that makes them who they are. It’s still inaccurate to claim that most societies center their religious festivals around a dying-and-rising god of vegetation (that’s straight out of Frazer). (Also, Jack is a pet form of John or Jacob, meaning it comes from Hebrew, not Iacchus/Bacchus.) Proving my point, there’s a table of deities who correspond to each other under the Absolutely Massive List, and… well, let me just put it this way: I would have loved a chart like this three or four years ago, when I was interested in the idea that all gods were just regional variants of impossibly ancient things and that all people basically worshipped the same gods. Well… no. Looking at this conflation chart makes it really clear to me that the gods are not so alike, and conflating them like this ignores a lot of things. For example, listed under “Sky Father” is Nut, whom Oberon acknowledges is female, but… yeah, you can’t really call the archetype “Sky Father” when there’s such an obvious exception. Likewise with “Sister Moon” — Khonsu and Sin are male, which Oberon acknowledges, but so are Mani and Soma, which he does not acknowledge. Most of the gods listed under “Sister Moon” are male. And one of the female ones is Hathor, who’s a solar goddess! Likewise, Soma is listed under “Green Man” because he’s a god of vegetation, but he’s primarily a moon god, not anything remotely like the Green Man archetype. His agricultural associations come from timing the process of planting and harvesting with the moon cycle. And seriously, the only reason you would list Agni under “rains and storms” is because lightning is fire. See, this is the problem I have with conflation. Once you scrutinize them, the archetypes fall apart. I still believe in the collective unconscious and the universality of concepts across cultures, but I (now) think this is a really sloppy way to demonstrate it. I’m also not a fan of the idea of different methods of magic being rigidly color-coded. The system of magic presented in this book suggests that you dedicate your study to one type of magic associated with a specific color, exactly like in The Owl House. By the way, the color-coded magic system in The Owl House is explicitly a tool of domination used by the evil Emperor Belos to control the populace. I mean… okay, it’s not that rigid. This book isn’t asking you to literally study only one type of magic. It’s not that bad, but I don’t personally like it. I mean, I love the color violet, but I left astronomy behind when I nearly failed it in college. Worse is Oberon’s apparent fear of darkness. In the chapter on magical times, Oberon writes that the waning moon is used for spells for destructive magic and “all works of trouble and deceit.” He says that the Dark Moon is “the most ominous time of all, reserved for works of definite destruction and death.” Really? Really? I mean… he’s studied Wicca, right? He clarifies that destructive magic is sometimes necessary and not always bad, but then why associate it with trouble and deceit, then? Oberon just seems to demonize dark stuff in general, for no real reason — he even associates black candles with “evil, loss, discord, confusion; blighting or binding.” Wow. No banishment, no protection, no Shadow Work? What the hell? He also says that “positive and beneficial” magic is done during the day, while “spells done during the dark hours are usually for enchantments, or for promoting your desires and advantages over others”, i.e. “selfish magic.” Once again, Oberon does not say that such spells are evil, necessarily, but the implication is there, or he wouldn’t have associated daylight with benevolence. I’ve read other beginner material that states that most workings are done at night, and I certainly prefer to do my workings at night. “Darksome night and shining moon,” anyone? Clearly, Oberon is not a night person, and that’s fine, but a lot of magic-users are, and they should not have to associate darkness with selfishness or malevolence. Which brings me to the chapter on the “Dark Arts.” Turns out there’s two versions of this book. I first found the book online, here. The version of this chapter that is in this online version is very different from the version that I have in hard copy. Astoundingly different! In this online version, it seems as though the first few sections of this chapter are written by Oberon, while in my print version, they are instead written by an Alexzandria Baker. Her version of the section presents the same information, but does so differently. First, there’s the shaky definition of “black magic.” The version I found online claims that sorcery and sympathetic magic form the bulk of “the black arts,” using examples like melting a wax poppet to kill a victim. And yet, this version also claims that black magic “is not necessarily evil,” even though it just said exactly that. Then it ties the phrase “black magic” to Ancient Egypt where black was the color of fertile soil, therefore good. But then… the last line of the first section of this chapter in the online version is, “True Wizards, by definition, simply do not use magic in this way.” So, black magic isn’t actually evil but now it basically refers to “selfish” magic which is evil? The online version of this chapter defines “sorcery” four different, contradictory ways: 1. As folk magic 2. As manipulative or unethical (i.e. “evil”) magic 3. As magic practiced independently of a spiritual path. 4. As magic concerned with the seeking of power, rather than wisdom or enlightenment. (LHP) And it really doesn’t do a very good job distinguishing between those definitions! It tries to draw a distinction between using “sorcery” for the right reasons vs. the wrong reasons, but I don’t think it succeeds at that. It characterizes all sympathetic and folk magic as “black magic” and conflates it with unethical magic. Why? I don’t know, maybe voodoo or witchcraft stereotypes? The resulting takeaway is that folk magic or seeking power are unethical, even though the book says they’re not. Which is it? I’m sure I’m missing something here, but that’s kind of my point — it’s really confusing, contradictory, and difficult to make sense of! If black magic used to be good but now means “evil magic,” and sorcery is practiced by all wizards so it’s not really evil unless you do too much of it which makes you selfish… why associate “black magic” with evil in the first place? Why put that there? Why talk about it at all? It’s like Oberon wants to define sympathetic magic or LHP magic as evil but knows that he shouldn’t, so he’s being all wishy-washy about it. He acknowledges that the things he is saying are evil aren’t actually evil, but he insists that they are anyway. How is a child reading this supposed to interpret that? By contrast, Baker’s version (in the hard copy) is much smoother and much less judgmental! Her first line is not this weird conflation of definitions, but instead, “The term ‘black magick’ has often been used in opposition to ‘white magic’ or to mean ‘negative’ magic. Nothing could be further from the truth.” There we go! And she closes off her version of this section by saying, “A well-rounded magician should be schooled in all branches of magick and able to use each as situations require, in balance…” Thank you! How different! How much simpler and clearer! Her section explaining “sorcery” also emphasizes that “selfish” magic is not necessarily bad; as admirable as it is to help others, it’s also important to take care of one’s own needs. The online version of this section states definitively, “Merlin, Gandalf, and Obi-Wan Kenobi are Wizards. Morgan la Fey, Saruman, Darth Vader, and Lord Voldemort are Sorcerers.” Baker’s version lacks this extremely black-and-white comparison. This section in the hard copy also lacks a quote from Wizards and Sorcerers by Tom Ogden that defines power and obtaining godhood, the general goal of the LHP, as evil and Satanic. The conflation of “dark” or chthonic magic with selfishness, manipulation, or evil drives me up the wall. There’s nothing actually wrong with chthonic gods, Goetic work, and necromancy (let alone sympathetic magic). Doing magic for “selfish” purposes does not automatically mean using it to control or manipulate other people. Having a situational view of morality instead of a strict moral code (another thing that makes one an evil “sorcerer” as opposed to a good “Wizard”) also isn’t necessarily bad. Even seeking power to “become a god,” which is condemned by the online version, still isn’t inherently a bad thing (or at least doesn’t make LHPers literally bad people). I guess I’m a “sorceress” by Oberon’s original definition, since I tend to lean left (i.e. personal power and situational morality), I do magic mainly for myself, I like black, and I talk to demons sometimes. I am the Night, fear me! And then there’s the section on Satanism. Oh boy. So… the online version of the book horrendously mischaracterizes Satanism, mentioning that modern Satanic movements are mostly atheistic, but also characterizing modern Satanists as deceptive and controlling (evil) people, who view other people as cattle. If you call yourself a Satanist, then that means you are a bad person. It’s like people new to Harry Potter who think that Slytherins are all bad people for being Slytherins! It would be comical if it didn’t leave such a bad taste in my mouth. That all seriously pisses me off. The dark side of the magical world is still important and can still be healthily engaged with. And no one deserves to be condemned for the path they follow. Calling Satanists evil people isn’t just incorrect, it’s deeply hypocritical, because we as magic practitioners all sympathize with those who have been persecuted for their (real or suspected) religions, practices, or spiritual paths. In short, it demonizes the Left Hand Path. The version in the printed copy, written by Oberon and Baker, is so, so different. The line, “All manners of evil were glorified [by Satanists], including the desecration of sacraments, sexual abuse, and even infant sacrifice” has been removed. Good. “Satanic Ritual Abuse” is bullshit and it’s always been bullshit. The history of Satanism in the printed version is much more accurate. It actually mentions Anton LaVey (to start), while the online version does not. Just compare the final paragraphs of the section on Satanism from both versions: Online version: “I have included this information out of a sense of responsibility to put out a “warning label” for you. Satanism is the darkest of the dark arts, and has nothing whatsoever to do with Wizardry or Witchcraft. Satanic “ethics” are entirely self-serving and manipulative, and most Satanists will routinely lie about their intentions, actions, and objectives to gain control over others, whom they consider as cattle. Do NOT trust such people! If you should encounter any of them, avoid them like the plague!” Printed version: “In today’s magickal community, there are polytheistic Satanists, pantheistic Satanists, Gnostic Luciferians, Luciferians, LaVeyans, Setians, and many other forms of diabolists and demonolators. No single blanket statement can even begin to sum up the beliefs or character of all of these groups. At their core, most are seeking a path to individual freedom and personal liberty. Some are sorcerers, Witches, or ceremonial magicians, while others follow a more chaotic approach to life and religion. The most important thing to remember about Satanists though is that some are good, upstanding, ethical people while a few are predatory psychopaths – just like the rest of the human race.” Just… Zeus Almighty! This blows my mind! It used to be downright bigoted! What a 180! I’m not sure what changed, or when, but Baker must be a Satanist or LHP’er herself, and she must have knocked some sense into Oberon. I guess he didn’t avoid her like the plague, and actually came to realize that people who dance on the dark side are just people, like everyone else! I am grateful that this copy that I have is much more accurate and more tolerant, because it makes me like the book a lot more, and makes me less apprehensive about giving or recommending the book to children. Man, I’m so glad I decided to buy a hard copy. The rest of this chapter provides a short overview of demons and the Qliphoth, ghosts and necromancy, vampires, zombies, werewolves, and magical defense like auric shields and warding rituals. It’s mostly identical to the online version. The differences are minor — for example, the online version claims Goetia means “howling,” while the print version does not provide an etymology (That’s not false, but it’s made to sound “oooh spooky howling demons” when really “goetia” simply comes from a root meaning “to chant or sing,” just like “incantation,” “enchantment,” and a bunch of other magical words.) The order of the zombie and werewolf sections is swapped. The only other significant change is in the vampire section — the printed version was contributed to by Morgan Felidae, who probably provided Oberon some information about the vampyre subculture. The online version presents psychic vampires as codependent emotional leeches, “hopeless neurotics or junkies.” The print version discusses the difference between awakened psychic vampires who are aware of their abilities and attempt to make ethical use of them, and latent psychic vampires who are emotionally demanding, manipulative, and needy. The werewolf section contains a short paragraph about therians and otherkin, whose astral forms are that of animals or other nonhumans. In short, the revised version of this chapter is a significant improvement over what I assume is the original. It is so much less problematic, and makes me like this book a lot more. (I really don’t know where that online version comes from, or whether it’s legit or not. Was it an earlier version? Both books have 2004 listed as the publication date, but there are a few other minor differences. My Google searches didn’t turn up anything about different versions. Everything else seems the same, so perhaps only this chapter was redone? Maybe, if the online version is somehow faked, all this analysis and criticism is moot. But I was shook by the online version and wrote a whole rant about it and then found that the chapter in the printed version was quite different despite looking the same, so… idk, here’s the resulting combined comparison/analysis/rant. Bottom line, this book wins back some points for cleaning up its act in this chapter.) One of the things I really liked about this book was addressing the archetype of the Wizard from different angles — not only Wizard as magician, but also Wizard as priest, Wizard as lorekeeper, Wizard as scientist, Wizard as a steward of the natural world, Wizard as the medicine man/woman of the community, etc. This is important, because in various eras throughout history, the Wizard has been all those things. Therefore, in addition to magic and occultism, this book contains some basics of natural science (i.e. geology, ecology, and astronomy) as they relate to the spiritual world. It places a great emphasis on environmental stewardship, and connecting to nature in general. Before even getting to any magic or occult stuff, there’s a chapter covering instructions and tips for camping, woodland survival, building campfires, foraging, and gardening. What was most interesting to me was this book’s emphasis on wizardry being explicitly connected with lore keeping, and the understanding of storytelling. That made me reassess my relationship to the label “wizard” as opposed to “witch” or any other variant. I’m not all that witchy — my practice is more scholarly than practical, and I’ve always had a more wizardy aesthetic. What really got me, though, was the beginning of the second paragraph of the book: “The main difference between a Wizard and others is that the Wizard knows the importance of stories and myths, and seizes the power to tell the story in a way that shapes the future. All Wizards are storytellers — and their stories tell us who we are, where we came from, and where we are going.” Have I not dedicated my entire life to the art and technique of storytelling? Have I not made it my primary ambition to tell stories that inspire people? I spend so much of my time understanding the conventions, techniques, influences, and magical power of storytelling. I’ve studied every major world mythology on some level since I learned to read, beginning with the children’s bibles in the back of my closet. I spend hours reading TV Tropes or watching Trope Talks on YouTube. My academic career is based around literary analysis and understanding storytelling on a technical level. And storytelling is powerful magic. It reminds me of this quote: “You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.” – Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus. Other people’s stories have had astounding impacts on my life. Every fandom I’ve been in has changed me. I want my stories to do the same, and some of them already have. I hope that my stories will do the same for other people. That is really all I want out of life. So, the chapter on lore begins with a description of the concept of Otherworlds — that there are other non-physical planes of reality adjacent to ours that exist if you believe in them, that are populated by Fae and gods and monsters, that contain every story ever told. It covers the realm of Faerie in Celtic mythology, the Realms surrounding Yggdrasil in Norse mythology, Mt. Olympus in Greek mythology, Heaven, various Underworlds, Discworld, and more. Honestly, this hit home for me. This realm, Faerie or Annwn or The Dreaming or The Otherworld or the Collective Unconscious (or Aion, as I just began calling it), is something fundamental to the experience of humankind. Stories exist both as products of individual minds and also of entire communities — everything from cultural mythologies to the fandoms of any given piece of media that expand it into a vast body of collective lore. This concept is part of who I am as a person. I live much of my life within an elaborately constructed fantasy life that I use to frame my actual life, which means that I spend all my time half-in and half-out of the Otherworld. In fact, I realize that when it comes to learning magic, I’m working backwards — I’m so uncomfortable in my physical body and in my base identity as “Sarah McLean,” that I have to learn how to come back down in order to do any real magic on the physical plane. Since I was at least six, I’ve desperately wanted to “stumble” through a portal somewhere, and my child self felt like I had to do that before I reached adulthood, or I’d lose my chance. Well, now I’m here. And all I write is portal fantasy! The title “wizard” is kind of disdained in most of the occult community. It’s not a term a lot of people use, because it’s associated more with fantasy than with occultism, and is perceived as being a bit fluffy. It also doesn’t have the same kind of cultural tide behind it that “witch” did, associating it even more with fantasy than with occultism. “A Witch is a practitioner of magick, a wizard is a D&D class.” But, honestly… that’s kind of what I like about it. A Wizard bridges the gap between reality and fantasy. It is a bit hard to take seriously, but this book has made me seriously reconsider it, because my particular brand of magic is immersed in storytelling. *Whew.* Okay, so my takeaway is that, as 101 books go, this is decent. It’s geared towards actual beginners, it covers a lot of ground, it’s comprehensive, and it keeps things simple. This book is a crash course in almost everything having to do with magic and occultism, and I think more beginner books should be like that. It also has an extensive list of reference material at the back! But it also has false information in it, and a child isn't going to be able to separate out the useful information from the bullshit. I still would recommend it to those who are just barely beginning their studies into occultism and don’t really know where to begin, but not in isolation.
"In the Shadow of Thirteen Moons" Review
In the Shadow of Thirteen Moons by Kimberly Sherman-Cook is supposed to be a beginner’s guide to Shadow work, and magical practice based around darker deities. Those of you who are familiar with my content will know that Shadow work is my answer to absolutely everything. I think that the entire world would be better if people were more introspective. I also think that occultism requires Shadow work as a necessary step, ideally an initial one — any kind of real spiritual growth or intense mystical experiences is going to require dragging up and dealing with Shadow baggage. This is doubly true if you’re working with darker entities or energies. Shadow work is difficult, but crucial. I’m not sure if this book will have anything that’s new to me, but I could use some examples of entry-level stuff for Shadowbook, and I of course want to inform newbie witches of books that might be useful! So, I’m going to read it, and if I like it, I will start recommending it to everybody! Before I start to talk about the book’s actual content, I want to get a disclaimer-rant out of the way: This is the first “Wiccanate” occult book that I’ve read in a while, and my initial reaction is that I feel like I’m thirteen years old and reading the Hecate’s Cauldron site again. Now, I take notice of things that went over my head or were taken for granted back then. For example, the sentence “Ancient followers of paganism and folk magic recognized the dark moon’s power as the full moon’s opposite.” Which ancient followers of what form of paganism, where and when? The vagueness of that statement makes it sound like this magical emphasis on the dark moon was a universal idea throughout ancient pagan religions, when… it’s not. In fact, I can’t help but wonder if there’s any ancient source about the mystical power of the dark moon that’s not a festival calendar. Then, “Fear was interjected later when the original stories were changed to fit into Christianized philosophies. Today, witches strive to regain their heritage understand the dark moon as much as the ancient peoples did.” So now there’s implicit blame placed upon Christianity for maliciously changing beliefs that ancient people likely never had in the first place! Maybe I’m being pedantic, but I felt personally misled by these kinds of statements. I really thought that I was reclaiming some kind of ancient secret heritage of pagan magic, until I learned that most if not all of this so-called heritage is modern, invented within the last century or so. And all of these ideas are specific to Wicca, not thematic threads within all forms of paganism. I wouldn’t have had a problem with that if I had simply been told that from the get-go, instead of books and sites like this one phrasing it as though it’s more ancient and more universal than it actually is. This line is a perfect example: “In the pagan wheel of life, the dark moon and the crone are seen as representations of the late stages of life.” There is no “pagan wheel of life” because “pagan” is not one religion. The concept of the Crone comes from Robert Graves, who wrote a big book of conjecture in the 1940s. When I learned that these ideas were modern and based on historical conjecture instead of ancient universal pagan truths, that there was no heritage, I felt betrayed. Okay, I’m only two pages in. Moving on. Aside from all of that, this book’s introduction makes it sound very promising. Chapter 1: Truth in Darkness I like the initial description of what the Shadow is and how it works. It went a little fast and didn’t mention Jung at all, but it got the point across, and was communicated in a way that was so intriguing that I felt excited about it even though I’ve done a lot of Shadow work already. I love the image of walking the dark inner labyrinth, or of the Shadow ruling over the “dark silent kingdoms” of the night (because mine literally does exactly that). The book begins with encouraging you to confront your fears of physical darkness, if you have them, and to start to address why your fears are what they are. These are excellent questions to start with. Much of Shadow work is figuring out why — why you fear what you fear, why you believe what you believe, and why you react to things the way you do. That alone can be very difficult to find answers to, since often we accept fears and beliefs as being simply “the way things are” without there being a “why.” Once you find the answer to that question, you begin to see that irrational fears or damaging beliefs are projections of some part of you. I’m impressed with this book for starting there. Let’s ask the hard questions right out of the gate! I recently became aware of “Shadow work prompts” being a thing, and not all of them are relevant. This one asks, “What projects haven’t I finished?”, which is a good question but not Shadow work, and “How much have corrupt forces penetrated my life” — uncomfortable choice of words there, and the whole point of Shadow work is to recognize that the “corrupt force” is actually you instead of blaming (real or imagined) external influences. What even is a “corrupt force,” the Dark Side of the Force? There is no evil force trying to seduce you, there’s just you, that’s the point. Even when external influences are relevant, Shadow work is fundamentally introspective work. This is a long-winded way of saying that I appreciate that the author of this book understands that. Chapter 2: Understanding the Dark Moon Okay. I have a number of problems to start with. This author suggests that we think of statements of balance like “As above, so below” as being like Newton’s Third Law, which she phrases as… “With any action comes an equal or greater reaction.” …How? How does one get that wrong? That’s not just a mistake, that actually undercuts her entire point because “equal or greater” is not nearly as much a statement of balance as “equal and opposite,” is it? Pretty sure all of physics would be different if that were the case. Second, the section on the “Magickal Origins” of the dark moon has no actual history in it. Sherman-Cook claims that no one studied the use of the dark moon in ritual because of stigma against it, until D.J. Conway’s Moon Magick was published. Apparently, that book helped inspire this one. That’s a red flag. I actually have Moon Magick, and I like the rituals and recipes in it, but D.J. Conway is notorious for making baseless claims about ancient gods and rituals (to the point where some write off her work entirely). And then we get into more Christian-bashing — “…when the Church wanted to keep people from practicing paganism and heathenism […] the ‘old moon,’ as the dark moon was called, was transformed from the crone and sage’s wisdom to the time of the devil.” I’m still iffy on my understanding of the Christianization of Europe and suppression of paganism, but if there’s one thing I understand, it’s that it was a lot more complicated than pagans frequently make it out to be. I don’t remember reading, believing, or otherwise encountering any notion that the dark moon was associated with the devil. It’s not implausible, but I need specifics, dammit! When are we talking? Shortly after the fall of Rome, or the witch hunts that happened centuries later? I think many neopagan witches are under the impression that those are the same thing, instead of completely unrelated events with a little less than a millennium in between. And Christianization happened at different speeds in different places. And sometimes it was a relatively peaceful replacing of local pagan religions, while other times it was all-out war. …So we’re back to, where does this association with the crone and sage’s wisdom come from? Perhaps in answer to that, Sherman-Cook says “I studied the Celtic cultures and learned that the dark moon was also associated with the women’s mysteries and with deep inner transformation.” That statement is maddeningly vague. Celtic culture isn’t unified, so that doesn’t tell us very much. We still don’t have a specific where or when, or so much as an example (a myth, a folk magic spell, something) connecting the dark moon with those associations. Apparently, Sherman-Cook studied as a priestess of the Sisterhood of Avalon, which I’m actually familiar with. The Sisterhood of Avalon is based in Welsh deities and folklore. Is there any Welsh folklore or folk magic regarding the dark moon? Maybe there is! I don’t know! I’d really appreciate it if this book cited something! The rest of this chapter is just fine! It includes a basic description of how to use the moon in magic, doing banishing spells at the waning moon and manifesting spells on the waxing moon and so on, placing particular emphasis on the moment the dark moon becomes the new moon (i.e. the first sliver of the waxing moon). It suggests paying attention to the way different moon phases make you feel, so that you can find the points at which you feel the most powerful. It also contains more Shadow work exercises, making lists of your motivations and things that you want to improve about yourself as well as potential Shadow aspects. Again, it encourages you to ask good questions of yourself. It ends with a chakra-based banishing and the first Shadow work meditation, which I really like. It consists of you, walking into a spooky forest to find an enchanted mirror where you can observe and learn things about yourself, like the Mirror of Night in Hades. I’d actually like to try this one! Chapter 3: The Dark Circle of Power This chapter begins with a pretty basic description of how to cast a circle and why it’s important to do so. It specifies that such a circle should be cast widdershins. It also uses the phrase “drawing in darkness” which was the same description that Konstantinos used in Nocturnicon, which is cool! All this makes sense to me. It also includes a basic ritual structure. I particularly like how it encourages you to play around with the ritual structures presented in the book so that you can adapt them into something that works for you. I think that’s very important, because it’s critical to have ritual be a personally meaningful thing and not just a series of steps that you do out of obligation. If it feels like you’re going through the motions, you’re doing it wrong. Not a lot else to say about this. My only complaint is that in one place it says “docile” where it should say “deosil.” Chapter 4: Reversal of the Elements Moving to the next part of a circle casting, this chapter describes welcoming the four elements into the circle backwards, alongside the widdershins circle (i.e. starting to the North and ending in the East). We get the usual set of elemental correspondences, but most of this chapter is about learning to deal with the darker parts of their natures. All very good. I love the descriptions of the four elements in this book, which are very detailed and draw attention to the ways that the elemental forces can be useful and also the ways they can be destructive when out-of-balance. I like the emphasis on needing to familiarize yourself with elemental energies that you don’t work well with, in order to balance yourself out. I expected something like this in a book about Shadow work, of course, but my first thought was of Avatar: The Last Airbender and the episode “Bitter Work.” In this episode, Aang struggles to learn earthbending because it’s so different from airbending, and goes against his nature. Meanwhile, Zuko wants to learn lightning-bending, but doesn’t have the peace of mind necessary to actually do it. Essentially, this book is saying that you need to become the Avatar and learn to work with the energies of all four elements with equal aptitude, especially the elements that don’t match your personality. Also in “Bitter Work,” Iroh explains the characteristics of the elements to Zuko. He emphasizes that it’s important to understand all four elements, and the values and techniques of the people who can bend them, even if you can only bend one. Bending in AtLA is a great framework for thinking about working with elemental energies in occultism. You are essentially bending elemental forces to your will, even if you can’t physically see them the way the characters in the show can, and you’ll probably be successful at using elemental forces if you visualize physically “bending” them. And in the show, the different characteristics of the metaphorical/spiritual elements (both good and bad) are reflected in the characters who use them. For instance, Zuko’s personality in Season 1 embodies most of the negative aspects of Fire as described in this book (“anger, frustration, feelings of being the victim of the universe, excessive passion, obsession, compulsion, […] rage, selfishness, denial, hatred”). Over the course of the show, Zuko learns to figuratively and literally use/embody the element of Fire in a healthier and more productive way, through improving as a person and through learning to fuel his firebending with more positive emotions. That’s a great example of the kind of psychological work Sherman-Cook is talking about. This description of the elements is followed up by a sample dark moon ritual that brings me right back to the nostalgia of the Hecate’s Cauldron site, back when that existed. Once again, it’s based on a watered-down Wiccan framework, but I like it and I think it’s a good simple and general structure, especially for new practitioners. My only complaint is that she advocates for “smudging” with white sage. I won’t go into a tirade of why that’s problematic, just know that smudging with white sage is specific to Native American cultures. Use garden sage, not white sage (its demand for use in smudge sticks has actually endangered it, and made it hard for Native Americans to get it) and don’t call it “smudging.” After this is a recommended exercise to do elemental-based Shadow work by associating elemental traits with symbols and hand gestures, that you can then deploy to change your emotional state. For example, if you have problems controlling your anger (a fire trait), you could visualize an oak tree (an earth symbol) to remind you to be calm and self-assured. This is a pretty good idea. I might give it a shot, since I tend to struggle with controlling my emotional states. I could also see using alphabet-of-desire-style sigils to represent these different elemental-based traits as well. There’s an exercise similar to this in Shadow Magick Compendium by Raven Digitalis, in which he lists a series of statements concerning character flaws related to each element being unbalanced (e.g. “I tend to be neglectful of other people’s needs” or “I feel overwhelmed and frustrated at even the smallest things”), and asks you to list the ones that apply to you, to see where you need the most work. Even just the awareness of the things you need to work on does a lot, and categorizing them based on elemental associations can be a useful tool. Another suggested method is to evoke elements during ritual to help work through Shadow traits associated with that element, or using the minor arcana of a tarot deck to gain insight into each element in your subconscious. All good techniques! Chapter 5: Channeling Dark Deities This chapter opens with a summary of different kinds of deity work — inviting them to attend rituals, evocation, and invocation. I think that this summary is excellent, and covers a lot of the same things that I say in my answers about the subject. Sherman-Cook cautions against taking invocation lightly and recommends that you learn it from a skilled practitioner, which is something that I rarely say in my answers, because invocation is relatively easy for me and I don’t think about it. I appreciate the perspective. One thing that she mentions is that people who claim to have deities invoked all the time are just on ego trips, and that any serious invocation is going to be reverent, intense, and take a lot out of you. That’s probably true, at least of deities. But deities are not the only things that can be invoked. So far, I realized that this book hasn’t advocated for invoking one’s Shadow, or even personifying it into an entity. Personifying my Shadow was the very first thing I did, before I knew anything about occultism. I feel like personifying your Shadow into an entity is a very useful tool for Shadow work, provided that you don’t disassociate it from yourself. As for invocation, I have Astor invoked to some degree all the time, to the point where I speak with his voice and mentally superimpose his body over my own. This is a natural state for me, and I’ve been doing something like this my whole life, so I understand that it may just be me. Also, having part of myself invoked all the time is very different from having a deity invoked all the time. This is a tangent, but with regards to Shadow invocation — I recommend it. It helps you literally become your darker self, removing the risk of disassociation. Although I have Astor as a male version of myself invoked all the time, I rarely have Astor-as-Shadow fully invoked to the point where I feel like I’m dominated or “possessed” by the darker side of myself (what I call “Shadow form”). When I do this, I’m almost always alone and away from people (like in the shower, for example), and my mind goes to some very dark places. It’s disturbing, but it’s such productive Shadow work. Invoking your Shadow is basically entering into a Jekyll and Hyde dynamic with yourself, and it can be scary. It comes naturally to me, so I’m not sure how difficult it would be for you. But it’s something worth considering. I personally think it’s invaluable. Someday, I’d like to be able to have Astor invoked with other people present, and let him out to play in the appropriate contexts. Despite the title of this chapter, it doesn’t contain any deity work. Instead, its exercises are simple Drawing Down meditations meant to familiarize you with the energy of the dark moon. I like the description, “Its energy envelops you like a blanket and embraces you with comfort and challenge.” That’s exactly how I think of folds! Chapter 6: Working with Dark Deities This chapter presents two different ways of working with deities — one, the pantheon model of working with actual ancient deities, and two, the archetype model of working with the general concept of a “mother goddess” or “divine child.” Although this whole book is about an archetype that I believe applies universally — the Shadow — I’m still wary of applying archetypes to deities because I’ve learned the hard way that it tends to result in the conflation game and ignoring the unique distinctions that make deities what they are: “…at their core, Hecate and Morrigan are from the same archetypical construct—they are both crone figures and triple goddesses.” *screams internally* However, I appreciate that Sherman-Cook acknowledges that archetypes cannot be related to on the same direct, human level as gods and goddesses. Like me, she recommends pantheons over archetypes. Working with gods as individuals over archetypes made an unbelievable amount of difference for me. Like me, Sherman-Cook recommends researching different pantheons and choosing one that you feel drawn to. But she also recommends to only work with one pantheon at a time, to avoid gods fighting with each other. I’m not sure I agree with this. I think whether or not gods get along comes down to individual gods’ personalities rather than to mixing pantheons. Gods within a pantheon may not like each other. I think you can mix pantheons, just be mindful about it (and vary your ritual structure accordingly). Also like me, she recommends noticing which deities you feel drawn to and paying attention to which Shadow aspects they represent (this is how I found Dionysus), and then talking to them in meditation to see if they want to work with you. All great! This is such a good introduction to deity work. The activities in this chapter are meditations to help you meet with your god and goddess, and again I liked them. I actually tried it and got some interesting stuff out of it! Chapter 7: Representing and Thanking Dark-moon Deities Not a lot to say about this. It completes the ritual structure by giving you some prayers and libations to the gods, using Hecate as an example. So once again I’m taken right back to being thirteen and reading the Hecate’s Cauldron site! I found my own deities through Shadow work — in my lore Hecate is Astor’s mother, and Dionysus feels like Astor himself but on a divine scale. So to me, they’re Shadow-divinities. I remember being surprised when I first tried a ritual and realized that those pages and pages of text were just things that you say to open up the ritual, light all the candles, call in all the spirits, and then to close it down and dismiss them. The “working” bit, which takes up no space on paper, is the actual thing that you set up the ritual to do — meditation, divination, spellcasting, etc. It’s like how the word “Sermon” takes up almost no space on a church program but ends up being forty-five minutes. Chapter 8: Balance between Dark and Light We’re now on to part two of this book. This chapter reminds you to occasionally take breaks from your Shadow work so that you don’t feel consumed by the abyss, and risk falling into depression, fixation, or intentional isolation. I would have said that I hadn’t experienced this, that I like being infatuated with darkness and shadow. And, I do. But… I couldn’t help but notice that I have felt obsessed with dark and troubling thoughts and emotions for the past year, related to a number of Shadow-related things that all got dragged up at once. I did feel like I would be consumed by the abyss. One of the “lighter” practices this author recommends to balance things out is “all things that are social, fun, outside of oneself.” And then it hit me. We can’t do most of those things right now. That ‘sinking into the abyss’ feeling has very much been the energy of the past year. We’ve all been in quarantine, which is that intentional isolation, separation, inability to function or relate to daily life that she mentioned a few paragraphs earlier. We’ve all been there for a year. We’ve all had to deal with crushing despair on some level. So… having experienced that, I agree — you do need to balance things out whenever necessary. Although I do wish she recommended some methods of doing so that don’t amount to “be more extroverted,” because quarantine, but also because doing extroverted things rarely helps me personally. I do like her suggestion that you pay close attention to your emotional state, and the types of reactions you have to them. And now finally, finally we come to making a representation of one’s Shadow. But, it’s not an entity, it’s a papier mâché mask. The mask is meant to be a manifestation of your Shadow on the physical plane. It’s basically a real-life version of the Persona concept as it appears in Persona 5. I know this wouldn’t work for me because there’s no way I could make Astor’s face out of papier mâché. I also don’t need to. But if you think a mask would work well as an invocation tool, then here you are. Personally, if I were writing this, I would go into detail about how to really invoke one’s Shadow, since it involves more than simply wearing a (literal or figurative) mask. (Oh wait, the mask is just meant to be a physical image of the Shadow and isn’t intended to be used for invocation… never mind.) Chapter 9: Obtaining Your Keys to the Dark Finally, a complete explanation of what Shadow work really is and how it works! This is a more detailed version of the intro, although instead of focusing on fear, it focuses on repressed emotions and personality traits. It’s a comprehensive and succinct explanation of how repressing emotions can affect your external life. Refusing to deal with emotional problems can manifest as physical and mental problems. It also highlights the opposite problem — that when you react to everything and can’t control your emotions, you get stuck in emotional states that you refuse to release, and still can’t move forward. I was like, “oh, that’s definitely me!” Once again, there’s no mention of Jung, which is weird — this chapter would be a perfect place for his quote, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” This chapter helped me to finally understand that quote! This chapter recommends journaling as a method to do Shadow work because it’s harder to lie to yourself on paper. You’re less likely to judge yourself, shut yourself down, or fall into old paradigms if you put them on paper and look at them objectively. I never considered this, actually (I guess I’ve got Shadowbook instead), but it makes sense. So, that’s a potential tool to use if you think it’ll work for you. There’s also a Shadow-confrontation ritual in this chapter, finally. I like some things about it, but not others. It involves watching things that you need to work on in life play out in front of you while being disassociated with them, and then having a nice chat with your Shadow. I feel like a Shadow work meditation should be deliberately scarier than that, although this one does include a Journey-esque difficult trek through the snow. I acknowledge that my preference for a more unsettling environment in Shadow-work meditation (like descending into a cave or tomb, exploring a dark and empty building, etc.) may be purely my own aesthetic. Shadow work is difficult, but it isn’t necessarily supposed to be scary. Honestly, I recommend allowing yourself to end up wherever makes sense for you in Shadow meditations, because Shadow is intensely personal. I would certainly end up in Astor’s palace, because my Shadow work revolves around my relationship to power and hedonism. Go wherever your Shadow takes you, because it’s probably relevant. Honestly, this whole book could be just this chapter, and it would say everything important about Shadow work. Chapter 10: Finding Your Inner Goddess and God This chapter focuses on balancing out Shadow work by also finding your inner god and goddess, i.e. “light.” This chapter isn’t actually about gods at all. It’s about self-affirmation! This chapter has you make more lists of qualities, this time being positive qualities that you like about yourself. Then it has you compare them to the list of things that you need to work on, to see if you’ve improved as a person, or if you can use the positive qualities to help mitigate the negative ones. I particularly like the list of prompts that ask if you are unintentionally undermining your positive qualities with your negative qualities, for example, refusing to do something you’re actually good at because of your insecurities. I find that I frequently find excuses to not use potential solutions and hinder myself, because familiarity feels more comfortable than change (even if the change would be for the better). This wasn’t exactly what I expected, but I appreciate its value. It’s very important to be balanced with both “darker” and “lighter” qualities, because reconciling that duality is how you make spiritual progress. Think Temperance in the tarot. I would personally take it a step further — look at your Shadow aspects and ask yourself how they could be positive or constructive. Transmutation! Chapter 11: The Outer Realms This chapter is about learning to recognize how other people and other external factors trigger your Shadow self, but not in the sense of recognizing projections that you place on them. Interestingly, this is about noticing how other people might undermine you or hinder your personal transformation. For example, maybe you feel unworthy because of someone else guilting you into doing things for them, or you’re insecure because other people never recognize your positive qualities. This isn’t about blaming people for your own emotions, since that would be the opposite of Shadow work. It is about tracing the roots of your emotions and reactions to things people say and do that you have subconsciously internalized, so you can brush off their influence going forward. Or if possible, remove their toxic influence from your life so that they don’t encourage you to fall back into old patterns of behavior. Chapter 12: Changes Made Manifest This chapter is basically a commemoration of everything you’ve managed to accomplish so far, through the process of introspection outlined in this book. It encourages you to let go of things and people that no longer serve you in life, and to form a new support system for yourself. It also provides a meditation building on from the last one, in which your forest has blossomed into spring and you have a nice chat with your god or goddess. I don’t really have a lot to say about the actual content of this chapter, but I agree that pausing to appreciate the changes you’ve made and have hope for future positive change is important. (That’s basically exactly how I felt after finishing the fourth season of Castlevania — enjoy the moment of happiness, have hope for the future. I didn’t dare have hope for so long, and life has now taught me that hope pays off.) Chapter 13: Returning to the Light (Balancing the Dark) Integration! This chapter is once again celebratory of your completion, but it warns you that you can undo it if you don’t integrate the positive changes into your mundane life, and begin to actually wear your true self on the outside instead of creating new Shadow aspects. That’s a very good point — you’re not done, and if you don’t keep maintaining your self-awareness, you’ll have to start all over again. There’s a ritual for banishing your Shadow aspects that you’ve worked through by burning your mask. I don’t necessarily intend to release my Shadow from my life, although I understand the sentiment. My Shadow has grown up alongside me, so, my experience with him is different. There’s also a ritual for dedicating and consecrating an amulet, and making a box to hold your magical tools in that’s apparently called a “requiem”… since when do magical folk call magical boxes “requiems”? A requiem is a type of musical composition. Does she mean “reliquary”? Chapter 14: Activities for Shadow Work A series of simple magical exercises involving elements, such as evoking them, candle gazing, wearing elemental colors or carrying elemental symbols, etc. These are all designed to subconsciously remind you of whatever you’re trying to work on, and strengthen or balance out specific energies. Not a bad idea. (“Sugarlite” should probably say “sugilite.”) Chapter 15: Working Your Inner Landscape More techniques for communicating with your subconscious mind, like sigils! Also, amazingly, Sherman-Cook points out that repetitive movement can be an effective way of calming a restless mind, making her one of the only authors I’ve seen actually address my preferred method of meditation! Pacing has always worked best for me, but she describes how to use a labyrinth as a kind of walking meditation. Walking a labyrinth in the moonlight would be pretty awesome. Also in this chapter are cleansing baths, tarot spreads, scrying techniques, and a reminder to throw yourself a party every once in a while. Appendices This section includes repeats of the chakra meditation and sample ritual, correspondences, recipes, and (much like D.J. Conway’s book) a list of gods. The only thing I really want to comment on here is the list of gods. I completely understand the descriptions being short and not very complex (I didn’t go into much detail with my own Absolutely Massive List) but also like D.J. Conway, it gets a lot wrong. For the goddesses: Ananke is the Greek (specifically Orphic) personification of inevitability; she’s not a moon goddess, and she’s definitely not a spider goddess. I have no idea where that came from (maybe Sherman-Cook is confusing her with Arachne?). If anything, she’s a serpent. She is associated with fate, but she doesn’t cut the cord at the end of life (that’s Atropos). Circe is not one of the Fates either (is she being confused with Clotho?) and she’s definitely not a crone by any stretch of the imagination. Speaking of crones, the Cailleach probably shouldn’t be conflated with Hecate. Since when is Athena a dark goddess? Since when is Epona a goddess of dreams and the night, running from the sun? Is Ereshkigal’s name ever written as two words (“Eresh Kigal”)? I’m guessing Kali is not where the association of white, red, and black with the Maiden, Mother, and Crone comes from, and even if she were, this book neglects to say anything else about her. (More about Kali is said in the chapter on working with dark deities, but only the general “she’s not evil!” You are asked to “recall Kali’s story,” but her myths are never given. I think by “story” Sherman-Cook means to recall how she was unfairly demonized, except that the bloody and menacing version of Kali is not a result of demonization. It’s certainly not all there is to her, but she really is like that.) And if you knew nothing about Lilith, wouldn’t describing her as a “goddess of temptation, love, and feminine power” be kind of… misleading? That’s nothing compared to “Medusa — Greek, the snake-headed one whose beauty was seen when one looked within.” Ha, lol, no comment. Prosymna is the name of a nurse of Hera, not a “new moon goddess.” Rhiannon isn’t associated with night or death, is she? Scathach wasn’t a ruler of the Underworld, was she? Sekhmet isn’t given any description beyond “Egyptian, lion headed goddess” because I guess describing her bloody rampage is too edgy. A lot of other goddesses are given descriptions that are about that vague, like “Shelia-na-gigs—Irish, some say mother, some say crone.” What the hell am I supposed to do with that? And this is all just off the top of my head for the ones I know. And hey, why isn’t Nyx listed? For the gods: Technically Anubis has the head of a jackal, not a dog. Since when is Ares a god of farming? Dionysus’ only description is “Greek, sex, wine, intoxication, orgies.” Not wrong, but hilariously vague. The Mayan god Itzamna was once called “God D” by anthropologists before his name was deciphered, but “Itzamna” and “God D” are listed separately for some inexplicable reason (and I wouldn’t have known that if I hadn’t looked that up). For equally inexplicable reasons, Hades is missing from this list, but Thor is on it. This book’s bibliography has a short list of pagan and witchcraft-related books, but no books on Jungian psychology. That would explain why Jung’s name doesn’t appear in this book despite Shadow work being his idea. Although this book mostly gets Shadow work right, I’m a little unsettled by that. No mention of Jung or his ideas, no quotes from him, no other authors who wrote about Shadow work, nothing? Final Thoughts My final impression is that this book is a mixed bag. The Shadow work techniques suggested in it are mostly very good, with poignant prompts and good meditations. I also think that it’s a good introduction to the basics of Shadow work, deity work, and ritual work for practitioners who are still finding their footing. More beginner books should focus on Shadow work, because Shadow work is just so important and really needs to be an initial step, despite how difficult it is. On the other hand, I feel like this book reminded me of all the reasons why I’m frustrated by neopagan books that aren’t specifically Wiccan but are clearly inspired by Wicca — presenting Wiccan ideas or ritual structure as though it’s a universal pagan/witch thing and completely lacking primary sources (like Jung!). I also think this book needed another editor, since I caught spelling errors, and I thought the writing could have been a lot smoother in places. Maybe this author is more a witch than a writer. With those caveats, I still think that this book is a useful guide to Shadow work for those who are new to it.