I came across this article thanks to Warren Ellis; I see Ellis’s point clearly enough and it’s one that I have been more than a little concerned about myself, especially in the greater occulture. Kingsnorth, the Dark Mountain, and the broader halo of thinking that surrounds and informs them has significant influence on the scene. It’s a trend that extends well-beyond the greens, too. A lot of folks who are committed to ‘preserving a culture’ are edging along similar terrain, looking to join national autonomy to cultural safety.
Fiscal responsibility is one of those earthly virtues, no doubt, but when it comes to understanding our present moment in history, we have to grasp that money is a fire. While we have inherited a tradition of tarot interpretation that joins money as coins to the suit of earth, money in late- to crumbling capitalism belongs to wands, to passion, to control. While money can, well-used, provide the means for acquiring and cultivating our patch of earth, the fire is always in the roots and capable of flaring up to consume our homes, both in the literal and extended senses of the term.
Think about this when you bring money to the graveyard. You are bringing fire with you, you are heating up the dead, summoning them forth to take form in the crux of your desires. Do this often, do this in a place where you do not have roots, and what are you doing but stoking the flames that will consume you life? Without fire we will surely die, but without caution fire will destroy us and all that for which we care.
Jake Stratton-Kent’s ‘What is Goetia?’ is making the rounds. His approach to doing magic, centered in the individual rather than the art, the cthonic rather than the celestial, is familiar (in the sense of being resonant with my way of doing things; see the witch / wizard discussions), but I’m going to suggest that there is a better way to approach the matter than he does in that essay, one that takes the work outside the (to my mind stultifying) conventions of talking about a Western Magical Tradition ™.
I have talked about this before, but it is worth saying in the open, away from the shelter of close reading. There is more than one (or three) way(s) to experience the intersection (and disjuntion) of heavenly and earthly forces, of spiritual and everyday life, but if I had to provide a seed phrase for my approach and my sense of things it would be:
The pact with the earth is made in the sky.
With the realization that:
The earth is a portion of the sky.
And the whole of it is in motion.
With the discussion of fate and destiny out of the way, let’s get back to the topic at hand. The way in which Lovecraft attempts to delimit the Necronomicon’s destiny to the literary sphere suggests a general discomfort with that destiny but an inability to sever himself from it. Not only did he make use of the text throughout his work, but he proceeded to expand its scope, putting it into communication with the literary occultism of his fellow writers, both explicitly and implicitly. Its literary fate becomes a root system, through which its destiny survives and along which it is able to flare up.
The last post dealt with some basic techniques; this post deals with some of the conceptual underpinnings of them. The emphasis I made in my last post about this being my personal blend applies even more aptly here. I have taken a geomantic approach to describing my spiritualist work and, as far as I can tell, that isn’t too common.
The completion of yesterday’s post left me a little tired, common enough when something significant is discharged, but also out of sorts, which is usually a cue to me that I had not quite brought the work to completion. While drowsing on the bus, I caught myself snapping into awareness and heard someone say ‘anagogical’ very clearly, followed by a general laughter. The context became clear enough once I focused, but it was unnecessary; I had the message. What I was talking about yesterday was anagoge.