Many people think that the East is the only home of occultism, but this is far from being the case. Every race has had, and still has, its traditional, guarded wisdom, revealed to the few and concealed from the many. Our own Western tradition traces its origins to Egypt, with tributaries from Chaldea, Greece, and the fierce Norse tradition.
Modern Magus
Forty years ago, Bristol Central Library in the South West of England was a very scholarly institution. It felt particularly so for a young man embarking on the path of magick. In the reserve stock of the library was a cornucopia of mystical material. The staff were not cavalier with these treasures; I was permitted only to examine John Dee’s Monas Hieroglyphica while seated at a table strategically placed so as to be within the librarian’s gaze.
And what did I glean as I ploughed my way through these grimoires and magickal diaries? For a certain ritual it was incumbent ‘to buy an egg without haggling’ before burying it at midnight in a churchyard; for another, fasting and the imbibing only of ‘fresh dew’ was necessary. I was fascinated by the minutiae of it all—and no mention of selling your soul to the devil, as I had feared, but many entreaties to live a pure life. All the magickal rituals employed the Holy Names. I was impressed. It was all a revelation.
Fortunately, most of the ‘spells’ in ancient grimoires do not work. By the law of averages some of them will, but even then no responsible magician would recommend their use. Karma comes into this, and ‘payback time’ definitely exists. Try to bend the universe to your will and you will end up being bent over backwards and tied up in knots. The magician can only alter consciousness in a manner that is concordant with the laws of the universe—so he does not break those laws. He knows he cannot successfully challenge them. Let us follow the development of magick from the Dark Ages until the present day; it is the only way that will give us a true perspective of the magickal practitioner and his art.
After the comfortable chaos of Paganism, the medieval mind reacted by desiring to impose order on the material and the spiritual. Both church and state became hierarchical and patriarchal. Perhaps in an inevitable reaction to this ethos, occult practice lapsed into charlatanism and disarray. With few exceptions, the sorcerer of the Middle Ages lived a squalid existence. He was generally despised and so fearful and isolated. Often libidinous, his only ambition was to attract women, acquire great treasure, and destroy his enemies. Evoking spirits and commanding them to do his will was the usual method of attaining such ends.
According to Crowley, to do this successfully the magician has to acquire all the virtues, but none of the vices, of each of the elements. Of sylphs, the creatures living within the element of Air, the magician must be prompt and active but not capricious; with fiery salamanders it is advised to be energetic and strong but not ferocious. Labour and patience are required to master the earthy gnomes, while grossness is to be avoided; and the watery undines demand fluidity without wantonness.
Evoking ‘elementals’ is a dangerous and unethical practice, and making contact with entities on the lowest levels of the astral planes, the haunt of wraiths and negative energies, is not recommended. Opening that particular gateway is always fraught with perils, but it is evident that no number of warnings can restrain the curious and the foolish from venturing where ‘angels fear to tread’. Evocation for the reasons stated can never be free of pitfalls. The practice of Invocation might require study and the training of the magickal imagination, yet is by far the more wholesome practice and free of untoward happenings.
The spirits of Fire, Water, Earth, or Air can be detected by those sensitive enough to do so. One example is the watery elemental that hovers over a lake—a tangible mist, quite unlike the meteorological phenomenon. It is as well to remember that all things are alive. Rocks are life forms in trance, trees are sleeping. Animals are awake and humans conscious—that is the only difference between them. Pan, being half human and half beast, has his own unique quality. He is poised between deity and earth spirit. Although one cannot ignore his Priapic tendencies, a quality beloved of neo-Pagans, he is best regarded as the guardian of the natural world. His air of vitality and his nurturing of all life in the forest and beyond can be felt, particularly in places seldom visited by people.
These secret worlds are precious and powerful. If you are fortunate enough to have discovered any, then share their whereabouts with no one! To walk among trees and undergrowth that has not been ‘managed’ or even visited is a great privilege. The feelings encountered there are what the magician seeks to bind eternally to his heart. It is marvellous to encounter the same spirits that Merlin knew—for the ways of nature are timeless and inspiring.
Arthurian Magick
The Arthurian saga is eminently suited to magickal workings, because the interplay of its symbolism is wholly original and therefore possesses its own potency. The figures, situations, and truths are not allegorical, meaning that they have no comparison with existing individuals. The student of magick should engage totally with the figure, or figures, with which they feel a strong affinity. Let the Arthurian tales enter into your life and become part of your soul! Artefacts such as the Grail or any of the Hallows may also be used to good effect. I would recommend caution in any dealings with Morgan le Fay, as her ways of enchantment may be overwhelming for the novice. Lancelot betrays a heaviness that may not be welcoming, and identifying with Mordred should be avoided altogether.
The reader might wonder if I give unanimous approval to any thoroughly modern Merlin. My answer is that I didn’t choose to follow magick; it chose me. I have always had companions from the other world since I was of an age to perceive them, though it was not until I became familiar with the world of magick that I realized who they may have been. I am part of the 1960s, a time when the mystical world was brought back into focus. It was not long before I wanted to find out if there was anybody else out there who saw things in the way I did. As a student I encountered T. S.
Eliot’s The Waste Land, and learned of Madame Sosostris and her ‘wicked pack of cards’. That sent me scurrying off to buy a Tarot pack and a book on astrology, too, but I was still a babe regarding the ways of the occult. Somehow I was determined, for my own peace of mind, to dispel any juvenile impressions of black cats, evoking Beelzebub and the like. That happened when I met real magicians—stern, forbidding gentlemen and with many a tale to tell. I went on to avidly study the works of Dion Fortune, Aleister Crowley, and W. G. Gray, but it was Merlin himself who more than once stopped me straying into unprofitable areas of magick and put me back on the right path.
I have only to say that magick is a hard and always daunting way. Those who remain upon this path suddenly discover that their whole lives have changed and often very dramatically. Life can become very stormy indeed when the magickal forces wish to make a point! Old ways and even old friends are left behind, but hopefully the initiate realises that his or her development needed that shedding of unnecessary baggage. The other fundamental change for the apprentice magician is that all experiences start to have a significance in a way that they never did before. It is as if the universe has slowed down so its ways can be examined more closely. Even an ordinary thing like walking down the street has a different air about it, which can be summed up in one word—awareness.
By its nature, magick forces us to be aware. Aware of what is there, what is really there, and what could be there if we wanted it to be. Magick also determines an individual path for every mortal. No one is permitted to follow the same path as another. The light of the Masters may shine upon each and every one of us who practice it but not in quite the same way. To follow another magician for too long is like wandering in the forest on winding paths that in the end lead nowhere. We must not have too much concern with the persona or any other illusion of the many that are nurtured by the ego. Concealing one’s real self with yet more layers of illusion is like wearing too many clothes on a hot day—unbearable.
The magickal adage ‘Know thyself’ is the keynote of magickal maturity. This universal insight bestows a sense of ‘belonging’, nurtures your outlook, and thus keeps you firmly on the path. A built-in warning system reminds you how to conduct yourself to prevent any straying into ‘no man’s land’. This signal can range from reminding you to pocket your front door key to telling you how to act in some awkward situation.
Magick is always useful and practical. It is the most valuable asset you can own. It also encourages you to employ different ways of looking at the world. This does not mean being indecisive; it means being open to change. Seeking alternatives and ‘thinking out of the box’ are good exercises for keeping the mind adaptable. Carlos Castaneda makes the point that nothing in our world is ever permanent and that we limit ourselves if all the time we try to define everything we see or hear. That is not to advocate a dreamy or romantic attitude. If such a state was detected in a pupil during their magickal training they were termed ‘fairy-addled’—a splendid description.
There is a right time for the practising of magick and another, just as important, for a walk by the sea. Both may be equally valuable to the individual. It is very essential for the magician to live an ‘ordinary life’. Particularly, he must not shun his responsibilities to those he cares for, namely his parents, his spouse or partner, and his children, friends, and neighbours. This element of earthly power is known as ‘hearth magic’, and the importance of its contribution to the well-being of the magician cannot be overestimated. The other consideration is that energy can be easily dissipated, particularly magickal energy. The practitioner should be disciplined, ordering his existence and exerting as much control as he is able over the business of life. The magician learns when he should ‘turn off’ his power. Because the conscious world is a reflection of the unconscious, subtle vibrations are always to be preferred to twanging constantly upon the magickal instruments.
In knowing himself the magician is also aware of how others perceive him. No true magician is ostentatious about his calling. If he does succumb to such exhibitionism, then he is a mere poseur, and deserves only contempt. The magician makes certain, too, that he lives in the present. He dismisses past events as being times long gone and does not waste his energies with fantasies about the future. Living in the moment is his aim, for he knows that the present is the moment. The magician learns to seize the ‘right now’ because he has learned that this, his own ‘present moment’, exists beyond the dictates of time. In knowing this he has total mastery over what occurs at any given moment. Much of the real power of magick is contained in this idea, and the student would be well-advised to reflect upon it.
Gandalf
The author and academic J. R. R. Tolkien represents a certain English archetype, and like his creation Gandalf, he is made of the stuff of myth himself. A pipe-smoking professor at Oxford who rode his bicycle to the pub to meet his friend C. S. Lewis . . . it is all too good to be true! Yet this retiring, stoic Catholic, a veteran of the First World War, wrote the greatest and most timeless mythical tale of the twentieth century. The work was made into a trilogy of films and directed with great élan by Peter Jackson. Tolkien’s vision found an entirely new following, most of whom, it must be said, had never read the book. It was a great popular success, containing fictional characters as memorable as Sherlock Holmes or Mr. Pickwick. The Lord of the Rings is now an institution.
Tolkien believed that fundamental truths were contained within all myths. In writing The Lord of the Rings he also attempted to demonstrate that language was inseparable from those myths. The Arthurian tales lead to a greater understanding of human interaction, rules of behaviour, and the purpose of existence. Tolkien also achieves these ends, and his own chronicle of courage, duty, and enchantment evokes a deep response in the human psyche. It does this primarily by the use of symbolism, so well worked into the narrative that all the writing generates an enormous power.
Gandalf, Tolkien’s most enduring creation, has much of Merlin about him. His creator described Gandalf as an ‘Odinic wanderer’, and there is also much of Odin in Merlin. The similarities do not end there. Both Gandalf and Merlin disappear from the scene almost as soon as the company has been assembled, leaving them to fend for themselves. Gandalf must do battle with the Balrog and Merlin set about placating his own inner demons. The indication is that supernatural aid will only be available for a limited time; from then on those who are engaged upon a quest have only themselves to rely upon. No magician can interfere with the fate of the world, either to save it or condemn it.
Magick is forever neutral. The contrast between the magick of Gandalf and that of Sauron, the servant of Mordor, is made very plain. The Elven kingdom of Lothlorien hosts all the enchantment of Middle Earth, and Galadriel, its queen, aids the Fellowship of the Ring in their task. Gandalf obviously aligns himself with the fairy power, and his metamorphosis from ‘Gandalf the Grey’ to ‘Gandalf the White’ implies his total alliance with the forces of light. Sauron is wholly ‘dark’ and can only be challenged successfully by a figure that is wholly pure.
Merlin, too, is associated with elves, those messengers of the other world similar to angels. The wizard’s role is as an interpreter between the worlds, informing Arthur of the ways of the cosmos. Merlin’s Anglo-Saxon name will be Rof Breoht Woden (Bright Strength of Woden) and in Elizabethan times he will be Robin Goodfellow. Elves are the essence of a timeless world and so much attached to their surroundings that it is difficult to decide if they made the land or the land made them. Tolkien’s mise en scène comes close to Ragnarok, the Norse apocalypse, which ends with the triumph of evil over good. Though they know this will happen, nevertheless the heroes fight on, and to their last breath—a noble principle. Evil is potentially as powerful as good, but it suffers from one fatal flaw—it takes itself too seriously. It has little imagination and no humour.
The Ring demonstrates that owning unlimited personal power is always dangerous. The tragic end of Boromir proves this. So drunk with the idea of power are the followers of the Dark Lord that the destruction of the Ring is the last course that Mordor expects its enemies to take. Good champions love and freedom, but it does not always win; that is the way of things. Given that, good still believes that embracing evil is not in its nature; if it does embrace evil, good dies. In our world it is often difficult to tell the bad guys from the good ones; that is our present moral dilemma. Maybe it always was the way of things and little has changed over the millennia. One would like to believe that mankind becomes wiser with each succeeding generation, but history demonstrates over and over again that this is not so. It is a constant hope that humanity really progresses, but one wonders if we ever do, or ever will.
The magician walks diligently upon his ordained path and does not stray from it. It would be a tragedy if he did, as witness the fallen wizard Saruman in Tolkien’s saga. The ways of the magician are hidden from the eyes of others. Magicians are rarely social creatures, for one way that the magus preserves his power is by being alone. He is akin to the megalithic stones that stand as sentinels of space and time, gathering and sustaining the power of the earth. The magician is the most wonderful and loyal companion, yet he never expects anyone to follow him. Neither would he use his will to make another do his bidding.
Flawed though they may be in their earthly incarnation, both Arthur and Merlin are on the side of good. I have felt them both within me, and I have seen their god-like character in other men. That experience has made me almost dumb with awe. Reflecting upon the character of Lancelot and Mordred forces us to see how destiny marks each of us for a particular role. The love of all three of Arthur’s queens I have known, too, and I consider that an enlightening experience. I can only say that an involvement with things Arthurian leads to happenings that are eminently supernatural. As Jung proposed, myth does have a great significance in human consciousness. It nurtures the imagination and leads us into realms where we may know the greatest joy and gain supreme wisdom.
New Age
Values alter, but truths do not. The ancients took great pains to seek out the heart of creation, and modern human beings seem determined to deny that the universe, with all its wonder and unexplained mysteries, actually exists at all. Time travel always appears to be an attractive prospect, particularly if one could embrace a world free of light pollution, sound pollution, and air pollution—a place with no buildings, roads, or vehicles, where silence is broken only by the call of birds and the cry of beasts. This was Britain before the coming of the Romans to our shores. This was the true Albion. It is almost impossible to put oneself into the shoes of those who went before. With the advent of the Aquarian Age, much has been rediscovered that is worthwhile, but we should beware of believing that the hawking of information in itself is our salvation. Understanding is the key to enlightenment, not knowledge for its own sake; that is a sterile approach to learning.
Some associate the New Age with the coming of the Age of Aquarius, but is it the Industrial Revolution that ushers in this era, or more simply the beginning of the twentieth century? Whatever the view, the New Age is with us, though to define what it represents is no easy task. The term New Age or New Era has certainly been used before. Alice Bailey used it in reference to the transition from the age of Pisces to that of Aquarius. It is also likely that thinkers at the beginning of the twentieth century spoke of the coming years in those terms.
To anyone who knew the 1960s, the New Age might just seem to be adding additional verses to a familiar refrain. Images of late-1960s culture range from the revisionist take of an Austin Powers movie to exhaustive studies of Marxist schisms in radical politics. The era embraced the guru, with a soundtrack to all this meditation and contemplation provided by Ravi Shankar, the masterful exponent of the sitar. Some Sixties philosophies have not aged well, and much New Age philosophy lacks an element of plain old common sense. Wisdom endures, and the old saws were passed on from generation to generation because they could be seen to have a practical application. Magick is essentially a practical science, and it will more than hold its own when faced with any amount of intellectual rigour. If your pet New Age premise can withstand being closely examined and debated, then it will actually feel stronger in your heart. The intuition and the intellect have never been sworn enemies, as some people believe; they are simply two functions of the mind. In magick, polarities are combined to produce a third element—in this particular case, understanding.
Those who aspire to walk the Inner Planes may have an enthusiasm that is boundless, but for reasons of temperament or personal karma many should leave well enough alone. As practitioners, we are all part of the great magickal tradition. Let us make certain magick continues to be a business of wonder and might. Read and study the works of the great and good. I am personally committed to a magickal tradition centering around Dion Fortune; for any student I cannot recommend her writings too highly. A pupil of Dion Fortune, the splendid Christine Hartley, also wrote fine books on magick. The record of her magickal journeys with Charles Seymour demonstrate how much can be achieved by like minds. Her own pupil was Alan Richardson, who, in having Bill Gray as a mentor as well as Christine, made absolutely certain of his magickal antecedents. He too has written extensively of magickal practice and is one who really knows what he is talking about. For those engaged in research on magick, whatever strikes a magickal chord, use or adapt it is my advice.
The path of magick is not for all; it is a way of life, not a hobby. The ‘dabbler’ is a danger to himself and others, and only the very deluded members of our society consort with him. All of us are at some time shown the path that we should take; whether we choose to walk upon it is our decision and ours only. We are given free will; that is part of the agreement the universe has made with humanity. Many use that will to harm themselves and others, but the wise and good do not. The hallmark of those that are chosen to share the divine knowledge is a burgeoning courage. ‘To dare’ is a brief phrase but awesome in its application. ‘To know’, ‘To will’, and ‘To be silent’, the remaining phrases that make up the quartet, are also pungent with their own power. When the magician practises his art, nothing distracts him from his purpose. He treats his calling with the utmost seriousness, yet he does not take himself seriously.
The element of Earth appears to be the least exciting. Fire and Water move our passions, Air gives us inspiration, but Earth is regarded as somehow dull. It is a false impression, for the earth provides all that nurtures us, and all natural beauty belongs to the material of the planet. The Goddess brings her divine presence to the material when she imbues all with life. She gives us delight and pleasure in all that she provides, and we should give thanks. Instead, many upon this planet abuse her, squander her natural resources, and pollute her seas. Is it not a wonder that with one toss of her golden tresses she does not rid the planet of man, with his arrogance and rapacious ways? She chooses not to take this perfectly just course, but to forgive him—and the holy flowers burst into bloom once more.
In this New Age have the King and the Magus welcomed this renewed interest in all things Arthurian? As the master of the natural world, Merlin is an artist as well as a magician. In the same way that a painter creates a landscape with colour, or a writer brings pictures to the mind, Merlin, working alongside the Goddess, is the creator of form. He is the mortal closest to God that we can know. He has the power to give us paradise and surround us with light and joy. The Sun is in majesty in the Heavens; the music of the waters can be heard for an eternity; and the horizon is forever a distant dream. Merlin employs his ability to make worlds come to life. But Merlin is only too aware of the melancholy tone of the Latin phrase Et in Arcadia Ego, meaning that the shadow of death is always present, even in paradise.
Does Merlin believe Art can be a noble compensation? If the artist has a truly visionary approach to his calling, then it is so. The work lives on, long after its creator has become dust, and remains a reminder of his genius. We should be grateful for the dedication and application that has been shown in the work, as we should give thanks for the presence of Merlin in our world. Merlin is true to his calling. The way that he follows is always the true way. We would do well to follow him. The purpose, the only purpose, of magick is to bring light from Heaven above to the earth below. Illumination, whether appearing dramatically in the lightning flash, or more soberly in the light of the Hermit’s lantern, represents the magician’s purpose.
The Arthuriad is a great, if not the greatest, tale that has been taken to the hearts of so many. It is a romantic adventure, a work of philosophy, a moral tale, and a magickal thesis. Merlin, in his greatness, formulated certain occult principles even if there is no record that he was even literate. He is the magician all others have aspired to be whether they realize it or not. Merlin has the ease of the great magus who has merely to desire a change in the material plane for it to happen.
We might ask finally, ‘What is the good of magick?’ Israel Regardie provides as good an answer as any:
If it [magick] succeeds in making us better men and women, a little more kind and generous, a little more aware of the spiritual heights to which we are capable of climbing with but a little exertion, then it is the religion of religions . . . surely it is an Art before which all other Muses must bow the head and bend the knee in reverential and perennial praise! [1]
And as for Merlin, let us leave him as he strides along a high mountain pass, climbs a lofty peak, regards the valleys and lakes with a benign eye, and raises his staff on high. Once more he knows that all creation is at his command. We can only imagine the thoughts that run through that extraordinary mind at such a moment. Perhaps none, yet about his lips eternally plays an enigmatic smile.
[1]. Israel Regardie, The Art and Meaning of Magic. (Toddington, UK: Helios, 1964).