Speaking ex cathedra Anton Szandor LaVey once inquired, ‘What happened to all the Low Satanic Priests?’
Because of a formerly very busy life and still - because I’m sedentary - I adhere to a reach for the ground approach to Magick. Cheap, quick, maybe nasty, but effective. I hardly even use incense anymore. Decades ago, I swopped small (expensive) actual silver sheet for silver cardboard. If I need to, I use a set aside drinking glass as my chalice and for very infrequent offerings. I use my finger rather than a wand – because I don’t need it and couldn’t be bothered fetching it from its hidden, red cotton bag. One day things could change.
I gave up involving other spiritual entities and used to make thought-out, shortest possible, without ambiguity, written, often time-limited vows: myself to Myself. (Quite frankly, I’m the most important spiritual entity anyway!) Recorded these oaths in my Magickal Journal. If you break those you quickly know the sort of person you are and how much you’re worth: in an in-your-face, bigtime sort of way! It’s brutal but worked for me. (Then again, so does certain drug abuse.)
A little over twenty-five years ago I ‘inadvertently’ found myself involved in an obscure type of Magick that dare not (indeed cannot) speak its name. I didn’t realise until years later and too late, when I’d lost everything, the type of Magick to which I was then bound. I had choices to make: Do I evoke spiritual entities, or do I do it myself, as I had unrealising until then – as a Living God?
There was a Tax Office raid on my home. Nothing was found. No charges laid. It was done for pure vindictiveness and almost straight afterwards I demanded of the multiverse what I received both twelve months before and about forty-three hours later by way of a telephone call.
When I demanded of the multiverse I was on my feet and could feel the energy radiating from me in waves. When I finished (some high-charged minutes later) I was utterly drained and perspiration formed a small semi-circle on the carpet in front of me, maybe some behind. I peeled off my clothing, took a shower, smoked my pipe and desperately rehydrated on ice-water in the mid-afternoon – fucked!
Because I work on the cheap, I chose an email to a foreign newspaper. Years later I chose a conspiracy website and for the last twelve years my black propaganda has been lapped up, even translated. David Icke and sundry others go on (and on) about it. Unfortunately, that black propaganda is yet to bear strange fruit, but the earlier newspaper email worked out just fine – for My Work.
More than sometimes, Magicians confuse Magick with Ritual/Ceremonial Magick.