Living magically can be hard when you’re struggling to survive, pay bills & come off heavily addictive drugs. Performing daily rituals and exercises isn’t easy when you’re cold, hungry and lonely.
I call on you Ganesh, the first GOD i ever saw in a vision. I invoke you Isis, Mother Goddess to whom my first rites were dedicated. I ask you Thoth, who spake through me to help me help myself!
My pen has run dry, my brush has no paint, the winter is coming, my will’s growing faint.
I ain’t tired of living but my living is tired
I ain’t scared of dying but think i have died
(outside my window a drunken demon screams mad laughter…)
Magick seemed to come easy to me. Within the first six months of half hearted rituals and sigils i’d inherited a large sum of money from a great aunt i never knew existed and began receiving ‘channels’ from a series of entities culminating in a series of conversations with a being who called himself Thoth, later preferring Thosis (he didn’t want me to be mocked for claiming to be in communication with such a high ranking deity). Thosis was also fitting because TH=Thoth – IS= Isis, our magick was to combine Jill’s feminine energy with my own masculine polarity.
I got a self initiation manual and did the rituals, proscribed reading and indeed, everything my paper master told me for about 18 months, rarely missing a day. I collected side altars and fashioned wands, consecrated daggers, adorned myself in ‘magick’ rings, pouches and crystals and became, Saroth the Mage. I had intense visionary experiences, did my gematria like a good little kabbalist, filled notebooks with sigils, spells & strange alphabets. The magick was working but i was keeping a part of myself back, hiding my drug use from friends and family. I rarely did heroin anymore but realized i’d become addicted to what i’d viewed as a ‘chaser’ to the hard stuff. I began swallowing increasing amounts of cheap, fake, street valium (just as addictive but chemically patchy). The first time i tried to stop i managed about 3 weeks of intense suffering as the sea of forgetfulness was ripped from the landscape of hungry receptors in my brain. I smoked a powerful joint of skunk one night and had what can only be described as an ‘episode’. I started going over all the shitty things i’d done in my life, every lie, every treacherous deed, every person i’d hurt with my arrogance and vanity, the girls i’d cheated on, worse, things going way back to childhood. The voice in my head became externalized and demonic, harsh and mocking. it echoed around my high ceilinged room. I was so disassociated and strung out i was fragmenting and part of me was swallowing the other like the crocodile Sobek. My heart had been weighed against the feather of Ma’at and fallen horribly short! No banishing ritual could help me now, i was too weak to do anything but listen to my demon as he walked me through every burning shame and hidden fear… I eventually just pulled the quilt over my head until the rage died down…