When Chaos Magick Gets Deep….

I’ve been pondering of late the tendency for Chaos/Post-modern magickal practitioners to seek more meaningful depth within a specific spiritual paradigm. Folks who have previously focused their efforts on surfing the rapids of our ever shifting culture seem to be increasingly looking back to more ancient paths as a way of enriching their journeys.

Chaos Magic (CM) has been the form of Magic that in my view best embodies the Postmodern zeitgeist. Via its use of contemporary culture and the scientific method it has managed to boot out much of the stuffy pseudo-masonic baggage that pervaded much of the magical scene. In reflecting the Postmodern emphasis on relativity and adaptation many Magicians in the 80’s and 90’s felt freed by the realisation that belief itself was a magickal weapon. These budding psychonauts could add belief shifting to their personal arsenal without feeling that they had to abandon reason.

Yet increasingly it seems that this isn’t enough for many of us. Moving now to the second decade of the 21st century we see an ever increasing interest in “traditional” witchcraft, dusty tomes on Solomonic magic and various brands of radical traditionalism. With such a preoccupation concerning times and things past, one has to wonder whether Chaos Magick (like Punk Rock) is dead.

When I’ve sat down and talked to friends who’ve been involved in CM for any length of time (5 years+) I’ve noticed that many of us (if not most of us) have chosen to deepen our spiritual journeys by pursuing initiatory work within a specific historic tradition. Whether Heathenry, Tantra, Voudou or Wicca, people are obviously wanting more than Chaos Magick alone is (apparently) offering. Why?

At its worst the Chaos approach can not only reflect the flexibility of the postmodern but also its superficiality and implicit consumerism. As we push our trolley around the spiritual supermarket seeking to fill our Kia-shaped hole, do we stock up on the nutritious sustenance offered by deep reflection on the Upanishads or do we neck a pile of spiritual sugar highs that ultimately give us a gnostic hangover? People who were attracted to CM because it actually did something and sought to measure its effectiveness (results magick anyone?) began to long for something more. In the midst of all this paradigm shifting busyness, is there a place for “being” and soul development as well as doing and incessantly changing?

So why stay involved with Chaos Magick? After at least 12 years, bottom line, for me it’s the holism. CM for me manages to engage with culture in a manner that embodies Crowley’s project of scientific illuminism-“the method of science, the aim of religion”. When so many esoteric traditions seem bogged down in colloquialisms and the tenents of faith, CM seeks to strip things back so as to help identify the technologies used by traditions and the commonalities that exist between them. Like the Perennial philosophy and its contemporary Integral manifestations, CM seeks to hold a “Meta” position that steps back and notices. All our beliefs and practices are ultimately tools for awakening: “a finger pointing at the moon”. For me the Chaos approach helps me hold a bigger vision, and enables me to hold my obsessions more loosely.

The depth and romanticism that tradition provides may well be essential in avoiding some trendy but ultimately futile spiritual dead-end street. But if CM can become a tool that we use skilfully, it may be a key to developing inner poise. This poise allows us to be responsive to the changing world around us and to escape the pitfalls of faith commitments based on past certainties that can no longer be relied on.

SD

Intensify the normal

As magicians we should aim for at least one ecstatic moment each day. This of course doesn’t mean that a day without some full-on practice is day wasted. For Austin Spare, Peace be Upon Him, those occultists who limit their magic to symbolic acts within ceremony as missing out. “Their practices prove their incapacity, they have no magic to intensify the normal, the joy of a child or healthy person, none to evoke their pleasure or wisdom from themselves.”

So today I was walking across the 13th century bridge than spans the river where I live. It was early morning and the rose-pink sky was being echoed in the silvery water of the river at high tide. The water seemed thicker, an effect that seemed to be caused by the low temperature. Like quicksilver the river ran slow, spinning in vortices as it passed beneath the arches of the bridge. Birds were starting their day and slipping silent through the clear air. Smoke crawled from a few chimneys and  early morning cars prowled the streets.

I am located  in this landscape. I know its history and its people. I have my own memories, joyful and painful, located in this place. My breath is easy and I find myself stopping for a moment by the quay and looking out towards the old shipyard and beyond to where my river curves round to meet her sister (the river Taw) as together they unite with the sea.

I am, for a moment, transported into that hyper-reality which always, on reflection, makes me think I’ve stepped into a frame from a graphic novel. There is a razor sharpness to my senses and I am both observer and at one with the world I inhabit. I feel profoundly grateful that I am able to experience this moment.

Just before I go into the gallery where I’m working I notice how the grass beneath my feet bends. I’ve deliberately walked off the path in order to enjoy this sensation.

Yes all our ceremonial work, our yoga and study matters – but only if it increases our capacity to enjoy the normal that bit more.

Morning river

Morning river

JV