Tag: occult books

Jinn Sorcery, by Rain Al-Alim (Review)

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Jinn Sorcery, a volume by Rain Al-Alim published by Scarlet Imprint, is a fascinating text, offering insights into the practice of Arabic ritual magic as it pertains jinn spirits. Don’t let its size fool you; even though it is a short book under 100 pages, virtually all of its contents are dedicated to experiments and practical material, from the conjuration and dream incubation to exorcism and scrying.

The binding of the standard edition is quite pretty; a regal gold certainly suits the aesthetics of the text. One major problem, however, is that the black hexagram on the front of my copy has slowly begun to flake away into gold. If you tend to be a little rougher with your books, I would advise you to be a bit more careful with this one, just to better preserve the quality of the cover.

Al-Alim opens the text by providing some insights into the traditions of Arabic jinn magic, charting various cultural attitudes towards the jinn, notions of their tribal belongings, their abilities and manifestations, typologies, methods of conjuration, and more. The entire preface is absolutely fascinating, both on its own as an introduction to a vital practice, as well as in its similarities and differences to the Western grimoires and traditions of ritual magic I am more familiar with. Al-Alim’s exploration of the various ways in which jinn are conceived was especially intriguing, especially in his consideration of hierarchy. The ways in which spirits organize themselves, whom they are loyal and subject to, and in whose name each can be called to answer by has always been something I’ve been deeply interested, especially as I continue to conjure and make pacts with various spirits myself.

Jinn are ranked by their magical strength and standing within their own society, with greater jinn being highly intelligent and extremely dangerous while lesser ones are more akin to mischief-makers. The social organization of the jinn community resembles that of a royal court, in which most of the jinn are offspring of the seven jinn kings, categorized as archdemons and leaders of the infernal hosts. These rulers are traditionally associated with the seven planets, with a colour and a day of the week attributed to each of them. They have many subjects and advisers drawn from the tribes under their rulership. The old Arabic grimoires refer to them as the seven terrestrial kings (mulūk al-arḍīya). They are governed in turn by the seven angels of the days.

Rain Al-Alim, Jinn Sorcery, xiv.

The first proper chapter covers dream incubation rituals, designed to facilitate contact between the magician and the spirits while asleep (the Invocation of Neli immediately comes to mind, along with the various experiments in the PGM). The various approaches used typically involve creating and burning a specific incense blend, reciting conjurations, numerous reputations of Voces Magicae, and other accompanying actions such as inscribing symbols and words on one’s hand and sleeping on paper talismans.

The next section covers the Al-Mandal (which is itself related to the Almadel) and scrying methods. Many of the techniques present can be found in the Solomonic tradition, such as the employment of mirrors, fingernails, and oil for scrying, the presence of an assistant child seer, and of course fasting to maintain purity. Writing seals on the palm of one’s own (or the child’s) hand is particularly intriguing; indeed it seems that scrying oil in the palm of the hand is the most common method described. One part which stuck out to me was the use of the “Verse of Revelation”, which is a brief paragraph of text attached to the seer’s forehead to aid him in obtaining spiritual vision.

After this we come upon the evocations of jinn spirits, and it is here that in my opinion the book truly shines. We see a vast variety of different experiments, intended to conjure a multitude of different jinn to visible appearance. These are elaborate procedures filled with prayer, retreat from society, purification, and eventually the creation of pacts. What was especially interesting to me were the numerous examples of rituals intended to conjure for the magician a wife from among the jinn tribes. These spirit marriages are accompanied with strict taboos, such as never being allowed to sleep with mortal women again, though they promise great rewards and powers in return. The jinn wives rituals actually make up a sizable part of this section, which is fascinating as it is not an aspect of Arabic magic I had really seen before this. Granted, had I not met Sfinga I likely would have never known how prominent spirit marriages involving zmaj dragons are in the Balkans, especially given the language and resource barrier.

The majority of the rituals are intended to summon specific jinn, most of which are multi-day affairs involving an ascetic retreat and the reciting of conjurations numerous times throughout the day during times of prayer. Some, like the invocation of the Seven Mayamin, can achieve a variety of different outcomes, whilst others are intended towards simply creating pacts with individual spirits and/or their courts. Many rituals involve conjurations of the seven terrestrial jinn kings, who share many commonalities with the planetary kings of the aerial spirits in the Sworn Book of Honorius and the Heptameron. These spirits evidently have not received their due attention in the West despite their influence on grimoire demonology (i.e. Maymun Abu-Nakh). One of the noteworthy elements of the rituals is the shorter length of the conjurations themselves. Rather than multiple page long recitations as we see in say, the Folger Manuscript, what we have instead are briefer conjurations intended to be repeated countless times. The conjurations are still authoritative, but tend to be somewhat less aggressive than Solomonic and Faustian techniques. This is not true of every conjuration, however; some such as the conjuration of the Jinn King of Tuesday include the typical threats of fire.

The next chapter was admittedly the one I was most excited for, as it deals with the methods of conjuring the personal Qarīn, which is the jinn companion that every person has by their side. The section itself is sparse, including only two rituals which follow a fairly standard formula. The first involves sitting in “a dark place” and reciting two names 100 times, after which you recite a brief conjuration 21 times at which point you will hear the qarīn’s voice—albeit without “seeing his figure”. The second method involves burning incense and a lotus while reciting the same two names 313 times, another conjuration 7 times, and an even shorter one 50 times. Finally, the spirit will answer you. Presumably, once the spirit is conjured one can establish further methods of ingress and communion.

The book closes with the “Seven Jinn Evictions” which are methods of exorcism. This is another short chapter; though crucial; exorcisms and proper spiritual defences are vital for any magician to have in the presence of aerial, infernal, and other such related spirits.

In conclusion, Jinn Sorcery is an excellent and intriguing book. The text reads like a miscellany of jinn magic, similar to a handful early modern grimoires like the Book of Oberon and The Cunning Man’s Grimoire in which various experiments are listed. Al-Alim’s translations and introductory commentary provide a deeply valuable window into Arabic jinn magic, and I’m very glad to see such an excellent text becoming available.

A Simple Conjuration of Oberon

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Recently, I performed a conjuration of Oberon whose structure was based on three major manuscript sources. This ritual’s performance was timely, coming fresh off the back of Dan Harm’s new Llewellyn publication Of Angels, Demons & Spirits in which we find some fairy content I plan on reviewing soon.

Oberon is a fairly well known figure in early modern British occultism, especially from the 16th Century and onwards. We see him pop up in negromantic experiments from the Folger Manuscript/Book of Oberon, the Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, and we even find mention of him in the publications of Robert-Cross-Smith. Rather than his appearance in numerous negromantic texts, he is better known to most people as the King of the Faeries from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

It is unclear how much of a relationship there is between the literary Oberon (who may also be drawn from preceding folklore) and the Oberon of magical manuscripts. Oberon in our magical texts is generally ambivalent at best in character, seemingly fitting into the infernal hierarchies given how often we find him mentioned in spirit lists of infernal and demonic beings. Similarly, in the Folger Manuscript, he is bound with conjurations similar to those used for other Demonic Kings. This is in stark contrast to other operations for faery spirits, such as the one contained in E.Mus 173 (published as Of Angels, Demons & Spirits) and Faust’s Magia Naturalis et Innaturalis‘ Operation of the Pygmies—wherein a Table is set for the spirits alongside offerings of fine breads, as well as sacrifices (such as a dove torn in half). With that being said, rituals for faery spirits are not always gentle in approach, and more aggressive examples are just as common, as we see in numerous workings to call the Queen of Faeries, Sybilia.

That being said, we do find some less baleful operations of Oberon, in particular the operation in Arthur Gauntlet and also from the French text Wellcome MS 4669 (published as A Collection of Magical Secrets by Paul Harry Baron). In the case of the latter, it is even explicitly stated that no circle is required for the operation. I’ve also found a form of this ceremony in Wellcome MS.110, as you can see in the image below, and it is these three variations of the same operation that I based my own experiment on.

The Character of Oberon, from Wellcome MS.110, (The Thesaurus Spirituum of Roger Bacon).

The ritual itself was relatively simple to perform. The method that I used diverged from the originals in some respects, though the chief elements were still present. The first step in all three variants is to draw the image of Oberon with his name and seal above his head on a silver or lead plate during the day and hour of the moon when she is waxing. You must then engrave the names and characters of the two (solar and lunar) thwarting angels of Oberon, Scorax and Carmelion, and utter a brief conjuration, bidding them to move the king and cause him to appear before you when you formally call him. I fumigated their seals and performed the conjuration of the two thwarting angels three times during the day, and once at night.

Once this is done, it is necessary to engrave the seals of Oberon’s two advisers—Kaberion, who partakes of the nature of Mars; and Severion, who partakes of the nature of Mercury—in their respective planetary day and hour. The conjuration for these spirits is relatively brief. The purpose is to bind them as you draw their seal, so that they will advise and council their lord Oberon to appear before you when you perform his own conjuration. These incantations are similarly carried out three times each day and once at night as was done before with the angels.

Each time I fumigated Kaberion, I felt a powerful, hot, and aggressive sensation stirring within me. Severion felt less intense in comparison, which I think is understandable given that Kaberion’s nature is Martial. Throughout these conjurations and their accompanying flashes of the spirits’ natures, I came to suspect that Kaberion is perhaps the military adviser of Oberon, his general and commander, whilst Severion acts more as a chancellor or diplomatic adviser.

Finally, the day of the operation came; or so I thought. Pre-ritual consultation with my own spirits indicated that it would be better to perform the operation on a Friday—the day of Venus—as it would be during this time that the King would be more amicable to work with. As such, I waited until the next available Friday to begin the conjuration.

I began the ritual with the standard lighting of candles and fumigations, consecrating them in the manner I am accustomed. I followed this up by calling on my personal spirits to assist me; in particular, my own Good Angel. I then placed my hand over a Pleiades talisman I had elected and consecrated, which is said to draw demons, spirits, and the dead to the conjurer—and also to improve the light in the eyes. I charged the talisman to draw Oberon to me, and then finally I began the ritual proper. I spoke the conjuration I had prepared over the figure of the spirit with its seals, appealing to Oberon, his thwarting angels, and his two councilors that he would appear before me within the crystal. While I was not using a circle, I had prepared a number of Solomonic Pentacles, a consecrated Orthodox cross (gifted to me by Sfinga), my scourging rod, and other protective items in case the spirit became hostile towards me (such an occurrence was recounted in a Robert-Cross-Smith publication, the astrologer of the 19th Century). As the conjuration proceeded, I felt a powerful and intimidating presence fill the room. I could feel an intense spiritual force emanating from the crystal sphere as he arrived, filling the air through the medium of the incense. I greeted him with the following:

“Hail, O King! I greet you with an offering of incense befitting your rulership. I have called you here today by means of your angels and the words of your advisers, that I may make my compact with you and be familiar with you. May you make yourself visible!”

Following this, the overwhelming sensation of intimidation and dread softened (while still lingering in a lesser form), and the spirit finally physically appeared within the shewstone. I asked him various questions, made certain agreements, and successfully obtained a familiar from within his court. This was a spirit who could act as an intermediary between myself and the faery spirits, while also possessing various other powers I had specifically requested. After obtaining his name and seal, I inquired if there were any other protocols I should abide by in order to call forth the spirit, and one requirement was given: that I must be standing on the earth with bare feet when I conjure him.

Once I finished with my petitions and requests, it was time to seal the compact. The way this was done was quite interesting, as the spirit beckoned to his seal and indicated I should “shake his hand” by placing my own over it. Upon doing so, I gave the license to depart and bade the spirits farewell, pleased with their manifestations. The day after the agreement was made, I checked on the figure of Oberon which I had prepared and saw that it had acquired a waxy, physical signature beneath it.

The British Book of Spells & Charms, by Graham King (Review)

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Since we began seeing each other, Sfinga and I decided that one of our Valentine’s day traditions would be exchanging books. This last one, I got her a copy of Stephen Skinner and David Rankine’s A Cunning Man’s Grimoire, and she gifted me the special edition of Graham King’s The British Book of Spells and Charms. Today, I would like to briefly review this wonderful little book which, in addition to being a thoughtful gift I treasure, is genuinely an excellent addition to any folk magic library.

Sfinga’s picture of her paperback with True Black Magic.

Published by the always-impressive Troy Books, the special edition is really a feast for the eyes, bound in red cloth with bronze foil backing, the cover graced with a Mars talisman; my preferred planetary power of choice. The binding is tight and the paper quality superb. A quick flip-through reveals numerous illustrations and photographs from Cecil Williamson’s collection from the Museum of Witchcraft. Needless to say, I was in love with the little book as soon as I first laid eyes on it, and fortunately the material inside did not disappoint.

The text opens with the classic charm: “Rain rain, go away, come again another day”—which I can still to this day remember being taught in English Nursery school—flanking an upturned horseshoe. The introduction reflects on the fiercely syncretic and non-discriminatory nature of folk magic, which devours any source it finds and attunes them to the needs of the user. The analysis in this section was particularly thought provoking for me, especially when I began to mentally compare this fluidity within folk magic with the staunch conservatism of early modern ritual magic. As is the case for the entire book, the writing is littered with colourful illustrations and quality photographs from the Museum of Witchcraft in Cornwall.

The book moves on after the introduction to a collection of typical protection and good-luck charms. The one that struck me the most was the example of the more recent “Fums Up” charms, which you can see in the image above. These were apparently common during the First World War, carried by soldiers who were often gifted them by their lovers for luck. Sea urchin fossils/Faery Loaves, thunder-stones, hag stones, witch bottles, and all sorts of other artifacts are included in the chapter. I think it is perhaps this section of the book that most British people, including those who do not practice magic, would be familiar with, as we encounter the horseshoes and rowan crosses so closely tied to British folk-ways.

We also see a considerable number of verbal and written charms throughout the book, which are, alongside the illustrations, one of its biggest selling points as a reference text. Many of them were already fairly well-known to me, such as Isobel Gowdie’s “The Muckle maister Deil tak what’s atween dis twa hands!” and the numerous variations on the classic “three ladies” or “three angels” anti-burn charm, such as:

“There were three angels flying over the West
One cried Fire, the other cried Frost
The other was the Holy Ghost
Out fire, in Frost, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”

Other charms however were rarer, including some I have never seen before. In particular, the charms from Cecil Williamson’s personal collection include a number of very interesting exemplars; most notable perhaps being anti-Hitler sorceries from the 1940s. One fairly humerous example is that of a Hitler-themed pin cushion, used to afflict the dictator with all manner of ills. This fascinating example of effigy magic deployed for political purposes is quite evocative of the survival of the practical, folk magic mindset well into the Second World War, despite their otherwise widespread erosion.

The rest of the text is divided into a number of different sections, with examples of love divinations and spells, curses and healing techniques, and even magical folk-songs and dances. Each of these sections is filled with a considerable number of different charms, which are thankfully meticulously sourced in the footnotes. The sheer number of examples, in addition to their thorough cataloging, makes this work invaluable as a reference text for British folk magic, allowing us track down any that particularly catch our fancy. Another example that stuck out to me is that of a mole’s foot in a red bag, hung over the mantle. When a member of the household comes to suffer from a toothache, the bag is retrieved and worn around the neck until the pain is healed. In the final section, a “Magical Medley” of miscellaneous spells, there is even a short technique to ensure that your child will be a talented singer: all that is needed is to bury their first nail-parings under an ash tree and they will be granted the gift of song.

This little text is truly quite dear to me, both as a gift and as a reference work on one of my favourite topics of study. It is a fine collection of folk magic practices and techniques, full of historical curiosities and practical inspiration for my craft. I can’t pretend I’m not currently looking around for my own little “Fums Up!” figure as well! You can pick up your own copy in the numerous editions available on the Troy books website.

Doctor Faust’s Mightiest Sea Spirit (Review)

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The Faustian genre of early modern literary ritual magic is a particular passion of mine, and has long been my preferred family of early modern magical texts. Staying true to the tradition of pseudonymous authors, these texts present a fascinating family of ritual magic approaches and methodologies, with surprising variety in technique. As such, I will be regularly reviewing texts relating to Faust, and the “Faustian Tradition”—whether those texts are translations of primary source material, academic monographs and studies on the figure of Faust, or analysis of the literary tradition and folklore that sprung from him. Today, I will be looking at the fascinating Doctor Faust’s Mightiest Sea Spirit, published by Enodia Press.

This book is a great example of what I love about the Faustian genre. Each of the selected texts that are translated within the book has about it a unique feel, and an explicit purpose that Nicolás Álvarez, the translator, brings together with impressive zeal.

Photo credits: Sfinga.

The binding of the book is excellent. I’m not a professional binder (though I’d love to learn the art one day) and I generally tend not to be too hung up on the editions of my texts. But there is something to be said about a beautiful production and this book certainly fulfills that criteria. The deep blue colour contrasts nicely with the silver lettering on the spine of the book, as well as the silver magic circle from one of the translations on the front cover. I’m not always keen on the choices Enodia makes when it comes to the images they affix to the front covers of their publications, however this particular one is beautiful and elegant. The design choices make for an attractive book, and the quality of the binding is more than satisfactory.

As for the contents of the book, we begin with Nicolás’ introduction in which he briefly details the history of the texts he has translated while also touching on the general history and character of the Faustian tradition. Where the introduction shines, however, is in its commentary regarding Sea Spirits and Early Modern German demonology, as well as their connection with spirits from other texts, particularly the devils of Weyer’s Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. Nicolás shows his broad knowledge of ritual magic texts here, carefully drawing connections and ties between shared literary lineages without being overzealous in doing so, as some modern authors are wont to do.

The next part of the introduction features an assessment of the ritual itself contained in the Meergeist. It begins by discussing the faculty of imagination in early modern magical practice, citing Dr. Elizabeth Butler (author of Ritual Magic and Fortunes of Faust) on the fascinating influence of the imagination as it pertains to our text. He then summarizes the theories of a number of early modern and medieval occult authors and natural philosophers on the role of imagination as a spiritual faculty. Nicolás , backs up his argument with primary source material and presents his perspective with erudition.

Once the “Inner Ritual” has been discussed the author moves on to the “Outer Ritual”, or the part of the procedure which would be more familiar to readers of early modern magical texts. The analysis of the ritual is concrete, referencing what about it is unique while also drawing parallels to other magical texts.

After the introduction, the main translation of the Meergeist is given, and it is here that the real bounty of the book begins. The text provides instructions for the conjuration of Lucifer and a number of his chief demonic vassals, in order that the magician may coerce him to bring treasure from out of the sea and into his hands. Where the ritual diverges from the standard procedures of its genres is in the literal dialogue between the magician and the spirit. This moment is somewhat reminiscent of the Greek Magical Papyri spells in which the God brings other spirits to feast and converse with the magician. In a similar manner, the magician converses with Lucifer and his Officers, making his demands. I won’t spoil the dialogue itself, but it was certainly a fascinating read. Not only that, but the descriptions of the vision evoke a sense of infernal beauty and terror. It reads almost like a horror novel, as a seven headed serpent is described to “arise to taste the constant demeanor of he who requests treasures,” while brimstone burns against the backdrop of a ghostly ship manifesting.

That being said, the practicality of the ritual itself makes it difficult to perform. Numerous magicians are required to be present, wearing different coloured clothing. While this may be simple enough, the materia can easily pose a challenge. The operation requires three gallows’ chains and the nails from a breaking wheel (a torture device) that have “sliced through the skin of someone broken [on it]”. I am not someone who balks at hunting for rare materia in the slightest, but this particular requirement makes performing the operation difficult to say the least. Naturally, I’m sure one would be able to ask their spirit allies to facilitate their acquisition of these nails, both monetarily as well as in the practical search.

After the Meergeist, we move on to the translation of Darmstadt MS 831, or the Conjuration and Call of the Sea Spirit Quirumudai. This is my personal favourite part of the text, and it has never before been previously published. There is, according to the author, no information on this text that has been published so far, with the only mention of the spirit Quirumudai being a brief comment on a paper-strip in possession of the Herzogin Anna Amalia Bibliothek.

The actual ritual process of this text is fairly short and simplistic. A basic circle is given, and the ritual instructions are not overly complicated. Certainly it is a ritual that is more than doable, and I do intend to perform it at some point. The function of the operation is to obtain a Familiar Spirit who will protect and teach the magician. The nature of this spirit, or rather its attitude towards the conjurer, is never explicitly stated outside of the fact that it is a Spirit of the Sea who appears in the form of an old, grey man. But given that the spirit is told to protect the one who it pacts with, it seems at the very least ambivalent rather than outright malefic as many spirits of Faustian ritual magic texts tend to be.

There are many things which I love about this text, including the ritual techniques wherein the magician literally stands upon the spirits’ seals in order to subjugate him. The use of a sea shell, to which the spirit is bound, is also a fascinating technique and one I look forward to exploring in my own magical practice when I finally get to engage with this spirit. It also gives details of the particular method in which one makes the pact with the spirit, something that the Faustian genre of magical texts certainly does well. (Magia Naturalis also contains detailed descriptions of how the pacts are formed).

The next text that is translated for us is the Veritable Jesuit Coercion of Hell. This text is similar in nature to the Verus Jesuitarum Libellus (which may be found here on Esoteric Archives) in that it chiefly consists of a long conjuration to be performed in order to obtain treasure—in this case, from the sea. This relationship to the True Petition of the Jesuits is mentioned by Nicolás in the introduction to the translation. The author notes that the circle given in the English translation is his interpretation of a poorly drawn original; however the original circle is fortunately still given in Appendix II of the German version. It is a relatively straight-forward and brief text and feels somewhat out of place when compared with the unique elements of the others within the book. That said, I really am just so pleased that we are getting translations in the first place, and the simplicity of this ritual is an appeal in and of itself for those who prefer such ceremonies.

The final translation is the Arcanum Experientia Praetiosum. Due to the lack of connection to Sea Spirits or Sea Treasure this text is in the appendix rather than being its own chapter. However, its contents are a rare example of ritual magic dream incubation, much like the “Operation to bring three ladies” to your room in the Verum/Grimoire of Pope Honorious. As such, it is a welcome addition to the host of magical texts in the English language and an experiment I look forward to attempting.

There are two versions of this text, one with a specific spirit as the target and the other as a general operation. Both versions are thankfully provided, so as to give us a complete picture. The ritual method given is simple, and in the first the seal of the spirit is provided along with his number of legions and rank (prince) while the second is intended to be used with any spirit. The spirit is then conjured, and his seal hung from the window and lashed in order to subjugate him. The ritual implies, as Nicolás points out, that the spirits should then appear in the dreams of the magician following the successful operation.

The final part of the appendix is a transcript of the original German texts. This is valuable for those who can read the language (like a certain Sfinga can) though sadly I myself don’t speak it, so I cannot yet comment on this part of the book.

In conclusion, this text is an excellent addition to any magician’s bookshelf, and Enodia Press has done an outstanding job in bringing this to the wider occult community. This edition is limited to 500 copies and can be purchased on the Enodia Press website.