was the 1970s when the hippy era I had grown up in was evolving towards the decay that was Thatcherism. In the 60s and early 70s there was a rebellion against “the system” that most people were trapped in, and a move for some to “drop out”. Although I was not a dedicated drop-out, I had difficulty finding work that really suited me, and had extended periods “on the dole”, claiming state unemployment payments. At those times, I met many people who were no longer contributing to society in the accepted economic sense but were, in my opinion, contributing a lot in other ways. These included people following a mystical path; or those spending time in groups discussing society's norms and considering alternatives (a sort of informal version of academia that sometimes developed into “free schooling”). And there were those who, being free of nine-to-five work restrictions, were able to be more active and valuable citizens at a local level. There are examples of this in my diary, when I was at home all day instead of using the village as a dormitory between days working in London: I was able to offer coffee and conversation to an elderly and recently widowed neighbour—one example of how I became a better citizen, more engaged in our neighbourhood.
When the media began to push the Thatcherite division of society into “decent hard-working citizens” versus “layabout drop-out scroungers”, I was angry. I would never claim that no-one has ever dropped out simply to become a parasite, but I rebelled against the prejudice that being out of work labelled one as a worthless human being. I felt a temptation to go around telling everyone that, yes, I had dropped out of regular employment, but that I was doing it for superior spiritual reasons, etc., etc., and this was not to be confused with good-for-nothing parasitism.
This was, of course, just the sort of subtle temptation that one can meet as one begins such an operation—a desire to boast and draw attention just when one ought to be retiring and becoming invisible. It emerged initially in a form that I labelled “snobbery” and, although I resisted it during the operation, it returned in a purer form afterwards and had to be more properly dealt with, as I will explain in the postscript.
Lust
This was a much more lovable demon—it was, after all, the 1970s when fewer lovers would be taken as a sign of weakness rather than restraint. I was relieved that Abramelin only demanded absolute celibacy for the last two months, and I think I managed that, even if I could not control my dreams.
The resulting sex dreams were wonderful, and a real insight into the succubi torments experienced by mediaeval monks. At first I saw them as a bonus rather than a distraction, but when my dream lovers began to suggest that there was really no need to rise and meditate at sunrise—and far better to linger in bed and enjoy more sex—then I realised what was going on!
What about the general mystic's requirement not to indulge in sinful behaviour? Well, from a 1970s perspective sex was anything but sinful, it was a celebration of life, a near religious act and, if we had once been exhorted to pray continuously, then surely it was only the limits of bodily existence that prevented us from fucking continuously? I had no problem with the occasional sexual adventure during the first four months.
Physical deterioration
Re-reading my concerns about weight loss was much more of a shock to me, because this was, and still remains in a lesser degree, a very deeply ingrained concern.
I can now trace it back to the classic astrological observation that Sun in Aries and an excess of the fire element in the chart tends to accompany a split between body and spirit, and illusions about one's appearance that may be similar to the delusions driving anorexia and other eating disorders. In my case I have always seen myself as much smaller and frailer than others’ image of me.
For those who spend a lot of time trying to reduce weight, this might seem a positive blessing. But I was born in 1945 and so have very early memories of news about what was discovered in post-war Germany with horrific images of skeletal corpses and survivors from Nazi death camps. I cannot describe what that meant, I was too young to process the information, but it left me with a very profound sense of evil. When, many years later, I went with a friend to visit her mother in hospital and saw how terminal cancer can reduce a healthy body to a gaunt and tremulous skeleton, I felt utter physical revulsion and a rebellion of my spirit against the flesh and its privations. Most people would be moved to compassion, and I was too, but my compassion was overwhelmed by a panicky desire to run away and never visit again.
That was all past and forgotten when I started the operation. But early on I was reading about certain Christian mystics and a description of “God's athletes” whose bodies were reduced to skeletons by their spiritual discipline and devotion to the spiritual path, and I felt a similar surge of horror. Of course, I would never allow that to happen…but the idea must have remained in my unconscious mind until later when I began to notice myself growing thinner with all the fasting and a vegetarian diet. Around that time, I joined a local gym and an instructor showed me weight-training exercises that would soon restore my losses, but a few weeks later I discovered that I was losing weight even faster and I felt an irrational panic that was very hard to shake off.
As demons go, this one was relatively harmless, and yet it was extremely persistent. Whereas the worst of my demons were manifested and tamed during the seven years following the operation, this one persisted into my early seventies and still surprises me at times. It has taken me many years to grasp the fact that I am actually much taller than my in-laws: when I visualise them I still see myself looking straight into their eyes, as if they were just as tall as I am. And I have at last grasped the fact that the reason that I need to push the car seat right back before driving is because I am actually a large person, and not simply because I have a funny driving position.
“Mother's boy” lament
On 30 August 1977, I filled pages of diary with an absolutely classic and embarrassing lament about the way that girls favour “bad boys” over “goody goodies”. On an immediate level, it was probably a backlash from a spiritual path that was requiring celibacy in an era when such abstinence was seen more as a failure than a victory, but it also had deeper personal roots.
In the postscript pages I discuss the way that Sun in Aries, versus Capricorn rising, created a demonic split between my wild and potentially dangerous martial nature and a more cautious and conscientious capricornian self, and how I tended to identify with the latter and project out the former onto other people. This was another of many demons that I began to meet and came to terms with in the years that followed my Abramelin operation.
PHASE ONE
The first two moons
I had built my oratory: a six-foot by three-foot pine shed concealed in the shrubbery. It had the specified windows to east and south and a door opening onto a level space for a sandy forecourt, as required. It was about thirty yards from the cottage where I had arranged my sleeping chamber. The cottage was shared by an old college friend.
The instructions begin thus:
Having carefully washed one's whole body and having put on fresh clothing: precisely a quarter of an hour before Sunrise ye shall enter into your Oratory, open the window, and place yourselves upon your knees before the Altar, turning your faces towards the window; and devoutly and with boldness ye shall invoke the Name of the Lord, thanking Him for all the grace which He hath given and granted unto you from your infancy until now; then with humility shall ye humble yourselves unto Him, and confess unto Him entirely all your sins; supplicating Him to be willing to pardon you and remit them. Ye shall also supplicate Him that in the time to come He may be willing and pleased to regard you with pity and grant you His grace and goodness to send unto you His Holy Angel, who shall serve unto you as a Guide, and lead you ever in His Holy Way and Will; so that ye fall not into sin through inadvertence, through ignorance, or through human frailty. In this manner shall ye commence your Oration, and continue thus every morning during the first two Moons or Months…
When ye shall have performed your orations, close the window, and go forth from the Oratory; so that no one may be able therein to enter; and ye shall not yourselves enter again until the evening when the Sun