so, it is thrilling! It gives a direct link with tradition, for I finish on the week before.
I did not commit myself till very late—indeed I have yet to write my vow! I wanted to avoid the stupidity of making a vow before I had fully explored its practicability. Giving notice was a wrench, and required two rushed I Ching questions. Here I witnessed the general law that it is not good to consult oracles when too involved and worried about a question.
Only on Good Friday were my parents told I'd left work! B found out earlier, as she had stayed overnight the weekend before.
M was amused, but a bit upset about my life as a hermit. She sees introspection as “unhealthy”. She does not realise that solitude charges me up so that I can discharge in company. (I think it is company that charges her up so she can discharge in solitude.) My worst fear was that the admirable and hard-working RM, whose cottage this is, would misunderstand and feel that his idle, spoilt, dilettante stepson had grown bored with work and had suddenly decided on a holiday. But as I left, he said that he “admired my courage”, wished me luck and warned that “the devil would be after me”. This was evidence of such understanding that I left weeping with joy. He even offered to withdraw rent, but I resisted for, after all, I had planned my spending around paying the rent in advance.
Wednesday 13 April, 9.30 am
I vow that, subject to conditions mentioned below, I will endeavour to keep to the Abramelin operation for six months starting on Easter Monday. As stated in the book, severe illness will be recognised as a God-sent hindrance. However, in the case of great danger to my immediate family, who have been such a support, I would also consider suspending the operation. Also, if I am the victim of bureaucratic intervention, and can find no way of delaying or buying time, then I will be forced to step down. In all such cases, or in any unforeseen mishap, I will consider very carefully and calmly and make my decision in the light of advice from the I Ching.
I cannot see how I can obtain and use a child as instructed in the text, so I plan to do without—unless a suitable child conveniently makes himself known to me in time for training for the part.
Signed,
Lionel Snell April 24th ’77
One of my early dilemmas was the extent to which I should make my own stuff. To an outsider the answer is obvious; all magicians should make their own stuff. To me it was less clear; I wanted to do my best, and I knew, being a poor handyman, that everything I made would be shoddy. On the other hand I am a good buyer. I know that sounds funny, but it is not meant as a joke. When I buy it is not a matter of convenience, it is quite an art—and an effort. I look long and hard to buy the best. Accordingly, I studied sheds.6 I asked SA, the organ maker, to make an oaken altar. I searched long and hard for a silversmith with whom I could discuss the design of a censer. I bought silk for K to make robes (I had planned for Turnbull and Asser7 to do my robes, for Abramelin does specify “properly made sleeves”! However, their minimum order increased from three to six shirts). I bought the extra three shirts and had already bought the oil—for Crowley says you cannot make it just by mixing the raw ingredients. I bought an almond tree, rather than steal a branch! Had my Canary Isle money come, I might have been more lavish, but it did not. So I ordered wood and, with help from K, built an oratory. This is my most positive work so far. It fits snugly into the shrubbery and is in no-one's way. It is rough, but a joy to me. My first big adventure in carpentry! The altar is even rougher, a last-minute panic. The censer is still being made and should be beautiful. Today I must try to make a lamp. K is making the robes. I think I get the point of making things, but still it took some convincing.
7 pm. Less convinced now! Before lunch I made a very simple lamp from some aluminium I found in the garage. I must request permission to be proud of it, it does look really nice and I long to see it in situ. The only pity is that the lamp is seldom lit. Shame.
I have also prepared a floor for the altar. I hope it fits.
After the last-minute, late-night altar-building panic on Sunday I was bleary on Monday morning. It was very cold, so I was thankful for my Norwegian underwear suit. I noticed the steam of my breath ascending to the window as I prayed. Tried some cross-legged meditation but since then I have remained kneeling.
There is a sense of unreality about the operation. The oratory looks like a sauna inside—only freezing. Until today I always stopped when the fidgeting started.
Dilemma: should I consecrate the oratory with only the best-quality prayers, or should I try to improve myself with the struggle to lengthen them? As the book stipulates that they should be extended in the second two months, I have decided on the former. I must not go too fast only to deteriorate later, it is quite enough to instil regularity. Half an hour seems to be about right; in fact, I really should consider an upper limit if I find I can do much more.
Trying too hard at this stage could curdle my routine into a cycle of supreme efforts surrounded by collapsing relief. Actually, I feel that I should extend my prayer gradually to fill the whole day, with the time in the oratory as merely a focus of the prayer.
Accordingly, I have been “watching the watcher”.8
As I lunched with Biker J on Monday, I saw quite a bit of the world. I was aware of my desire to impress strangers: “I say, I'm no ordinary drop-out; I'm really quite a posh mystic, you know”. This idea is embarrassingly persistent. Even more persistent is the “teacher” habit; as I do things I mentally give directions to imaginary pupils, or compose essays on the subject. Perhaps writing this down will exhaust that one.
I ate after evening prayer—after finding that I was too agonisingly hungry during prayer—and it made for a late night. I'm ashamed to say I was slightly afraid of the dark.
On Tuesday it was a dull morning, but much warmer. As I was not bleary, things went much better.
After breakfast I read about Taoist meditation and, horror of horrors, I dropped off! It's only my second day and I've broken a basic law, even if only for a second. I must get a bed of nails.
I did some shopping in the High Street, and wasted time looking at books. On my way back across the common I remembered myself non-stop! The awkward, slipping and about-to-burst shopping bag helped me to maintain awareness; I must remember that arcanum. However, come evening prayer, I felt disappointed in myself for lack of achievement or work done—hence my vow to start writing today and to make the lamps, etc.
Ate before evening prayer. This caused my gut to bulge with chilli bean soup and it was not satisfactory. I must work on that one. I must take either a very early supper or a quick snack straight after.
I have not yet adjusted to vegetarian food; the fish stall looked like a mirage of the holy grail, and at Hall's butchers I jokingly ordered a whole fillet for October. My farts ascend like incense smoke.
Today I pulled myself together a bit. Having to avoid clashing with N helped. I made a lovely lamp and prepared the altar floor. After (or between) the rain it was a sunny day and I managed to sunbathe as I read my Gnostic Anthology. Must confess I was very attracted by the antinomianist heretics.
My bible reading kicked off with John's Gospel and, I must say, I was stunned to find it so readable and so packed full of gags. It looks as though the Bible might prove to be my light relief to dilute the Zohar, etc. rather than vice versa.
Tunes run unnecessarily through my head—I wonder whether I can replace them with mantra?
Saw N as he returned this evening. Chatted over tea.
Now the shadows lengthen—but I wish the busy world would hush—and I must get ready for evening prayer. Not much red in the sky. 7.40 pm.
9.15 pm. I felt very detached and pure as I meditated, and probably could have continued for a much longer time, but found that I had left early!
N and I coincided as I ate after prayer. Sorry to see my old ridiculous irritation at his kitchen methods, but I was glad to note that a greater distance from them enabled me to avoid clinging to them so much. This is important as it is my