As part of my work with Hermes, and as an exploration into a field of magic that I want to get into but am suggested to not delve into too deeply, I’m going to try my hand at being a psychopomp, or leader of souls.  It’s one of Hermes’ classic jobs, leading the souls of the departed to the afterlife (whichever it might be, depending on the soul in question), and it’s traditionally a skill belonging to necromancy.  However, priests and religious officials of all kinds usually involve themselves in some ways with the dead, and proper funerals have the effect of laying the dead to rest and sending their souls on their (maybe not quite) merry ways.   As a magician, I’ve got the nice benefit of working with the dead in some way, even if it’s just as another source of spiritual allies; however, not all spirits of the dead are suitable for forming allies or helpful in my own works, and it’s often just as good to send them onto the next part of their paths.

That’s where being a psychopomp comes in.  It’s something I want to learn, and despite having a good psychopomp friend, it’s hard to learn exactly how to do it.  My friend says that it’s as simple as pointing to a part of the astral realm and telling some wandering spirit “go that way”, but I have my doubts, at least for how I might accomplish it.  Hermes has suggested something probably a little more comfortable in a Hellenic standpoint: make a small feast to the dead (wine, red meat, honey, grains, sweets, incense, and the like) with some coins, and direct any spirits ready to cross over to the next place they should be.  To help with this, I made a simple cane out of a long walnut dowel and rubbed it with spirit oil and a Mercury balm I made (olive oil, beeswax, and eight herbs associated with the sphere of Mercury) to use as my own kind of caduceus-type wand; this will help me direct and guide spirits much as Hermes’ own caduceus leads others.  To act as a focus for directing the dead, Hermes gave me a sigil that he says can act as a portal-key to the afterlife, or at least a halfway-house where spirits can better get to their next destination.

Also, this was something I had been waiting for for a while to do, but Hermes wanted something special from me, first.  I had been planning to work with Hermes in a very close vein for a while, and decided on getting a caduceus tattoo on my left arm (the same hand Hermes carries his caduceus in).  A week and a half ago, I went to a fantastic little parlor (specifically by Tim at Wild Style, up in Glen Burnie near Baltimore, MD) and got my very first tattoo.  Hermes was buzzing for hours around me (though that could also have been me on my endorphin high), and with this gave his approval to work as a psychopomp.  This is why I originally made that balm of Mercury I mentioned above, to assist in the healing; using this with A&D ointment for a week with prayers to Raphael and Hermes is turning out fantastically for my tattoo.

So, with last night being Halloween, I got my gear out, got some offerings, and made the rounds to the local graveyards with a friend to act as a second pair of eyes.  I made offerings to the dead at each graveyard consisting of uncooked steak, fresh cheese, barley and oats, myrrh incense, dark wine, various sweets, old coins, a candle, and the like.  I praised their good natures, offered my laments and sympathies for their passing, and honored them for having the courage to have gone before.  Depending on the graveyard, this would also involve ritual walking, like circumambulation, around some focus or central monument.  After this, I called out to the spirits at each graveyard and asked if any were prepared to move on and out to the next world.

For those that came to the call, I constructed a portal in the astral using the sigil Hermes gave me, and guided the spirits to it.  Before guiding them through it, I made sure they had no business left that needed taking care of; if they were happy and ready to move on, I sent them through and shut the portal once all the spirits who wanted to leave did.  For those that didn’t come to the call but seemed pretty chill, I poured them a little extra wine, since they were obviously cool enough to deserve it and didn’t care to pass on and out.  As for the spirits that definitely weren’t at peace, I attempted my hand at some cautious placation with some rosewater and prayers.  I’ll try to make a trip to the local graveyards for a similar psychopomp trip monthly or bimonthly to catch up with the spirits and see if any more need guiding on, probably coinciding with my monthly Hermes adoration.

I didn’t use any specific prayer or words for this besides supplications to Hermes for help in working this, but having something ready would be helpful in the future.  For those working in an angelic or Christian current, you might find a little supplication I made useful (both in Latin and in English).  It relies on three angels associated with death in different ways: Azrael who delivers death’s touch itself, Raphael as the guide and leader (much as Hermes guides souls), and Auriel as guardian of the Gates of Paradise.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti
Azrael tibi pacem perpetuum donet
Raphael te ad terminum tute ducat
Auriel te in Paradisum complectat
Ad gloriam piisimi Dei qui vivit et regnat per saecula saeculorum
Amen.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
may Azrael give you everlasting peace,
may Raphael lead you safely to the end,
may Auriel welcome you into Paradise,
for the glory of the holiest God who lives and reigns, forever and ever,
amen.

Alright, alright, alright!  After all this time, I finally gathered the last of my supplies, ran my experiments, and have compiled notes and pictures on my orgone system, a variant of the Babalon Matrix.  Gentlefolk and estimable peers of the magical blogosphere and internetical occulture, I present to you the Manifesting and Generating Orgone System, or the MaGOS for short.  (Please don’t kill me.)  Click on the link for the full write-up and analysis of this bit of tech I’ve been toying with over the past few months.

Long story short, I’ve basically made for myself a magical energy generator that can harness and accumulate force into objects I drop into the MaGOS.  The system combines energy manipulation and orgone technology, combined with liberal uses of crystals and sacred geometry, and is a pretty nifty tool to have around.  Despite the amount of time I’ve worked on it, it’s not exactly theurgic and doesn’t help me directly in that path of my spiritual and magical life.  As a tool, it’s not associated with any one force or sphere of reality, and in some regards is a fairly minor project in the long run.  However, I’ve already had the chance to use it in conjunction with ceremonial rituals, and boy howdy does it ever help out.

Now, I’ve written about orgone tech and the buildup to this big announcement in other posts on my blog, which you’re free to read up on, though the writeup of the MaGOS goes over the bulk of my experiments with the system:

1. Wherein we first encounter orgone technology and first see a Babalon Matrix
2. Wherein we experiment with orgone accumulator directionality
3. Wherein we experiment different numbers and orientations of perimeter crystals, as well as multiple objects in the Babalon Matrix field
4. Wherein I describe the creation of orgone accumulators and experiments using Bardonian fluid condensers
5. Wherein I describe the creation of a field generation circle to be used in conjunction with a Babalon Matrix and our experiments with them

Hopefully, this summarizes my experiences I’ve had thus far with working orgone tech in my magical practice.  I don’t see many surprising uses for this at this point, though I do expect to be making use of the MaGOS in more rituals and in potentially different ways than simply amplifying a magical ritual or having a certain item become charged. Feel free to post in the comments any questions, suggestions, or thoughts you might have; otherwise, let’s all happily move on from this topic onto a new one.  How about another inimical circlejerk lively debate about the HGA?  Those are always fun.

Hey, guys, have you heard that I’m on something of a Hermes/Mercurial kick lately?  I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it anywhere, but working with the dude is kinda awesome.

I mentioned before that I hastily made a wand (cane, more like) for use in my work with Hermes, especially in being a psychopomp.  It was a simple walnut dowel that I had rubbed in with spirit oil and a Mercurial balm I originally made for my caduceus tattoo (olive oil, beeswax, and eight herbs associated with the sphere of Mercury) with some minor woodburning.  It was a really simple thing, and though it helped out for my first venture out in the graveyards, it was still a little too…well, boring for my tastes.  Besides, with it being unshod on the bottom, the staff could easily be damaged or harmed, and it didn’t look like anything special for a distance.  While mulling over ideas for elaborating it, I came up with a plan  and made the simple wand into something much more resembling a real caduceus, just omitting the real snakes and wings.

• I woodburned four rings around the top and bottom of the staff, leading to eight rings total.
• I got four yards of decorative cord twisted with gold thread, two each of white cord and black cord.  I drilled a hole near the top of the staff, threaded them through so that each cord had equal parts on both sides leading to four cords “emanating” from the staff.   These would act as the two snakes of the caduceus, one white and one black, one front and one back.
• To keep the cords from fraying, I used a Fransiscan monk’s knot at the end of each cord, looping the cord back on itself four times and tying each knot around a (fake) gold ring.  The rings give the staff a bit of a flare, as well as link it to the khakkhara or shakujo, the monk’s staff used in East Asian Buddhism, as well as to the bodhisattva Kṣitigarbha, who also plays a role as psychopomp and guide not unsimilar to Hermes.
• I twisted the cords around the staff so that they each made four loops around in a double helix pattern, then “locked” them into place with four square knots.  This helped in keeping the cords managably short as well as giving the look of two snakes twisted around the staff, just as in the iconic caduceus.  And, just as in my tattoo, this leads to eight loops and eight knots total around the staff.
• I took a small wooden sphere with a hole drilled out in the bottom to fit on the top of the staff to act as a knob handle as well as a finial for the caduceus.   Before I glued it on, I woodburned in a spherical form of a quadrupled Mercury symbol I had a brief insight of while thinking about the design, which on a 2D plane looks something like this:
  
  I adapted this to the sphere by connecting the crossbars on each of the legs from the circle and having the crescents meet up on the connected circle.  I also added four dots under the meeting tips of the crescents between the legs of the crosses, just for style.  If I were to draw it out on a 2D surface with the circle for the staff insert as the boundary circle for the symbol, it’d look like this:
  
  It looks pleasingly abstract, like something from Myst or Portal, which is appropriate in either case.
• I got a brass cap, golden in color to match the cords and the rings, and put it on the butt of the staff to prevent damage to the wood.  Brass, being a mixture of metals, is perfect for mercurial work.
• I rubbed in more of the Mercurial balm onto the light pine (?) handle after staining it a color closer to the walnut, as well as lightly rubbing in some oil I made specifically for Hermes himself (kinda like Alchemy Work’s Hermes Oil).  This was to help protect the wood as well as imbue the whole thing with magical force to help it better resonate with any Hermaic or Mercurial work I do.

Overall, I’m highly pleased with how this project turned out.  You’ll also notice that the number four keeps popping up, four being the divine number associated with Hermes, who was born on the fourth of the lunar month and also given the fourth day of the week, Wednesday.  This is half that of the magical number associated with the sphere of Mercury (8), but since this is more of a divine tool instead of a magical tool, it’s probably better to aim towards the smaller of the two numbers, even though they’re so closely intertwined anyway.

Now that the whole thing’s been finished, I plan on officially consecrating and dedicating it to Hermes and his service.   My idea is to present it to Hermes during his monthly devotion and officially dedicate it to him then, repeating the Homeric Hymns once and Orphic Hymns four times each day for four days.  After this, and if he’s amenable to it, I plan to conjure Raphael of Mercury and consecrate the staff under the powers of the sphere of Mercury for eight days as I would any other talisman or magical item.  This may not be needed, depending on how Hermes wants to work with the wand himself, but the magical consecration would help tie it in closer to Mercurial currents of power.

My friends, I see this mistake being made way too often, and being the nitpicky detail-obsessed bitch of a magician that I am, I desire to correct you all, because you are all being wrong on the Internet.

• An altar (noun) is a consecrated space for religious, devotional, magical, or spiritual operations, often a raised platform used for sacrifices, offerings, rituals, communions, and other mystical endeavors. Example: “The priest walked up to the altar to perform his daily offering to the gods, placing a jug of wine on the consecrated surface.”
• To alter something (transitive verb, i.e. it takes a direct object) is to change it or make it different in some way than it was previously.  Example: “The student altered his paper when his teacher pointed out mistakes in his spelling and grammar, because he did not want to get a bad grade when he turned it in.”

One does not set up an alter, and one does not altar something to make it better.  STOP BEING WRONG, YOU GUYS.

On a more serious note, it would seem as though my own altar collection has blossomed to the point where I’m starting to run out of space in my bedroom.  I mean, even if I had a room just for occult and devotional work, I’d still be running out of space, but at least I’d have a space just for it.  As it is, my own altars are a little disparate, and can’t really be combined in any comfortable way: a devotional altar for prayer and meditation, my Table of Manifestation for my Hermetic work, my MaGOS/orgone generator setup, my altar to praise and work with Hermes, and another table for random rituals, consecrations, conjurations, and the like.  I like the separation of different sets of tools or goals at each altar and space, but it is starting to make my room look a little full.  How do you all deal with too many altars, or do you make a point beyond which you don’t do something with a set of forces or gods?

Last night I went to the pub with some friends, because it was Tuesday and I work from home on Wednesdays, so what else was I supposed to do?  (Be responsible, do some reading, do some chores, etc., but I never made claims to be a responsible boring adult.)  Because it was cold and Tuesday (the day of Mars), I took along two little magical trinkets of mine: a fire agate pendant I’ve made into a home for a fire elemental I’ve befriended and a large chunk of citrine quartz that a friend gave me, which houses a golden-light-cat spirit or something.  Having them around, plus chatting with my HGA on the walk to the pub, was interesting and they all got to know each other a little more closely.  I had asked for their opinions on the interaction of Fire and Light in terms of magic and the cosmos, and the resulting chat was pretty interesting.  (I apologize if my thoughts below aren’t particularly clear, but I’m still sleepy.)

First, some mundane observations.  All things can potentially burn.  Fire is present in all things, whether as potential energy or combustible materials within a substance, though it might take more work to get something particular to burn than something else.  When things burn, they emit light and heat, and can cause other things nearby to catch on fire.  Fire cannot take place without some gas, however, such as oxygen, which can also double as the necessary fuel if one desires a short but large fire, as opposed to a slow but controlled and small fire burning on a piece of wood.  Controlled fire, fed and tamed appropriately, can be a huge boon to those who know how to use it; uncontrolled fire can be disastrous and dangerous to anything and everyone around.

In terms of the occult, although fire produces light, Light is the cause of Fire.  When something burns and shows its Fire, it’s really the underlying Light that’s being revealed, whether in terms of activity or desire or nature.  Light shines and is shown into the world by actually accomplishing one’s will, which has the underlying cause of working out the Will of the One Thing, which reveals its undifferentiated Light when accomplished.  Fire is not undifferentiated, and it itself is not the One Thing, nor is it a quintessential element; Fire is just one of the four elements that make up our little niche of the cosmos on Earth.  However, it is the highest, lightest, and Lightest thing we have, and is closely associated with the Light that comes from above.

As the most volatile element, Fire burns, and in burning also consumes matter.  When Fire burns, it can burn in one of two ways: up or down.  In either case,  matter and the other elements are consumed for a certain purpose, a certain direction, a certain intent, a certain Will.  Burning up will result in illumination and enlightenment, and requires the consumption of material reality in order to achieve this.  This is like the Fire of the Sun and the process of K&CHGA, which often has the side effect of burning up all the bad parts, dark parts, and nasty parts of one’s life to achieve a better one.  This is a good kind of burning, though the heat can burn and blister, because one reaches a higher state than one was previously at.

On the other hand, one can also burn something down; unlike the previous kind of Fire which burns with the intent to reach a higher end, Fire can also burn to reach a lower end, which burns material reality for the sake of material reality.  Unlike cracking a few eggs to make an omelette, transforming something base into something more rarefied, this is like trying to violently fight with someone to achieve friendship, or fucking one’s way into being a virgin.  This sort of action tries to consume material goods to produce it, which can have that effect but at a greater cost than one might otherwise pay.  I’m reminded of what Frater RO says about working with Goetia: “you get everything you asked for, and nothing you want”.  That’s because Fire doesn’t want to move down, it wants to go up; this is why it always reaches skyward towards the Sun and the Stars, and why some groups like the Zoroastrians consider Fire to be holy.  When Fire is aimed and forced downward, it’s forced into more fuel than it would need to achieve something higher, which then causes the Fire to consume everything nearby.  In other words, it’s a lot of effort with not a lot of payoff, if there’s any appreciable payoff to be had.  In this sense, this is the kind of Fire associated with Mars, which discriminates between the useful and useless, the worthy and the worthless, and cuts out anything that is not absolutely necessary in the cosmos.  However, this kind of burning is controlled by a strategist; when used by a berserker, there isn’t any discrimination to be had, and all things are up for destruction.

The difference between burning up and burning down is really a matter of purpose.  Each element is associated with a certain direction of motion (in addition to a cardinal direction): Fire goes up, Air moves around or expands, Water goes down, and Earth stays put or contracts.  When an element is moved or made to move in a direction according to its nature, things go well; when not, things suck.  One wouldn’t use Water to dry something out or use Earth to heat something up; these are things not proper to their natures.  Likewise, when using Fire for low ends, one is going to have to face the kind of burning associated with a chaotic war; when using Fire for high ends, one gives up the fuel that’s most readily burned and illuminated before the Fire can do much at all.  The most ready fuel for Fire is the dark matter that it tried to escape from, much as in the cosmogony that Poemander showed Hermes Trismegistus; only by using what we can give up as fuel for Fire can we ascend, but when using Fire for low ends, one has to deal with the chaotic and destructive nature of unnatural Fire.

Since I haven’t been doing much lately, and since I feel bad for depriving my oh-so-neglected and dearest readers of whimsical occult fuckery, I figure that I may as well commit myself to a series of posts they might enjoy.  Since one of my most favorite topics in occultism and magic is divination, specifically the divinatory art of geomancy, why not talk about that?  I know a lot about it, and not many do, so let’s go with it.  If nothing else, you’ll come away slightly more educated, and I’ll come away with something looking like productivity.  With that in mind, let’s start this little series of posts on geomancy, “De Geomanteia” (On Geomancy).

To start this series of posts and discussions on geomancy generally, it might be a good idea to start with the sixteen geomantic figures, the “alphabet” of this divinatory system.  This week, let’s talk about this figure:

Albus

This is the figure Albus.  In Latin, its name means “White”, but is also named “the Bearded One” in some Islamic traditions, as well as “laughing” or “happy”.  If you (quite literally) connect the dots, you might come up with a figure that looks like a chalice or goblet set upright, or a high-backed chair.

First, the technical details on this figure.  It’s associated with Mercury in direct motion, the astrological sign Cancer, and the sephirah Hod.  Having only the water line active with all other lines passive, this figure is closely associated with the element of water.  It is an odd figure with seven points, relating more to internal states of the subjective mind than external states of objective reality.  It is a stable and entering figure, showing it to be slow-moving and long-lasting where it appears.  In the body, it signifies the throat, lungs, and mind.  Its inverse figure (everything this figure is not on an external level) is Puer, the Boy, showing that this figure is not rash, not bold, and not dumb.  Its reverse figure (the same qualities of this figure taken to its opposite, internal extreme) is Rubeus, the Red One, showing that this figure is not superficial, not angry, and not quick.  Its converse figure (the same qualities of this figure expressed in a similar manner) is Puella, showing that it is similarly calm, introspective, peaceful, and accepting.  It is generally favorable but weak, except in matters dealing with speed or enthusiasm, and is better for things requiring slow thought and planning than immediate action.

The best metaphor or image to describe Albus is that of the old bearded man in the woods.  Imagine, dear reader, a stereotypical sword-and-sorcery high fantasy novel or short story: you have the evil overlord, the frightened townspeople, and the brazen youth off to conquer the dark masters and save the damsel in distress.  He can’t do it alone, of course; that’d make for too easy and short a story, and he’d end up probably being an abusive boyfriend to the newly-rescued damsel being an over-testosteroned dick.  No, our young hero has to get help first and learn how to fight, act, and train himself before even daring to fight the powerful forces of darkness terrorizing the land.  So, he goes off to find a wizened, old sage in the forest, safely removed from harm but having lived it all beforea long long time ago in a galaxy country far far away.  This old man has the advice, skills, and knowledge the young hero needs to succeed, although the old man cannot himself fight anymore.

By this point, dear reader, you can probably rattle off a dozen or so characters from as many stories that fit the bill of this wizened, old sage: Merlin, Mr. Miyagi, Jackie Chan’s Uncle, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, Gandalf, and Albus Dumbledore (whose name is not entirely a coincidence).  They all have the old man gimmick down, which relates to the names of this figure quite well: an old, bearded, white-haired man.  Age often signifies wisdom and experience, and Albus certainly has it.  However, the price of having gotten this wisdom and experience is often the inability to use it by oneself: old age takes its toll on the body, and though an ancient swordmaster may know all the tricks and tips to defeat an entire army single-handedly, his joints and body simply aren’t up for it.  To make up for their loss of physical prowess, they bump up the mental aspect of it all, reveling in the mind and letting thought and whimsy play out their battles and strategies.

This, however, is not always helpful.  When one gets lost in one’s own thoughts, they lose track of the real world outside their head, and can easily forget what’s actually possible in the world instead of what they can simply think up of.  It’s this disconnect from the outside world that can show Albus to be a little on the crazy side, since what he thinks isn’t always practical or applicable.  In other words, it’s as if the old man has lived alone in the forest for so long that he can only remember what things were like back in the old days.  In a sense, it’s a strong image of the ivory tower that academics can so easily find themselves trapped in: without keeping in mind real-world applications of their work, an academic or researcher can become obsessed more and more about less and less until they know absolutely everything about absolutely nothing.  Without keeping themselves active in the real world and letting the mind alone dominate one’s world, Albus can just as easily signify a bastion of experience as it can a dungeon of dementia.

This is the result of combining the forces of Mercury (speed of thought, words, arguments, logic and logical conclusions, mental imagery, possibility management) with the forces of Water (memory, reflection, emotion, intuition, sinking and downwards motion).  By getting wrapped up in reflection and immersing oneself in one’s own thoughts, one can figure out new truths of the cosmos just as much as they can get lost in a maze of twisty little thoughts, all alike.  Mental processing is fantastic, but we can’t live just in our heads and neglect the rest of ourselves, much less the rest of the cosmos.  That’s why the old man becomes such a vital character in those sword-and-sorcery stories: he has the key of wisdom and knowledge that the young hero needs.  Without him, the hero would fail, but he cannot act on his own because he is neither interested in the problems of the real world nor able because of his age and frailty.  His strength lies in the recesses of mind and memory, and the young hero traveling through the ancient forest to find the old sage is another level of imagery describing the same.

Incorporating the force of Albus into one’s life is both simple and dangerous, but like the rest of the figures, as necessary as anything else.  Albus is the quintessential “look before you leap” figure in geomancy, proposing forethought, planning, careful deliberation, meditation, reflection, and consulting wisdom and past experiences (either of oneself or of others) before making any kind of move.  It is helpful, but much like the old sage to the young hero, can act only indirectly on a situation since Albus itself cannot actually do much; the action and implementation of Albus’ plans are left to stronger, more eager hands.  However, planning too much and trying to knock out every detail possible of every situation possible can lead to a downward spiral of “what ifs” and being overwhelmed by what amounts to no more than passing thoughts exploded into overimportance.  When working with Albus, don’t work alone; be sure you always have a grounded output to vent at and talk shop with, someone to both help you explore mental avenues of thought without getting lost inside the city of the mind.

Based on talks with friends and our individual experiences, actually doing magical work takes energy.  For that matter, doing any kind of work takes an input of effort and energy; generally speaking, the bigger the work, the bigger the energy needed.  In more pessimistic terms, it’s garbage in, garbage out.  However, doing magical operations takes effort of a different kind than physical or mental labor, and requires energy of a different kind than a hearty meal and a full night’s rest.

First, what is energy?  I use the terms “energy”, “power”, and “force” fairly interchangably, but it can be considered from a magical point of view as the ability to make something go or do something else.  Light and darkness, the four elements, the seven planets, the ten heavenly spheres, the 12 zodiac signs, the 28 lunar mansions, and so on are different sources or flavors of energy that are commonly encountered in my line of work, but they’re by no means the only kinds.  Species of plants or animals, different kinds of stones, memories, and the impressions of emotions and life that things leave on a place or thing are also sources of energy.  In all cases, the energy provided from these sources can be channeled, directed, contained, isolated, or manipulated in such a way to accomplish some goal.

In many senses, an average human is another kind of powerhouse or generator that creates, channels, and uses energy.  Depending on the goal, different parts of the human are made use of: for physical tasks, the physical body with its energetic needs are required; for mental tasks, the mental spirit; for holy tasks, the divine intellect; and so on.  The fourfold body of humanity (body, soul, spirit, mind) is thoroughly wrapped up in itself and among its individual parts, but different modes of working are needed for different kinds of tasks.  That said, the human as a whole produces a kind of single energy, which we might call “human life essence”.  This alone has many names, like orgone, prana, qi/ki/chi, mana, ruach, or so on, but is the primary energy that humans run on.  Although there are other kinds of energies out there, it’s this kind of human life essence (I’ll just call it Life from now on) that allows humans to live.  Trying to use another kind of energy to live is like trying to eat paper or pencils for nutrition; it doesn’t really work that way, without some kind of prior processing outside the human system.

Since Life is an energy, it can be used in magical operations in order to accomplish some desired goal.  However, this is kinda dangerous, since Life is best and primarily used for living.  Plus, although humans generate Life, it’s mostly meant for the purpose of living, and using up Life for other tasks often has the result of having less Life for living.  In other words, using one’s own Life cuts off years from one’s life.  It’s kind of a nasty conclusion to come to, but it makes sense, and seems to be a constant in my experience, those of my friends, and those of their friends.  People who rely on their own Life too much tend to be unnaturally fatigued, seem to age earlier, and likely kick off sooner than those who don’t.

As a magician, this is worrisome, but also easily preventable.  Given all the works I do, it’s vital that I don’t use my own Life just to put up a shield or charge a talisman or something.  Instead, it’s better to make use of the other forces and energies out in the cosmos that are better suited and, for all practical purposes, infinite.  When making a Mercury talisman, for instance, I don’t want to supply my own Life, process it into a Mercurial form, and then stick that into a disc of wood or metal when tapping into a Mercurial flow of energy works just as good, if not better and with less effort (though with more ritual flair).  These flows of energy are everywhere, and in so many flavors and styles that it’s almost hard to choose from to figure out which might be best for a particular purpose (hence Agrippa’s helpful tables and complete systems of magic generally).  All that I need to do is figure out how best to access these flows of energy, including the spirits to talk to get access to them and the proper times to do it, and I’m generally set.  The important thing is that I’m not using my own Life in these rituals or magical operations, but instead I act as a channel to direct these forces according to my Will.

Does this mean that I never use my own Life to accomplish something?  Nope.  I like to think of Life as the energy I need to do something for myself by myself, and can be extended or manipulated as another “limb” or something.  Often enough, interacting with another force requires a channel to be made through the human, made easier by using Life to make a “road” or “tube” to direct the energy flow.  When isolating something, I tend to make a “net” or web of Life to catch something, move it around, then release it into another place that can better or more appropriately handle it (localized pain, for instance).  When I’m done using the Life like this, I release it back into myself and make as much use of it as I can according to its original purpose, instead of releasing it into the world.

At least, this is how I tend to think about energy sources and the like in terms of magic.  There are a lot of different ways one can think about this, and there are even whole models of occult thought that can show how magic generally works.  The above is largely classified under the energy model of magic, but I also like incorporating it with the spirit model (whereby it isn’t channeling energy that performs magic but asking and working with spirits to do the same).  How do you think about the use of energy in magic, if at all, and specifically the use of human life essence or the place of the human in magic?

Since one of my most favorite topics in occultism and magic is divination, specifically the divinatory art of geomancy, why not talk about that?  I know a lot about it, and not many do, so let’s go with it.  If nothing else, you’ll come away slightly more educated, and I’ll come away with something looking like productivity.  With that in mind, let’s continue this little series of posts on geomancy, “De Geomanteia” (On Geomancy).  This week, let’s talk about this figure:

Coniunctio

This is the figure Coniunctio.  In Latin, its name means “Conjunction”, but is also named “assembly” or “meeting” in some Islamic traditions, as well as “crossroads” or “sail”, .  If you (quite literally) connect the dots, you might come up with a figure that looks like an X, two figures joining hands, or a bridge.

First, the technical details on this figure.  It’s associated with Mercury in retrograde motion, the astrological sign Virgo, and the sephirah Hod.  It has both the air and water lines active with the fire and earth lines passive, making this a wet figure and associated with air (the primary quality of which is wetness).  It is an even figure with six points, relating to objective situations rather than internal or experential events.  It is a mobile and liminal figure, showing things to be dynamic, hesitant, and able to be changed at a moment’s notice.  In the body, it signifies the belly, intestines, arms, and hands.  Its inverse figure (everything this figure is not on an external level) is Carcer, the Prison, showing that this figure is not isolated, not restrained, and not permanent.  Its reverse figure (the same qualities of this figure taken to its opposite, internal extreme) is the same, Coniunctio itself, showing that this figure is the same from all points of view.  Its converse figure (the same qualities of this figure expressed in a similar manner) is Carcer, showing that it is cyclical, pausing, and foundational.  It is a middling figure, but generally held to be good with good figures and bad with bad figures; it is favorable in matters of discussion, meeting people, making decisions, short travel, and unions of love and partnerships, while it is bad in matters requiring isolation, stability, and fixidity in opinions.

In my meditations of this figure, I picture myself in a wagon in a caravan with another, older man.  We’re just talking about future plans, what-ifs and what-could-bes, shooting the shit about nothing and everything in particular, where we’ve been, what we like and dislike, and what we have to go on later on.  We’re both travelers, there only for the duration of the ride, and neither of us is particularly sure about where we’re going, together or separately.  That said, we were happy with this, and once the wagon stopped, we got out and saw a crossroads, four roads leading out to the four corners of the world, each drastically different.  Another two wagons were present, with the first having disappeared, and we sat by the edge of the intersection and kept talking.  The road can wait, we figured, and we really have the entire world ahead of us.  We weren’t finished with our journey, but neither had we really begun.  We weren’t badly off, but we weren’t content.  We had potential and possibility, but we had nothing definite or planned out yet.

This is one of my more favorite figures, probably because of its ambivalence and directionlessness.  Crossroads are sacred and powerful places in many religions and folklores because, when you’re at a crossroads, you’re not going along any one road, you’re not part of any one territory (think of Four Corners in the western US), and so you’re really between thresholds.  In a sense, the crossroads is a place between worlds, belonging to none, leading to all.  This is why you’d find statues of protection or heraldic gods (like Hermes’ hermai) at crossroads, watching over the passage of people, cargo, and spirits going from place to place.  Coniunctio, being a figure of a crossroads, lines up with this: it’s a figure of a decision just before its made, a choice just before it’s finalized.  Anything can go anywhere with this, and it’s hard to tell which way it’ll go.

The two elements that are active in Coniunctio are water and air, the sociable elements able to freely mingle and flow from here to there.  Earth is solitary, heavy, and immovable, while fire is caustic and focused only on rising upward; these dry elements are not conducive on their own to actually moving around.  Water, however, flows, as does air, and are able to go up, down, sideways, inside, outside, and anywhere else.  They help facilitate communication, relationships and relating to others, empathy, sympathy, and telepathy (yes, I went there).  Coniunctio, the conjunction or meeting, is really a figure that shows an intermingling of forces, bridging the gap between the heavens and earth or between two corners of the world, where communication and chatting can occur freely and helpfully.  It represents meetings of all kinds, especially sexual union and conjunction; as a symbol of marriage or sex, Coniunctio represents the combination of opposites (female Puella and male Puer, or slow Albus and fast Rubeus).

While Albus represents Watery Mercury, Coniunctio represents Airy Mercury: the talkative, thinking, discussing child that hasn’t yet figured out where to go but knows that he wants to go somewhere.  By reasoning things out with words and discourse, plans can be drawn up, maps drawn out, and all the information one needs to make a decision can be obtained with only a few moments’ work.  The downside is that one can get caught up in the decisionmaking to such a degree that one gets lost in the details and fails to see the big picture; it’s as if one gets too obsessed with how the roads looks from the intersection instead of considering where the roads actually lead.  Without keeping a broader or more intuitive eye on things, the energies of Coniunctio can get so bogged down in the logical minutiae of life that nothing ever actually gets accomplished due to all the micromanaging of itineraries and decisions.  Making a well-informed decision is one thing, but knowing everything about absolutely nothing at all is quite another.

Coniunctio is, as I’m sure you may have guessed by now, a figure of reason and deliberation.  It nearly always signifies a meeting or interaction with outside forces, often with past choices being questioned or drawn-up plans redrawn and refigured.  It’s a figure of change, much like the other figure associated with the roads, Via, but unlike Via, Coniunctio doesn’t utterly change things, but merely reconsiders them for the better.  However, it’s hard to do that kind of reconsidering on one’s own, so outside opinions are not only appreciated here but necessary to make the most out of Coniunctio’s force.  It’s through a meeting of minds, separate worlds in and of themselves, that progress on one’s path can really be accomplished.

As part of a crafting project, and to help kick my lazy ass back into gear with conjurations that I’ve neglected for so long, I’m currently on day two of…a lot in which I’m conjuring a different angel of a different force each day (seven days for the seven planets, four days for the four elements, one day for my natal genius, etc.).  Quite literally, I’m conjuring all the angels that I know of; the last time I did this was back when I had consecrated my planetary talismans for the first time, which got crazy and exhausting but ultimately worth it.  I started yesterday, which was a fantastic day to catch up on meditation and rituals generally, and began with Raphael of Mercury yesterday and continued with Tzadqiel of Jupiter today.  So, I got dressed up in a nice suit, got a fancy drink and cedar incense, set up the conjuration altar, and called down the angel of Jupiter to chat.

It was my plan to go through the seven Gate Rituals that Frater RO devised: a basic Trithemian-style conjuration for a specific planet plus a scry/meditation on that planet’s forces, so as to be initiated deeper into the forces and mystery of that heavenly sphere and better integrate one with those forces.  The Gate of Mercury ritual yesterday went fantastically, and I got to see a nifty astral “port town in an archipelago of port towns”, gained access to a part of the astral that I really want to go to, and had a nice café-style chat with Raphael and Hermes.  Mercury, after all, is a sphere I’m more than comfortable in, and absolutely love the place.  On the other hand, Jupiter has never been a place or planet I’m all too comfortable with, despite the seemingly-endless praises RO and Jason Miller et al. sing.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic place of fabulous feels, but I do feel out-of-place or awkward when interfacing with those energies.  Call me crazy, but it’s just not a sphere I prefer compared to others.  As a result, Tzadqiel didn’t let me pass through the Gate this time, but did take me on a walk around the sphere and taught me a few things.

The big thing about Jupiter, as RO will tell you, is grace.  Grace is a gift freely given, a combination of love, forgiveness, and aid, and (if you’ll pardon the pun) the crux of the Christian religion: you don’t need to work for grace, since it’s already given to you.  No matter how badly you fuck up, no matter how recalcitrant you are, you will always have grace available to you.  Basically, consider the parable of the prodigal son; no matter how far the son wandered off or messed up, his father was always ready and eager to welcome him back and give him the best of everything.  That’s grace: it doesn’t matter what you do, you’re loved and cherished and the cosmos will try to make things as awesome as it can for you.

That said, the prodigal son had to actually stop doing bad stuff and return to his father in order to make use of his father’s grace.  He already basically had it, but he couldn’t make use of it without actually doing stuff to make use of it.  He didn’t earn his father’s love, but he had to be there to experience it.  He wasn’t punished by anything or anyone, except himself; it was his own mistakes that caused his own pain.  That pain, in a Hermetic view, is sin.  If it weren’t for RO’s recent post on sin (go read it), I probably wouldn’t have caught onto this idea as soon as I had, but basically:

People don’t understand that “sin keeps you away from god” is the total punishment itself. Being away from God sucks. You can only know that if you’ve been around him though, and it doesn’t make as much sense to folks who haven’t felt the presence of god personally loving them up as it tumbles around you, in you, through you to bounce laughing out your vocal chords.

Sin isn’t a punishment doled out, just like how grace isn’t a reward given for something.  They’re not quite two sides of the same coin, but it’s close.  This was the primary realization I had while talking with the angel of grace, Tzadqiel of Jupiter, tonight: grace is always present and always given in infinite quantities, but the ability to reap the rewards of it is determined only by my own action and responsibility.  Taking up my responsibility, doing the right thing, and being in the presence of the Divine is the reward and yields other rewards; this is the way to enjoy and “make use of” grace.  Being away from the Divine, focusing on the low, neglecting my responsibilities, and the like is my punishment for not taking up the gift that was given to me.  Like the prodigal son, one has to be in the presence of grace in order to enjoy it; away from it, one will suffer.

For someone who’s raised in the modern world and isn’t in touch with deep Christian ethos and mythos, this point is entirely lost.  It’s generally assumed that sin is the state of punishment from an action that results in divine wrath inflicted on someone, which is what it seems to be on the surface and what it definitely seems to be in Judaism (to me, at least).  Grace, on the other hand, is kinda more understood, but is still seen as being a reward for something worked for.  The whole point is that it’s not worked for, it’s just received freely because it was given freely.  In a sense, I figure that it’s partially because God loves us, because we are part of God, and one cannot love without loving oneself.

Now, going back to my awkwardness with Jupiter, the whole kingship thing is weird for me.  I’m no leader, as I’d consider myself; I may be a guide and teacher, but I consider myself a servant and assistant to those who need it.  Being more Mercurial, I like to figure the world out in terms of transactions: you give me X, I give you Y.  This is how our world works, and the universe on a grand scale seems to operate this way as well (no action without reaction).  The cosmos as a whole, however, does not necessarily operate like this: yes, there are kinds of cosmic transactions that turn Ideas into manifested Reality, but there are also states of cosmic fluidity where there is no concept of ownership or exchange.  From a qabbalistic point of view, the pillar of Boaz (spheres of Saturn, Mars, and Mercury) take things away or exchange things (Saturn defines limits, Mars decides on utility, Mercury reasons out rules); the pillar of Jachin (spheres of the fixed stars, Jupiter, and Venus) fill things and give things freely (the fixed stars gives unbridled creation, Jupiter fills things with desires, Venus fulfills purpose).  Mercury is on the opposite side of the Sun, in terms of the Tree of Life, from Jupiter; while Mercury exchanges and sets out rules, Jupiter gives freely and lays out responsibility.

In the end, the goodness in life is derived from doing the right and proper thing for us, as individual humans and as part of Humanity, while the badness of it results from doing the wrong thing.  The good things, which can be considered our True Will, bring us closer to the Will of the Divine and help carry out the cosmos’ machinations as it should; this is essentially the return to the father, or the Father, that helps us enjoy the grace given to us that we can only enjoy in our father’s, or our Father’s, presence.  Sin isn’t something so much one does as it is one enters into by going against what we need to be doing, getting distracted with vain or low things that don’t help us on our path, and separating ourselves from the grace that actually makes things good.  Life may not be glamorous or rock-star-style fabulous even when one is doing their True Will, but it sure is nicer and easier when one does the right thing and does the thing right.  Even small gifts can still make you smile, after all.

An email forwarded to me by one of the owners of the store where I do readings and workshops at:

Hello,

I recognize Magic as a high path of knowledge, and because of my desire for what it offers, wish to follow this path.

I am writing to ask if you can offer any book recommendations for a beginner. I want to learn all the fields of Astrology, Tarot, Kabbalah, and Magic at the same time. This is because I believe more information from more than one source will draw out connections faster and lead to understanding essential principles.

Regards,

<redacted>

And my earnest(?) reply:

Heya!  Hope you’re doing well, Mr. <redacted>.

As Gwen and Bubbles mentioned, I’m one of the readers at Sticks and Stones, and my specialty is on qabbalah, geomancy, and Hermetic ceremonial magic.  Learning astrology, tarot, kabbalah, and magic at the same time is quite the endeavor, and to learn all the fields would take multiple lifetimes; learning even one field of one of those arts sufficiently is quite the challenge in and of itself!  Astrology encompasses the natal, horary, electional, mundane, and synastric styles, and that’s to say nothing of Vedic jyotish or Chinese traditional astrology; Kabbalah is sufficiently different in its fields that it can be considered a family of separate arts in and of themselves; magic is so broad a term that it really can encompass most of human civilization!  However, I can definitely offer some resources to help introduce you to the fields generally.

A very short, very abbreviated list of books:

• Homer, “Iliad”
• Homer, “Odyssey”
• Virgil, “Aeneid”
• The Bible
• Jack Miles, “God: A Biography”
• Jack Miles, “Christ: A Crisis in the Life of God”
• Plato, “Timaeus”
• Aristotle, “Metaphysics”
• Ptolemy, “Almagest”
• Ptolemy, “Tetrabiblos”
• Brian Copenhauer, “Hermetica”
• Robin Waterfield, “The Theology of Arithmetic”
• Storm Constantine, the Wraeththu series of books (the first three, at least)
• Draja Mickaharic, “Practice of Magic”
• Judy Hall, “The Art of Psychic Protection”

You may notice that the list above is primarily religious, philosophical, and mythological, mostly because that’s what magic is.  One needs a very, very strong grounding in a wide variety of fields before one can even begin to approach the mysteries of magic, especially the long and ancient tradition of Hermetic magic.  Works like Homer or the Bible were considered holy and magical in their own right, even back in classical times, and are still considered so today thousands of years later.  Only when one is deeply intimate with the heart of Western literature and symbolism will the rich and sublime language of symbols speak to you and teach you themselves when you crack open most books on magic and the occult.  Even just gazing at the Tarot (say, the Rider-Waite or Thoth decks) will teach you on their own as a kind of abbreviated textbook of the universe.

Hope this helps!

Since one of my most favorite topics in occultism and magic is divination, specifically the divinatory art of geomancy, why not talk about that? I know a lot about it, and not many do, so let’s go with it. If nothing else, you’ll come away slightly more educated, and I’ll come away with something looking like productivity. With that in mind, let’s continue this little series of posts on geomancy, “De Geomanteia” (On Geomancy). This week, let’s talk about this figure:

Amissio

This is the figure Amissio.  In Latin, its name means “Loss”, but is also named “external capture” in some Islamic traditions, as well as “something escaped”.  If you (quite literally) connect the dots, you might come up with a figure that looks like an upside-down bag or arrows moving away from you.

First, the technical details on this figure.  It’s associated with Venus in retrograde motion, the astrological signs of Taurus or Scorpio, depending on whom you ask; due to its Cytherean connections, it’s associated with the sephirah Netzach.  It has the fire and water lines active and earth and air lines passive, and is overall associated with the element of Fire due to its explosive and volatile nature.  It is an even figure with six points, relating to objective situations rather than internal or experential evens.  It is a mobile and exiting figure, showing things to be dynamic, fast-moving, and fleeting in influence.  In the body, it signifies the shoulders, neck, and throat.  Its inverse figure (everything this figure is not on an external level) is Acquisitio, Gain, showing that this figure is all about loss and losing and things being out of reach.  Its reverse figure (the same qualities of this figure taken to its opposite, internal extreme) is also Acquisitio, showing that there is no other kind of state between loss or gain except loss or gain.  Its converse figure (the same qualities of this figure expressed in a similar manner) is itself, showing Amissio to be unique in how it expresses its geomantic symbolism.  It is generally an unfavorable figure, except that it’s good whenever loss is desired (e.g. losing an illness, getting rid of debt), and especially in matters of love (losing one’s heart).  In all cases, it represents loss, losing, or the lack of opportunity to obtain something; whether this is a good or bad thing depends on what’s being lost.

My meditation on this figure showed me an image of a single car half-filled with bags and small furniture, driving on a long, empty, straight road in a huge, empty, flat desert.  A young woman is driving the car, speeding in frustration and emotion, leaving a huge cloud-trail of dust behind the car as it goes along.  She’s crying, listening to songs that remind her of better times, leaving her partner of many years and reflecting on what was awesome with her partner and what happened to ruin everything.  She couldn’t get everything she had from the place she left, and while it sucks, she’ll get along without it, she figures; she doesn’t know where she’s driving, and she doesn’t even know why she’s really leaving, only that she is and that she can’t stay in one place for long.  Her emotions running high, her tears streaming down her face, all she wants is what she can’t have.

One of the good things about geomancy is that, as far as divination systems go, it’s pretty down to earth in its symbolism, technique, and especially its naming conventions.  Amissio, the latin word for “sending off” or “loss”, really does mean just that: things are gone and they’re not coming back.  It’s really not much more complicated than that, guys; Amissio means that things are gone, going away, taken away, stolen, out of reach, missing, misplaced, left behind, waning, subsiding, or decreasing.  It is loss in every sense of the word.

Of course, this wouldn’t be a particularly interesting post if I left it at that, so let’s dig a little more into the elemental and astrological symbolism behind Amissio.  It has the elements of fire and water active, without Air or Earth to keep them in check or facilitate their reaction.  Although potent forces, they are volatile; although able to effect change on the world and on themselves, their effects won’t last without moist Air to facilitate them or dry Earth to materialize them.  Fire and Water can only coexist when there’s something else to join them and have them interact; unlike Air and Earth which can coexist and settle down, Fire and Water blow apart when they’re alone.  Because of this volatility and rapidity of action, Amissio is given as a whole to the element of Fire, and its structure also gives it a exiting (removing, decreasing, distancing) and mobile (transient, fast, ephemeral) quality.

However, despite this passionate and fierce dance of elements, it’s associated with the airy planet Venus in retrograde, the planet of luxury, love, and lust focused on material, worldly, self-centered wealth as well as both the signs of watery, fixed, passionate, possessive Scorpio (its strictly zodiacal correspondence) and earthy, fixed, persistent, possessive Taurus (its planetary zodiacal correspondence).  Taken as a whole, we have a figure who wants and will jealously guard anything that comes into their possession, good or bad, fixed on keeping things fixed as they are without change, attached and clinging to their desired goods.  But the whole language of alchemy and astrology that we’re using to explain this also show that, as a whole, the cosmos is all about change, fluidity, and evolution; nothing manifest or realized can ever remain fixed.  Anything made must eventually be unmade, anything that increases must also decrease, and anything that goes up must also go down. 

Amissio, being the clingy, possessive, jealous, desirous figure that it is, doesn’t like that.  It wants that stability and ownership of things that it can’t have, it wants the laws of the universe to give it what can’t be attained, and it wants goals and places and things that will not last in their grasp for long.  Anything that we have we will eventually lose, either by losing it or losing something else.  That is why the young girl is crying, because all relationships and all things end, and it doesn’t matter why it ended, all that matters is that it did and she has to move on, willingly or otherwise.  That is why the car is only half-full with goods, because she (or we) can’t take everything with her (or us).  That is why she’s crying in a mixture of joy and grief, because she (or we) want what she (or we) can’t have, and she (or we) want good things, even when they turn out bad or stop being good for her (or us).

When Amissio comes around, it’s time to move on without whatever was being asked about.  This isn’t always a bad or painful figure, though; when asking a query about romance, for instance, the Cytherean and romantic side of Amissio comes into play, its passion and fiery nature inflaming hearts ready to be given away to one’s crush.  When asking about an illness, instead of catching a cold, a disease is ready to be kicked out of one’s immune system.  When asking about a fear one has of a situation, Amissio shows that one is getting ready to lose it instead of having to deal with it.  However, because humanity as a whole likes to get and keep stuff, Amissio is usually seen as a negative force.  Can’t find your wallet?  You won’t find it.  Looking for a raise?  Don’t hold your breath.  Wondering where someone is hiding?  They’re AWOL and incommunicado.  Trying to find a replacement for your old car?  You may end up without one at all.   However, because the universe is (usually, but not always) a zero-sum game, one person’s loss is (usually, but not always) another person’s gain.

You, dear reader, may remember that lovely Solomonic Ring I commissioned a while back.  It’s a lovely ring of silver engraved with the name of the archangel Michael and the name of Tetragrammaton Tzabaoth and set with a sunstone, made by my friend Orthaevelve of Obsydian Moon (whose wares you should totally check out and commission her for fantastic occult things).  I use the ring for most magical workings I do, especially in conjurations as an added layer of divine authority and magical defense against any that would seek to harm me.  Plus, it acts as another source of Light that can help me out in any number of situations, from illuminating dark situations to seeing in spiritual darkness.  It’s a pretty nifty thing, which I’m very glad to have in my magical armoire.

When I put it on, especially before a conjuration, there’s a particular prayer I’ve settled into into using.  Like my Prayer of the Itinerant, it was originally a spur-of-the-moment oration, but eventually became part of my ritual standard procedure.  I know there’re prayers for putting on other ritual garb (“ANCOR AMACOR AMIDES THEODONIAS ANITOR” etc.) but I consider those separate from putting on this specific item of magical gear; since I haven’t seen a similar prayer for donning a magical ring of divine power, I figured I may as well share mine.

I don the ring and step into my role as mage, as μαγος, as priest, as shaman, as holy one, as intermediary between the worlds.
I don the ring and am made protected by the archangel Michael, prince of the heavenly host and guardian of the Light, and the holy Father, the Lord of Hosts, YHVH Tzabaoth.
I don the ring and rend the veil between the worlds, and step out of this world into the ever-present Moment, the eternal Now.
I don the ring to accomplish my will.
I will to (ritual statement of intent).
I am here to accomplish my will.
My body is here.
My soul is here.
My spirit is here.
My mind is here.
I am here to accomplish my will.
My will be done, God willing.

Amen.

Follow up with any other prayers you may find useful (I tend to use a serquence of the Prayer of Hermes Trismegistus, the Our Father, the Prayer of Joseph the Visionary, and others), and then officially begin the ritual.  I do this before performing conjurations, working at my Table of Manifestation, or most other workings that require the use of the Solomonic Ring, sometimes for my own spiritual defense, but also to humble myself and start putting myself into the mindset of a magician working by the grace and authority of the Divine Source of All.

When I “rend the veil between the worlds”, I make a gesture of separating with my hands in the three dimensions (hands splitting apart, once with one hand going to the left and the other to the right, once with one going up and one going below, and once with one going before me and one behind me).  This was inspired by Jason Miller’s “The Sorcerer’s Secrets“; it’s is a nifty trick to make an instant ritual space independent of circles and whatnot.  Upon wearing the ring, it may be beneficial to start assuming one’s astral form mentally in the ritual space or visualizing oneself to become filled or covered in Light, but YMMV.