Magical Methodology: Letter of the Craft, or Spirit of the Art?

I have, of late, been working very closely with the Olympic Spirits of the Arbatel and the Planetary Spirits of the Heptameron (as reproduced in the Veritable Key of Solomon, a fantastic book, pick yourself a copy if you get a chance), and this has gotten me thinking (out of both necessity of the operations and academic interest).

I have, until recently, accepted that there seemed very much to be two schools of thought when it comes to ritual magic. The first includes proponents of what I will call "Letter of the Craft" magicians who follow a very rigid interpretation of ancient Grimoires, expecting the practitioner to follow instructions (however convoluted or complex they may be) to their very letter and insist upon that method as the only honest way to perform operations. The second is the "Spirit of the Art" camp who feel that the important part is the will of the magician and all other instructions (however dire and insistent they might be) clutter the magician.

But it has occurred to me that there is a third group which seems to take the worst parts from both (or possibly the best parts, depending on how biased I might be). This group seems to have decided that ancient grimoires include instructions which are unnecessary, however they insist that the magical methods of tradition or of particular orders are absolutely required for every operation, regardless of whether or not they conflict with the instructions of the original source material.

So who's right? That's the question I find myself dealing with. I am unhappy with the rigid structure of many magical systems, but cannot accept the loose philosophy of tossing out unliked instructions, nor can I accept the very strict and often incomplete instructions of some of the source materials. Much of these questions, I suppose, will be solved by experiment and reason.

I just felt the necessity to muse on these for a moment.

Musings from the Olympian Spirits

Having just finished a seven day operation designed to petition each of the Olympian Spirits (or Olympick spirits according to the Arbatel), with another seven day follow up component ahead of me, I have a few observations about the Olympian Spirits themselves and about the Operation and its effects.

Firstly, medieval Grimoires seem to have one thing in common: inaccuracy. The repeated copying is probably to be blamed, but I have observed that the copying of sigils, pentacles, and even names seem to have been so sloppy or haphazard so that different copies have images and names that are almost nowhere near related to each other. Lets look at an example, related yet not exactly what I was dealing with:

This is the sigil for the Archangel Samael, found in the Heptameron:

Likewise, in another folio of the exact same book this is his sigil:

Notice some big differences?

Unfortunately it doesn't stop there. Names of spirits are so misspelled so as to make them unrecognizable, one particular section of the planetary spirit conjurations found in the Keys of Rabbi Solomon includes in a list of spirits which has a funny sounding little spirit named "Saday." Skinner and Ranike, in their Veritable Key of Solomon (seriously, pick this book up, you will not regret it) inform us that this is a poor translation of "Shaddai," as in El Shaddai, one of the holy name of the Hebrew God. That little translation issue would seem to turn the mighty El Shaddai to the funny little Saday.

But these kinds of translation and transliteration issues are common in the occult, and most occultists and magi are used to them. The key here is comparison, and being diligent about looking at multiple folios and even multiple grimoires.

But enough complaining, lets talk about the operation its-self.

I have taken a new approach to operations designed for specific purposes rather than for knowledge alone. It has seemed to me that my operations have lacked strength, and after much consideration i decided that they were short on focus and lacked the "all of myself" aspect that makes magick really kick.

My solution?

Working on the principle that anything I desire strong enough to summon forth masters of planetary bodies in order to make it happen aught to be needed on more levels tan just one. My desire needs to be a desire, a need, so deep that it echoes into every fiber of my consciousness and ripples into every realm around me.

So, how do you obtain a need through summoning Olympic spirits? Summon all the spirits and entreat them each for an aspect of your need that relates to their realm.

I'll give a full report of this operation at a future date, but the basics is that I performed an operation during the hour and day of each of the spirits over their seven days of rotation.

And already I have seen reflections of the final result begin to creep up during the week, and I expect the full culmination to happen after my follow up during this week.

The result?

Well firstly I am tired as hell. Hahaha.

Secondly, I am apparently now so well versed in Paleo-Hebrew script that I can spot mistakes in my pentacles before I finalize them and without any text near my to reference (PS: Always check your pre-planning BEFORE you enter your temple!).

Thirdly, I have noticed physical effects in my world. As an example. I woke up early to perform today's operation, grabbed my tools and went into my ritual room. When I returned after some heavy invocation (or evocation depending on your definition), I found that my computer was turned on entirely without my input (mine being the only one available as there is no one else here). Apparently I very much am required to post this before I will be allowed to nap after my operation. I get the hint spirits.

More later, but I'm happy to say that I am seeing indications of the operation working and I have found what I hope is the key to future operations.

Magic on the Small Scale

I've been thinking a lot about occult practice in regards to personal transitions. What happens when an occultist has to pickup shop? Close his books, roll up his tapestries, zip his robes into suit bags, wrap up his quarter tablets, and say good by to his permanent outer temple. What then?

When the vicissitudes of life necessitate a certain flexibility of personal property, how does the practitioner of a religious art which basically necessitates the building of holy ground and the equivalent of a church in one's own home cope with the loss of the space and tools necessary to properly perform his art?

This question is probably one that every Magus has faced at one point or another in his existence. We are just as prone to economic, social, and personal distress as practitioners of any other faith or practice.

Understand that I am in no way discounting the Inner Temple, mental practice, “it's all in your head, you just have no idea how big your head is” (thanks Lon) philosophy of magic. However, when a practitioner become accustomed to a certain level of theatricality and high ritual, how is the Magus affected by having to 'settle' for a purely mental or less than ideal magical environment.

As an illustration: While meal supplements can nourish our bodies and be nutritiously valuable, when we are used to meat and potatoes downgrading to liquid protean has to cause some amount of withdrawal and cravings.

So how does a practitioner who has downgraded his Outer Temple cope with the cravings for the grand Temple he was used to? How does he replace the accoutrements of his trade with simple, portable, and affordable substitutions?

I don't quite have an answer yet, but I am considering a few options. The first is parchment. Lots and lots of parchment. Parchment is portable, and can be pinned to walls easily. Does it replace nicely carved quarter tablets, or framed paintings. Maybe not. But it is easily replaceable, and with enough time and investment a Magus can make even parchment tools into personal extensions of his will.

Any other suggestions? Replacements for robes? Temporary tools? Simpler rituals?

Looking for input here :)