The Abramelin Diaries. Ramsey Dukes

and I would build an oratory in the shrubbery in Redbourn and we would keep in touch and compare notes as we performed the six-month ceremony in parallel.

      So that is how I first learned about the magic of Abramelin, and why I decided many years later to perform the operation myself.

       CHAPTER THREE

      What we should consider before undertaking this operation

      Why does anyone consider performing this operation? The main attraction must be its reputation—both as a source of illumination but also, paradoxically, for the challenge presented by its real or imagined dangers.

      Once the candidate has been drawn to it in some way, the second attraction is its relative realism. This grimoire does not make unreasonable demands for blood sacrifices, nor for grim paraphernalia (like the tongue of a hanged man or a stone from the skull of a toad), nor for extreme circumstances such as isolation in a mountain hideout. Instead it appears to accommodate itself to quite realistic urban as well as rural living conditions. These conditions accommodate a measure of religious freedom; one can live with a marriage partner; it even allows for the assistance of servants, and so on. In fact, it is tempting to skim through the book and decide that this operation will be an absolute doddle for anyone with six (or eighteen) months to spare.

      Yes, it is relatively reasonable. It might even be undertaken by a complete sceptic who does not believe in religion or the spirit but can simply see the psychological value of acting “as if” and being subject to the discipline of a lengthy spiritual retreat.

      However, my experience suggests to me that this operation is an example of “the devil being in the details”: that the reputation for the difficulty in completing the operation could be due to people underestimating the real challenge of adapting a fifteenth-century practice to everyday life in the twentieth or twenty-first century.

      In this chapter I draw attention to certain problems and decisions that the aspirant should consider carefully before deciding to perform the operation. These are based purely on my own experience, so take them merely as indicators, and then re-read the second book of Abramelin carefully to see how all the conditions might work out in your own reality.

       The vow

      I had a surprise when, over thirty years later, I started to edit my Abramelin diary. On Wednesday 13 April 1977 at 9.30am I signed the following vow:

      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

      Something that I remembered clearly was not written in that vow: that was my assumption that, should overwhelming difficulties make it impossible to continue, I would understand this to be a message from my Holy Guardian Angel that I should not continue with the operation. Either I had remembered wrongly, or else there was a fuller version of the vow that I had left in my altar, or somewhere.

      My point is that, in view of the overall reasonableness of the Abramelin operation, it might be tempting to simply vow to complete it, without thinking about possible changes in circumstance—yet the book insists that it is necessary to complete the operation where one began it.

      First, consider someone performing this operation as Abraham the Jew did, in a remote desert location. What is the worst that might happen? One might fall ill—in which case this is treated as a “God-given” hindrance to completion (in fact the book gives instruction that one can continue to perform the daily orations while staying in bed and praying for recovery). Or the oratory and personal goods might be ransacked by robbers—in which case it might still be possible to struggle on with makeshift materials and still complete the operation in the same place where one had started, as insisted upon.

      In today's western societies, however, it is far more difficult to operate incognito. However unlikely, it is too easy to find oneself in a Kafkaesque situation being dragged off by police and wrongly accused by suspicious neighbours of some heinous crime. Even if one were able to continue orating in a police cell, it would not be possible to “complete where you started”. With modern communications, I could also imagine a situation where a close family member suffers an accident or emergency, and it would be impossible simply to say: “Sorry, I'm busy.”

      And how could anyone possibly recruit help from a young child for the final stages without risk of upsetting parents, being singled out as a paedophile, or falling victim to a tabloid campaign about evil Satanists corrupting innocent children?

      That is why I added those clauses to my vow, as well as saying: “I will consider very carefully and calmly and make my decision in the light of advice from the I Ching.”

      What was missing from my remembered version was an additional comment that I would take such insurmountable difficulties as a message from my Angel. If, as the book admits, severe illness could be interpreted as a message from God, then in our times a police raid when one knows one is innocent could be interpreted as a message from the Angel.

      This might seem a bit pussy-footed, but it reflects my views on magical vow-making. For several years I was an initiator for a formal magical order, and that required preparing the candidates for a secret ritual—i.e. one where they were not supposed to know what would happen to them during the ceremony. All these initiation rituals included a number of vows—for example a vow never to become addicted to drugs. According to tradition, the candidates do not know that they will be asked to make that vow, and it is sprung upon them. Unless they agree, they cannot be initiated further.

      This seemed wrong to me, because I could not see how anyone could make a serious vow without carefully considering it in advance. If one were already a drug addict, the vow would require one to stop there and then—would that be possible without a rehabilitation programme? Does a fondness for wine or tobacco amount to addiction? Where does one draw the line?

      I used to prepare my candidates by telling them that they would be required to take some vows, and then asking if they liked to know in advance what those vows would entail? Some were very grateful of my offer but, to my surprise, quite a few said they would rather not know in advance.

      Initiation really is most potent when it puts you on the spot with something challenging and quite dangerous. The more apparently life-threatening, the more powerful the initiation. We all know instinctively the truth of this: witness all those movies where the hero does not change or become whole until a major crisis has been faced. But again: how can the initiator make this happen in today's safety conscious and litigious culture? I recall a media story about sadomasochistic pact in the UK where the police sought to convict the sadist for harm done, despite the consent of the masochist.

      The idea that one should have vows sprung upon one without warning and be forced to make a commitment on the spot is quite sound magic. But is it realistic in view of the fringe nature of occult culture in our society? It is one thing to trust one's future to a long-established religious order but, when you are constantly being warned about “all those charlatans and perverts in occult circles”, is it wise to place yourself totally in the hands of any initiatory order? In any case, most of the “secret initiatory rituals” have already been published by ardent transparentists, so it is quite possible for any candidate to read them up first if they really wanted to.

      For me this is an open question. I have Sun in Aries, so my heart tells me that a true initiate should throw caution to the winds