take it in.
Large lunch: ersatz [soya mince] bolognese with nettles. Tasted grapefruity. Sun had appeared and after lunch it was sunny enough to lie out to read. Removed my jeans. It would have been good sunbathing except for cold when occasional clouds came. Cut wood for altar floor, planted out rest of potatoes. Made pea soup. Was washing up at 5.45 when N returned. Chatted over tea. Now 6.45 and writing up as sun sinks low. This room [my chamber] is good as a study. I like the view.
9.15 to bed after large welsh rarebit.
MUST: Wash some clothes, shorts. Take down floor. Get cream. Put in beans?
Start of dedicated Abramelin diary
Wednesday 13 April, 8.30 am
This morning I rose at 5.50, washed and put on my thermal underwear and judo suit and went to my oratory about a quarter of an hour before an invisible sunrise. It was a warmer morning than of late, but completely overcast and about to drizzle.
Kneeling before my altar I prayed as directed and also sat in silence, as in the Taoist meditation, to be receptive. I made use of the prayer that T had provided. All this will be the normal routine from now on. Half hour.
Today it was better, in that I stopped because I felt enough had been said, not because I felt ashamed of my deteriorating concentration. A sudden scratching on the roof surprised me, but did not shake me. Seeing the young green buds through my window, I made a special reference to nature and my country upbringing.
This is the first morning I have not been alone. N returned last night. The need to avoid clashing with him helped to structure my morning—I still need such props—so I have come up to write after a short reading about Taoist meditation after breakfast. Alas, two days have already gone without my writing up.
The idea of attempting this operation arose before Christmas. It might not have arisen at all but for K, who had contacted me out of the blue last autumn to ask my advice about doing the operation herself.
This left me with insufficient time for preparation, and I did not hurry even then! Lateness has been the hallmark so far: I did not read the book thoroughly until late, letting myself in for some shocks. The silver censer I ordered will not be ready till May or June. The order I'd placed with SA for an altar was too late to give him enough warning, so I had to bodge mine own at the last minute. The oratory is unfinished in detail. My wand is uncut. My lamp has yet to be made. No talismans are drawn and my robes are unfinished.
All this adequately mirrors my soul!
Why then am I doing it? Especially as Redbourn is anything but my ideal site, being suburban, rather noisy and overlooked.
My thought was this: I am old enough to look for a really satisfying career, and once set on that career it will not be easy to spare six months. So it should be soon.
At Christmas I decided to investigate the omens, and my heart. I struggled with the astrological I Ching.5 So wearisome was the process that I said to myself: “If it makes out that 1976 was a good year I'll read no further”. As it turned out, the previous years were adequately described.
1977 is “the well”. The yearly hexagram interpretation revealed that it was not time to teach until I had learnt myself, “the well needs relining”. This seemed very relevant to my present situation; SSOTBME has produced a few questions from interested readers. It was also a good year to “sink a well or dig a mine”; a reasonable metaphorical description.
By way of contrast, 1978 will be a year of dreams coming true—and of success. Should I not therefore wait until next year? No, because my present dreams are worldly and their coming true would hinder such an operation. The operation itself should refine my wishes.
In January, T came to supper and we discussed the operation. In subsequent letters, long and helpful, he showed considerable understanding and gave me much support. He raised doubts about the authenticity of the book, about its lack of connection with existing traditions. We discussed I Ching readings. But just before Easter he sent me a card, a picture of Tobias and the Angel. On the back was a collect for the Feast of the Guardian Angels (2 October).
Was this his own invention? Or is it indeed a part of the church ritual? If 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
