Three Tales of Magik

I. Seventy three

If you have been following this blog for a while, you will know that I tend toward the more theoretical aspects of magikal practice. I blame this on my interest and education in philosophy. I have always thought that our theories, the frameworks that we use to understand reality, are themselves a kind of magikal artifact. I do not think that these theories ever reach some truth, rather, like Tarot Cards or Runes, they can open a channel upon which truth can distribute itself to those who seek it. Art does this too and any human endeavor, (even preparing a meal for loved ones), born of strong will and clear intention, the basic ingredients for any magik.

But I thought it would be interesting to share a few instances of magik as it appeared to me in my life and practice. The stories I want to share below involve intuitive wanderings, synchronicity and my interactions with various discarnate entities (Gods, ghosts and other kinds of “spirits”). Often they do not begin with me setting out to effect some work of magik. As often as not they arose from a sense that I should pay closer attention to something (usually this prompt comes from Hekate). This attention evolved into intention. Writing them down allows me to complete them. After all, magik is story. Thank you for sharing a few of mine.

One of the Deities I work closely with is Hermes. You might know him as Mercury, as in Mercury Retrograde. Hermes is a God of many parts: of shepherds and flocks and those who guide and care for others, of merchants and thieves, of communication and communications technology (your letter carrier is an avatar of Hermes). He is also a god of friendship. He is an interpreter of all languages. He encourages his faithful to make every effort to understand the ways of other people, especially those who we dislike. Some of his followers, myself included, believe that he becomes a friend to every one they know. Be forewarned friends, this means you too.

I worked especially closely with Hermes this past week. I was expecting an especially large and expensive package in the mail. The day it was to be delivered, I found a notice on my mailbox saying the package required a signature. However, if I signed the form and left it on the box the delivery service would leave the package with the understanding that they bore no further responsibility for it.

My mail box is at least three quarters of a mile down a gravel road. This makes having to sign for a package a bit of a pain in the ass. But because it is also on a main road, it is always possible that someone could just come by and steal a package. Although this has very seldom happened, it can be a real source of anxiety if you are expecting something valuable.

I signed my name to the form on a Wednesday night and crossed my fingers. The following morning I was talking with my son on the phone and telling him about this situation. I sort of half joked that I should make a special offering to Hermes because mail, transportation, thieves. I immediately and some what sheepishly realized that this was exactly the sort of situation that warranted such an offering. I lit two gold candles, burned the incense I prepared especially for such offerings, poured out a cup of wine and finally wrote a note (hand written notes are especially favored offerings). In the note I explained that I hoped Hermes might bring my package safely and efficiently to me and to protect me from thieves (A God of thieves can protect one from theft if you make the petition right). Gods, especially Hermes, care less about who legally “owns” a thing and more about who will use it and how. I explained that I needed this tool to help me maintain and preserve the little bit of land I am honored to care for.

After the offering had been made my anxiety vanished and, later that day, we drove down and picked up the package without incident. I thanked my patron and felt good about our relationship. That was pretty much the end of it – or so I thought.

About an hour later I received a call from my daughter. She had been contacted by a police detective who was inquiring about an old friend. After some cautious questioning on both sides the officer revealed that an old friend of mine had been found dead in his apartment. For the next 24 hours, Susan and I, (Susan really since I was a bit of a basket case) talked to the detective and the county coroner and eventually managed to track down some next of kin. As we began piecing together the last few days of my old friend’s life, we realized that when he was found, he had been dead for a few days (sad). But where the story gets downright wyrd is an apparently unrelated incident that happened several days before news of my friend’s death found me.

I met a friend in town for coffee (not mentioning any names but you know who you are). After catching up in our favorite coffee shop we decided to go for lunch. We settled on a Middle Eastern place several blocks away. We ordered our food and were given a number, 73. While we were waiting, my friend went to ask for the WiFi pass word. The woman behind the counter, seeing my friend, inadvertently gave him our ticket number before realizing her mistake and furnishing him with the password. I remarked that if we heard or saw that number again we could consider it an omen. My friend looked at me a little strangely and explained that the number 73 had a special significance to armature radio operators (of which he is one).

Way back when long distance communication meant telegraphs, telegraph operators devised a number of codes for common messages such as wait, repeat message, line test, etc. One of these codes was the number 73 which radio operators picked up on when radio became a thing in the early 20^th century. 73 is understood to mean “best regards”, a nice way to end a communication. But originally it means “My Love to You”. When I called to tell my (still living) friend of the death of the other friend, he speculated that the 73s that we encountered during our lunch date might well have been a message from my recently deceased old buddy. This blew my mind! A whole weeks worth of synchronicity came rushing back. My intense leaning into Hermes, the way we used the telephone and social media to find next of kin for my departed comrade, the 73s. Hermes, God of communication and friendship is ALSO a guide to the dead.

As it turns out, the day after our lunch date, my still living friend went to a place where my recently deceased friend likes to hang out. The latter friend wasn’t there of course but this visit probably set in motion the chain of events that led to my learning of my friends passing just a few days later.

Last night, as we were discussing the strangeness of the 73s, my still living friend wondered how, with no knowledge of amateur radio, my dead buddy would have known to send this message. Do the dead have access to our knowledge? Maybe. But I think the truth is even stranger. Had we not decided to eat at the falafel place, had we arrived earlier or later and, therefore been given a different number, had the counter person not made the mistake of giving us the ticket number rather than the WiFi password, had I not been there with a person who knew amateur radio codes, this message would not have arrived. Hermes, God of friendship, communication and guide to the dead, wove together a set of random incidents to bring me a message of love and reassurance.

If I might be forgiven a theoretical aside before finishing this entry, I think this strange and beautiful encounter brings to light a thing I have come to believe about spirit communications. I am a diviner. When I shuffle Tarot Cards or toss I Ching coins I believe that the symbols that emerge, the cards that are drawn, are the result of processes that are in every way natural. No super natural agency “chooses” these particular cards in advance. Rather, the spirit, the answer alights in this arrangement of “random” elements and shows itself to us thereby. The same thing happens when a bird reminds us of our grandmother and LO she is present, or a ghost contacts us by random pecking of birds on the cabin wall, radio static or the rumble of thunder at a key moment. We are, ourselves, the result of purely natural processes, of genetics, socialization, personal experience, the time and place we are born. Each person and every thing is the result of completely causal (in the normal scientific sense) processes which, in them selves mean nothing but what they are. And yet – the swirls in our finger prints or the eye of a sun flower disclose the abstract perfection of geometry, a simple encounter that turns into a life long love, an act of deception or carelessness opens on to a vista of stories of redemption and salvation, of destiny and fate – all of the wyrd, inexplicable moments of magik that we experience are the material world of aimless and meaningless change reflecting eternal truths. The mind reels at the sheer strange grandeur of meaning, significance, love.

So that is my story for this time. I have a few more I will tell over the next few entries. Until then, thank you for your time and your attention.

73.