The Element Encyclopedia of 1000 Spells: A Concise Reference Book for the Magical Arts. Judika Illes

       Introduction

      One thousand spells. Are any of them real?

      What is magic anyway?

      What a question. Rational people know how to define magic—magic is illusion, sleight of hand, at best the fine art of tricks, at worst fraudulence—or so goes the definition usually taught to schoolchildren. Another interpretation dismisses magic as supernatural fantasy and wishful thinking—the stuff of fairy tales, Mother Goose, and mythology; tales for children and hence of little value; its only purpose entertainment; its only possible truth metaphoric. A third interpretation is more malevolent, with occult masters—the proverbial evil wizards and wicked sorceresses—attempting to maintain control over gullible and innocent plain folk, their tools fear and superstition, not true magic, which, of course, rationalists argue, doesn’t exist anyway. Yet another explanation suggests that magic works solely by psychological means, a sort of self-hypnosis. According to this theory, usually offered by old-school anthropologists and psychologists, the poor benighted native’s very belief in something, such as a death curse or a traditional healing, is what causes it to come true. Magic happens because you believe in the system not because the system works or even exists, although explanations for why, if their powers of belief are so all-powerful, the natives remain poor and benighted, and forced to tolerate outside observers, are rarely offered.

      “Occult” is a word commonly misinterpreted. It doesn’t mean evil or satanic. It has no moral connotations whatsoever. Occult really means “secret” or “hidden.” Secrets may be kept hidden for a host of valid reasons. In many cultures and at many times, the definition of real true working magic wasn’t a hidden secret, subject to false interpretation, but a normal fact of life. In other cultures and at different times, however, real true working magical practitioners have been subject to torture, persecution, and oppression. Magic’s very survival has often depended upon secrecy and a willingness to tolerate patronizing, false definitions.

      True magical practitioners, of whom there remain many, would reject the definitions of magic given above, although there are vestiges of truths in all of them. Real magical practitioners consider themselves guardians, preservers, and (sometimes) revivers of Earth’s forgotten, besieged, and suppressed occult truths and traditions.

      Magic, at its most basic, is the science of Earth’s hidden powers. For the true practitioner, there’s nothing supernatural about magic. Natural is just a lot more complex than conventional modern wisdom allows.

      Although there are many ways to practice magic, many schools, philosophies, methods, and traditions, the bottom-line definition of what actually constitutes real magic, and why and how it works, is amazingly consistent throughout the world.

      According to general worldwide metaphysical wisdom, common to all magical understanding and tradition, there is an inherent energy radiating from Earth and all living things. Analytical traditions and cultures have studied this energy in depth; others simply accept its existence and work with it. Many languages have specific names for this energy. English does not. This increases the confusion when discussing magic—an already vast and confusing topic. In the same manner that English, a language so rich in descriptive adjectives, has but one word for snow, while Inuit has many, one word for love, while Sanskrit has many, so English has but one word, magic, to define its various aspects. Harry Houdini, Harry Potter, Helena Blavatsky, Aleister Crowley, and countless anonymous village wise-women are all lumped together as masters of magic, as if it were a monolithic art.

      English also lacks a specific word to name that power that radiates from all life.

      The ancient Egyptians called it heka; on the other side of Africa, the Yoruba, parent culture of myriad spiritual and magical traditions, call it ashé. The most familiar word may be the Polynesian mana. In Morocco, this radiant energy is known as baraka. For lack of a better word, let’s just call it magic power.

      This magic power, this capacity for magic, radiates from all living beings to a greater or lesser extent. In fact, it is the existence of this power that defines what, in magical terms, is considered “alive,” a very different criterion than that required by a coroner’s report. (In magical terms, death is not the absence of life. Absence of power equals absence of life. A corpse, although no one denies the person is dead in the conventional sense, is still very much alive, as is the pine box and, most especially, the iron coffin nails. The average plastic bottle, however, lacks life. Confused? More about this crucial concept later.)

      This magical life-power is formless: you can’t see it, hear it or touch it. So how do you know it exists? How is it quantified and measured? By its effects upon you.

      Baraka, the Moroccan term for this power, contains significant implications. The root word can be recognized in another Semitic language, Hebrew, where it translates as “blessing.” To be in the presence of this power is to receive blessings. Although people have learned to manipulate magic powers for malevolent purposes and ill intent, it is intrinsically a positive, benevolent, and sacred energy. According to an Egyptian legend, having contemplated creation, the Creator foresaw that all would not be good and felt pangs of remorse. He therefore imbued Earth with heka as a gift to people, so that they might use it to ward off the harsh blows of fate. Magic is the system that attempts to harness this energy.

      The closest comparison one might make is to radioactive energy. That, too, is formless, cannot be seen, touched, or smelled. Yet its impact is profound and cannot be denied. Because nuclear radiation has had such a devastating impact on our world, it’s difficult to recall how recent a discovery it truly is. Marie and Pierre Curie, and the other early scholars of radioactive energy, were visionaries. They recognized the existence of something that others did not. Not everyone believed in their theories, including many very educated people, in much the same way that people say they don’t believe in magic. Many thought the Curies deluded, crazy or just incorrect, at least until the power they sought had been unleashed with too much force to ever be denied.

      If one tells the story of Marie Curie’s quest in simple terms, it resembles a modern-day fairy tale. Marie, laboring obsessively in her laboratory/shack resembles the quintessential alchemist feverishly attempting to extract and develop the philosopher’s stone, that legendary substance reputed to bestow eternal youth, health, and life.

      In a sense, Marie Curie extracted the anti-philosopher’s stone. Modern fairy tales are sanitized for children; today’s adults are uncomfortable transmitting the truths contained in them. Real fairy tales—the original versions—don’t always have happy endings, just like the tale of Marie Curie doesn’t. Marie’s quest ultimately led her to death; many of her surviving books, materials, and tools are so packed with the deadly power into which she tapped that even today they remain too radioactive to handle.

      The goal of magic is to tap into a different energy, an energy so powerful and benevolent that all aspects of life improve. The most potent magical books, tools, and materials (just like those books and papers of Marie Curie) hold, retain, and radiate their power and energy infinitely.

      How do you measure exposure to nuclear radiation? While scientific tools of measurement have been developed, ultimate, undeniable proof comes in its effects on the body. Similar scientific tools to quantify, measure, and identify magic power have not been invented, yet (to the magical practitioner) its effect upon the individual is equally