Magical Dis-Orders and (un)Natural Disasters
“Pondering: is “Magical Order” an oxymoron?” — @LilithsPriest
“Ha! Yes — “Chaos Magic” was young yet when people started Chaos Magical Orders. Shoulda had Strange Attractors instead.” — @OutlawBunny
“Magical Odor, more like :)” — @OccultDetective
Though I certainly knew of their existence, and dabbled in similar waters tentatively, it was late winter, perhaps mid-February of ’86, before I met my first “chaos magician“. A likeable chap, he frequented a New Age bookstore I was making drinking money in by performing Tarot readings and general cartomancy for the curious college crowd (generally with far deeper pockets than the cats I rubbed shoulders with). As I recall, he claimed to worship Isis. Not the Egyptian Goddess, as such, but the Mighty one from the ’70s children’s program (played by JoAnna Cameron).
Tim, who we of course called The Enchanter (“There are some who call me… Tim.”), was heavy into Discordianism, the Church of the Sub-Genius, and was a devotee of Peter Carroll (not to be confused with the coach of the Seattle Seahawks, though “none shall pass” except for him strikes me as funny all of the sudden).
Anyway… I was living off-campus with a pot-dealing dwarf and my best friend, the late-great Brent Smith. The dwarf worshiped money and working out, oddly enough, while Brent was, you might say, a Gnostic Christian. His interests lay mostly in the Kabbalah, some Golden Dawn Hermeticism, and all-around white-witchery.
I was a bit more gray than all that, especially back then. Though I was certainly knee deep in all the Golden Dawn crowd, especially Dion Fortune, my particular brand of soda was the Thelemic triumvirate of Crowley, Spare, and Grant, though heavily flavored by Robert Anton Wilson, Timothy Leary, and Terence McKenna (who I discovered through a professor in the Anthropology Department). I will readily admit, however, to a weakness for Alex and Maxine Sanders’ brew at the time, but, in my defense, I was enamored with more than a few of the ladies who made up the local coven. It was 1986. I was just escaping my teen years. I believe some semblance of understanding and forgiveness should be imparted by my faithful readers for my youthful dalliances.
But there I go again, off topic and disorganized, which perfectly sums up my point, I suppose (if there even is one, I’m not quite sure anymore).
Tim the Enchanter and a few other well-meaning cats used to swing by Brent’s and my place and we’d have a few laughs (wink wink, nudge nudge) and engage in rational discourse about all things magic… hahahahahahahaha… Of course we didn’t. We argued. A lot. Over every little thing. Not the least of which was The Enchanter’s desire to form a Magical Order.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I, admittedly, have dipped my toes in more than a few. But chaos magicians (of which I suppose I am more than I am not) gathered is akin to the herding of cats.
I mean, it’s sort of in the name. Chaos. Which is what I tried to explain to Tim the Enchanter, though he disagreed and left in a huff one night (and still owes me thirty bucks).
Which I guess is a round-about way of saying, “friends don’t let friends join magical orders”.