Categotry Archives: qayin

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Clavicula Nox 5: Magic & Mayhem / Maleficarum Nigra

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Categories: qayin, sabbatic craft, witchcraft

Clavicula Nox coverClavicula Nox is Ixaxaar’s occasional magazine which they have been releasing since 2004. Beginning as an A5 booklet, Clavicula Nox has grown in size and quality to the point that this issue comes in four different editions, and some of them are pretty swish. The regular edition is professionally printed, with thick brown covers and perfect binding; a limited version comes in an edition of 300 copies; while the super deluxe box editions comes with samples of flying ointments from Sarah Lawless, handmade magickal diaries, and various herbs, seeds, and animal parts, all packaged, in the case of the most limited set, in an antique wooden box. Being pretty sure that customs wouldn’t be too happy about assorted animal and plant parts coming into the country, I forwent the deluxe options and ordered just the collector’s edition. This edition still feels pretty special though, with its cover only half-bound, leaving the cardboard raw for a lovely and unique archaic effect.

Previous issues of Clavicula Nox have always had a general theme (Lilith being the focus of the last one) and this one is no exception, with sabbatic witchcraft taking the spotlight this time. The proceedings kick off with a suite of poems exploring the wheel of the year and its festivals before Asenath Mason provides a survey of general sabbatic themes. Mason brushes with broad strokes, over the seven pages, covering various tropes associated with the Via Nocturna: the witches sabbath, the wild hunt, and initiatory encounters along the way of the night.

As the subtitle Maleficarum Nigra suggests, one of the focuses of this volume is on malicious witchcraft, and so we have contributions from Gemma Gary and Frater Ben Nachash that both explore this theme. Gary’s West Country Curse-Magic gives a survey of various folk methods of cursing from the West Country in which the sympathetic principle in magic comes to the fore. These are relatively simple curses, and the ritual procedures are sketched roughly without much in the way of fastidious requirements and formulas. The same cannot be said for Frater Ben Nachash’s piece, which presents a Qayin-focussed ritual of cursing that is indebted to the work of N.A-A 218 in the Liber Falxifer books. The ritual requires nearly forty ingredients and is spread across various locations over three nights: the night of the tiller and the night of the killer, before culminating in the night of the gravedigger. To quote the infinite wisdom of the sage Dulce Brunneis: ain’t nobody got time for that. I can’t imagine disliking someone so much that I’d want to somewhat counter-intuitively invest that amount of time and effort, not to mention energy (in both the esoteric and psychological sense), in them. I think if it came to this, I’d just keep it West Country styles and stick a nail in their footprint, ooh arr, ooh arr.

Another Qayinite ritual is provided by Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold with The Commemoration of Lord Qayin, although this has less of a Templum Falcis Cruentis vibe than Ben Nachash’s contribution. The ritual dates from ten or more years ago and emphasises the transgressive aspects of the Qayin mystery, with the use of a skull (wood or bone options available) as a focus of meditation and adoration.

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A change of tack is provided by Sarah Lawless with a consideration of the poison path of intoxication; beautifully aided and abetted by a distinctly Helish illustration of datura by Kristiina Lehto. Lawless details her encounters with various plant spirits, first initiated through the alchemical art of mead brewing, in a journey that then encountered mandrake, henbane, and ultimately the yew tree; a suite of plants that I can understand the passion for. As with her skull-focused contribution to Scarlet Imprint’s anthology, Serpent Songs, Lawless writes with a poetic and enthusiastic style that guides the reader through her own very hands-on practice; a sharp and refreshing contrast with the obfuscatory smoke and mirrors that are thrown up by so many occult writers.

At sixty pages and with contributions provided generous space, Clavicula Nox can feel a little slight and can definitely be a one-sitting read. It is illustrated throughout with a range of full-page, full-bleed images that are truly esoteric in the sense of not giving much in the way of explanation within their dark vistas. These images come from a variety of contributors, but most share a similar painterly aesthetic that, with the matt printing, adds to the whole archaic quality of the journal.

Published by Ixaxxar.

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Pillars: The Golden Eitr [Vol.1 – Issue.2 – Autumnal Equinox 2013]

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Categories: magick, nightside, qayin

pillars-coverThis, the second volume in Anathema Publishing’s Pillars series, comes presented in a gold embossed and spot varnished cover of matte black stock and runs to almost 150 perfect bound pages. Its contributions come from a host of names, both familiar and new, and cover a range of magickal endeavours; although it would be fair to say that most could be said to come from the dark end of the street.

The first significant contribution comes from Ash Nostro Morg, prelate of the Brotherhood of Midnight’s Garden, who provides several Qayin-themed poems, followed by a longer related essay on the symbolism of the scythe. The poetry uses a richly and suitably obscure language, but unfortunately, this continues into the essay. While writers like Andrew Chumbley and Daniel Schulke have successfully walked a fine line between archaic language and readability, Morg steps over that line. Sentences are torturous and convoluted, going beyond any need for antique flavouring, and because the reader has to concentrate on deciphering the text, when the odd spelling mistake trips out of the mélange of words as if suffering from the same grammatical delirium as the reader, they are jarringly obvious. In saying that, though, spelling mistakes are a problem throughout this volume. Although there is nothing egregious, there is a smattering of confused homonyms and both missing and redundant words that suggests that either the contributors or the editor should proof a little harder.

Qayin seems to be very much a deity of choice at the moment and in addition to Ash Nostro Morg’s contribution, Patrick J. Larabee focuses on him, presenting eleven invocations collectively titled The Luminous Masquerade of Qayin. These evocatively written prayers follow what becomes a familiar rhyming structure and each is concluded by a sigil that can be used as a gateway in a ritual given at the end of this contribution. Another of occultism’s current favourites, African diasporic religions, is covered by Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold, who looks, rather dryly, at Yoruba cosmology. Other themes covered in this volume are Santa Muerte, Choronzon (for whom an elaborate ritual is given by Andrieh Vitimus) and Tiamat (for whom Nikolai Saunders gives an Enochian invocation).

In addition to those mining the more familiar strains of occultism are contributions from people presenting their own magickal systems. In The 20 Demons of Fear, Lukasz Grochocki describes a hierarchy of spirits, each with a complex system of correspondences, sigils and a name rendered in Grochocki’s own magickal language. Drawing on elements of Native American praxis, these demons are believed to be the spirits of people who were ritualistically sacrificed and whose fear turned them into demons. Similarly, in Of Serpents and Flames, Matthew Venus outlines his own magickal system whose creation was inaugurated with the reception of a magickal alphabet of “familiarly alien glyphs” called the Azabashian script. Venus’s system has its own grand mythology and it is on this that the article primarily focuses, rather than providing a working grimoire to his twenty five spirits as Grochocki does for his system. Edgar Kerval explores a personal cosmology as well, presenting Zukut-Ma, one of the members of his red gods pantheon, through a series of automatic drawings and writings.

Pilllars cover symbol

There is an impressive collection of artwork in this issue of Pillars, both as accompaniments to written pieces and as standalone works. The balance between writing and illustrations is a perfect one and helps make Pillars feel a sumptuous reading experience. Highlights include the evocative, Limbo-esque Nine Spirits of the Haunted Wood by Valin Mattheis (which could have benefited from having more of the nine images formatted at full page size), Hagen von Tulien’s always refined black and white icons, and the double page Albrecht Dürer-styled Devil’s Arch by Antithesis.

In all, Pillars makes for an interesting survey of contemporary occultism of a particularly darker inclination. The highlights are the personal magickal systems of Lukasz Grochocki, Matthew Venus and Edgar Kerval, in which the dedication required to create an internally consistent and workable paradigm makes for both interesting and intriguing reading; as well as, somewhat inevitably, providing personal insight into the minds of their creators.

At the time of writing, there were only a handful of copies of this issue of Pillars available from Anathema Publishing, with work beginning on the third edition in what forms the trilogy of Pillars Volume 1.

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Liber Falxifer II: The Book of Anamlaqayin – N.A-A.218

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Categories: luciferian, qayin, sabbatic craft

liberfalxiferIIIn the first Liber Falxifer, author N.A-A.218 presented a unique view of Qayin, seen through the lens of the Argentinian cult of Señor De La Muerte, in which the saint of death was revealed as an esoteric guise of Qayin (Cain). This theme is less prominent in this second volume; and that’s probably a good thing as the correlation between the two seemed to be an interpretation unique to the author’s Temple of the Black Light and one that was not entirely persuasive. While Liber Falxifer was divided into two somewhat contrasting halves discussing the exoteric and esoteric interpretations of Señor De La Muerte (and, as a result, felt a little disjointed), its sequel has greater focus, and employs a three part structure that includes a lengthy prose text, a herbal that explores the spirits of 72 different plants, and a series of necrosophic spells, prayers and rituals.

The prose that begins the book is called Apocryphal Revelations of the Qayinite Genesis and provides a retelling of the Genesis narrative from a Qayinite perspective. It opens with a gnostic style discussion of metaphysical principles of creation, all “fullness of emptiness” divided manifestations and other Qabbalistic-style vagaries. At first, this comes across as a little grandiose and wilfully obtuse, but once the narrative moves from the cosmic perspective to a more, how you say, human one in the Garden of Eden, things become more engaging. The centre piece of this narrative, and indeed of the whole book, is the relationship between Qayin and his twin sister Qalmana, who are set in opposition to Abel and his twin Kelimat. Although not in the biblical record, this is an idea not without precedent, specifically in midrashic literature. The Genesis Rabbah, for example, refers to Cain being born with a female twin, and Abel with two twin sisters, while the Chronicles of Jerahmeel explicitly names Cain’s sister as Qalmana but calls Abel’s wife Deborah.

No claims are made as to whether these apocryphal revelations are meant to be an inspired modern transmission, or an ancient text handed down through the temple; or if they were made up on the spot from whole cloth just the other day. It is, however, an effective and engaging narrative. Whilst the Qabbalistic-style abstractions of the first part are a little bewildering and tedious, by the end, the retelling of Qayin and Qalmana’s story becomes a coherent mythology that rings true, on some level, as genuine gnosis. Qalmana herself is an intriguing god form and this is the first time that any consideration of her has been presented by the Temple of the Black Light. She has parts of Lilith, Babalon and Hela about her, being presented as a sickle-wielding decapitated-head-holding dark goddess, who in one appellation is rather gloriously called the Queen of the Rose Gardens of Nightside Venus.

The second and largest section of this book, The Branches of Sin, the Black in Green and Their Sorceries, is analogous to the work of Daniel Schulke as Verdelet for the Cultus Sabbati and explores the role of Qayin as patron of the green art. Qayin is identified as the First Tiller and the Thorned-Crowned Harvester, giving him dominion over herbalism and wortcunning, while Qalmana’s association with roses and gardens likewise makes her a natural matron of plant magick. 72 plants are discussed, each  with a page detailing their characteristics and usage, prefaced by their common and botanical names and a sigil for the daemon of the respective plant. Naturally, this can make for a lot of reading as you make your way from the Alder tree through to Wormwood. Each plant is very much framed within the mythology of Qayin and Qalmana, and they are seen as hosts for the Black Guised in Green, emanations from Sitra Ahra, the Other Side, that were drawn into this world at the crucial moment of the deaths of Abel and Kelimat. These Black in Green give their host plants a dual nature, one mundane and indicative of their creation at the hands of an unimaginative demiurge, and the other that makes them “shards of that holy crystallized Black Azoth from and/or aligned to that Other Side.”

Following this guide to the 72 Black in Green is a lengthy section of ritual and magickal applications for these and related spirits, presenting what amounts to a green grimoire. These include a procedure for bonding with a dryadic famulus, another for making a tincture of Qayin, and for making sorcerous inks empowered by the Black in Green. There are also a selection of prayers and techniques for working with talismans, effigies, and even a homunculus useful for deflecting magical attacks.

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The final section of the book, The Zenith and the Nadir of the Black Cross and the Secrets of Gulgaltha, deals with the spirits of the Mighty Dead, those beings who have passed over to the Other Side and attained immortality in their release from hylic rebirth. The first of these Mighty Dead are Qayin and Qalmana and their eleven direct descendants, whose names come from the biblical record and apocryphal sources. These are only briefly considered and it would seem that a richer understanding of these figures is a work in progress; although, this being the book it is, they all have sigils already assigned to them. Another of the Mighty Dead, and one of particular interest, is Abel, who is seen here as someone who, in passing over to the Other Side and into the world of the dead, has undergone post-mortem Stockholm syndrome and become aligned with Qayin. In death, Abel the Black is seen as the keeper of cemetery gates and, as an analogue of the canine folkloric figure of the Kyrkogrim (believed to protect church yards in Scandinavia), is sometimes said to appear as a three-headed dog, restrained with three leashes of thorns, gold and fire. Liber Falxifer II concludes with an egressus that discusses the dual and combined natures of Qayin and Qalmana; the Anamlaqayin of the title.

Throughout Liber Falxifer II, N.A-A.218 writes with the surety of tradition, presenting the workings and philosophy of his order with an authoritative tone that only occasionally makes recourse to other sources. Liber Falxifer II is beautifully presented with a full colour dust jacket over a gold embossed black cloth exterior (with cloth bookmark!). At over 470 pages, it is a weighty tome and is immaculately formatted and typeset with an occasional full page pencil and ink illustrations by Soror Sagax.218.

Published by Ixaxaar

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Children of Cain – Michael Howard

Categories: folk, luciferian, paganism, qayin, robert cochrane, sabbatic craft, witchcraft

childrenofcain-coverWay back in the mists of time, the first book I ever read about “witchcraft” was Laurie Cabot’s Power of the Witch. Even at such a formative stage, there were things about it that didn’t sit right with me; not least the diagram of chakras, laid out on an Egyptian style figure, in a book sprinkled with the dreaded C word (Celtic). Funnily enough, around the same time, I read my first book about runes, Michael Howard’s Wisdom of the Runes, so this consideration of traditional witchcraft makes for an interesting journey full circle.1

Subtitled A Study of Modern Traditional Witches, in many ways, this book resumes where Ronald Hutton left off in Triumph of the Moon, considering in depth some of the figures that he briefly covered, but with the focus here being on those who claim independence from the system of Wicca promoted by Gerald Gardner. With almost fifty years studying and researching witchcraft, Howard is in the unique position of having known or corresponded with most of the key figures of modern witchcraft; many of who are now gone.

There are three main areas of historical modern traditional witchcraft2 that Howard considers before exploring some tangents and more recent expressions: Robert Cochrane’s Clan of Tubal Cain, the related group The Regency and the Pickingill Craft claims of Bill Liddell. Howard’s account of the Clan of Tubal Cain covers familiar ground for anyone that has devoured his previous writings on the subject as well as those of Evan John Jones, Doreen Valiente and more recently, Shani Oates. Howard does not shy away from looking as the personal side of Cochrane’s life, which is perhaps inevitable given how so much of the story of the Clan is tied up with Cochrane’s own personal mythology. Howard tends to highlight his erratic behaviour, which could be seen as a personal attack by those overly invested in Cochrane as a guru figure, but is perhaps better viewed as illustrative of his qualities as a trickster and atavistic archetype who has become as much a figure of myth as Tubal Cain and Goda themselves.

The consideration of George Pickingill is quite exhaustive, which is perhaps to be expected since Howard with his magazine The Cauldron was one of the original publishers of some of the claims by Bill Liddell. Liddell’s theory that Essex cunning man George Pickingill was actually a grand master of nine covens who had direct influence on everyone from Gerald Gardner to the Golden Dawn is an appealing one, and one can’t help feeling that Howard gives it as much space as he does just because of how glorious its grand vision is. By no means does he state his acceptance of Liddell’s claims, but there’s a feeling he wishes they were true. And who wouldn’t? One crazy old village wizard weaves together almost every strand of nineteenth century English occultism. Who needs the Illuminati when you’ve got Old George.

Following these three histories, Howard takes a step back chronologically and looks at the 18-19th century quasi-magickal guilds such as the Horseman’s Word and the Toadsmen. This consideration is perfectly placed as it shows how many of these rural secret society had themes that were synchronous with, or directly informed, the strands of Traditional Witchcraft that would publically emerge in subsequent years. For the Horseman’s Word, Cain was revered as the first horseman and the presiding chief horseman was identified as the Devil, while the rites of the Toadsmen have been thoroughly explored by Cultus Sabbati magister Andrew Chumbley.

Where Children of Cain is at its most potentially invaluable is in the chapter on the Sabbatic Craft. As an empowered initiate of the Cultus Sabbati, Howard is well placed to present what is perhaps the largest consideration of the group in print so far. Ever so slightly hagiographic in tone, Howard’s admiration for Andrew Chumbley is quite evident and he is nowhere as critical of his friend and their claims as he is of the arguably similar figure of Robert Cochrane. Most of the chapter, though, deals not directly with the Cultus Sabbati but takes the praxis of the group as an opportunity to explore various Cultus-relevant aspects of traditional witchcraft: the witches’ sabbat, the wild hunt and witches’ flying ointments.

Casting his net wider to cover areas of occultism that share the same atmosphere of traditional witchcraft, if not a direct link to those already covered, Howard also looks at the work of Austin Spare and New Zealand-born artist Rosaleen Norton, along with various American traditions (Victor Anderson’s Feri tradition, Douglas McIlwain’s Order of the Skull and Bones as well as American folk magick in general).

Title plate design by Liv Rainey-Smith

While not as rampant as Capall Bann titles, Children of Cain has some careless spelling mistakes and misplaced letters; although for some reason, this lessens as the book progresses. This is such a shame given the lengths that Three Hands Press have gone to in the presentation of this book, and it makes it all the more jarring to find them in such a well presented volume; with Capall Bann titles, the reckless spelling almost goes hand in hand with the cheap printing, generic formatting and cumbersome binding. Although it is not as exhaustively referenced as it could have been, many sources, including personal correspondences, are cited within the text, making for a feeling of a satisfying authoritative read.

In all, Howard’s book is an important consideration of the strands of witchcraft history that diverge from the usual Gardner and Alexandrian “mainstream.” It consolidates, arguably for the first time, a wealth of information about groups for which precious little has been written before. Although some may object to how their respective traditions have been represented here (where Howard’s knowledge is perhaps familiar but not intimate), each strand is fairly and, on the whole, dispassionately represented. Given the nature of this subject, where claims of authenticity for one’s tradition are so often a concern, the tone of an author is an important consideration. Howard’s approach could be said to have a (to use a now rather dated reference) Mulder-like willingness to believe that is tempered with a Scullyesque critical approach that cautions him against totally subscribing to anyone’s claim; at least in print.

Published by Three Hands Press

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1. Although, to be fair, Howard’s book did feature a Ralph Blum-style blank Wyrd rune, so time makes fools of us all.

2. Yes, I’m aware that categorisation makes almost no sense.

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