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

Collections of spells rank among Earth’s earliest written documents. Not only are magical texts among the oldest surviving pieces of literature, but many scholars and anthropologists suggest that it was the need to record spells and divination results that stimulated the very birth of writing. Magic, as we will see, is the true mother of invention. In ancient Egypt, the lunar god Thoth is credited as the inventor of both magic and writing. He is the patron of scribes and magicians. It was rumored that in addition to inventing the systems of spelling and writing, Thoth created the very first book, authoring no less than a sacred revelation of Earth’s most powerful secret spells and rituals. The legendary Book of Thoth was believed to hold the key to all the secrets of the universe. To possess a copy of the book enabled one to command and control destiny itself.

The ancient Egyptians loved stories featuring books of power. Several of their legends remain to us, including the original version of Walt Disney’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Egypt, at the time, was a theocracy: religion and government were one. The reigning pharaoh was simultaneously the child of the god, the living embodiment of the god, and the god’s foremost high priest, and vast temple complexes, financed by the state, contained literary annexes known as Houses of Life.

These combination scriptoria/emergency clinics housed wizard priests, on the government payroll. For a fee, these professional magicians would consult their extensive library of magic texts to provide their clientele with enchanted solutions to life’s many dilemmas. Perhaps, legend had it, the Book of Thoth was hidden in the depths of one of these magic libraries. Perhaps it was stashed in some priest or pharaoh’s tomb. Or perhaps it was eventually deemed so dangerous that, too powerful to destroy, the book had been locked into a chained, weighted iron box and thrown into the depths of the sea.

Access to occult knowledge bestowed power and prestige. The magical texts were hoarded and kept secret. Many were written in code, to prevent profane eyes from understanding what was read.

A few centuries before the dawning of the Common Era, the independent Egyptian nation was defeated, first by the Persians, then by the Greeks and Romans. Indigenous Egyptian religion and political structure degenerated. The Houses of Life were abandoned; the lucrative, respected profession of government-employed wizard-priest no longer existed. It was the last time in history that working with magic was a secure, respectable profession.

Although the profession ceased to exist, the big spell books survived, at least in fragments. It’s difficult for modern readers, so accustomed to printed, standardized texts, to recall that until the invention of the printing press, every book was hand-written and frequently unbound. Copies of copies of copies were made, each perhaps slightly different than the next. In the chaos that ensued as Egypt was successively conquered, individual pages were either smuggled out of the now unguarded temple libraries as personal treasures or auctioned off, page-by-page, papyrus-by-papyrus for personal profit. When Alexandria’s famed library, which boasted a copy of every book then in existence (the city stole them from arriving ships), was burned to the ground, the value of the few surviving manuscripts increased.

With the rise of Christianity, magic, together with its texts and professionals, was vilified. Spell books were burned en masse. Yet some were saved, if not whole books, then individual pages and pieces. We know this to be true, because some still remain, their spells reproduced in many books including this one, preserved at great personal risk throughout the ages, during eras when possession of magical texts warranted the death penalty.

These treasured pages survived, secretly passed between adepts and initiates, as did legends of mysterious books of power just waiting to be recovered. The Book of Thoth is one but there were others: The Book of Raziel is a rival with Thoth’s book for the title of first book ever. Another book of spells and rituals, The Book of Raziel was allegedly written by a sympathetic angel and given to Adam to compensate for his exile from Eden. Rumors regarding the existence of magical manuscripts attributed to Israel’s wizard king, Solomon, were first recorded, at least as far as we know, during the time of Josephus, the first-century chronicler of the Roman conquest of Judea. Fragments of Solomon’s pages were allegedly discovered and exist today. Treasure hunters searched desperately for these manuscripts, just like Sidney Greenstreet looking for the Maltese falcon.

In the fourteenth century, a large group of nomadic people arrived in Europe from parts unknown. Although the Romany people derive originally from India, another land steeped in magical and spiritual legend, they may or may not also have spent considerable time in Egypt. (According to some Romany legends, their ancestor was the sole survivor of Pharaoh’s army, drowned in the Red Sea.) The association with Egypt was powerful enough and appealing enough that Europeans called the Romany Egyptians, the name eventually being corrupted into Gypsies.

At the same time as the arrival of the Romany, a deck of mysterious cards began to circulate through Europe. Rumors spread that these tarot cards were what was left of the Book of Thoth. Readers scoured them searching for spiritual secrets and clues for obtaining personal power.

With the advent of the printing press came publication and standardization of spell books. Enough were published to warrant their own literary category, the grimoire. The word, “grimoire,” defined as a book of spells, is related to grammar. The grimoire is basically another type of grammar book, just teaching different spelling skills. The classic grimoires were published in the midst of anti-magic, anti-witchcraft persecutions and, like alchemists’ texts, they are often heavily coded to protect authors, compilers, and publishers, and also to maintain secrecy and control over their precious information, reserving true comprehension for a private club of initiated adepts.

On the whole, grimoires are not books of practical magic. The novice cannot pick one up and instantly begin casting life-saving spells. Instead they are largely oriented toward an educated male reader so devoted to his spiritual path that he has largely withdrawn from everyday life, like Dr. Faust, and can thus spend weeks in complex, tortuous preparation for summoning angels and demons.

Other books of magic circulated through Europe. These were still hand-written rather than printed editions. Books of Shadows meticulously recorded an individual witch’s personal spells and knowledge. These books were intended to be passed from person to person, and were a means of saving persecuted traditions from complete eradication. Few of these books remain. When a witch was caught, convicted, and killed, her Book of Shadows was inevitably destroyed with her. Modern Wicca has, however, revived the tradition of beautiful, lovingly preserved personal spell and ritual books.

Neither the Books of Shadows, nor the classic grimoires fulfill the Hollywood fantasy of that large, accessible book packed with every spell you might possibly need. One mustn’t mock that vision: we long for magical solutions to insoluble situations. We crave the inherent promise of the hidden Book of Thoth. We long to discover that one word of power strong enough to stop the sun in its tracks if we utter it, potent enough to vanquish our enemies, fill our bank accounts, and deliver our true love.

Perhaps somewhere, someday, in some archeological dig, that Book of Thoth will be found.

Until then, here is The Element Encyclopedia of 1000 Spells. There’s practical magic, high ritual magic, spells requiring virtually no preparation, and spells that should perhaps never be performed. No secret code has been applied; instead there are explanations so that you understand how and why the spells should work.

Be forewarned: in these pages you will discover methods of communicating with the dead, taming an errant lover, summoning spirits, handcrafting magic tools, and tips for creating magic mirrors and rings—including the one that allegedly gave Helen of Troy her seductive power. I will tell you up-front, however, this book does not contain that sole word of power, guaranteed to stop the sun and fulfill your every desire.

Perhaps one day you will find the volume that contains that one word, although the ancient Egyptians warned that in order to attain it you might have to break into a pyramid and wager with its guardian mummy, or else make the sea roll back in order to find the manuscript locked in the iron box and guarded by an army of many-headed venomous sea snakes. In the meantime, enjoy The Element Encyclopedia of 1000 Spells.

Introduction (#ulink_fd54da9b-463c-52e8-bf7f-8dd3a39fb3ca)

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 clear. The term, a person of power, is meant literally. People who possess magical power in substantial quantities, who live in close proximity to it, are magnetic and charismatic personalities. They radiate personal power. Other people find merely being in their presence invigorating and empowering. Although into every life some rain must fall, for the person with strong reserves of magic power, the world exists as a place of possibility. If, on the other hand, you feel consistently drained or frustrated, if your libido and life-force are chronically diminished, if you foresee nothing ahead of you but monotony or gloom, if life lacks joy, if your goals seem so out of reach that it’s pointless to try, and it’s hard to muster enthusiasm for anything, then it’s very likely that you suffer from a serious deficiency of this life-power. Most of us fall somewhere in the middle, although these power reserves are continually shifting. Like a gas tank, magical life-power needs to be replenished as you use it, and acquired if you lack it.

This power is contagious. It can be transferred, transmitted, increased, decreased, or lost. These power-exchanges occur continuously, with or without human participation. The power is contained within a botanical plant or crystal, for instance, whether or not a human taps into it. You can ignore this power and these energy transactions, although their effects upon you continue and remain, for good or ill. You can also attempt to harness this power for your own benefit and the benefit of your loved ones.

Perhaps magic may best be understood by considering one of its branches: the school of magical arrangement, feng shui. Once obscure outside China, the art of feng shui is now discussed and debated worldwide; it has even grown sufficiently commonplace to merit, for a time, a newspaper column in the Sunday Los Angeles Times’ real estate section! (Although apparently there were enough complaints about the intrusion of magic into real life for the column to eventually disappear.)

Feng shui’s literal translation, “wind and water,” implies that this is a natural art, not a manufactured one. According to feng shui, objects are manipulated to create good fortune, minimize hardship, and (hopefully) eliminate disaster. Likewise, one must pay attention to natural earth formations (mountains, valleys, waterways) in order to harmonize one’s own energies and desires with them for your maximum benefit. This conscious manipulation and harmonizing of energies and forces is the basis of all magic. By manipulating various magical powers, goals are achieved, success attained, and misfortune prevented. For instance, the presence of lavender theoretically empowers any other spell or materials. Powdered vinca, the sorcerer’s violet, transforms any bouquet of flowers into a tool of seduction, although some flowers (roses, orchids, tuberoses) are powerful enough not to require any assistance.

Of course, rationalists refute all of this as nonsense. It can’t be proven scientifically—therefore it doesn’t exist. Magical practitioners are either gullible idiots or outright charlatans.

The magical practitioners’ response to this criticism is that rationalists have invented and are clinging to a very limited notion of a world that really doesn’t exist. Practitioners would say that scientific method, as well as so-called logic, are unrealistic, artificial humancreated constructs designed to deny and place limits on Earth’s true mystery and grandeur. According to magical theory, some sacred mysteries cannot be explained, defined, or controlled, although one can attempt to use them for one’s benefit. Ultimately, one could say, magic is another way of looking at and understanding the world. If you are not yet initiated into this magical world, then be prepared: once you’ve learned some real magic and successfully cast some spells, you will see the world in a different way than you did before. Will you trust your own experiences and insights? Or will you be among the many who say, “I can’t believe what just happened to me?”

Although modern science is the child of the magical arts, most especially alchemy, its world vision and goals are diametrically opposed to its parents’. To enter into the magical world is to be a willing, conscious participant in a dream landscape. One accesses power by surrendering control over boundaries. The magical world is a huge, unruly, fluid, dream-like place filled with invisible powers, psychic debris, positive and negative forces, guardian spirits, and radiant beings existing on all sorts of planes of energy that defy human definition, domination, and control. Everything pulsates with vibrant, potentially powerful life, including you.

Magic is a partnership between powers, human and otherwise. The question of whether magic is used for good or ill depends upon the practitioner’s intentions, not the inherent nature of the system. Every interaction is an energy transaction of some kind, although, obviously, some are more significant than others.

Scientific method demands consistent, predictable replication of results. Magic revels in the unique, the unusual, the individual, and the exception. Magic refutes the entire concept of coincidence. Anything that appears coincidental possesses some magical significance; the more unusual and freakish the coincidence, the more worthy of attention and analysis. Anything too easily replicated is either a very basic natural law (stick your finger into fire and it will hurt) or else lacks power and is thus magically worthless (that lifeless plastic bottle).

Confusion derives from a limited word pool, as we have seen. Identical words are used to indicate different meanings. Magic defies boundaries: life doesn’t terminate with death. Death is not the end, nor is it the opposite of life; it’s merely another mysterious stop on the spectrum of existence. Dead as in “Uncle Joe is dead,” may be meant literally, but life, living, or alive usually refer to something very different in magic-speak. Life in magical parlance is a quality, a capacity for power: someone or something has it, in varying quantities, or they don’t. If something is unique, not entirely predictable or reproducible, and also possesses potential for power, it’s alive.

Everything that exists naturally on Earth or is constructed from naturally occurring parts possesses the capacity for power, including you. This magic power, this baraka, is what ultimately fuels Earth. Fans of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy may recognize parallels to those novels’ controversial power, dust. Without it, existence is drained, lifeless, frustrating, joyless, and bereft.

This holistic power expresses itself on all planes simultaneously: physical, spiritual, mental, sexual, and emotional. This power is not generic. Every plant, every stone, every species of living creature radiates a specific type of power, although the most powerful are incredibly versatile. Roses seduce, but they also heal, comfort, and summon benevolent spirits. Individual members of a species radiate these powers to varying degrees, depending upon circumstances and personal power.

That’s a lot of powers to remember. Luckily practitioners have been contributing to the magical repertoire of materials, the materia magica, since that old, proverbial time immemorial and continue to

By magical definition, anything occurring naturally on Earth, whether plant, animal, element, stone, or metal, is alive