Psionic Magick.pdf

Psionic magick

Charles W. Cosimano

LESSON ONE

KNOWING YOURSELF

Welcome to the class. This course is probably going to be just a little different from any

you have taken before in that I, like my own teacher in these arts so many years ago, am

a firm believer in starting from scratch. All too often, instructors in the occult arts assume

that the student already has certain abilities and a background of understanding. And

often this is true, but more often, either the student has no such background, or has found

a previous course incomprehensible. In addition to this is the fact that the mere title of

Technomage was new to a lot of people not too long ago. So let me begin by giving you a

little of what technomagick is and we can get into the heavier aspects of its philosophy in

later lessons.

I will begin with the simple question. What is a Technomage and what the hell is Psionic

Magick?

These are two questions which will inevitably pop up whenever I find myself talking to my

pagan friends, even before they try to lecture me about the latest in political fads. It is not

the easiest thing to explain and the reaction to the concept is something akin the face of

the Russian Colonel in Rambo III when he asked the hero "Who are you?" and he

responded "Your worst nightmare."

In some ways, Technomagick is the orthodox (and I use word because there is no better

one even though it may not be entirely appropriate) pagan's worst nightmare. There is

something that is not quite savory to them in the idea of machines playing a role in Magick

and the fundamental premises of Technomagick do not fit at all with the worldview that

they are trying to promote, even though the basis is the same.

The unfortunate fact is that some of our brethren look on us as being little better than

Satanists, even though we have as little use for that breed as they do.

To understand how a Technomage thinks and how it relates to modern paganism, you

have to visualize a balance between religion on the left and science on the right. The

distinction is purely arbitrary and please do not read anything political into that. On the

extreme left hand, you have the orthodox pagan with his or her various forms of worship

based ritual. Slightly to the right of that, you have the practitioner of Magick, now usually

basing his work on the Golden Dawn system in some way, or the work of Franz Bardon,

the system favored by my own teacher.

On the extreme right, you have the true materialist scientist as exemplified by the

blockheads in the Scientific Committee to Investigate the Claims of the Paranormal. And

just a little to the left of them, the New Physicists, who seem to be less interested in

physics than in philosophy and trying to create new social systems for other people to live

in. It can become very annoying, trying to sort all of these matters out and then you find

us, somewhere in between. For our model of working is based on the use of machines to

mediate between the magician and the mostly impersonal forces of the unseen universe.

The Technomage is in many ways a materialist. He functions in a world where all is

energy, and matter is nothing more than a form of energy. He is not likely to be interested

in religion, because he realizes that gods and goddesses are nothing more than patterns

of energy themselves, which means that he cannot put his mind into a frame of worship.

Devotion is a concept utterly alien to technomagick, even though it may be convenient to

personify the patterns. To put it more clearly, a Technomage is sort of the pagan

equivalent of a secular humanist, only he goes a bit farther. Where the humanist says that

"Man is the measure of all things," the Technomage says "Man is potentially the master of

all things."

Right away, you can see the problems that this is going to present. The good neopagan,

or simply pagan, will go into raptures about the worship of the Goddess or the various

manifestations of the Horned God and the Technomage will look at her with a certain

puzzlement of expression, wondering what all the fuss is about. It is not the type of

situation which makes friends easily. And, to be honest, the good Technomage can be

just as bullheaded and obnoxious as any other person and at times possibly moreso. The

truth of the matter is that the basic training of the magician, as opposed to that of the

mystic, is not conducive to humility.

OK, so now you know why Uncle Chuckie is such a pain in the rear at times. So how did

he get that way and how does all this relate to the ideas of Technomagick?

So at this point let me tell you something about myself and my own journey.

I am, in truth, a product of my environment. I was eight years old when Sputnik was

launched and that event had a terrible impact on me, for I had the misfortune to be

considered, rightly or wrongly, a child prodigy with an interest in science. Whether I truly

deserved that reputation or not is open to argument, since I have always been capable of

being damned stupid when I wanted to be. As I grow older, I increasingly doubt it myself,

though it did wonders for the budding ego of a small boy who was so uncoordinated that

he did not learn to ride a bicycle until he was twelve and so utterly unathletic that he never

even bothered to try to catch the baseball. Charles the Fierce, of which so much has

been made, did not appear until adolescence at which time I made up for things with a

vengeance. (How many 16-year-olds carry a garrote and know how to use it?)

But the Russian sattelite changed everything, for the nation went into a paroxysm of terror

at the thought that the Godless Communists had better scientists than we did, (actually it

was an accident of history due to the fact that their scientists were not as good and they

needed more powerful rockets because their nuclear warheads were so much heavier and

less sophisticated) and any child who had the slightest interest in the sciences was treated

as a potential savior of the nation and pushed as far and as fast as possible.

That is one hell of a heavy trip to lay on the head of an eight-year old.

As a result, I became a junior scientist, complete with chemistry set, telescope,

microscope, electronic stuff, and occasional explosions in the back yard as I tried to make

rocket fuel and a peculiar interest in the borderlines of nature, particularly such things as

telepathy and ghosts.

When I was twelve I got to mix them.

That year, for Christmas, I was given a plastic box with two dials, a large and colorful

meter and a thing you strapped to your hand. It was a simple lie detector, actually a

galvanic skin response meter. Of course, in those days, no one outside of a few

psychologists knew what biofeedback was and I certainly had no idea of it and if you had

mentioned "galvanic skin response" you would have gotten some very strange looks. It

was just fun to hook up the machine and make the needle move by thinking.

I got real good at that. In fact, I became so adept at moving the needle around that I

became the most accomplished liar in school. I trained myself to the point where I could

say the most outrageous untruth and have no physical register at all for the teacher to

grab onto. This did not exactly make me popular with my fellows, for it is inherint in the

nature of children that they insist that everyone be exactly like themselves and I was most

definitely NOT like anyone else.

Well, so much for the socialization process.

But my little green box came to the rescue again, for I discovered that if things got too hot

at school, I could get myself a day off by hooking myself up, getting the needle down and

willing my body temperature to rise. Mother would never have dreamt of sending me out

with a fever!

I also discovered, and at this point my orthodox brethren feel their hair start to rise in

shock, that once I had the needle down, if I imagined real hard that something unpleasant

was happening to anyone I did not like, something unpleasant did happen.

It was great fun.

But you must remember that at this time I was still thinking of myself as a little scientist

and my room had the appearance of a laboratory, with control panels for different gadgets

all over the place. That had started when I was six and that year, Santa Claus (who still

existed then) gave me a control panel that was a mock television station control unit. That

was not remarkable, but my father did one small thing that day that set a suggestion in my

mind that never really left and probably resulted in my present interests. This is the toy.

I was on the floor of my room playing with it and he came to take a picture. I was about to

throw a switch on the panel which would cause a small red light to go on. My father, for

reasons I have never quite understood, said that if I had thrown the switch, it would have

caused the photo to blur. Patent nonsense, but a six-year-old would not know that.

Anyway, by the time I was thirteen, I had more control panels than I had wall to put them

around. And I got a good one.

Remco made a radio transmitter station that could transmit voice and code to any AM

radio in the house. It was in a nice, blue cabinet and it was my favorite gadget. I

discovered that by turning the television in my room on a channel that was not used for

broadcast, and by playing with the frequency control on the transmitter, I could make

pretty patterns on the screen.

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