I’ve been thinking a lot about magical operations lately, and specifically those resulting in material, outer-world changes, because I’ve been immersed in the Qabalistic sphere of Malkuth.
What’s the connection? Let’s look at where Malkuth falls on the Tree of Life:
We start with boundless potential, spilling into Kether, alternating between the polarities of force 💥 and form 🪨 until it reaches a culmination in Malkuth.
Imagine a sculptor working a block of marble. The force of the chisel results in a preliminary form, which is then subjected to further force, iteration after iteration, until the final form emerges, like the stunning Belvedere Apollo from the 2nd century CE.
Malkuth is the subject of our April Portal lessons, as we kick off a larger pathworking series—”pathworking” referring to the act of traveling along the Tree of Life, exploring the various sephiroth and the paths in between (and doing so as an act of expanding your consciousness + magical power).
In researching these lessons, I came across something interesting and befitting today’s Full Moon.
While many witchy schools advocate working with the Full Moon, there are other magical streams that advise against this.
Why? Well, some traditions—such as those described in the very old Chaldean Oracles or the Mithras Liturgy, which is found in the also very old Greek Magical Papyri—see the moon as holding sway over physical reality (perhaps witnessed in the tides?) and ruling the spirits or daimones that operate in the material world.
If you are practicing magic that seeks to go beyond the Moon’s realm, such as traveling up the Tree of Life (sometimes called “theurgic ascent”), the Moon, when full, could interfere with your travel plans. Better to ascend during the dark of the New Moon, when lunar influence is at a minimum.
For the practical occultist, however, the opposite is advantageous, because here the goal is materializing your magical intent in the physical realm, so you want to work with the Moon.
I’ve always found magical history fascinating, and I love seeing how some beliefs change over time—and how others persist over eons!
Let’s return to the idea of force and form, though, as it relates to manifestation.
One way I conceptualize this alternation of energy in day-to-day life is in the interplay between the creative process and a finished piece (recall the analogy of the sculptor, chipping away to reveal Apollo in all his splendor).
If we use the Tree of Life as a map, we see that we must be equally adept at process (force) and outcome (form) as our idea zigs and zags from pure potential to finished output.
When this path is interrupted, our manifestation becomes blocked.
Let’s cast this in practical terms, using the example of writing a book. Like most creative pursuits, a book is iterative. You probably won’t sit down and write the whole thing in one go, and then release it into the world without a single revision. I mean, if you can do that, hats off!
The writing process alternates between possessing an idea of what the book is (a preliminary form), writing a whole bunch (force), assessing that form to see what needs revising, then sitting down to make those revisions (force again). Rinse, wash, and repeat.
In my own life, one of the biggest disruptors to a productive flow between these two energetic states is getting my identity all tangled up in what I’m doing.
For instance, if my sense of identity and self-worth are attached to a specific form of the book…
…it can feel threatening to admit that revisions are needed, thereby blocking the next round of force.
Brief aside: I laughed aloud at this passage from The Manuscripts Club: The People Behind a Thousand Years of Medieval Manuscripts, which illustrates that we writers have always been a touchy lot when it comes to feedback.
Anselm had his first draft transferred onto parchment and sent it around 1077 [CE] to [his friend] Lanfranc in England, begging him for criticism. Like most authors making such requests, he was clearly hoping only for praise and was then offended when Lanfranc did indeed write back with corrections.
The correspondence suddenly bristles with the author’s indignant self-justification. Lanfranc’s suggestions were not incorporated, and final versions were distributed to friends with slightly more circumspection.
#relate 😏
Alternatively, if my identity is wrapped up in needing approval…
I might rush to the finish line because the much more behind-the-scenes process feels somehow “less than” the ready-for-approval outcome. But this drains the joy out of doing, which makes it harder to reach the finish line, because now I’m disconnected from any personally meaningful why behind my work.
Equating our identity with our doing throws another pesky wrench in the gears: We’re more likely to have blind spots wherever our identity is attached, thereby making it harder to troubleshoot and improve.
For instance, if I see myself as riotously funny, I’m far less likely to revise the humorous bits of my book. And woe to the editor who tries to tell me my shit isn’t funny! The feedback is no longer about a saggy joke; it’s about WHO I AM. 🤨
Expand this beyond writing, though. What if I see myself as a good person? Or a nice person?
Never mind, for a moment, how incredibly vague those descriptors are—imagine how touchy I’ll be if someone tries to tell me I’ve said something to hurt their feelings.
That’s not what a “good” or a “nice” person does, so it can’t be true! Well, unless I want to lose my identity, which we humans are generally quite loath to do.
Manifestation requires a working channel from idea to outcome, and a charged interplay between force and form to keep energy moving along this path.
When we toss our identity into the manifestation mix, things get sticky—fast.
Next week, as we kick off our Malkuth lessons in the Portal, we’ll be viewing manifestation through a Jungian Magic lens. We’ll explore fascinating parallels between these Qabalistic concepts of force and form and Jung’s emphasis on the tension of opposites within the psyche.
Remember—here’s our diagram again—those opposites are what keep energy moving from idea to outcome, and without this polarity, energy stagnates.
But polarity isn’t enough—we also need an unobstructed channel for this polarized energy to flow through (the turquoise line above), and we’ll investigate how neurosis can clog that channel like stuffing a wig down a drain.
(We’ll also look at how Jung defines neurosis, because it offers a clear path to healing and stronger manifestation.)
One last thing I’m super excited about…
Malkuth is the first of our pathworking lessons (we’ll be making our way around the entire Tree of Life in the coming months), and with the help of my spirit guides, I’ve turned those lessons into a hypersigil.
In short, every time you read a lesson, the sigil is designed to clear and strengthen your creative channel, helping you go from idea to finish line with more ease and inspiration, whether you’re drawing up a legal brief or choreographing a dance.
And to boost the hypersigil, each lesson contains a creativity-enhancing emoji spell. If you want to know how to cast your own emoji spells (I love them), in next week’s lesson I break down their construction, step by step.
We’ve got lots of fun stuff in store, so I hope to see you there. 🤓
Happy Full Moon!
