Yesterday, as part of my Pre-Abramelin Operation, I asked for a sign.
Enjoying my dérive around the town and parks, my attention (as always) is drawn to the magpies.
I’d tell you that there was a real congregation of them, but there always is, isn’t there? That’s a direct question; doesn’t everyone see crows, blackbirds, wagtails and magpies every day?
I’ve always associated magpies with travel and roads. As a child, I travelled more than most. While the other kids walked to and from school, I was picked up by a variety of people and driven ten+ miles. On any given day, the school secretary would interrupt assembly or a class to announce to me that I was to be picked up by a taxi cab today.
On the long roads and bypasses, magpies could be seen along the sides and upon the road lights. One for sorrow, look for a second; two for joy.
Common to everyone, right. Can’t be a sign. Oh look, the magazine I’m reading is advertising a book about psilocybin. Oh yes, that’s a much better sign!
- - - - - - - -
Today, sat on a rise in the playing fields in the park, the grass drying under the blazing sun, reading ‘Magick Works’ by Julian Vayne, drugs of all kinds are mentioned, and so that confirms that psulocybin is my sign doesn’t it? We armchair occultists adore bibliomancy.
Chapters in, Julian lists some of his magickal colleagues; one jumps out: Frater Pica Pica.
Well, my my. I wonder if I might come to know Frater Pica Pica in some way. I’d ask Julian, but just because I’ve read him, doesn’t mean he knows me (an assumption I often make).
I didn’t know it was the solstice. I’m glad I was out.