Enchantment seems to be on our collective mind. I’m aware of several books on the subject that have either just been published or will be forthcoming later this year, as well as articles such as this one from Byung-Chul Han in the Paris Review.
The reference is the idea of disenchantment. This argues that the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century introduced a modern, scientific explanation of the world in which everything can, or could be, defined, categorised, and measured. The older, enchanted, view of the world – one which believed that there are things that the human mind cannot comprehend, and that there are ways of interacting with the universe that cannot be explained – slipped into irrelevance.
It didn’t go away, though.
I’m talking about the western world here. I’ve spent enough time in Asia to have seen that enchantment and magic, shamanism, ritual and working with spirits continue to be vibrant and widely practiced there.
In the west, scientific materialism has been the dominant paradigm for several centuries, and organised religion has become less and less important. The sense of awe, and the idea that magic exists and can be used to affect events lingered on; it became influential in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries through groups such as the Golden Dawn.
‘Magic’ here needs to be properly understood. It’s not the magic of childrens’ books, or the flashy powers of fantasy fiction and films. Nobody gets transformed into a frog. Nobody is casting lightning bolts. The magicians of the western world use symbolism, imagery and formal ritual to change perception. As one of the most prominent British magicians, Dion Fortune put it, “Magick is the art of causing changes in consciousness to occur in accordance with the will“. (A ‘k’ is often added at the end of ‘magic’ to distinguish it from stage magic).
Fortune also noted that “Symbols are to the mind what tools are to the hand – an extended application of its powers“. Symbols help the magical practitioner to focus their attention and will on that which they’re trying to achieve.
Now, I have to be clear here that I’m not a practitioner of magic in the western esoteric system myself. However, as you’ve probably gathered, I find it extremely interesting, and I do have friends who are practitioners.
The reason I find it interesting is its overlap with language.
Traditionally, the sorcerer Merlin was described as being a master of ‘gramarye‘, while a magician’s book of spells is called a grimoire. Both of these are alternative spellings of ‘grammar’.
‘Grammar’ in this context has a much broader meaning than we generally think of today. In the western form of education which lasted from ancient Greece until the nineteenth century (and which still holds on in places even now), ‘grammar’ meant the study of correct, clear and effective language. It would include everything from the rules of grammar to the study (and memorisation) of poems and stories which teach the student examples of best practice, which can be used to develop their own command of language.
Grammar formed one part of the Trivium, and was studied alongside Logic and Rhetoric. The intent was to make the student a powerful and persuasive speaker, able to use reasoned argument and vivid symbolism to persuade their audience both rationally and emotionally. If you can entirely change the way a person thinks about the world, about themself… If you can inspire them to visualise things that don’t yet exist and charge that vision with the full force of their emotions… Well… that’s magic, isn’t it?
Perhaps now you’re getting to see why I’m interested in the study of magic.
I’ve been through some very difficult times in my life. There were periods when I was overwhelmed by anxiety and depression; periods when I lost all belief in myself and was incapable of imagining a positive future for myself. My rational mind knew all of this made no sense – but my rational mind wasn’t in charge of what was going on. The constant internal narrative was coming from my unconscious mind – the processor of symbols which can’t tell the difference between real and imagined threats, and which was whipping itself into a frenzied feedback loop of toxic reactivity.
I needed hypnotherapy to address this. Hypnosis uses language and symbolism – just enough, providing a framework for the client’s mind to fill out – to directly access the subconscious mind and insert constructive suggestions that lead to more healthy patterns of thought. I should make it clear here that nobody can be hypnotised to do anything harmful to themselves, or indeed anything that they don’t want to do. When you see people ‘hypnotised’ to do stupid things on stage, remember that they volunteered to go up there, having a good idea of what might happen.
So hypnosis can be used to overcome a mindset that holds us back. Language is also really important for coaches working with a client’s rational, conscious mind, of course.
When discussing the client’s goals, the coach will prompt him or her to describe it in ever more precise language. This helps the client to conceive of successfully achieving the goal in a way that makes it vividly real, engaging the full range of senses. Success becomes something that exists independently in the client’s mind: a destination that they now have to navigate towards rather than a vague and undefined ‘want’.
How does this make a difference?
I’m currently working on a book about Sir Gawain, one of King Arthur’s knights. Welsh legend and tradition strongly associates him with Pembrokeshire, in the south-west of the country, and I’d found a medieval reference to where he was buried – but it was very vague. Where might the exact spot be? By chance, this week I found an old book buried away in a second-hand bookstore – which told me where the burial site really is.
This happened time and time again while I was writing my book on the 18th-century Welsh genius Iolo Morganwg. I’d find myself at a dead end in my research – and then I’d find an old book in a shop somewhere which told me exactly what I needed to know. This genuinely happened at least a dozen times. It felt as if the book wanted to be written, and was sending me the materials it needed me to have so that it could emerge into the world.
Or, of course, it could be that I’d developed a clear image of the finished book, and of myself as a published author, and that my unconscious mind was steering me to locations where I might find what I needed.
Either way, it felt inexplicable. Almost… magical. The more it happened, the more I felt that I was engaged in enchantment. That the world is an enchanted place.
Language, logic, and persuasion. Clarify your goal in your mind. Be able to describe it in detail. Be able to persuade yourself and others by engaging both reason and emotion. You may be able to do it alone. A good coach will be able to help you.
You’ll be changing your consciousness in accordance with your will. By making your goal real in your mind you make it easier to make it real in the world. You will, in effect, be performing an act of magic.
Will you succeed? No coach can promise that: it will depend on your own efforts and circumstances. But if you can see it, smell it, taste it, feel it in your mind, that’s going to make it more achievable.
Traethiad 