NO GODS BUT MY OWN 11
CASTING THE SHADOWSMITH
Hello everyone! Thank you all for returning for another installment of No Gods But My Own. Things are a little bit different this time around. There's still an oven fresh deity for your perusal but the essay is pretty long so I’ve decided to break it up into two pieces. The second part should show up next week so please stick around.
Enjoy!
THE DAMNED MACHINE
LESSONS IN FACTORY GNOSIS
Introduction
I have to be honest.
This isn't about magic.
Not really.
It's about angles and approaches.
It's about remembering.
It's about labor and results.
It's about fifteen years of communing with machines and nearly losing myself to the factory and the process.
It’s about five thousand days surrounded by tin walls adorned with warning signs and bright red exit beacons.
It’s about fifty thousand hours bathed in fluorescent light, standing on concrete, wearing uncomfortable steel toed boots.
This isn’t about magic.
Not really.
It’s about something else.
I’ve made rifle scopes, soldered circuit boards, molded wire connectors, twisted cable and assembled wiring harnesses for medical equipment and military trucks. I learned how to run over one hundred different manufacturing machines, built roughly ten thousand wiring harnesses, and twisted enough cable to reach the moon and back.
When I said this wasn't about magic I might have been a little hyperbolic. It's hard to consider this magic considering that my sideways path into occultism was cut through that menagerie of industrial machines, miles of copper wire, and pages upon pages of technical instructions instead of more tried and true ways of teaching. It was forged in a mundane existence of unmovable routines and shifts that felt like a bottomless pit of boredom.
It took a long time to realize what these jobs were accidentally training me for, back before I got that Karate Kid moment. The moment when Danny finds out that he isn't just waxing a car or sweeping the floor. Mr. Miyagi was a sneaky teacher but so was the factory floor. Instead of learning the crane kick or how to sweep the leg I was given valuable lessons that were occult in a very traditional way and by that I mean they were abstract and very, very well hidden.
When that point arrived I finally felt that it all had a purpose.
The soul-sucking mundanity had a purpose.
It was an initiation.
This was when I started developing my ideas on magic and discovered my foundational ethos. It all came from those assembly lines and long hours. My magic is agnostic at its core. The power doesn't come from gods or spirits, instead it's much closer to a proactive animism where you petition the aspects already present in your environment. It’s about grounding the liminal while drawing out the light in your everyday life.
I like to think of myself as a blue collar wizard with aims for a quiet kind of existence, wanting nothing more than to have a good job and live a life of quality and respect while doing as little harm as possible to the world and people around them. It’s not about fancy things or reality breaking experiences. It’s about feeding my family or community and keeping a roof over my head. It’s about magical practice as a supplement to the grounded habits and activities that make this kind of life possible.
It’s difficult to distill fifteen years of occult education and practice into a single cohesive piece but that is what I am attempting to do with this. I hope to present working class magic within these pragmatic idioms and stories.
These are simply ideas and not a system. Magical systems provide a veneer for us to give more appealing shape to the unexplainable and unknown. These are nothing more than a novel way to approach systems that already exist.
There are no spells or rituals here. Plenty of other work exists for that purpose. Think of these lessons as an acetate overlay that reveals new paths on the map you already use every day. Apply what follows to whatever system you subscribe to or use them independent of a system.
The purpose within my magic is not to live BEYOND and ABOVE my environment. The point is to live WITHIN it. For me that meant coexisting with the machines and the labor, deep inside the industrial occult.
What follows isn't about magic.
Not really.
It's about work.
DRAW THE PROFOUND FROM THE PROCESS
It was so easy to get lost.
Lost in the noise and cacophony of so many people working at the same time.
Lost in the tumultuous sea of bodies and parts in constant movement.
Lost in the task at hand, mesmerized by the rhythmic beat of my machines and the monotony of my simple little step within the bigger assembly.
Our work was rarely, if ever, about some grand conclusion and we were pressured to focus almost entirely on the minutiae of the individual routine. This was the problem of the line, that the narrow view was sacrosanct and all that mattered were the pieces directly in front of you. The end product was the reason we were present but that wasn't the task at hand. We were told to focus on the step that came before us only if it was done wrong and not to think about the step after us until we passed the pieces off.
Working this way forced us to think about the simple steps in the process in deeper ways but ignore a larger process at work. We existed as cells within the process, not as the process itself, so we had to gain an intimate knowledge of each step but stay ignorant of the whole.
The management had good reason to make us focus so hard on our own work. It made us forget our place among peers and created a manufactured disunity that only benefited them. Line leads drove competition over collaboration.
If the factory were a person this would be a near absolute focus on ego and self over all else, regardless of others and their environment. It would be a body at war with itself but still trying its level best to maintain a human shape while being pulled in hundreds of different directions.
We were asked to focus only on our step but we had to accept the fact that we lived within a larger process and that every step was a necessary function. It may have been against the instructions we were given but it was necessary to do our jobs in a functional way.
Imagine if your only focus for an entire week was brushing only your top teeth. The following week is spent on the bottom. The week after that is flossing. If this was your routine for oral health you would end up with gum disease and rotten teeth.
That was why our written work instructions were so important. These documents were usually about fifty pages and detailed every single step toward creating a thing, not just the step your workstation happened to focus on that day or week. They showed every step in an ecosystem within an ecosystem in fractal recurrence that ultimately builds up to an ideal whole, with each page just another layer peeled away to reveal a future process.
In both magic and life there is nothing more important than understanding that you are just a part of a much larger, much more complex process. It's fine to focus on the smaller parts when needed but in the end we are all small components nested within larger, more complex components, which are nestled in even more complex facilities, until the pattern is so complex and multifaceted that it just looks like one single, seamless life.
Focus on the processes, both grand and miniscule.
Find the light between the steps.
ALL YOUR PROBLEMS LOOK LIKE NAILS IF ALL YOU HAVE IS A HAMMER
There was a special tool for every job at the factory. I can still hear the machine gun rat-a-tat of terminating machines crimping terminals on tiny copper wires and smell the hot vinyl of the injection molding machines. They were giants of steel, tin, and circuitry.
There was a cage in the center of the plant called the tool crib and it’s walls were lined with hundreds of different devices for hundreds of different tasks. If you wanted to keep working you had to learn as many of those tools as you could. There was no room for specialists on the line.
We were all journeymen but our machines were not.
We filter our view of the world and all of our problems through whatever tools we have at our disposal. If all you have is a hammer then all your problems are hammer problems. If all you have is wicca then all your problems are wicca problems. Sometimes it’s hard to see beyond what we have in our hands when we’re faced with things that need fixing.
It's important to have a diverse set of tools and systems at your disposal. You need to be nimble and the key to being nimble is keeping your entire awareness on the swivel. The more you narrow the aperture, the more open things are to going in less than desirable directions.
It’s one of the bigger problems I see in occult circles. Magic becomes the one and only approach a practitioner thinks of when problems come along. I’m not saying that magic doesn't work but sometimes it's better to avoid it altogether if more terrestrial means will do. Why spend weeks petitioning spirits and building altars to try getting that job you really want when all you need is an airtight cv and a few well placed phone calls?
I've heard it said that if all you're reading is books on magic then you're not really learning magic and I find that to be true. You need to widen the aperture and take in as much as possible. If you were to ask me the texts I’ve found most useful in my own practice, not one of them would be what’s considered a book on magic.
Comics, martial arts, crafting, and so many other disciplines and venues can surprise you with a wealth of tools and lessons.
What tools can you find in an afternoon of axe throwing?
Or inside the act of a problematic comedian?
One shift at work I listened to the only known audio recording of the members of the Jonestown cult poisoning themselves and their children. I hoped that it would inoculate me against the siren call of cults and blind faith.
It’s important to add those painful and uncomfortable tools to the toolbox, too.
So go forth and gather your tools.
There’s work to be done.
ALMOST ANYTHING CAN BECOME A HAMMER IF YOU TRY HARD ENOUGH
My dad had a pair of tools that were always kept close when we had work to do. It didn’t matter if it was home maintenance or punching a transmission into my brother’s 79’ Mercury Monarch, these things were ever present.
The first tool was a block of wood, one of the most universal items I’ve ever seen. It could be used to hold something up, create a barrier for hammering soft material, or keep other tools out of the mud. My dad worked at a wood treatment plant so if we broke one block of wood or we needed a different size there was always something close by that could serve the purpose.
Then there was the BFH, otherwise known as the Big Fucking Hammer. This one is pretty self explanatory. There were plenty of problems that got solved by hitting them over and over again with a BFH. Sometimes it would fix things and sometimes it would break things. As a last resort, the BFH was a dependable but chaotic ally.
Of course, it's always ideal to have the "proper" tool for whatever job you're doing but sometimes all you can do is work with what you have. We could perform surgery with those tools sometimes and other times we would destroy what we were trying to repair because a hammer isn’t meant for fine work.
Learning that lesson at an early age helped later, both on the factory floor and in magic. Sometimes the company wouldn't provide us with every tool necessary to do the job but still expected an exact result. Sometimes we don't have the exact ingredients for doing the ritual or working but still feel compelled to perform it. That pressure, the pressure to get the job done with what's available inspires invention. It may not always be a great or otherwise useful invention but it builds our skills of improvisation. There is risk but if it pays off there can be massive reward. This is the kind of thinking that brings us altars built with reclaimed items or LED candles instead of live fire. If there is passion and intention then you will figure out what to do with “close enough” and get the results you want.
Precision isn't always necessary to get the job done. Every situation has its own levels of required quality and sometimes that means things can be messy and imperfect. You’ll still kill the fly if you use a hammer instead of a flyswatter but there’ll be one hell of a mess and some holes in your drywall.
Even if it’s true that any solution that creates more damage than it repairs is not actually a solution at all, there is something to be said about destroying a problem instead of allowing it to linger in a state of imperfection.
You could almost call it The Artists’ Dilemma, meaning that if you have a painting with a section that doesn’t look right you might put layer upon layer of paint or ink on it until all you have is a muddy cloud. Your painting is ruined but it leaves you open to gesso over the whole thing and start anew.
DO EASY
No wasted moves.
No wasted material.
No wasted time.
No wasted energy.
There were two main systems the plant used: LEAN manufacturing and Six Sigma. Both systems carried a reverence among the management akin to religious awe. The gist of both systems was that you only have as many supplies and as much labor as you absolutely need to get the current amount of orders done. Everything gets trimmed as close to the bone as possible. These goals were achieved through ergonomics, workstation layout, and material placement.
Six Sigma started at Motorola in 1988 and LEAN was created for the Toyota Motor Company in the 1930's but was later popularized and adapted for wider release in the late 80's. I'm pretty sure the minds behind both of these systems and their later spread to the rest of the world had to be fans of the beats.
William S. Burroughs released a short story called The Discipline of DE, in his book Exterminator!, with the DE standing for DO EASY. It describes the philosophy of reducing all aspects of your life to the absolute minimum labor. You practice and repeat mundane tasks until they have been distilled to only needed movements.
The resemblance between LEAN, Six Sigma, and Do Easy are so uncanny it's hard to believe they aren't related in some fashion.
It's very, very easy to go too far with most things. Too much solder corrupts the circuit, an excessive weld weakens the metal and breaks the seam, and too much of any ingredient makes your bread go flat. Unless the job calls for extravagance, never do too much when enough is enough.
This goes as much for magic as it does for anything else. Dress things up too much or make the ritual too complicated and you might lose track of your reason for performing it in the first place. Keeping things as simple as possible protects you from potential mistakes or harm.
The other byproduct of the process of DE is the acute awareness of your presence within an environment. It's impossible to find the most efficient process without knowing how your body moves or your physical influence on a place or system.
The goal is not to half ass things or be lazy about your work. It's about efficiency, streamlining, and becoming aware of your place within your environment. You want to reduce the stress, the strain, and the expense. It's about forming a state of flow in all that you do.
Learn the simplest ways.
Streamline.
Flow.
NEVER TRUST THE MANAGEMENT
Polo shirts.
That was my name for the managers that would wander around the plant floor, peeking over all our shoulders, taking notes on what they saw. Their uniforms earned them that title: they wore either a neutral colored button up or a polo shirt, khaki pants, and leather dress shoes.
These people were a sinister presence in their respective departments but dressed to provoke trust, confidence and professionalism. I always assumed that their uniforms were chosen to remind workers of their pastors or their parents. Either connection would bring with it a reflexive and unquestioned reaction to authority.
I saw that influence every day, whenever a manager let their appearance known while a group of workers would gather for "water-cooler meetings." The conversation would stop dead and everyone would start fawning over the manager, even if they had been the topic of discussion and we were dragging them and their policies.
That anger and pent up rage would burn away, only to be replaced with awe and reverence. The manager would leave and the conversation always withered afterward, leaving us all to return to our stations again.
This brings me to the other reason I called them polo shirts: Much like the artificial polyester blend in their clothing, these people had about as much genuine substance as a scarecrow. It didn't take long to get below the surface and find out how little these authorities knew about the ground operations or where their loyalties were.
Of course there were exceptions to the rule. There are plenty of managers that are great guides and leaders but at the end of the day even the best of them hold their loyalty with the company above that of their workers.
There is a very real, very dangerous thread in occult circles that echo this sentiment and that is the worship of gurus and experts.
Finding teachers and guides is an important part of anyone's occult education. They're truly necessary for many of the things you will need as you grow and expand your personal practice. The problem comes from the fine line that separates a valuable teacher and a convincing grifter.
Like the managers, there is an unknowable ratio of how many helpful guides you will find compared to the number of charlatans and scam artists and the higher density definitely falls on the latter category.
Experts, gurus, and people that are viewed as higher authorities are just people with slightly more information than most of us. They don't elevate above the human strata, where the rest of us exist, just because they've been awarded a title or have been hoisted up by the crowd. If you have a question there will always be a line of people willing to be paid for their own version of the answer. What you have to determine is whether or not you are willing to pay the asking price for that guidance without knowing the validity of the answer you will receive.
Spiritual practices are a gray area where being an authority is based solely on belief. To be considered an expert in magic is to convince people that you not only know how to conjure your will into the world but can also show your notes so others can follow. That isn't a concrete rubric to measure success. A guru only needs some charisma and a good sales pitch to gather the followers necessary to leverage some credibility.
If I sound like I have some bias in this situation it's because I do. My own mother was seduced by spiritual teachers that wanted her money and her blind devotion. An evangelical church found her insecurities and took advantage.
Over the course of years the church convinced my mother that she needed to keep paying the church for her salvation. They also told her that if my entire family was hell-bound if we didn't join the church and that she would be alone in heaven with her salvation.
I understand that this isn't exactly magic but the cult of personality some esoteric figures have inspired are only a costume change away. Magical gurus take advantage of that very same compulsion. The compulsion to be heard and seen, to feel like there are answers in uncertain times, that someone knows the way and has your best interest at heart. Magic is full of influencers out for money, for control, and for followers. Just like a manager or a clergyman, they wield their knowledge to empower themselves or their systems. Empowering you or the community is the least of their concerns.
Ultimately it's up to you to decide the fate of your spiritual existence. There will always be people ready to sell you their answers. You have to do your work and find teachers instead of polo shirts.
MIND YOUR REVISION
It was the easiest mistake for us to make on the line. A tiny detail, hidden deep amongst the word salad text at the top of every work order. They called it the revision level and it tripped us up all the time.
The revision level let us know which version of assembly plans were needed to build to the current customer specifications. It was usually a letter, a number, or some combination of the two. Changes found in new revisions could range from using a different connector to fundamentally changing the form and function of an assembly.
It makes sense. Needs change. Situations change. Tools and manufacturing technology changes. It's as true in the factory as it is in life: you have to change to keep up with your needs within the time and place in which you live.
So why isn't this true of magic?
Why is magic and other spiritual practices the only things that won't change and evolve? Why is the resistance to advancements not only embraced but expected among many occult traditionalists?
The most popular threads in the occult community are wrapped around traditions, be it Golden Dawn, the Solomonic traditions, grimoires, or even Chaos. It seems as though new ideas live only in the cracks between the strains of rigid fundamentalism, left to fester in the shadow of a past that continues to monopolize the sunlight.
Traditions helped build what we have now. They shouldn't be forgotten or cast aside but they also shouldn't be placed on pedestals or treated as though they're flawless gems immune to criticism.
Why does the community focus so much more on new translations of the past instead of coaxing new ideas out of the present?
There were two main culprits behind the ignorance of change at the factory and those were habit and hubris. Habit because people worked on the same parts day after day. Processes became muscle memory, making it hard to integrate changes. Hubris because everyone knew the process like the back of their hands. It was second nature. They felt as though their way of doing the job was far superior to the requested changes in the new revision. I believe the same can be said of those unwilling to move beyond tradition in magic.
History works better as a foundation than a permanent state. Clinging to the past is a denial of the movement of time and the inevitable future. Revisions happen because systems evolve and mutate. LIFE evolves and mutates. Existing only in history and tradition is the ultimate act of nostalgia and nostalgia is the opposite of magic.
I once worked at a rifle scope manufacturing plant. In the early years of the company they made reticles from the webbing of black widow spiders. Every year people died harvesting that fine but strong spider silk. Eventually they developed a synthetic line to replace the silk and completely phased out the dangerous task of spider wrangling.
This leaves us with the question: Do you uphold the tradition or do you embrace the revision?
That choice is up to you.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
SHADOWSMITH
CRAFTER OF DARKNESS
EMISSARY OF THE UNKNOWN
With nimble fingers, the Shadowsmith harnesses the darkness down below and throws shapes of both fear and protection. This is the abyss that stares back when you’ve found yourself lost in the confounding black.
The best times to call for the Shadowsmith are those of confusion, fear, and introspection. When you can’t find the hand in front of your face it will try to bend the shadows to lead you to the places you need to be.
A simple ritual for summoning Shadowsmith is to find a place of pitch darkness. This could be a lightless room or specialized goggles. Wherever there is a lack of light. What you are taking advantage of here is what is known as the Ganzfeld Effect, a type of perceptual deprivation. This effect can be brought on by something as simple as crafting eye shades from ping pong balls so all light gets cut off while sitting in a darkened room and listening to white noise in your headphones. It doesn’t have to be fancy.
Then craft a simple prayer or mantra in tribute to Shadowsmith. While in the darkness repeat those words, over and over, and while you do try to take those shadows and suss out the shapes the Shadowsmith throws your way.
Here is an example of a simple prayer, to be repeated as necessary:
I seek my tools within the dark
I seek its many shapes
The Shadowsmith knows the way
To bend the dark I need
It may take some time, both to suss out messages from the darkness and to get used to the process of letting go enough to not try controlling what you find within. The idea here is that the shadows should make shapes in your vision, even in the absence of light.
There’s not much in the way of news this week. The biggest thing I’ve been mulling over is how to continue on with this newsletter. I’ve been thinking more and more about the idea of treating these first twelve installments as the first volume of an ongoing concern and I would be lying if I said that I don't have an outline for a second volume already in my Google docs. There are still so many topics I want to talk about and this feels like the best vehicle for that.
I guess the biggest lesson here is that I should never make dramatic announcements when I’m feeling burned out and depressed. I still need a break but it may be much shorter than anticipated.
Thanks you all for reading and supporting my work here. I hope the coming week treats you well. You deserve it.
Yes, even you.
EJM