Closing Time

Cauterizing Occult Workings

Dr. Timothy Leary (according to his own legends) was temporarily placed in a prison cell across from the broken shaman Charles Manson. Presumably, the same US federal authorities who staged his arrest now wished to rattle him. A standard tactic. And Manson’s erratic commentaries and disturbing prompts proved successfully distressful to the good doctor. Trying to come up with a simplified form of neuro-magick — for the protection of his psychic energies — Dr. Leary settled on a finger loop.

He would frequently form a circle with his thumb and forefinger. Through this hole, he would gaze intently at Charles Manson before withdrawing his focus onto the fingers themselves. This, of course, made the infamous cult leader go suddenly blurry.

In this way, the professor taught his own nervous system to feel that it was in control of his perceptions. Slowly, his subconscious intelligence began to more confidently regulate itself and avoid slipping into Manson’s reality-distortion tunnel. Leary slipped out of a neurotic loop. But this is not just an anecdote about one loop replacing another. It speaks to a creative, simple, and neurologically informed approach to banishing.

Banishing is the intentional transjective closing of psychically-active inputs, whether seen or unseen. The phrase “banishing rituals” refers to ceremonial practices used in various magical and spiritual traditions to clear, purify, and protect a space or individual from negative, chaotic, or unwanted influences.

These rituals are commonly performed in advance of more complex magical workings to ensure the environment is free from interference. In ceremonial magic, for example, banishing is often considered a prerequisite for consecration and invocation, helping to remove non-physical influences such as spirits, negative energies, or impure elements.

However, there is often too much focus on pre-clearing the space for workings and not enough emphasis on post-ritual banishing. Closing time.

A few years ago, I had just completed a weekend ritual with a partner at a cabin on a frozen lake that was thawing for the beginning of Spring. Everything had gone spectacularly well. Energy was high. Futures were open. Agency and communion were strong. Elemental and imaginal powers seemed satisfied. Self-authoring and meaningfulness were dripping in all directions.

The very last thing that happened, however, after the car had been packed and we were ready to leave, was that I, bizarrely, not even seeing how it happened (!), suddenly slipped on an icy patch of ground, landed awkwardly on the pointy edge of a stone step, and was semi-paralyzed and in excruciating pain for many weeks.

I got sucker-punched.