Technomancy Reading List

This is a (long) list of books I recommend re. technomancy, cybermagic, etc. It is not a comprehensive list but it does include nearly everything I have found that is explicitly intersects magic and computers. I tried to exclude books that are concerned with particular machines (e.g., Arduino) or programming languages, but there are a few that are so good I included them. I have also excluded most books about cybernetics (I have a few of those), and books pertaining to robots and artificial life and intelligence, as I will be mentioning those in the Robomancy project when I publish it.

The list is divided into the following categories. Many books could fit into more than one category but I did not list any title more than once (except that all titles on the TL;DR list are also mentioned below that).


Here is a short list for people who already know how to do occulty stuff and just want to explore doing it with computers and computational media.

Magic & Ritual

In order to do technomancy you need some skill in the -mancy part, i.e., experience with the occult arts. A really good list of magic books would needs its own page, but here are a few I generally recommend to anyone starting down the Path.

General Computing

You need not be a computer scientist in order to be a technomancer (I cannot stress this enough), any more than you need to be a materials scientist in order to be a painter, but just as the craftsperson benefits from knowledge of the media she crafts in, understanding how computers work is certainly helpful.

New Media Arts

Technomancy as I do it is essentially an intersection of occult arts and new media arts. Here are some of my favorite books about cyberculture and digital and interactive art, media, and performance.

New media technology is rapidly evolving and technomancers of all levels of experience would do well to keep current with what new media artists are doing at present. Here are a few re/sources of such news:

Cyberspace & Virtual Reality

In some ways, virtual reality has improved much over the last ~20 years, and in other ways today’s VR still closely resembles that of two decades ago. While some of the specific technologies mentioned in some of these texts are now outdated, many of the ideas therein remain relevant (and revelatory) today.

Video Games

In the 1980s, many people learned how to program their home computers by making video games because video games are a great way to learn programming via how to do interesting things with computational media (there were so many books and magazines about this, and you can find many of them online today, e.g., at the Internet Archive; you can also easily find contemporary books that introduce programming in today’s popular languages this way). Extend that to the many connections that can be made between games and ritual, and… well, here are some books…

Storytelling & Narrative

Relationships between myth, ritual, and magic are very old and still studied, debated, and created today. Some people believe myth informs ritual and ritual performs myth. The specific details of magical acts are often related to cosmologies in which such acts are meaningful and plausibly efficacious. While ritual magic is never performed merely to tell a story, often there is a narrative component to the ritual that helps to “make sense” of it (cf., user stories in HCI design), that constructs a network of sign(al)s between the “target” domain the magic is intended to have an effect on, and a story about a person or event or theme having or expressing the power or ability to cause such an effect. Thus, a ritual narrative might inform one or more personalities for the participants to invoke, key inter/actions to be performed, thematic elements, the ritual’s feel, mood, or æsthetic, etc. Such narratives can be habitual or ad hoc, and they may come from tradition or pop culture, or be something completely new.

Here are some books about narratives and computers and cyberspace.

RasPi Ghost Hunting

Just in time for Halloween…

It is possible I never would have gotten into the occult without the Ghostbusters having so inspired me at a young age, and one of the things I found most interesting about that film and franchise was the technology the GB used to measure and control spectral phenomena. The idea of material technology interacting with spiritual forces continues to motivate me today, underlying much of what I do in my “technoccult” arts.

This weekend I began building something I had been thinking about for quite some time: a suite of sensors for paranormal investigation, based around the Raspberry Pi. So far I have a Pi 3 with:

I can read all of the camera and sensor data in Python, and remotely operate the Pi via SSH or VNC. Things I am considering adding include a USB microphone, USB radio receiver, and/or USB-powered infrared LED array.

RasPi Ghost Hunter 1

RasPi Ghost Hunter 2

Good hunting!

George Spencer-Brown (1923–2016)

I received news last week that G. Spencer-Brown had passed away. Mostly known for his book, Laws of Form, Spencer-Brown was an esoteric figure. I first encountered him circa 2006, in relation to cybernetics — he influenced a number of cyberneticians including Heinz von Foerster. I have long suspected a deep connection between the LoF’s “Law of Calling: Form of Condensation” and “Law of Crossing: Form of Cancellation,” and the magical operations of evocation and invocation, respectively, though I have never made anything formal of it (perhaps one day). For anyone interested in reading more about the LoF, in additon to the Spencer-Brown’s own text I recommend:

  • Cybernetics & Human Knowing—Peirce and Spencer-Brown: History and Synergies in Cybersemiotics, Vol. 8, No. 1–2, 2001
  • various works by Louis H. Kauffman, including “Laws of Form: An Exploration in Mathematics and Foundations” and “Laws of Form and the Logic of Non-Duality”
  • “Chapter 12: Laws of Form” (pp. 89–96) in Prcoesses and Boundaries of the Mind: Extending the Limit Line by Yair Neuman
  • “Chapter 3: System and Form” (pp. 61—93) in Posthuman Metamorphosis: Narratives and Systems by Bruce Clarke

The Locus Magicus of Virtual Reality

I have not posted much here for while because I have been very busy working to complete the robomancy and technomancy projects, but I would take a moment to write briefly about something that has been on my mind—and on my face—much of late.

Angelheaded Hipsters
“angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night”


I recently acquired a Samsung Gear VR headset which is quite a lot nicer than my Google Cardboard one. I have dozens of ideas for sorcerous applications of this technology, but one theme I continue to explore through my technomantic and robomantic Work is telepresence. VR can teleport you to a virtual reconstruction of the Temple of Delphi, or a temple of Zhothaqquah on Cykranosh, or a place more abstract than could exist outside cyberspace. It has the potential to situate you in the same ritual space with participants who are physically far remove from your proximity. VR is immersive in ways the 2D (or flat 3D) interfaces I design are not.

Take StreetView VR for example. You can pull up Google StreetView on your smart phone or personal computer and look at a 3D photograph of many places. Here is the Museum of Witchcraft in Bostcastle, one of my favorite places in the world. You can continue “walking” down toward the harbor or go up the street into town.

Google Street View

StreetView VR shows you the same thing but you are more “in it.” You can be looking at the museum and physically turn your head around and now you are looking at the bridge across Valency. It is not in real time, and it is certainly not the best way to get in touch with the genius loci of a place (for that you need to take your body to wherever you wish to commune), but inasmuch as a photograph may be regarded as a magical link, the ability to immersively situate yourself within a photograph is pretty cool. You could also use a 360° camera to take photos of places to virtually work within, or set up a 360° live video feed in the midst of, say, a temple populated with your partners in maleficium.

It would not take much to develop responsive sigil overlays or other magical interface elements for this sort of thing, but even without such enhancements you may use your imagination to project or receive ætheric impressions.

Medieval Robots by E. R. Truitt

E. R. Truitt, Medieval Robots: Mechanism, Magic, Nature, and Art, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015. Buy it from the publisher or The author maintains a companion website: If you like this sort of thing, you might see also “Machines in the Garden” by Jessica Riskin (who edited another of my favorite books related to automata, Genesis Redux: Essays in the History and Philosophy of Artificial Life) in Republic of Letters Vol. 1, No. 2 (which contains also an article by Mary Campbell, “Artificial Men: Alchemy, Transubstantiation, and the Homonculus”).

I recently finished reading Medieval Robots (hereafter abbrev. MR) as part of my research for the Robomancy project, and I quite enjoyed it. In addition to it turning me on to a number of automata I had not prior knowledge of, I was often struck by similarities between Truitt’s accounts of automata and the ideas they implied or evoked in their times, now hundreds of years past, and how people think about and characterize robots and their makers, today (or within the last century, which is when robots per se emerged). I will share some of these and also my related musings on magic and technology, as I enumerate many of the book’s themes as I understood them.

Physically, the cloth-bound hardback is finely manufactured and typeset, with several plates near the middle depicting color illustrations. The introduction and six subsequent chapters last for 153 of 296 total pages, and the extensive notes and bibliography make up about a third of the total page count (good news for me; I like reading source material). The editing is as solid as one should expect from an academic publication, and the author’s discourse is as eloquent as it is delightful. From the book’s introduction and back of the jacket:

Golden birds and beasts, musical fountains, and robotic servants astound and terrify guests. Brass horsemen, gilded buglers, and papier-mâché drummers mark the passage of time. Statues of departed lovers sigh, kiss, and pledge their love. Golden archers and copper knights warn against danger and safeguard borders. Mechanical monkeys, camouflaged in badger pelts, ape human behavior in the midst of a lush estate. Corpses, perfectly preserved by human art, challenge the limits of life. . . . By excavating the complex history of medieval automata, we can begin to understand the interdependence of science, technology, and the imagination in medieval culture and between medieval culture and modernity.

MR follows the evolution of automata and their cultural contexts in the Middle Ages (mostly 12th to 15th centuries). It is a valuable sequel to John Cohen’s Human Robots in Myth and Science (New York: A. S. Barnes & Company, 1967), which devotes but one chapter to medieval automata (a third of which is devoted to Ramon Lull‘s Ars Magna, which Truitt does not mention in her book and rightly so, I suppose, because while the Ars Magna may be related to computation, it is not properly an automaton, though it might make the basis for an interesting artificial intelligence or expert system).1

Chapter 1 (“Rare Devices: Geography and Technology”) shows how mechanical gifts from foreign courts to medieval Christians, and the literary automata documented in epic poems, travelogues, romances, etc., were associated with the exoticism and paganism of foreign lands and peoples (especially of the East), their manufacture often attributed to sorcerers and people using cumpas (“the branch of astral science that enables accurate predictions of the lunar cycle and eclipses, as well as the establishment of the liturgical calendar” — p. 12; cf., possibly, “compass,” though Truitt’s notes associate it with “computus”). Examples include the rotating palace of Byzantine Emperor Hugo in Le Voyage de Charlemagne,2 the Throne of Solomon at the Byzantine court in Constantinople,3 and a fountain of the Great Khan, described in The Travels of Sir John Mandeville:

At grete ?olempne Fe?tes, before the Emperoures Table, men bryngen grete Tables of Gold, and there on ben Pecokes of Gold, and many other maner of dyver?e ?oules, alle of Gold, and richely wrought and enameled; and men maken hem dauncen and ?yngen, clappynge here Wenges to gydere, and maken gret noy?e: and where it be by Craft or be Nygromancye, I wot nere; but it is a gode ?ight to beholde, and a fair: and it is gret marvarylle, be cau?e that thei ben the mo?te ?otyle men in alle Sciences and in alle Craftes, that ben in the World. For of ?otyltee and of Malic and ferca?tynge, thei pa??en alle men undre Hevene.4

These stories reminded me of contemporary differences between how robots are perceived and received in the United States vs. Japan and China (a different East), and especially of Mark Meadows’ We, Robot, which documents his travels through Tokyo to learn what a robot is.5 While we may not see the makers of today’s robots as sorcerers (counterexamples to follow), there might persist some exoticism in how we think about what others think about robots.

Chapter 2 (“Between Art and Nature: Natura artifex, Neoplatonism, and Literary Automata”) explores the personification of Nature as an artisan acting “as an intermediary between the world of ideal forms and the world of matter” (p. 40; cf. the Demiurge). In addition to introducing connections between automata and (moving) images (cf. Boehn’s Puppets and Automata6), which is something I am exploring in conjunction with image magic, in my Robomancy work, this chapter presents a wonderful etymology lesson for those who, like myself, are interested in connections between art, magic, and technology. E.g., the word tregester “can, like its English counterpart ‘cast’, mean either the casting of objects in metal or the casting of spells, lots, dice, and enchantments” (p. 51).7

Such ambiguities and double meanings hint at deeper issues about the nature of artificiality, and the artifice that is nature, especially Nature personified or idealized by the artifactory that is the human mind. Nothing we make is ever based on “true” nature but on our observations of nature (verily, our own eyes deceive us even as we, sometimes rightfully, distrust what we have not seen with our own eyes), which change as we learn new things that we embody in new technologies, which in turn allow us to learn newer things. The imitation, simulation, or emulation of nature8 has continually led to technological advancements, yet imitation can also be a “trick” (deception) when it causes us to infer (often unconsciously) something that is not actually the case (i.e., the simulacrum does not correspond isomorphically to what it mimics). The Star Tours ride does not really go anywhere (cf. Baudrillard’s hyperreality), the Matrix is not the real world, and affective robots do not really have feelings.

Something I often return to in my own work is the difference between simulation and expression.9 While art may be evaluated on how well it imitates or represents something in the world (i.e., its quality of being simulacrum), it can alternatively be evaluated on how it expresses the artist’s inner state (intention, emotion, etc.).10 Does a robot factory worker merely simulate a human factory worker (certainly not, as robots are often employed because they surpass human labor in some respects), or do both express forms of idealized labor? When is a statue merely a figure or image of a deity, and when is it genuinely an avatar of the god, her heavenly expression on earth, a corporeal focus or locus of divine knowledge and power? When is idolatry of the imago/eikon/eidolon of Luna (e.g.) beneficial devotion embodied, and when is it like concentrating on the finger pointing away to the moon?

When I make computational devices based on the same principles I find governing the design of classical talismans, or that function in similar manner to an oracular head, I am not merely simulating talismans or divinatory statues, rather I am expressing talismanic and divinatory magic through new media.

The computer is the most versatile machine ever crafted, being able to simulate or represent anything that can be expressed as an algorithm, and the history of computing is rife with computational models of natural phenomena, including life. William Grey Walter’s Machina speculatrix, Edward Lorenz‘s weather models (whence came the butterfly effect, Lorenz attractor, and chaos theory), John Conway’s Game of Life (a cellular automaton), Steve Grand’s Creatures, and Daniel Shiffman’s The Nature of Code, are just a few examples that come immediately to my mind. Many of these involve relatively simple functions that give rise to complex, emergent, or evolutionary forms that could not have been predicted by analyzing the functions themselves (cf. generative art). Yet, of these myriad creations, none among them is counted as a genuinely living soul. For all their makers’ ingenuity, that San Graal of artifice remains hidden (at least to exoteric science).

The idea that all artifacts are in some way flawed (vis-à-vis nature) may be echoed in Hephæstus Amphigúeis (?????????), “the Lame One.”11

MR‘s third chapter (“Talking Heads: Astral Science, Divination, and Legends of Medieval Philosophers”), tells the stories of four men rumored to have made oracular heads in accordance with astral science: Roger Bacon (Doctor Mirabilis), Gerbert of Aurillac (l.k.a. Pope Sylvester II), Robert Grosseteste, and Albertus Magnus (Doctor Universalis). In these narratives we see the dynamic interplay and sometimes struggle or conflict between the quadrivium, natural philosophy and science (including magia naturalis, natural magic), the ars magica (including ceremonial magic), and the omniscience and omnipotence of God and related authority of the church. While all four men were respected and accoladed Christian philosophers, scholars, and theologians, they all acquired reputations for sorcery at one time or another, for although Christian religion has its prophets, to prophecy by the positions and movements of celestial entities, like many forms of manteis (???????), including prophetic statues, was like unto or sufficiently inherited from pagan divination or other blasphemy or heresy, to be suspect if not plainly diabolical.

Two things occurred to me while reading this chapter. One is how the controversy between automata-related science and religion in the Middle Ages, reminded me of the theme of Norbert Wiener’s book, God & Golem, Inc.: A Comment on Certain Points Where Cybernetics Impinges on Religion, which was born of matters relevant to the last century, and it is still relevant today. The second is several makers of robots, from cinema: C. A. Rotwang in Metropolis (1927), Dr. Edward Morbius in Forbidden Planet (1956), and Dr. Hans Reinhardt in The Black Hole (1979). All three are sorcerous figures (cf. mad-scientist and Faustian archetypes). The electric throne that seats Rotwang’s Maschinenmensch features a large, inverted pentagram behind it. Morbius, loosely based on the Shakespearean sorcerer, Prospero, learns to use ancient Krell (alien) technology, amplifying his intelligence and giving him psychokinesis as well as the knowledge to create Robby the Robot. Morbius, a sort of futuristic necromancer (who lobotomizes and reprograms the human crew of his ship to be his robot-like servants), is assisted by the robot Maximilian, who, like many magical automata (e.g. the Golem of Prague and the enchanted objects of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice), eventually deviates from its master’s plans, which include voyaging into a black hole to see what wonders lie beyond the event horizon — like the foreign lands mentioned previously as the birth places of magico-mechanical marvels.

Chapter 4 (“The Quick and the Dead: Corpses, Memorial Statues, and Autotmata”) tells the stories of the especially preserved corpses of Hector and Camille, and automata intended to represent actual persons, such as that of Ysolt in Saga af Tristram ok Ísönd (like Rotwang’s robotic simulacrum of his lost love, Hel). Here the author also discusses much about balm, balsam, and embalming.

As Truitt says, “The lifelikeness of these bodies illuminates a continuum between life and death, rather than strictly bounded definitions of life and death” (p. 97). Again, this evokes wonder about the nature of simulation and simulation of nature. In God & Golem, Inc., talking about the possibility of machines reproducing, Wiener says:

In order to discuss intelligently the problem of a machine constructing another machine in its own image, we must make the notion of image more precise. Here we must be aware that there are images and there are images. Pygmalion made the statue of Galatea in the image of his ideal beloved, but after the gods brought it to life, it became an image of his beloved in a much more real sense. It was no longer merely a pictorial image but an operative image.12

Re. operative images, see also image magic. Re. bringing statues and other images to life: an idea near to cybernetics, if not fundamental to it, is that a thing is what it does. A machine that acts “as though alive” (quasi viuum) is, in a sense, alive. What of our deities or ancestral or tutelary spirits, which we treat as though alive, e.g. by feeding them, leaving food at their shrines or altars or other sacred places of dwelling? The care-taking and treatment of the corpses described by Truitt in MR reminded me of Daniel Schulke’s “The Perfum’d Skull,” a contemporary rite for making an oracular head.13 See also Philip K. Dick: “[O]ur environment, and I mean our man-made world of machines, artificial constructs, computers, electronic systems, interlinking homeostatic components — all of this is in fact beginning more and more to possess what the earnest psychologists fear the primitive sees in his environment: animation. In a very real sense our environment is becoming alive, or at least quasi-alive [quasi vivum], and in ways specifically and fundamentally analogous to ourselves.”14

This fourth chapter conjures another liminal entity and fellow to the robot: the cyborg. Often depicted as “part human, part machine,” the cybernetic organism’s prosthesis or other artificial enhancement or repair shares the same issues about artificiality being inherently flawed and disfigured, or improving on nature’s design or accident, even unto the notion of perfecting nature via technology — as with alchemy, which has to do with (literally or metaphorically) transmuting base metals into gold which is incorruptible. The cyborg is a preservation of corpus, replacing living-and-so-dying flesh with metal or other synthetic material that is incorruptible (or less corruptible) and so, in a sense, im-mortal. In the film A.I., the robot boy David lives for thousands of years because he is “Mecha” and not “Orga” (but like Pinocchio, his greatest wish is to become “a real live boy,” mostly because of the social troubles he has encountered as a misfit toy hated by so many humans who value their own kind above all else, and wanting simply to have his love reciprocated by becoming one of “them,” and one with them). (Cf. the Replicants of Blade Runner, who have four-year lifespans, either as an intentional fail-safe mechanism or a limitation of genetic engineering technology.)

The cyborg can also be the self-made human, making herself in her own image and so becoming emancipated from outside forces (cf. autonomy). When asked “What is the basic philosophy of alchemy?” Jean Dubuis answered: “The absolute being is an auto-created being, and we must become in its image auto-created men.”15

Chapter 5 (“From Texts to Technology: Mechanical Marvels in Courtly and Public Pageantry”) discusses the emergence of actual automata in the courts and theatre of the later medieval period, involving advances in mechanics and engineering, and a transition from the philosophers and magicians who had created (or were believed to have created) the earlier automata, to artisans skilled in craft knowledge, and often collaboration among multiple artisans specializing in different crafts or trades. Truitt juxtaposes the designs of Villard de Honnecourt and Ismail al-Jazari, and covers the Château d’Hesdin automata in great detail.

Truitt writes, “By the late medieval period [ca. 14c and 15c — J.M.], automata existed because of artisans, not magicians or sorcerers. The register of their creation shifted from the mysteries of nature and esoteric knowledge to a more egalitarian understanding of natural forces, employed by craftsmen who created with their hands” (p. 140). But the link between automata and magic or mysticism persisted in some places. For one, Truitt mentions in the same chapter the Mystery plays staged by some English artisans and craftsmen who “were mystery-makers, using secret, carefully guarded knowledge to produce stunning effects” (pp. 138 & 139). Craft knowledge and trade secrets were sometimes protected by artisans and guilds, and guilds were religious and spiritual as well as secular and occupational. We know of several esoteric teachings and practices of fraternities that evolved from such guilds, most famously the Freemasons, but I can only speculate (and not terribly well, I admit, because secret handshaking stuff is not of much interest to me) about all the possible connections between guilds, fraternities, magical orders, and other secret societies.16

We know also of certain engineers of the late medieval period, such as Giovanni Fontana who identified as a natural magician,17 and Konrad Kyeser whose “work presents important devices and methods of military technology along with magical recipes and necromantic amulets.”18 And John Dee (1527–ca.1608), of Enochian magic fame (or notoriety), in his preface to Euclid’s Elements, after recounting a variety of automata from history, wrote:

And for these and such marvelous acts and feats, naturally, mathematically, and mechanically wrought and contrived, ought any honest student and modest Christian philosopher be counted and called a conjurer? Shall the folly of idiots and the malice of the scornful so much prevail that he who seeks no worldly gain or glory at their hands, but only, of God, the treasure of heavenly wisdom and knowledge of pure truth [veritie]? Shall he in the mean [common] space be robbed and spoiled of his honest name and fame? He that seeks (by Saint Paul’s advertisement) in the creatures’ properties and wonderful virtues, to find just cause to glorify the eternal and almighty Creator by; shall that man be (in hugger mugger [secrecy]) condemned as a companion of the hellhounds, and a caller and conjurer of wicked and damned spirits?19

The final chapter (“The Clockwork Universe: Keeping Sacred and Secular Time”) pertains to the development of mechanical clocks in 14c, from earlier clepsydræ, with examples of astronomical clocks such as that in Strasbourg (originally made between 1352 and 1354, now in its third iteration completed in 1843).

The automatic (“self-moving”) motion of such devices, which so precisely mimic the (apparent or real) movements of the sun, moon, planets, and stars, recalls the cumpas and relations between cosmology, order, prediction, divination, and divinity. The similar automatism of the clockwork animal or person suggests a homomorphism between the “sphæropoetic” and autopoetic, between the recurring cycles of astros — once identified with gods, heroes, myths, and legends — and the recurring cycles of life (cf. circularity in cybernetics). For some, these clockwork automata precipitated the clockwork universe (cf. machina mundi), l’homme machine, and philosophical mechanism (or mechanical philosophy20) and determinism of the following centuries. As Pierre-Simon Laplace (who authored Mécanique Céleste) would write in the early 19c:

We ought then to regard the present state of the universe as the effect of its anterior state and as the cause of the one which is to follow [cf. Aristotle’s efficient cause — J.M.]. Given for one instant an intelligence which could comprehend all the forces by which nature is animated and the respective situation of the beings who compose it an intelligence sufficiently vast to submit these data to analysis it would embrace in the same formula the movements of the greatest bodies of the universe and those of the lightest atom; for it, nothing would be uncertain and the future, as the past, would be present to its eyes.21

For others, the celestial machines served, and continue to serve, as reminders of subtler correspondences between Macrocosm and Microcosm, or the relevance of the starry wisdom of the past, to the practical needs of the present and future. These may adhere even if it is true that astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

Recommended reading for robomancers

Notes and References

  1. Here is an article by Truitt about Cohen’s “Automata in Myth and Science”.
  2. There is an English edition and translation by Glyn S. Burgess, published by Garland in 1988, but I have not read it.
  3. For one description of the throne, see Moses Gaster, Chronicles of Jerahmeel, 1899, pp. 252 & 253.
  4. John Mandeville, The Voiage and Travaile of Sir John Maundeville, Kt., 1725, p. 261. The 1839 and 1866 copies that Google has are quite nice, but I remain a fan of the long ?’s in the 1725 ed.
  5. “What is a robot, really? What does this word even mean? I went to Tokyo to find out. […] During my travels to Tokyo I decided that a robot is something that is part myth, part tool.” — Mark Stephen Meadows, We, Robot: Skywalker’s Hand, Blade Runners, Iron Man, Slutbots, and How Fiction Became Fact, Guilford: Lyons Press, 2011, p. 7.
  6. Max von Boehn, Puppets and Automata, New York: Dover, 1972. The first chapter is appropriately named, “Automata and Moveable Images.”
  7. A couple of old sources connect tresgeter to trasgeter or tregettyn, both meaning “to juggle” (cf. juggler, magician, le bateleur). Spencer, The Færy Queene Book 2, Oxford, 1910, p. 294. Mayhew and Skeat, A Concise Dictionary of Middle English from A.D. 1150 to 1580, Oxford, 1888, p. 236.
  8. Two common definitions of nature are (1) “what is free from human intervention and artifice, what comes into being and runs its course without benefit of man’s assistance or his contaminating infuence,” and (2) “a type of activity that originates within the agent, more or less spontaneously, and is not the exclusive resultant of forces opposed on the object from without” (citation to follow). “Combining the two senses, we may characterize the world of nature as what is capable of coming into existence apart from human influence and as made up of things that have within themselves internal natures or internal sources of their distinctive qualities. Nature is thus populated by plants and animals of various kinds, by chemical elements and compounds, by hosts of elementary particles, by galaxies, stars, and planets, all of which come into being and pass away and yet enjoy periods of relative stability during which they respond to, or interact with, objects around them. Some natures are animate whereas others are inanimate, yet all are knowable through observable properties and behavioral characteristics. To say of something that it is sulphur, or a geranium, or a horse, is to specify its nature; this we learn not merely from its appearance but from the way it acts and reacts in a variety of circumstances. Thus understood, there is something more enduring about natures than there is about the individuals that instantiate them. A plant may die, and when it does it ceases to be, say, a geranium, but its perishing does not entail that the nature of geranium ceases also. Other plants may continue to exist of which it is true to say ‘This is a geranium’, and thus the nature has a less transient character than the individuals of which it is predicated.” William A. Wallace, The Modeling of Nature: Philosophy of Science and Philosophy of Nature in Synthesis, Washington: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996, pp. 3 & 4.
  9. “Art is the expression of the self. The more complicated and restrictive a method is, the less opportunity there will be for the expression of one’s original sense of freedom! The techniques, though they play an important role in the early stage, should not be too restrictive, complex, or mechanical. If we cling to them we will become bound by their limitations. Remember, you are ‘expressing’ the technique and not ‘doing’ the technique. When someone attacks you it is not technique number one (or is it technique number two, stance two, section four?) that you are doing, but the moment you are ‘aware’ of his attack you simply move in like sound and echo without deliberation. It is as though when I call you, you answer me, or when I throw something to you, you catch it. That’s all.” — Bruce Lee, “My View on Gung Fu,” in John Little (ed.), Bruce Lee: Artist of Life, Boston: Tuttle, 2001, p. 30.
  10. See Encyclopædia Britannica Online, s.v. “philosophy of art”, accessed February 20, 2016, While I appreciate the philosophy and occasional praxis of artistic formalism (cf. object-oriented ontology, and Bogost’s alien phenomenology), as an occultist I am usually expressing occult ideas in art, rather than producing art for art’s sake.
  11. “But my son Hephæstus whom I bare was weakly among all the blessed gods and shrivelled of foot, a shame and a disgrace to me in heaven, whom I myself took in my hands and cast out so that he fell in the great sea.”—“Hymn III to Pythian Apollo,” Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns, and Homerica with an English Translation by Hugh G. Evelyn-White, London: William Heinemann, 1914, p. 347.
  12. Norbert Wiener, God & Golem, Inc.: A Comment on Certain Points Where Cybernetics Impinges on Religion, Cmabridge: The M.I.T. Press, 1964, pp. 30 & 31.
  13. Daniel A. Schulke, “The Perfum’d Skull: A Devotional Mass for Cain the Tiller,” The Cauldron 116, May 2005, pp. 27–29. An abridged version is included in The Psalter of Cain, Xoanon, 2012, pp. 50 & 51.
  14. Philip K. Dick, “The Android and the Human,” 1972. (Delivered as a speech at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, in February 1972. First published in SF Commentary #31, December 1972.)
  15. “An Interview with Jean Dubuis,” with Mark Stavish, interviewer.
  16. It is uncertain how far Western esotericism reaches into Freemason history. When I have more time, I will return here to include a few resources about that.
  17. The connection between Fontana’s machines and magic is mentioned in Richard Kieckhefer’s Magic in the Middle Ages, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990, 101. You can read a facsimile of his book, Bellicorum Instrumentorum Liber, here.
  18. The quote is from Benedek Láng, Unlocked Books: Manuscripts of Learned Magic in the Medieval Libraries of Central Europe, University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008, p. 71. Konrad is also mentioned in Magic in the Middle Ages, ibid. You can read a facsimile of his book, Bellifortis, here.
  19. John Dee, The Mathematicall Præface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara, 1570. The translation is mine.
  20. There are mechanical philosophers and there are mechanical philosophers. Cf. electric monks, not to be confused with clockwork monks.
  21. Pierre Simon Laplace, A Philosophical Essay on Probabilities, trans. by Frederick Wilson Truscott, New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1902, p. 4.