As sometimes happens on occult message boards, a minor spat recently broke out. I had the audacity to tell someone how spirits work, and they were completely offended, even though they have never conjured a spirit in their life. How DARE I try to force my beliefs down someone else’s throat, right?

I mean yeah, that’s what I do all the time. I hang out behind abortion clinics with a Bible and a two-by-four, and when the women leave, at their most vulnerable, I teach them to do candle magic using the Psalms under penalty of many beatings. Oh, I make them read Timaeus and the Corpus Hermeticum at gunpoint too. Because that’s the kind of magician I am.

Right.

So anyway, one thing lead to another, and I had the urge to curse him, to teach him a lesson. Nothing major, just an initiation into Working with Spirits. The first lesson is recognizing the spirits are real and present. The best way to learn that is to have one pop up at 3:33 a.m. and say, “Hi!” while holding a Bible, some candles, a two-by-four, and copies of Timaeus and the Corpus Hermeticum. All in separate hands.

At least in my humble opinion.

So I picked the spirit, made sure it was something he could do. I checked in with my Agatha Daimon/HGA, and he said nothing particularly bad would happen as a result. As usual, he was not very forthcoming with helpful advice on how to torment the people I’m stuck sharing the planet with. I’ve learned not to ask.

So, with confirmation from my Daimon, and the Spirit ready and willing, I was all set to send off a Mercurial entity to mess with the dude’s life. A little bit. For fun. All I had to do was wait for the appropriate time to do the ritual.

So I killed some zombies.

After dying to a particularly cheatin’ ass Devil’s fireball that totally should have missed me, I waited patiently for the game to get to the level where the weapons started getting really good. I felt this sudden urge to meditate, a sensation like I was being called by a very familiar Voice.

I immediately moved my little guy behind some barricades, checked to make sure I didn’t need to pause the game, and answered that still small voice of my Lord.

The conversation wasn’t in words, exactly, but it went something like this:

“Hey, Jesus, how’s it going?”

“Not bad, I still hate that M&M joke, and I still forgive you for telling it. Again.”

“Heh heh, yeah…”

“Look, about cursing that incompetent ignorant uppity arrogant pipsqueak on that message board…”

“Yeah? He’s got it coming, my HGA said it’s cool, and he’s my own embodiment of the Logos, right? He’s like the Holy Spirit, so I can just do it, right, no problems?”

“No. Don’t curse him.”

“Oh, come on Jesus, please? He’s totally asking for it. He wants to be cursed. I promise, it won’t even hurt him. It’ll just ruin his fun this week. And make him realize there’s more to this magic stuff than he wants to admit. It’s healthy!”

“Nope. No cursing him.”

“Oh, alright, fine. Can I at least initiate him into Tiphareth via path 26 on the GD Tree of Life? That’s not a curse, it’s a blessing!”

“No. You can’t use the Devil for your own revenge this time. When he goes that way, it’s going to be part of my timing.”

“He’s not even a Christian!”

“I know.”

Things went on, but that’s the gist of it.

So I can’t curse him. Lucky son of a bitch, too, let me tell you.

We talked about why the HGA said it was at least ok, and yet Jesus wouldn’t let me. This messes with my understanding of the cosmos, after all. I tend to see my HGA as a little sliver of Christ that communes with the sliver of Christ in me. I tend to treat him as if he were Christ, in that I spend more time with him than with Jesus. He’s got access to everything I could get directly from Jesus, and he’s less awe-inspiring. I mean, he’s awe-inspiring, but you know, it’s like he’s in a form I can understand differently and Work with differently than the form of Jesus Christ who died on the cross for my sins. It’s my problem, I know, but every time I look at the scars it reminds me.

So I asked Jesus about that. He said the HGA is my assistant, my helper spirit. Like a familiar at this point. It’s not a moral compass. It doesn’t care about “Right” or “Wrong.” It knew this conversation would take place, and it went along with my plans anyway. I had relegated it in my expectations to a role it was content to function in for this particular task, and so Jesus stepped in on his own to explain things to me.

And explain things to me he did. The kid’s got his own problems and isn’t taking any of this as seriously as I am. He’s just farting around on the internet, and here I sit in my perfect job (I asked to be chained to a desk in my house instead of being chained to a desk at an office, and I got it), surfing the internet all day, playing video games, and hanging out with my family while I manage the documentation of a project remotely. I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than curse the dude. I’ve also been itching to do some magic, but I’ve done everything I wanted to do.

So, Jesus set me up with some more interesting projects, better uses of my time. I learned a little bit more about the “HGA.” I also learned a lot about the hypothalamus in the brain, and some other stuff.

Now, I can imagine how this sounds to a mostly non-Christian audience. Here’s Frater R.O., the neo-platonic magician, a Christian Conjuror who summons spirits most Christians call demons, talking to Jesus.

Really though, it’s not my fault. He called me.