The Little Book of Demons. Ramsey Dukes

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      We all need an escape from the pressures or monotony of real life at times, and religion and science offer welcome alternatives—just don’t confuse them with reality. Chess is a wonderful mental exercise, but it doesn’t wash the dishes.

      So look at that copier and simply ask “How does it know I am in a hurry?”, and a new, more complex relationship develops between you and the copier.

      But surely, isn’t complexity at the heart of the problem? What you want is just to simplify the relationship back to master and obedient, mechanical slave? The answer is that complexity is a nightmare when thinking mechanistically, but it is a richness when personifying. For our personifying skills are nourished by complexity in relationship: handling complexity and multiple parallel processing are what personal interactions are all about.

      The copier is now no longer a dead object, it is a new recruit to the office team and a new relationship to explore. How do we behave towards it? With fear? With contempt? With reverence or politeness? By bullying or cajoling?

      A beautiful affair is about to begin and discretion now invites me gently to draw closed the curtains of the boudoir, but not before a final moment of speculation as to what might be the answer to that magic question.

      How does it know I’m in a hurry? Maybe I slam the lid down harder when I’m rushed? Or maybe I don’t allow time enough to warm up? Or maybe I press the buttons so impatiently that a loose connection is displaced?

      If your new friend does reveal its secret, the chances are that the answer will prove quite banal— ‘mechanical’ indeed. But that does not mean that it would have been more quickly discovered by thinking along mechanical lines and doing a series of tests designed to ‘eliminate extraneous factors and isolate the problem’.

      Mechanical answers are not the antithesis of the personifying approach, but merely a small subset of it. For even when we deal with real human beings and ask, say, “why does this person become a murderer?” the answer may prove quite mechanical— along the lines of a bullying father plus a genetic disposition—but the same principle holds: namely that the answer will generally reveal itself more quickly to one who treats the subject as a human being rather than an object for experimentation.

      So, have I persuaded you to abandon mechanistic thinking and to personify the world instead?

      If so, then I must hastily retract. For we live in a society where magic is an anathema that has been hounded for a thousand years. However sound you consider the above argument, its practice will ruin you: for copiers are not intended or designed to be personified in our society.

      A copier is painted a dull beige colour to depersonalise it. You are not meant to winkle out its whims but rather to treat it like a slave object. When it protests you are meant to replace it—that is the quick solution by which the mechanistic thinkers leapfrog the speedy subtleties of magic.

      To succeed in life you chuck out office equipment as soon as it comes alive and reveals its character, for it is but an object like the staff you should sack as soon as their performance figures drop. You may detect a sneer between the lines of my writing, but even I recognise that this is how it is and how society works.

      Lorry-loads of old copiers dumped in some field of sorrows for showing a moment’s weakness and humanity; huddled for comfort in awkward postures against the oxidising rain, and sobbing toner into an already-poisoned soil. A field has become a tip, lifeless acres to be traded, just like the ‘lives’ of those who do the trading. Thus the wheels of commerce turn, the world, the flesh and all non-godly spirits are demoted and denied and religion and science have triumphed.

      So do not abandon mechanistic thinking, just allow a new member into the family. Magic will be bullied by its older siblings, but will survive and enrich their lives with challenge. For they are far too comfortable in their victory.

      We began with an errant office copier—but it could have been anything.

      Have you not seen cars personified? In a street near mine there is one with a veritable beach of shells, pebbles and driftwood glued across the expanse of black plastic above the dashboard. I doubt if this is consciously done in the name of magic, as it is more likely to be considered as ‘folk art’—the permitted ghetto for feelings in our society. If the motive inclines toward self-expression and inner need, then art is indicated, but if the motive inclines towards outer purpose then magic is a truer dwelling. As a magical act it might soothe the driver, affirm the owner’s rebel status, express a loving relationship with the car and its role in the priesthood of Mercury. It might even be a response to malfunction when the driver is in too much of a hurry.

      Nor is it just machines that can come alive in this fashion. Try talking to your plants as you tend the garden, as many a beekeeper talks to the hives. I have enjoyed the most sublime intellectual and philosophical discussions with my cats—who prove even better listeners than the average Oxbridge scholar, and far more patient for they show greater restraint in not interrupting to put forward their own theories. The fundamental thesis of this very chapter has already been rehearsed before a small cactus on my desk—prickly company at the best of times and yet respectfully silenced on this occasion by the force of my conviction.

      Everything comes alive when you trade soul substance in this way instead of hoarding it. For I am not just advocating that we see soul in external objects but also in patterns of manifestation.

      Was it the office copier that misbehaved? Or was it the car, the traffic lights or your children who played up when you were most pre-occupied? Or... maybe... they all behave in this way?

      If everything seems to conspire to trip your progress whenever anything important is trying to happen, then recognise the guiding presence behind it all, for you are being plagued by a demon. Name it, honour it, reach out to it and the adventure begins.

      Or dismiss it all as “coincidence” and you will remain forever safe—as a prisoner is safe in the familiarity of his cell.

      So who is this demon that forever seeks to forestall your progress? Why has it attached itself to you and who profits from its machinations?

      Prepare to be surprised by the answers, for the relationship between people and other demons is not mechanical in essence but complex. You may not want the constant drag on progress but consider: what would be the alternative? If everything worked out and you became an overnight success, would you love your new state, or would it prove so terrifying that you would prefer the old familiar feeling of failure? A demon can serve at the same time as it persecutes, and therein lies its true power.

      In this last example I have apparently replaced a family of souls—a car, a copier, the traffic lights, the children—with a single demon. But the method is not reduction so much as multiplication, for any cluster of phenomena can be unfolded into a far larger number of interrelationships every one of which can form a demonic pattern. Like layers of an onion, not only has the world come alive, but it has revealed depth upon depth of layers of life and meaning.

      Behold! I invited you to give away a little of your soul consciousness, to project it into the environment, and you have reaped a whole universe of meaning and meta-meaning!

      Has any demonic pact of fable ever delivered so faithfully and so richly?

      PART TWO

      PERSONAL DEMONS

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