Neither Either Or ∴ Haunt Manual ∴ Pragmagick

Welcome to an ongoing series entitled Haunt Manual that is both an audiocast and column on wethehallowed.org, with the full chapter on substack. In this fluid, multi-media grimoire I will document my ongoing praxis to commune with my contradictory ghost, to rediscover and reveal the tenets of our anarchic collective We The Hallowed, and discuss all artistic and magickal practices involved. The music beneath is an improvised audiomancy liminalstream I will be conjuring for each installment, you can view it in full at youtube.com/c/pragmagick

Artwork by Eric J. Millar of No Gods But My Own 

Read the full chapter on the brand new substack:

https://keatsross.substack.com/

∴ Intro

I am haunted. I find myself in a static stasis, reverberating in place. Like the Tower Card, it's as if I’m always exploding foundations and rebuilding in a constant loop. I often compare myself to the Dharma Bum, a beat-ific idea of anarchic freedom, snickering at the rubble and ash beneath, never tied to what came before. But the thing is, I am haunted. I am haunted by extremes - whether it‘s being an aloof instigator of a creative community, or a dogma-less routine-driven magician. I have never given proper communion to this ghost, this tether to all things pragmatic and artistic, this innate contradiction within all that I do. I would balk and run from memory, and find myself arrested as to where and how to move forward with nothing truly gained. In hindsight, it’s an old tale about doomed repetition. But I know this ghost simply yearns to be both, or something different altogether. How do I commune with this specter of self? How do I find the “third mind” of energetic revelation between the opposites I find myself forever wrestling. How do I, as a spontaneous creative, become a stable magician? Is it possible? The past few months I caught a whiff of being in front of the oncoming Tower. I can see the revolutions of self before me, whether it be behaviors and actions, or environmental interactions. Where will I be next year? Will anything be resolved? Will I continue to churn and burn through habitual sabotage and struggle? Perhaps it is time to finally consort the elements that birthed my contradictory ghost. My habitual process during these times of existential stre