You’ve tried the dating apps.
You’ve swiped.
You’ve matched.
You’ve exchanged messages with somebody whose entire personality appears to consist of liking restaurants and travelling.
Perhaps you’ve even paid for the privilege.
And yet you’re still sitting there thinking:
Is this really how I’m supposed to find somebody?
Perhaps not.
So cancel the subscription.
We’re going to use magick instead.
Obviously.
Welcome to Amour Magick.
The objective isn’t to psychically enslave the attractive person three doors down.
We’re doing something considerably more interesting.
We’re going to cast a glamour over your probability field and see who appears.
Whether any invisible force is actually involved is entirely beside the point.
Something will change.
Even if the only thing affected is you.
And sometimes that’s enough.
DON’T LOOK FOR YOUR SOULMATE
This is our first rule.
Don’t specify the person.
I’d go further.
Don’t even specify too precisely what the person should be like.
“I summon a 37-year-old, raven-haired Jungian psychotherapist who likes Joy Division, dislikes package holidays and lives within seven miles of Ipswich.”
You’ve rather defeated the purpose.
Instead formulate the underlying result.
Perhaps:
I ATTRACT SOMEONE I FIND FASCINATING WHO FINDS ME FASCINATING.
That’s considerably better.
We’re interested in reciprocity.
Conversation.
Curiosity.
Chemistry.
Somebody you can talk to without secretly wondering whether chewing your own arm off might provide a socially acceptable means of escape.
Then leave the delivery mechanism alone.
That’s where the adventure starts.
CASTING THE GLAMOUR
Glamour is an old magickal idea.
At its simplest, it’s enchantment applied to perception.
You’re not necessarily changing your face, body or clothes.
You’re changing the signal.
Occultists might say you’re manipulating subtle energies.
A psychologist might say you’ve changed your expectations, attention, posture and behaviour.
A neuroscientist might have another explanation.
I don’t particularly care.
Run the experiment.
There are dozens of ways to construct the operation.
Empty-hand magick.
Sigils.
Psionics.
Ritual.
Servitors.
Prayer.
Whatever system you’re currently using.
The system matters less than giving the intention sufficient charge.
THE PSIONIC VERSION
Here’s the abbreviated version.
Enter what I call boot.void.
Still the body.
Still the internal chatter.
Don’t strain after some mythical state of perfect mental silence. Just become quiet enough that you’re no longer constantly interfering.
Now place your attention around the solar plexus.
Imagine a sphere forming there.
Give it whatever sensory qualities arise naturally.
Heat.
Pressure.
Light.
Vibration.
Perhaps nothing visual at all.
Program your intention into it.
Something simple:
I ATTRACT MUTUAL FASCINATION.
Let the sphere build.
Now imagine it moving out of your body until it’s suspended in front of you.
Bring in the body.
Tense the abdomen.
Arms.
Hands.
Build physical and emotional intensity.
Feed that charge into the sphere.
Let it reach the point where holding it feels almost ridiculous.
Then:
Fire it.
Not at a person.
Into the world.
See the sphere accelerating away from you — into the ether, probability field, collective unconscious, simulation, imagination or whatever model you’re currently entertaining.
Let it explode.
Sparks everywhere.
The instruction broadcasting outward.
Then stop.
Operation complete.
Go and make a cup of tea.
OR USE A SIGIL
Chaos magicians will recognise the alternative immediately.
Write the intention.
Reduce it to one clean statement.
Strip it down.
Remove repeated letters if that’s your preferred method.
Combine what’s left into a glyph that no longer immediately reminds you of the original sentence.
That’s your sigil.
Then charge it.
Meditation.
Breath.
Rhythm.
Dance.
Exhaustion.
Laughter.
Emotional intensity.
Chaos magicians have devised innumerable ways of creating the brief altered state in which the symbol becomes more important than the chatter surrounding it.
Use whatever works for you.
Then put the sigil away.
Again:
Fire and forget.
I’m deliberately not giving the full Working Manual version here.
This is enough to run the experiment.
NOW COMES THE IMPORTANT PART
Go about your life.
But pay attention.
This is where the experiment becomes interesting.
You’re not hunting for a partner.
You’re observing changes in the field.
Perhaps you go somewhere you wouldn’t normally go and unexpectedly get talking to somebody.
Perhaps an everyday conversation in a shop continues several minutes longer than necessary.
Perhaps somebody makes you laugh.
Perhaps somebody’s gaze remains on you slightly longer than social convention requires.
Perhaps a friend unexpectedly invites you somewhere.
Perhaps you repeatedly encounter the same person.
Don’t immediately declare:
THE MAGICK IS WORKING!
Just note it.
There’s an enormous difference between observation and interpretation.
The game isn’t to start hitting on everybody who smiles at you.
The game is to become receptive to openings.
If somebody wants to continue talking, talk.
If the conversation is funny, let it be funny.
If nothing develops, nothing develops.
Don’t force the plot.
SYNCHRONICITY IS DATA, NOT INSTRUCTION
Suppose you perform the operation on Monday.
On Wednesday you go into a café you’ve never visited before.
Someone starts talking to you.
You discover an extraordinary number of shared interests.
Then you discover you were both inexplicably at the same obscure concert in 2009.
Interesting.
Write it down.
But don’t immediately conclude:
THE UNIVERSE HAS SENT MY DESTINED LOVER.
That’s how you become an idiot.
Synchronicity is interesting data.
It isn’t an instruction to abandon judgement.
Which brings us to the dangerous part.
YOU MAY SUMMON A SUCCUBUS
Or an incubus.
Congratulations.
Your love magick worked rather better than anticipated.
You’ve met somebody.
They’re fascinating.
Magnetic.
Sexy.
Unpredictable.
You can’t stop thinking about them.
Within three weeks your sleep is wrecked, you’ve stopped seeing your friends, your bank account has developed unexplained holes and you’re standing outside their house at 2:17 in the morning wondering what the hell happened.
Did you literally summon a succubus?
Probably not.
But don’t throw the model away too quickly.
The succubus and incubus are ancient images of attraction becoming consumption.
They can be useful precisely because you don’t have to believe they’re literal entities.
Perhaps this person has been shaped by their history, environment and relationships into something remarkably close to the archetype.
Perhaps you’re projecting the archetype onto them.
Perhaps you’re simply infatuated.
Perhaps something much stranger is happening.
You don’t need to decide.
The model gives you something useful:
Observe what the relationship is doing to you.
Are you becoming more alive?
Or less?
More yourself?
Or increasingly destabilised?
Interested?
Or obsessed?
Is the attraction reciprocal and basically good-natured?
Or have you entered a cycle of intensity, withdrawal, pursuit and emotional exhaustion?
The demonological language suddenly becomes rather useful.
Not because we’ve proved demons exist.
Because we’ve found an image that helps us see the pattern.
THE DISPASSIONATE OBSERVER
This is why Amour Magick requires one piece of consciousness work alongside the enchantment.
Keep part of yourself outside the story.
Observe.
Still mind.
Take in data.
You can be fascinated by somebody without immediately constructing a mythology around them.
You can experience powerful attraction without deciding it’s fate.
You can notice extraordinary coincidences without turning them into commandments.
And you can walk away.
That’s important.
Magick should increase your available choices.
If your “magick” progressively removes them, something has gone wrong.
MAKE REALITY MORE INTERESTING
That’s ultimately why I prefer this experiment to another month on a dating app.
Perhaps the magick does absolutely nothing supernatural.
Fine.
You’ve nevertheless altered the game.
You’re paying more attention.
You’re going places.
You’re noticing people.
You’re allowing conversations to develop.
You’re introducing randomness into routines that may have become remarkably efficient at ensuring you meet nobody new.
And you’re treating the search for another human being as an adventure rather than an algorithm.
Something might happen.
Nothing might happen.
Someone delightful might appear.
Someone completely unsuitable might appear.
You might accidentally summon an incubus.
Write it all down.
Just remember the standing rule:
DON’T BECOME AN IDIOT.
Cast the glamour.
Enter the world.
And see who looks back.
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