by Young
There are western educated Muslim physicians, mullahs, and religious scholars that are against these inhuman practices but are inclined to attribute difficult cases to possession. It is without a doubt that clerics believe in the powers of jinns. They would no more question the existence of jinns than they would the Quran.
In my opinion, the Islamic strategy to win souls is through divine protection via Allah or jinns. Hearts and minds will then follow their belief system. These were my brushes with Islamic magick that left strong marks, which is difficult to dislodge after I left my harem services.
Boys, I look forward to your contributions on this magickal topic.
Best wishes,
David
In The Kasbah (Chapter Thirty-Four)
“Magick is the art and science of causing change to occur in conformity to will.”
Aleister Crowley
First Week of November 1968
Kasbah Tamadot, Atlas Mountains, Morocco
Count Mario Conti, the Italian socialite, had friends around the world and Morocco was no exception to the rule. An invitation arrived from the Count’s Italian compatriot, Señor Luciano Tempo for our entourage to reside at his country estate, The Kasbah Tamadot; located at the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. This Venetian was an interior designer and antique dealer in Carmel, California. He fell in love with the richness of Moroccan style and hospitality. While air-ballooning across the Atlas, he stumbled across a splendid villa in southern Marrakesh and took on the challenge to restore this ruined kasbah to its former glory. In the process, he added his individualistic indulgence in comfort and luxury to his fortified dwelling. Every room and surface were a feast for the eyes. While the decorative ensemble pays homage to traditional Moroccan style, the intricate details were pure Luciano Tempo. Although antiques and artifacts juxtapose in dizzying profusion, it was decorated with a sense of proportion than clutter. This interior designer had made it his life’s mission to reconstruct this ancient habitat to its former glory until he sold it to Sir Richard Branson in later years and became one of the most spectacular Virgin Limited-Edition hotels in Morocco.
When we were guests at Mr. Tempo’s magnificent estate, refurbishing was still in progress. In preparation for our Atlas Mountain hike, we rested our tired feet at this luxury outpost. Kasbah Tamadot was also the final destination of our North Africa tour before Andy, and I joined Tad and Curt in Buenos Aires as cheerleaders to the sportsman international polo tournament.
Kasbahs are to Morocco what castles were to medieval Europe. These bastioned domiciles once housed the region’s nobility. The high crenelated walls, towers, and interior courtyards protected them from unwarranted invaders. In 1968, dotted around the southern Moroccan landscape were ruined kasbahs - some deserted and some inhabited by squatters.
Upon our arrival at Kasbah Tamadot, I was surprised to find Tad and Eberhardt. Together with another unexpected guest, they had turned up unannounced. She was none other than Prince P’s American girlfriend, Anastasie. This beautiful female decided to join her prince charming in between her numerous modeling assignments. Little did we know that her arrival would lead to a feud between her and the musicologist, Mariam.
Dinner Conversations
The dining-room in Luciano’s Kasbah, where the ceiling bordered with 17th-century Burmese prayer books and silver Berber wedding-belt buckles adorned with the auspicious hand of Fatima were used as napkin rings; our entourage was served a scrumptious dinner by local servants. A pair of enormous sculpted Thai fish stood guard at the edge of the central courtyard’s pool, where schools of golden carps swam playfully in response. Mr. Tempo hosted this lavish soiree to honor the arrival of his princely guests - Prince P and Sheik Fahrib and their entourages.
As we watched the setting sun disappear behind the High Atlas Mountains, Tad asked our host, “How did you chance upon this winsome place?”
“Ahh! It’s a dramatic story. Are you sure you want to hear my boring narration?” Luciano answered musingly.
We nodded chucklingly.
He resumed, “Several years ago, I nearly plummeted to death on those very peaks (he pointed to the mountainous backdrop) during an ill-fated balloon expedition launched from Marrakech. The helium in my balloon contracted more than expected as the night air replaced the Moroccan sunshine. My companion and I fired our burners in vain. We plummeted at a rate of 2,000 feet per minute from 20,000 feet above sea level. We thought to leap into the darkness in an attempt to land by parachute, but the rocky and uninhabited ground offered little chance of survival. So we dumped weights over the sides to slow the fall.”
He paused to puffed his cigar and sip his Cabernet Sauvignon before he re-commenced, “We hurled everything out the door. Suitcases, our clothes and a bag full of money. It was worth losing a bit of money because we managed to stop before the balloon hit the ground. We were also able to stabilize the balloon and remained afloat throughout the night. The next morning a squadron of heavily armed Algerian soldiers found us and brought us to a local warlord in the middle of the Sahara.”
“It was a sort-of-luxurious kidnapping,” he jested. “We told the warlord that we would love to go home, but he kept us as ransom. I spotted this tranquil ruin when the president of Algeria finally sent a helicopter to rescue us.
“I decided to purchase the fortress to commemorate my air-balloon adventure. I fell in love with the property and made it my mission to refurbish this enchanted fortress,” Señor Tempo iterated.
“What a magical story,” Mario exclaimed. “While we’re here, I want to do a fashion shoot in hot-air balloons across the Atlas.”
“That can be arranged,” his compatriot announced. “It’s a great way to see these magickal cordilleras.” Again, he pointed to the panoramic backdrop.
Two days after our arrival at Kasbah Tamadot, it was arranged that we sojourn by air balloons up the Atlas. This adventure would prove censorious to both Mariam and Anastasie as their feud took on a new meaning to the term - “superbitches.”
Third Week of September 2014
Andy’s Response to David’s “Magickal” Email, c/c to Me
Hi David,
In response to your “Magickal” message; I suggest we first examine the term Magic or Magick. These are general names given to all kinds of arts that produce demonstrable effects in shifting the balance of the universal aura known as Cár’áll or Styrásh-cár’áll. These effects may result in a person’s advantage or harm. Such a shift of universal energy/aura can either be attained through the efforts of a trained mind, through the wanted or unwanted assistance of supernatural forces or departed spirits or by an intentional or arbitrary mastery of nature’s secret forces. Magick can be cast intentionally by almost anyone who can establish contact with the aura through a direct channel.
There are many aspects of magic that are unexplained, especially the kinds that happen accidentally or intentionally. Like in life and death situations where folks who have never cast spells had managed to survive through supernatural assistance, which they had somehow manufactured on their own.
One explainable example is the magical manifestation of the will. It is this principle that all magical theories are based. The first thing apprentices at the Mages’ Academy of Xima (Institute of Magic or School of Magic) learn, is The Sentences of Will – the ability to master one’s own will. The Sentences of Will are not only applicable to individuals but also to nature. Although this theory is heavily disputed among Santharian scholars; for me, it is the most probable.
The Power of Will
The main implication to The Sentences of Will is that the might of magick is strongly related to willpower; where the spell caster’s power of imagination can determine the Magic’s intensity. Therefore, mages with a lack of focus or intelligence are incapable of casting powerful or destructive spells.
Not only was the Moroccan Thaumaturgist you mentioned, perceptive; she was also focused on her drive to succeed. Amira firmly believed t
hat her magical charms could assist Shabana to conceive an heir to inherit her husband’s fortune.
The tools used by mages who lack willpower is to enhance the caster’s ability to focus on his/her mental energies and to transform auras to their desired effect.
Tools commonly used by sorcerers, sorceresses, wizards, and witches are:
Magical formulas: These incantations are recited aloud when spells are cast during focus magic. Recitations are a central part of Elemental Magic; although Clerical Mages also recite short prayers that resemble magical formulas.
Spell Books and Tomes of Prayers: While Elemental Mages use Spell Books; clerics prefer to utilize Tomes of Prayers. The differences are - Spell Books contain magical formulas to cast spells while Tomes of Prayers include mantras and short prayers to wield their influences. A mage and cleric usually carry such a book with him/her to transcribes newly learned spells into their volumes.
Runes and Symbols: In physical form runes and symbols can be drawn in the air, on a piece of cloth or on the ground. The drawing of runes or symbols can transfer the caster’s magical energy into these signs and channel its power into physical form. This technique is used to create Spell Scrolls. If these runes and symbols already exist in a definite matrix, a mage can use this mold to transcribe the spell into his/her Spell-Book.
Reagents: This application is usually used by Elemental Mages to cast lower level spells to achieve the desired effects. Novice mages often carry pouches with strange items like snake skins, dried rat blood, garlic, sulfur or dark earth. These are similar to Amira’s vials and bottles of “unknown” liquids that you described. These items assist the caster in guiding his/her spell towards the desired direction. Reagents are consumed by the energies of the spell and cannot be rehashed.
Spell Scrolls: These parchments are used to cast spells instantly. This magical activation will drain less of the caster’s energy. The only drawback is the Spell-Scrolls can only be used once before they crumbled to dust.
Artifacts: These religious relics work as a catalyst to conjure, add, disrupt or redirect other spells. They are also used to improve the defensive or offensive skills of the wearer.
Joining of Wills: This is the combination or the joining of magical strength by two or more mages to achieve a similar goal. This act adds to their willpower and to amplify their focus to become more potent. This is a technique Weavers (a secret mage organization who are capable of weaving strands of raw magic as a group) frequently used to release complicated magick formations.
Although these optional tools are used to cast magic easily and efficiently; nearly all spellcasters cannot do without them. In truth, the fewer tools a mage requires, the more formidable his/her willpower.
I will illuminate you further if you are interested. If you have any “Magickal” questions you would like to fire my way, I’ll do my best to answer.
For now, I bid the both of you well.
Andy
Last Week of September 2014
My Questions to Andy and David’s “Magickal” Emails
My dear ex-Big-Brother,
Can you tell us how you know so much about magical applications? Since when did you transform yourself into a sorcerer? Or are you a wizard?
David, was the E.R.O.S./V.T.A. recruit (the one who copulated with Shabana with Mustafa’s enchanted sperm smeared on his penis) indicted, incarcerated or sentenced to death? What happened to the secret society? Was it exposed during the trial?
Both your emails are beguiling. I’m eager to learn more. ??
Yours truly,
Young
The Pursuit of Happiness (Chapter Thirty-Five)
“There is no such thing as the pursuit of happiness, but there is the discovery of joy.”
Joyce Grenfell
Third Week of August 1968
Rules Restaurant, London, England
The week Andy and I spent with my surrogate dad and my mother flew by quickly. My lover was super-attentive to the beloved Mrs. Foong. She, in turn, wasted no time to shower my Valet with praises for his gallantry. Andy’s gentlemanly charm had won over my mom and her coterie. After mother and her entourage departed to Malaya, Andy and I stayed with Uncle James for an additional day before we returned to Daltonbury Hall.
The evening before Andy and I were scheduled to leave for school, the three of us had a heart-to-heart talk at Rules; London’s oldest and one of the most celebrated restaurants in the world.
Over two hundred years and spanning the reigns of nine monarchs, Rules has been owned by three families. Just before The Great War; Charles Rule, a descendant of the founder, thought of moving to Paris. By sheer coincidence, he met a Briton by the name of Tom Bell, who owned a Parisian restaurant called the Alhambra. The two men agreed to swap businesses. During the war, Mr. Bell, an officer in the Royal Flying Corps left the running of Rules to Charlie, the Head Waiter, who had served Charles Rule for many years.
During the second world war, Rules structure was reinforced with thick wood if German bombs fell on its premise. The restaurant also remained open from 1PM to 3PM to offer the compulsory rationed meals at five shillings and was the only eatery to serve copious rabbits, grouse, and pheasants that were not distributed.
It was in this historic establishment that Uncle James enquired of my lover, “Andy, what are your plans for the future?”
My Valet answered without a thought, “To look after Young.”
“That’s well and good but what is your plan when you leave Daltonbury Hall at the end of the year?” the Englishman queried lightheartedly.
“I applied to several universities in Australia and New Zealand to pursue an engineering degree,” Andy replied.
“How do you plan to look after Young when the both of you are oceans apart?” my uncle queried.
“I hope Young will go with me Down Under to pursue his fashion studies,” my lover opined.
Although I knew my chaperone had plans to further his education in engineering, I did not expect him to drag me to the opposite end of the world, where fashion was a non-existential humdrum byproduct instead of a celebrated art form like London, Paris or Milan.
I was immersed in thoughts when Pinkerton directed his question to me, “What are your thoughts on this, Young?”
I replied halfheartedly, “It’s all too sudden. I’ve to sleep on it.”
My lover glared at me incredulously as if I had committed a crime by not agreeing to his proposition immediately. I felt guilty and avoided eye contact with my chaperone.
“This is an important decision for Young. He should have time to think it over,” James declared.
I announced suddenly, “Like Andy, who had given his time to care for me, I also wish to be a Big-Brother and mentor to a new E.R.O.S. recruit. I like to volunteer my time to prime a Daltonbury Hall freshman before I enroll to a fashion college.”
My surrogate father opined, “That’s a great conviction I cannot dispute. I admire your intrepidity. How do you feel about this, Andy?”
“I can’t disagree with Young’s altruistic certitude. I guess I’ll have to be a Big-Brother for another year to wait for this chap to complete his mission. Then we can depart Down Under for our further education,” my lover remarked.
My uncle evinced, “Andy, you have to follow your passion instead of putting your life on hold. If your heart is not fully engaged in the pursuit of your dreams, you’ll not be happy with yourself and Young.”
“I’ll be happy wherever Young is. I cannot do without him,” Andy proclaimed.
“Ahh! The beauty of young love is much to be admired and misprized. I suggest you, guys consider your propositions carefully before jumping to a conclusion you’ll regret,” James advised.
Just then, a waiter arrived to take our order.
As soon as the man departed, Pinkerton resumed, “Andy, you are an intelligent chap. I’m sure you are aware that happiness is elusive, and it is also a state of well-being that encompasses living a good
life. In short, with a sense of meaning and deep satisfaction.
“From my experience, happiness is not to feel good all the time. An even-keeled mood is psychologically healthier than a mood in which one achieves great heights of happiness regularly. After all, what goes up must come down. I call this ‘The Up-side of Feeling Down.’ Negative emotions do us great favors. They save us from ourselves. In my line of work, I’ve asked many of my clients and friends what makes their lives worth living? They usually cite things that they find meaningful, such as their work or relationships instead of their mood. That’s why I want you guys to be sure that the decision you make is the right choice for the both of you.”
“Your advice is an obeisance I’ll take to heart, sir. Do illuminate us further,” Andy commented.
“Andy, you are such a gentleman. Young is lucky to have you,” my uncle remarked zealously.
James gave me a mischievous wink before he resumed, “While living below the poverty line makes it hard to be happy, happiness is not about being rich or being able to afford everything you want to purchase. Money can’t buy happiness. The exception to this rule is when you spend your hard-earned money on experiences with other people.
“For example, if you took the bonus you earned and went on a new and exciting weekend getaway with your friends or family, then you might feel happier. However, this is rarely the way people choose to disburse their windfalls. Most likely, they would use the money on themselves to give their egos a boost. While this excites them temporarily, it is only a matter of time before their expectations change to fit their new budget. Before they know it, they are just as happy or unhappy before they received the bonus.