The Western Gate

My Life with The Spirits
Lon Milo DuQuette
Weiser Books

Having reviewed Lon Milo DuQuettes book- The Tarot Architect, something strange occurred to me. It’s not that I write these reviews with a reason to influence, if you’ve laboured through more than a dozen of these then you’ll probably have heard me say that these reviews are in fact part of my gnosis, if you will, that making notes on what I’ve read in some way impresses the mind to remember it, and it works, instead of saying, “where did I read that bit about Dion Fortune exposing her bloomers to Crowley in the Café Royale.” (Didn’t happen by the way), then I can instantly remember. Critiquing something seems to carve out a niche in the brain to remember it by, like writing down a dream that would otherwise have been forgotten
In cases where I, and yeah it’s a subjective thing, haven’t been too impressed with a book, it doesn’t matter to me, and hopefully not to anyone else. However in the case of The Tarot Architect I was left after uploading my review a pang of guilt, have I deliberately been cold-hearted and dismissive. I don’t actually plan these rants out, I just type as if I’m speaking, mistakes and bad grammar and often digressing et al. I will re-read after uploading and then adjust bad spelling or expand a sentence, or maybe delete where no-one will have a clue what I’m talking about.
In The Tarot Architect as I read back the review it was almost as if I was suggesting the book was a bit of a cash-in and not really expanding my vision of the path of the Tarot, which is fair enough on the latter but not so the former. I dismissed DuQuette and even though I don’t know him, it didn’t feel right. And it was odd.

There was shadow work to be done here. What is this aversion, why does the cruel mock the innocent, the boy prods the girl in the school playground, calls her names, when really perhaps he quietly admires her, or sees in some of her faults~ himself, that he wishes to erase. Projection.
Now the best way to have empathy or understanding is to walk in their shoes. And the best and only way some wretch like me is ever going to meet/know someone is if they’ve got an autobiography.

It was so, that for a few pounds from World of Books I received DuQuettes small autobiography. An afternoon’s quick read.
Yeah, I like him.
It is odd that in my recent review of Claves Intelligentarium I bemoaned the fact that many of these, how to, books don’t give good accounts of the ritual, first hand, what happened, step by step, an historical report. Well, I then decided to upload my own account, I Summon a Demon, and then read DuQuettes book, which somewhat fills that gap, indeed, makes the whole rites and rituals normal, that we can see. Oddly he relates the story of the ‘Horse’ spirit Orabus, I, in my dabbling tried to bring forth Sallos, yet in stead (!) a horse figure came. My will was not really intent on the challenge, I just wanted to see if fate can be so meddled rather than actually desire/want/ care for the result. The session with the false Sallos was a chess of rhetoric and riddles. I don’t know who I summoned or whether Sallos has appeared as a Horse before.
Lon gives us likewise reports, both positive, negative and quirky.
I don’t know too many Americans, I am always dubious of the ‘Dream’ , Lon Milo was also, ‘dropping out’ and embracing the communal, hippy, kissing the hippy psychedelic dream instead. And that’s just what I would have done if I were a Baby Boomer.
It is a tale made more fascinating because it is believable, restrained and admirable. It doesn’t read like the Egoists and Narcissists and Power hungry beasts that I associate with our cousins over the pond.(I am always wrong here, I meet an American and we get on fine, I’ve yet to meet one where I can feel vindicated in my prejudice).
I was trying to work out who Lon Milo Duquette reminded me of, and why then did I have an almost sarcastic attitude to dismiss him as I did when I reviewed his book. The answer was surprising. It was my uncle Bill, he was a strange and fascinating person, being an uncle aside, he really was an interesting character. There was very little he didn’t know or couldn’t apply himself to. He was always calm and didn’t seem to worry about the usual pangs of life. He told me the Nan I never met was a renowned Tea-leaf reader, “but she didn’t really read the tea-leaves, just used that as a prop so as not to scare the people she was reading for, she just knew things.”
Uncle Bill played a game of Mastermind with me once. I selected five colours in a random sequence. Bill had to guess with his coloured pegs, and I would put a black peg under the right colour wrong position, or white peg right colour/right position. He guessed my sequence first time. I tried again, beginners luck, but he put out his guess, exactly the same. squinting and checking for reflections behind me or ways that he could see my pegs I tried again. Bill put out his pegs, correct guess, moaned that the game was boring and I objected, “You’re not supposed to guess correctly first time!” I said. So we had another go, his first guess was completely wrong, and then his second guess completely right. “I don’t believe this!” I said, Bill just responded, ” but you said don’t guess right first time.”

I therefore conclude, I like Don, and ok, The Tarot Architect wasn’t for me, but as Orabus and a False Sallos say, horses for courses.