As you may or may not know, I’ve had both formal and informal education as a magician, ritualist, and priest. Much of my formal education has come through participation in the Gay Men’s Mystery School in Chicago. My informal education comes from myriad teachers and spirit guides, along with a healthy obsession with the printed word. In all of that time I’ve come to respect many modes of learning, and see the value in each. One thing that I’ve noticed though, is that very few informal learning opportunities give you much of a chance to put what you’re learning into a larger context.

If you study ceremonial magic, asatru, condomble, hoodoo, or any other form of magic you learn a great deal about yourself and your ability (or lack thereof) to perform certain rituals, rites, miracles, and transformations. You also learn how to apply these techniques and where they may be best, or appropriately, used. But learning from books and experience doesn’t come with the attached knowledge of a teacher who has had these experiences, and who will help you find the pitfalls and dangers and warn you about them.

When was the last time you remember a nonfiction book on magic giving you anything but the most rudimentary of warnings or cautions about a technique? Cautions related to dangers of the technique itself, not the dogmatic, moral, or ethical implications of using the technique? I have trouble remembering any. On the other hand, my teachers have given me countless examples, anecdotes, and tales of how such and such technique could have an unintended consequence. I appreciate those warnings and that information that I’ve never gotten out of any book.

True, some of their warnings seemed obvious to me, but I’ve heard other people talk about making the same mistakes and how terrible their experience was, so clearly not everyone sees all the pitfalls of their art. This is something that bothers me about a lot of our writers, teachers, and even respected elders in the pagan and magical communities. There seems to be a lack of responsibility. They teach or preach whatever their students want without taking responsibility for the knowledge they’re disseminating, or its consequences.

Many people will tell you that if you hand someone a gun, you are not responsible for what they do with it. In some ways I agree. But what if the gun backfires because they don’t know how to clean it properly. Are you responsible for their lack of knowledge? At the very least, responsible gun ownership should dictate that you don’t give a gun to someone who doesn’t know how to use it properly.

It is the same with knowledge. It is irresponsible to share knowledge with people without ensuring that they know how to apply it properly. And if you do so, and they apply it improperly and cause trouble, in a very real way you are responsible.

I’m not big on the western concept of karma. I don’t believe that there is a cosmic checking account listing debits and credits in my name. But I do believe in taking responsibility for my actions. One of the things I was taught, that I take to heart and try to respect as much as possible, is that I am responsible for the actions of the people I have taught. If I teach you to shoot a gun, I am at least partially responsible for the people you kill with it. If I teach you to invade someones privacy, I am at least partially responsible for the damage you cause people. If I teach you to cross (curse) someone, I am at least partially responsible for the curses you cast.

That means that I won’t teach you these things unless I am reasonably assured you will use them responsibly. I’ve encountered precious few teachers who seem to share this concept or responsibility, or if they do they do not expound upon it, or impress it upon their students. On the other hand, I have met a great many spirits who will not give you the time of day if they feel you are acting irresponsibly. In this at least, I think it prudent for us to follow the example given in the spirit world.