Every high street in the world is mired deeply in corporate insignia, each logo a packet of memetic information succinctly promising a certain service in exchange for monetary recompense. Interestingly, few stop to think about why each pictogram has become so ingrained in our collective psyche. Most instead accept the outcome without requiring intimate knowledge of how twin tailed mermaids trigger the internal desire for coffee on the long commute to work, or why the four colour windows on our desktop remind us to put the effort in once we get there.
Symbols are everywhere, and in the internet age even more so. While the average magickian has only a fraction of the required resources to set up a reality hack on the scale of corporations such as Starbucks or Microsoft, there is still much that can be learned from the methods of these awesome behemoths of capitalist desire. This article is designed to provide a number of techniques for triggering sigils through slow saturation as opposed to the classic fire and forget methodology once championed by Hine and Carroll, and also hint at more complex operations that can be undertaken by those who have the time to do so too.
The easiest application of subliminal memetics was heavily explored during the heyday of Technopaganism back in the late 1990’s. I am sure we have all seen patrons of Twitter or Facebook using mystical pictograms as profile images, yet the practice goes much farther back than that. Almost as soon as message boards were granted a graphical interface users of an occult persuasion began exploiting the attention of those scrolling past by openly displaying their latest sigils as avatars. Earlier still, certain BBS members would hide USCII code in their signatures in an effort to leverage a certain goal, be it for an internal or external outcome.
Of course, this technique works especially well when the sigil is designed to aid in the personal improvement of the magus themselves. Giving up junk food or fizzy drinks can be hard at the best of times, and even more so when those around you insist on continuing to indulge. A desire constantly reinforced by subliminal saturation while going about your daily business will help to stave off those cravings without the conscious mind ever realising that it is being subtly hacked in a manner similar to the corporate logos which saturate Western culture.
For those who would prefer a more interactive process than mundane online tasks such as answering your personal messages or sending email, video games can help. Clan banners or coats of arms stuck somewhere on a character prove exceptionally effective at carrying ideas into the deep mind. It is a simple fact that you soon stop paying any real attention to the Sigil flapping around on your cloak while trying to keep a three hundred plus kill-streak going, or mash the buttons furiously as yet another wave of goblins come over the horizon looking to use your skull as a chamber pot. While your eyes still see all, your brain will sift out the irrelevant details from the available stimulus and instead reroute all available energy towards telling your fingers the right combination of buttons needed to dodge that twelve tonne dragon.
This guarantees that the Sigil itself will get where it is most needed, and wait like a virus for the right time to counter strike reality in the name of your chosen goal. Nor should games that do not allow such artistic flourishes be overlooked as the statement of intent can instead be used as the name of your character or a cherished and heavily enchanted piece of armour. Moving away from Technopaganism, we also see many real world applications present themselves. For example, try using a pale grey Sharpie to sketch out your sigil near the centre of a large piece of acetate and cut it to the same size as a book that you are currently devouring.
The idea is to read through the transparency, and as your mind paints those guilty little pictures of Harry Potter doing something nasty with a filthy loo brush the intent will be absorbed too. This can even work when seen through the bottom of a glass as you drink away your troubles, piggybacking on the alcohol to get where you need it to go. Indeed that, as anyone with a conspiratorial view of advertising will tell you, is why those little cardboard beer mats have logos on in the first place. In general there is much to be gained from mastering the art of consciously unseeing the symbols that you create, and these ideas are but a few of many, many more.