In my adolescence, I flirted around the edges of the occult in the superficial way that butterflies sometimes flit among flowers. There were never any deep moments of penetration or real absorption, though I came close enough at one point to encounter something of that dangerous Pandora's box. Instinct made me back away from it, carefully, wary of things that lay beyond.
In researching my beleaguered latest erotic novella, which toys with divination and the Tarot, I came across a fascinating blog by a British professor, Jules Evans. I'm reposting it here, so I can find it in the future - and if anyone happens on my blog, they may also find his thoughts interesting:
Crowley's Children