Creating a Servitor

What is a Servitor?

Artificial Elemental, Golam/Golem, Enlivened Thoughtform, Servitor; all these names and more share a general definition, ‘An isolated lesser spirit created and tasked by a magical practitioner’ [my definition]. Servitors are isolated and lesser spirits because of their site-specific (or person-specific) influence, and because they have neither command nor dominion over others. Servitors function solely on behalf and benefit of the magical practitioner. However, this does not mean that they can not stray from their objective. Forgotten or taskless, a Servitor may ‘turn feral’, not unlike how an abandoned domesticated hog will transform into a wild boar. This can happen in a variety of ways, though it happens most often when a magical practitioner does not provide a definitive end for the Servitor. I have also seen this happen when a magical practitioner dies before the decommissioning of their Servitor. Years ago, I was asked to remove a maddened and listless artificial elemental (also known as a Servitor) from a cemetery in Mystic, Connecticut. It took the form of a grey short-haired hound with an abstracted human face. Though its creator died centuries ago, it remained by their grave and would audibly growl and bite at the legs of visitors. The reasons for its decommissioning will be explained later.

In recent times, the Servitor has been compared to a computer script. Written in code to run a specific task, the Servitor knows only their function and will carry it out effectively. The comparison to a computer script is apt but too lifeless an image for my liking, and it does not fully reflect the embodied nature of the Servitor. Also, like a script, a Servitor may be tampered with and adjusted by its creator. 

The most well-known example of a Servitor might be the legend of the Golam/Golem (Hebrew for ‘servant’) of Prague. One of the stories goes that in the 1700s, Rabbi Liwa (also called Rabbi Löw) was seeking a way to protect the Jewish people from a plague. Known to have the power to transform the four elements into living beings, Rabbi Liwa molded an enormous humanoid form from the mud of the Vltava River. The Golem was brought to life by the insertion of a clay tablet bearing the name of God into its mouth. Every Shabbat, Rabbi Liwa would replace the clay tablet with another, which caused the Golem to rest. However, one Friday night, the Rabbi forgot to do this, and as soon as he recited Psalm 92 to mark the beginning of Shabbat, the restless Golem wreaked havoc upon the ghetto. Thankfully for Rabbi Liwa, the solution was as simple as removing the clay tablet from its mouth. It is said that the Golem was never again awakened and was stored in the attic of the synagogue. 

It is known that Rabbi Liwa was a historical figure and a Jewish scholar. The earliest account of his Golem is from Joseph Seligmann Kohn’s anonymously published novel, Der Jüdische Gil Blas (The Jewish Gil Blas). The date of publication is disputed, but it seems to have been written between 1834 and 1837, approximately a century after the Golem incident. Kohn wrote many other publications under other names, hence the confusion. The attic above the synagogue was eventually opened by the journalist Egan Erwin Kisch, but to his dismay, nothing was found. What became of the Golem remains a mystery.

Creating Your Servitor

Unlike Rabbi Liwa, you do not need to construct a golem to serve your needs (though if you do, tell me how it goes). The life of a Servitor starts with its purpose. What area of your life could use improvement? Are you in need of a research assistant? How about a guard dog? Or, do you need a reminder to clean your room? Of course, you could just hire an assistant, head to the pound, and clean your damn room, but where’s the magic in that?

Clearly writing the intent for the Servitor is paramount to its success. Do not write long paragraphs listing all the things you want it to do, nor a single word that lacks direction. For example, writing ‘assist’ does not provide enough information; assist with what, whom, why, and when? These should be clearly defined. A good example of this would be, ‘Assist me with research during work hours so that I may more easily find relevant information.’ This tells the Servitor what it is doing, for whom, when it should be doing it, and for what reason. 

You must also determine the “death date” of your Servitor. This date need not be a literal calendar day, but can be dependent upon the completion of its task. It can also be done before moving into a new home or, more drastically, before your death. My two most-used Servitors have separate death dates. One will be decommissioned if I should ever move into a new home, and the other before my death, should it not be unexpected. For our example, let us say that our research assistant is to be decommissioned upon completion of a written thesis paper.

After you’ve given your (so far imaginary) Servitor its task and instruction, now is the time to form its image. This is a fun way to use your creativity and talents. If you have a knack for drawing, this will be easier, but I firmly believe that everyone can do this to some degree. If you are inspired to sculpt your servitor, please do! What does your servitor need most to be able to carry out its task? Let us keep with the example of a research assistant. Presumably, it will need eyes and hands, or perhaps one big eye and a pair of talons; there is no need to keep it realistic, this is a spirit born of the imagination. Is there an animal that comes to mind when you think of a research assistant, perhaps one that folklore deems as wise? My first thought is of an owl. An owl has perceptive vision and talons of impressive finesse. This owl is now our research assistant. It also wears rounded spectacles and stands atop an open book.

Once you’ve drawn, sculpted, or otherwise fabricated your Servitor, it will need a name. Names can come to us while working on the thing at hand. This is certainly true of titles for paintings; they come to me in the doing. Mothers-to-be frequently think of names that they believe will suit their baby. Your Servitor will tell you its name. Our owl research assistant is named Rodney. 

As practitioners, we have the power to give life to the lifeless. We are not gods, but we do pluck at the web which connects all things. All matter is a result of the collective, or World Soul, without which there would be nothing but consciousness. We, as part of the whole, wield the power of creation and destruction. As an animist, I believe that all things contain life and are a part of this web. There is nothing in this universe that exists independently, not even in the vacuum of space. The creation and existence of our Servitor is no different. It is born of our intent, given form by our hands, and given life by our will. 

Let us review the facts thus far.

Occupation — Research Assistant

Task — Assist me with research during work hours so that I may more easily find relevant information.

Form — Drawing (sculpture, crocheted form, etc.) of an owl wearing glasses and standing atop an open book. 

Name — Rodney

Death Date — Rodney is to be decommissioned upon completion of my written thesis.

This next step should be done on a dark or new moon. 

In all caps and a single line, write the name and occupation of your Servitor like so: 

RODNEYRESEARCHASSISTANT

You will then cross out repeating letters and reveal which letters remain.

RODNEYRESEARCHASSISTANT

RODNEYSACHIT

With the remaining letters, you will create a sigil. This sigil gives your Servitor its identity. It imbues both its name and its occupation into its very being. Creating a sigil can be as straightforward or as complex as you want it. I recommend keeping it somewhat simple, as you will need to draw or etch (or embroider) it onto your Servitor. The sigil must include every letter, though some letters may be combined, such as H and I, I and T, or even O and C with an interjecting I. You get the idea. Below is just one example of what RODNEYSACHIT could look like as a sigil.

With your sigil complete, draw it at the center of a square piece of paper. The size of the paper does not matter as long as you can comfortably complete the next step. Around your sigil, you will write out, in unbroken script, the task of the Servitor. In our case, it will read,

AssistmewithresearchduringworkhourssothatImaymoreeasilyfindrelevantinformation. 

The chain of letters should not end midway, but the entire phrase may repeat if need be. This may take you several attempts to get it right. Below, I’ve provided an example of what it would look like without repeating the phrase.

At this step, you should now have 1) A physical form for your Servitor, 2) its sigil, which embodies its name and occupation, 3) its task written in unbroken script encircling its sigil, and 4) 2 and 3 on a square paper. The last step to be done during the dark moon is to charge the sigil upon the square paper.

Place your paper upon your altar and invite your Familiar (personal daimon) to aid you in your work. With your wand in your dominant hand, point or place it directly at or upon your sigil. Soften your gaze and steady your breathing while imagining the image of your Servitor upon the sigil. When doing this, I think of a hologram which slowly rotates and gains clarity the longer I stare. This sigil, with the projection of your will, contains the very life essence of your Servitor. Once you’ve established a clear vision of your Servitor, you must hold your breath. Hold it until it hurts. Hold it until you are at risk of fainting. Hold it until your lungs burn and your head feels light. Then breathe. Your sigil is charged with a small amount of your lifeforce and ready to pass it along to your Servitor. Place the form of your Servitor atop the charged sigil.

Every day, from the dark moon to the full moon, you will spend time with your Servitor. You will speak to it. Tell it how well it’s doing and how much you are looking forward to it becoming a part of your life. Remind it of its task and call it by its name. Do not stray far from its intended purpose, as it can only retain so much information.

On the night of the full moon, you will first draw its sigil onto its form and then breathe life into your Servitor. It has been growing steadily throughout the waxing of the moon and is now ready to be put to task. After you’ve drawn the sigil, hold the form of your Servitor and bring it close to your mouth. Speak and do the following:

”[Name], you are born of my intent. 

(Blow one long breath into its form.) 

[Name], you are given this form by my hands. 

(Blow a second breath into its form.)

[Name], you are given life by my will. 

(Blow a third breath into its form.)

So be it.”

Keeping Your Servitor Fed

Like all forms of life, your Servitor will require feeding to stay alert and on task. Offerings should be done on a schedule and reflect the nature of the Servitor. For example, I feed Robert Bailey, my assistant baker Servitor (I’m bad at baking), the first baked good each time I make cookies, cakes, or any other baked dessert. With each feeding, Robert Bailey becomes more invested in my baking and helps ensure that each batch is more successful than the last!

My other main Servitor, Bramble, takes the form of a toad and brings good luck into the house. I feed her rare coins and banknotes, should I happen to find them. Every Wednesday, I also place and light a small red candle atop her wart-covered back and say a short and simple charm — “Bramble, bramble, bring good news.”

Some ideas for offerings include songs, food, small items, acts of service, incense, light, water, alcohol, and blood (not recommended for beginners).

Decommissioning Your Servitor

Earlier, I had mentioned a time when I had been asked to remove a Servitor from a cemetery in Mystic, Connecticut. I had not known that it was a Servitor before encountering it, as it was initially described to me by my friend as a ghost dog elemental. This spectral dog was notorious for disrupting (I say enhancing) the nightly ghost tours of a historic cemetery. 

“Very often, people on the tour will see something,” he said. “We know the names of some of the spirits, so I tell the groups to address only the good ones, but sometimes the bad ones show up. There’s even a dog elemental who will bark and snarl at people during the late-night tours.” It wasn’t a problem until one night when a woman reported that she had been bitten in the leg by an invisible dog!

I inquired about his use of the word ‘elemental,’ and he said that it was the word that one of the other tour guides used to describe it. I thought back to Dion Fortune’s abbreviated definition of an elemental, “... many of these Elemental systems of reactions have, as it were, been domesticated by adepts. Elementals thus domesticated become imbued with consciousness of a human type. These developed, (or initiated) Elementals are sometimes met with by psychics.”  If true, this domesticated elemental would be nearly four centuries old. Without firsthand experience of this being, I could not disregard the possibility of it being an elemental nor give an educated opinion. Curious, I offered to visit the site remotely and report back with my findings. He accepted and told me only that the cemetery was in downtown Mystic, Connecticut, behind a True Value store.

A week or so passed before I was back home in Philadelphia and was able to prepare for the journey. The preparation included a twelve-hour fast and a circle casting. As with most of my journeys, I began by visualizing myself beneath the branches of a tree. This tree stands alone in a field so vast its edges are veiled by fog. The ground shifts under my feet, and I am dragged underground by its enlivened roots. I’m pulled lower and lower through the soil until I am released into a tunnel. It is dark and its length is long, but I have walked it many times. During the slow walk, I focus on my surroundings and let go of my thoughts of the day. As I wander deeper underground, I see a circular stone door before me. Using my wand, I cast a symbol that grants me access to the room beyond it.

“As I step over the threshold, I am dressed in a hooded dark blue robe. Here I am not wholly Erik, I am also someone else. Someone I once was? I step in and see that the room has remained relatively unchanged. Large mossy stones stand upright and in a spiral formation. At the center is a shallow pool of water. At the eastern edge of the water, lies a white stone slab. During this visit, it is my Familiar, Greylock, who stands atop it. He is pacing and eager to greet me.

Greylock expands to the size of a horse and motions for me to mount. I do so, and we enter the shallow pool, now deeper than a lake. We pass through the water and appear above Mystic, Connecticut. We fly over a bridge, above a white steepled church, over many streets and trees, and finally to a cemetery. As we land, I observe that just beyond a small iron fence and a line of trees is the True Value. Its red sign is ghastly bright in the dark of night. A narrow row of aged headstones is to our left, and ahead of us is a shadowed area beneath one of the larger trees on the site. 

I ask Greylock to patrol ahead and find this elemental before it has the chance to happen upon us. As he hops along the headstones, I see that he is suddenly startled by an aggressive bark. I run ahead and see a stout grey short-haired dog baring its teeth and standing guard over one of the graves. Its face is difficult to make out and not altogether hound-like.

Upon closer inspection, I see that its face is as human as it is a beast. Made manifest through extreme circumstances, this being is the result of a lifetime of torment, anger, fear, and paranoia. It is at this moment that I see the letters S-T-A upon the gravestone, but I cannot read them in full.

I look around and see that the graves here are as old as they can get in New England. Whomever this beast is guarding is long deceased. With my wand raised, I shield myself and Greylock from this tormented elemental. A large ball of blue light emerges from my solar plexus and ensnares it. Like a bug in a Venus flytrap, the ball of light holds the elemental in place. Feelings of immense empathy, anger, sadness, and finally relief come over me as it decomposes before my eyes. From flesh to bone, bone to ether, and ether to ash. I cast its ashes into the western wind and know it to be finished.”

With this artificial elemental, I used compassion and strength to put it to rest. These are the same traits you will use to decommission your Servitor. You must have the utmost respect for the Servitor; after all, it was born of you. Once your Servitor has completed its task, you will need to end it, lest it become like the lonely and terrible guard dog. The best way to do this is to burn its sigil paper and then destroy its form.

At your altar, you will have your Servitor’s square sigil paper and physical form. With reverence, light a white candle and use its flame to burn the paper. Drop the burning paper into a fire-safe cauldron. No part of the paper should remain. You have now cut the symbolic cord between your Servitor and its identity and purpose.

If you have drawn the form of your Servitor, you should also burn it within the cauldron. If you have sculpted it or otherwise made it three-dimensional, you will need tools that can adequately destroy it. If it is made of cloth or crocheted, scissors will do the job. If it is ceramic, a hammer will do (for safety, put a towel over the form before smashing it). In any of these situations, you will hold the form of your Servitor and bring it close to your mouth. Speak and do the following:

”[Name], you were born of my intent, and with my intent you are now gone. (Inhale until the air fills your lungs.) 

(Exhale) [Name], you were given form by my hands, and by my hands you are made undone. (Inhale a second time.)

(Exhale) [Name], you were given life by my will, and by my will, you are released. (Inhale a third time.)

(Exhale) So be it.”

This is an emotional experience. Allow yourself to cry if you are moved. If you are left with ashes, cast them into the western wind. If you are left with more substantial remains, bury them at the westernmost available plot of land.