Chaos Magic is one of those mystical concepts that sounds simultaneously profound and ridiculous until you actually try it. It’s the practice of treating belief as a tool rather than a truth, of pulling sigils from thin air, and of believing in whatever works with enough intensity to make it work at all. And so I found myself, two days before starting what would become my month-long experiment, standing in my kitchen chanting “It is done” while drinking coffee and feeling slightly ridiculous.
What Is Chaos Magic, Anyway?
For those unfamiliar: Chaos Magic emerged from the writings of Austin Osman Spare, a British occultist who believed that beliefs were merely tools—nothing more than instruments to be picked up when useful and set aside when no longer needed. The chaos magician doesn’t commit to any particular cosmology. Instead, they collect practices like one collects trinkets: use what works, discard what doesn’t, and don’t get too attached to any single system of meaning.
As the Chaos Manifesto declared in 1986: “What you believe is true.” And therein lies both the beauty and the terror of the practice—it’s not about finding truth so much as creating it through focused intention. The goal isn’t accuracy; it’s effect.
My Method: Sigils, Mantras, and Meaningful Coincidence
I approached my thirty days with a simple structure. Each morning I would create a sigil—a symbol representing my intent—and “charge” it by either burning it, meditating on it, or—my preferred method—I would write it down, fold the paper into a small square, and swallow it whole while visualizing the desired effect occurring in the world around me.
My first week focused on manifestation: creating sigils for specific outcomes (a good conversation with my boss, finding lost keys, a peaceful night’s sleep) and observing what happened. I kept a journal—though “kept” might imply some consistency on my part—and recorded both the sigil work and whatever coincidences seemed relevant.
The First Surprise: Coincidence as Evidence
By day six, something shifted. The traditional skeptic in me noted that coincidence is not causation—that finding lost keys after a sigil charge could just be chance—but I also noticed how my attention began to shift. A sigil isn’t magic because it causes events; it’s magic because it changes what you notice and what you expect.
As the Chaos Manifesto itself suggests, beliefs are tools. And for thirty days, I believed in this particular tool with enough conviction that it began to shape my experience of reality. Not magically—I still stubbed my toe on the same furniture—but with a subtle shift in perception.
A Theory of Belief: What Makes Sigils Work?
I came to understand that sigils work not through some cosmic force but through what might be called “belief in”—not believing in something as you believe in God or gravity, but rather believing into existence through focused intention. The process involves several steps: defining intent clearly (rather than vaguely wanting things), creating a symbolic representation of that intent, charging the symbol by focusing on it with genuine feeling, and then releasing it into the world.
The key word here is “genuine.” You can’t fake belief in yourself—the sigil won’t work if you’re going through the motions without conviction. This isn’t about faking it until you make it; it’s about genuinely committing to whatever symbol or practice you choose, even temporarily, with full participation of both mind and body.
What Changed After Thirty Days?
Three things struck me most prominently after my thirty days: First, I noticed more coincidences—not because the universe suddenly conspired in my favor, but because I was looking for them now. Second, I found that certain sigils did seem to work better than others—particularly those whose intent had been clear and emotionally resonant at the time of creation. Third, and most importantly, I realized how much power belief has over perception—and therefore over reality itself.
Beyond Sigils: The Real Magic
What struck me most about my thirty days wasn’t the sigils themselves but what they revealed about human potential for creating meaning and effect through intentional practice. The ancient Egyptians believed that saying certain words could change reality. Modern chaos magicians believe that focusing on a simple symbol can achieve similar effects—not because it’s true, necessarily, but because we act as if it is.
As I write this article now, having completed my thirty days of experimentation, I’m not convinced that sigils work in the traditional sense—but I am convinced that they work at least in part through attention and intention. They’re tools for focusing mind on desired outcomes, much like meditation practices have done for thousands of years but with more flexibility and less dogma attached.
And so, having tried chaos magic for thirty days, this is what happened: not magical transformation exactly, nor anything truly supernatural—but something real enough that I found myself still using sigils now and then when the occasion demands it. A small bit of meaning-making practice, a way to focus intention, and occasionally—very occasionally—a meaningful coincidence along the way.
The Chaos Manifesto’s central claim remains true: what you believe is true. And for thirty days, I believed enough in these practices that they changed my experience of the world around me—not by changing the world itself but by changing how I participated in it.













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