During the year that Ray and Len Sherwin spent in Egypt, Pete was living in their house at East Morton, a house I was later to live in myself. I would sometimes visit and enjoyed walks and conversation with him. We also performed rituals, with others, on Rombald’s Moor, sometimes at the Twelve Apostles stone circle, that did not end until the day’s light was growing in the east. I cannot now remember who those others were.
He would sometimes regale me with tales of his travels. One such stands out; once aboard a ship in the Indian Ocean and heading for some port in India, a terrible storm arose, which increased in intensity to such a degree that all aboard thought they would surely perish. On board were Christians, Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus who soon were all calling upon their several gods for deliverance. “It got so bad,” said Pete dryly, “that even I cast the odd conjuration upon the waves.”
The storm eventually abated and they made into port. The local yacht club had heard a ship was arriving with English people on board and were waiting to greet them on the quay. The yachtsmen were all smartly dressed in their blazers, cravats and peaked caps. They were not a little taken aback by the motley crew of hippies and bohemians they had turned out to meet!
Pete once told me that he had no understanding of the word ‘spirit’, other than in the sense of ‘esprit de corps’; he certainly was a spirited individual, possessing vitality and vigour in thought, word and deed.
I don’t know what Pete’s thoughts were on life after death. I personally do not believe that death is the end. I will finish with a poem I wrote on death as a final initiation, transformation and liberation.
“The End is Nigh!” … all lowered in the grave,
The leveller spares not the highest caste.
A waste of energy to be afraid.
Live every day as if it were the last,
So some will say, you died not blindly drinking,
No, not in idle pleasures, food and song,
But seeking mysteries, controlling thinking;
Not humming others’ tunes but writing one!
And what of life beyond? To hell with what
The preacher says, and anyway we’d find
Much better company among the damned.
Free spirits won’t live in the grave’s small plot.
Finally disembodied; soul and mind,
A formless force, a power to expand.
Goodbye Chancellor
Thank you for everything, Pete.
— Le Sorcier Inconnu
Kenosha, Wisconsin USA
Thank you, Pete, for an experience I will cherish always.
Safe travels, Chancellor.
Carroll was funny, wise, and endlessly curious. He understood (as I think everyone does, deep deep down) that magic is not only real, it is a vital part of our reality. I have a feeling that in the coming years, his work will be hailed as prophetic. Strange Aeons ahead…
I only wish I could have learned more from him, and had the chance to meet him in person. Perhaps in the Ether.
RIP The Wizard
He spent his life asking the most rigorous possible version of the question that magic had always asked, and he never stopped updating his answer when the evidence required it. He moved from Liber Null's stripped minimalism through Liber Kaos's systematic development through The Octavo's attempt to marry magical and physical theory through the anthology work of This Is Chaos, always in the direction of greater precision, greater intellectual honesty, greater willingness to be wrong and say so.
The tradition he helped found is a method. Its survival requires continuation, which means practitioners willing to do what Carroll did: take the best available understanding of reality seriously, apply it to the actual practice, record results honestly, and update accordingly. The best available understanding of reality in 2026 includes distributed machine intelligence, networked egregores at scale, digital environments that reshape consciousness whether or not consciousness is brought to them deliberately, and the specific strangeness of AI systems that produce outputs that cannot be fully predicted from their inputs.
Carroll knew that magic which refuses to engage with its moment becomes a relic. He refused to become a relic. The Octavo, published in 2011, was an attempt to ground magical theory in contemporary physics that most of his readers found demanding and some found eccentric. He did not soften it. He published it because it was where the thinking had gone, and he trusted the tradition to follow him there.
Thanks for everything, Pete. Wish we could have shared a drink one day.
As someone who fuses the occult into my fashion work, Pete inspired me deeply to experiment with different magical tools and systems of belief. That experimentation inspired me to pursue material exploration within my fashion designs with the same mindset. I began disregarding what certain materials were traditionally used for and pushing the limits of their use cases in search of newness through their application. At the same time, during those long periods of spiritual immersion and experimentation, I began building my own magick toolbox, which eventually translated into crafting my own design language.
Pete started a revolution through his work, and I believe it is up to those of us who are often the youngest in these occult spaces to continue passing his spirit of experimentation forward to future generations of chaos magicians.
RIP Pete
For the young person I once was, immersed in radical critique and imbued with an iconoclastic spirit, reading him was a revelation, a luminous flash that has never faded, interlocking fluidly and infusing a freedom never superficial into the Parliament of my reflections. And there that light has remained. A light that we can now all see shining in the words and in the operative dimension even of those who are not aware of its cultural re-founding.
He leaves an indispensable theoretical corpus, an ineludible reference, and a fertile inspiration for the free creative researcher. Having engaged with his system was a fortune; having had the opportunity to interact with Stokastikos was a rare privilege. I will never forget his generous attention and his cultivated assertiveness, both sympathetic and caring. I will miss him, and I already do, even as he remains so influential and present at the roots of magical practices, now infused with the depth of his thought.
With deep gratitude toward Stokastikos and with affection for all those connected to him.
You were always there for me, answering my questions about magick no matter the time or the complexity. I remain deeply grateful for the guidance you provided and for the "homework" you assigned me. To receive such tasks from a teacher of your stature was, and still is, a profound honor that I cherish. You were, in every sense, a wonderful teacher.
The fact that you contributed to my books twice to guide the Japanese people is a peerless treasure for all those in Japan who study your philosophy. Furthermore, the answers you provided in numerous interviews will surely become a legacy for the entire world.
I have composed this music with all my tenderness and love for you. I hope that everyone who hears it will feel your greatness and the warmth of your spirit.
You were the greatest magus of the 21st century. Beyond that, you were a teacher who was kind, warm, and full of love. I vow to carry forward at least a part of your legacy and will.
To my teacher: I offer you my deepest gratitude and my utmost love.
On behalf of Japan,
SENSEI ARIGATOUGOZAIMASHITA
Thank you, Pope Pete, for helping me discover who I could become.
Deepest condolences to our late Chancellor's family and circle.
Not only did his work reenchant my world, but even our brief year of corresponding he had seen me and responded in always the perfect way that helped facilitate my flourishing. Ever erudite and laconic with me, his vast bibliography remains and I hear his voice in my head. I'd say the world feels less magical but I just Know he would encourage and say that it's still never been more magical and to keep diving head first into Kaos.
Pete said somewhere that the one should own one’s identity as a wizard or magician. It was not something one should aspire to, it was something one should simple be. He certainly did that, as it has been said, by many, including Ronald Hutton, that Pete was one of the three great theoreticians of modern ritual magic, after Eliphas Levi and Aleister Crowley. Which is high praise indeed from the learned professor who indeed several times contributed forwards and afterwords to the man’s numerous works.
Pete's magick was very modern. It was a reaction against the disenchantment of the world that came from urbanisation, industrialisation. It was a branch of science, applying investigative methods, especially psychology, and the power of the mind. Pete gave it a name, Chaos Magick, boldly updating the project as he always kept pace with modernity and science.
He was no one dimensional man. He saw a greater potential. He evaluated ideas only by what worked, by how useful they were. He identified with science rather than religion in the old sense. He questioned old assumptions about the nature of reality and causality. He didn’t abandon the idea of god or gods, but he did tend to see them as creations of the human imagination. He esteemed action over introspection; pragmatism over mysticism.
He authorised us to make one’s own systems of belief and to change them when they ceased to be useful. Or even just when you feel like it. Instead of the religious idea of faith he preferred the paradigm. He rejected the false division between spirit and the human mind.
He was experimental, empirical, individual and eclectic. He called traditional views of the supernatural useful programming languages, or not. He emphasised the power of belief to shape our reality regardless of whether these beliefs were true. He accepted his own subjectively but also applied this to the world as we perceive it.
Above all he emphasised individual choice when it comes to a spiritual path. He was an experimenter with an amen, who embraced the power of the human mind. His ideas obviously struck a chord for many and enjoyed considerable success in the world. He lives on in these ideas, which has become the magic of our times, elastic and flexible; it is bound to survive even in our turbulence.
To show it was not all heavy stuff, here is the valediction from his master world The Epoch
Papyri with sigils by wild-eyed mages,
Grimoires in bat’s blood on smooth vellum pages,
Emerald tablets just salvaged from wrecks:
These are a few of my favourite texts.
When the bank calls, when the boss bawls,
When I’m bored as hell,
I simply remember my favourite texts,
And find an invoking spell.
For me, his influence spans decades. His work profoundly shaped my understanding of magic and inspired my own path in meaningful ways. I am especially grateful for our personal collaboration—both in magical practice and, more recently, in our editorial work on book projects. Engaging closely with his ideas was a rare privilege.
Pete’s legacy endures in the spirit of inquiry and creative freedom he championed. It lives on in every practitioner who dares to experiment, to question, to create, and to redefine what is possible.
He will be deeply missed as a visionary, collaborator, and friend.
A few weeks later my copy arrived from Sorcerers Apprentice, and that was the beginning of a long journey. Travel well Pete.
With that in mind, I offer my deepest condolences to his wife and daughters, who will be feeling this most of all.
What was Pete Carroll to me... Inspiration, publishing contact, colleague, chancellor, co-writer... friend.
In many ways, I hardly knew Pete, but I hardly knew him for thirty-eight years. He had become a presence in my extended circle, though mostly on email and the Arcanorium forum in its original guise.
I first wrote to him around 1988 to ask about history of chaos magic for an article I had been asked to write. He actually asked Charlie Brewster to provide the information to me at the time, which resulted in a five page letter that I had occasion to revisit in a recent project.
Years later, Pete wrote to me to ask if I was still in touch with Charlie as they had lost track of each other. I wasn't, but I did some Internet stalking and found Charlie on Facebook. Putting them back in contact felt good, because by then I considered Pete a friend and I knew his much closer friendship with Charlie had a lot of history behind it.
In between there had been occasional email correspondence, and eventually in the early 2000s, he opened Arcanorium College and invited me to join the staff. I accepted of course, though I've never had a calling to teach. It was an interesting set-up and it's where I got to know Pete a little on a personal level, learning about his family, to whom he was very devoted, and his love of surfing.
I met him in person only once; at an AGM meeting for Arcanorium. It was the first time I met several other staff members in person as well and Pete was giving out signed copies of his most recent book at the time, which had grown largely through Arcanorium student input.
There was nothing 'Diva' or self-important about the man. He was pleasant, polite, had shown himself to be diplomatic behind the scenes at the college and if anything, gave me the impression of a somewhat shy academic.
He was also very intelligent and no-nonsense. He spoke to me fairly openly about his feelings about what had become of his Order, about certain people who came up in conversation, and the sort of things one might discuss with a trusted friend. Despite being primarily correspondents, we had developed a mutual respect and a certain level of trust.
When he was asked to spearhead an anthology of chaos magic articles, I was on the list of those invited to contribute. I accepted, and also co-wrote an article about the inception of his chaos magic group back in the 1970s, which ironically gave me license to question him extensively about that history, and also brought Charlie's old letter out of my files, as it included events that led up to the Speedwell House group that has been written about elsewhere.
Then the publisher asked for a follow up anthology around the same time Mandrake Publishing took an interest in reviving the old magazine, Chaos International. I was on the advance list for a call for articles for these as well. I had sent my submission for the anthology, which Pete approved, and was just about to send my article for Chaos International, when the news came out. Pete had died suddenly.
It was like running smack into a brick wall. It's bad enough to lose a friend, but in the middle of a project with shared interest has an immediacy to it that amplifies that sense of sudden loss.
Pete had been working with a co-editor this time. They already had enough material for both projects. At least one and likely both will go ahead and include some form of memoriam to Pete.
But mourning the loss of a friend and colleague is a process that has hardly begun. Even though I hardly knew him, the world feels like a darker place with his loss.
R.I.P. Peter J. Carroll.