A practitioner crushes frankincense tears with a bronze mortar, the resin cracking under steady pressure. Five grams. Three drops of myrrh tincture. One part cinnamon powder. The mixture goes onto a charcoal disc, and the smoke transforms the room. This is the art that one book set out to document not as folklore but as a repeatable craft. The Book of Magical Incense, published in 2017 by occult scholar Sara L. Mastros, is a practical grimoire that collects historical incense recipes for specific magical operations, organized by planetary hour and spiritual intent, with sourcing instructions for resins, gums, and woods that most modern practitioners had only read about in older texts.
What is The Book of Magical Incense?
It is a reference work that bridges the gap between museum-piece grimoires and the working witch’s shelf. Mastros, a practitioner with background in Appalachian folk magic and Hellenistic ritual traditions, compiled over one hundred recipes drawn from the Greek Magical Papyri, the Key of Solomon, the Picatrix, and lesser-known European botanical manuals. The book does not explain incense in general. It explains which smoke to use when you want a specific result: binding a spirit, blessing a threshold, purifying a space after illness.
The volume is organized by planetary correspondence rather than by ingredient. That structure is itself a statement. It assumes the reader already knows that incense is not decorative atmosphere. It is a delivery system for intent, calibrated by the hour, the day, and the target.
Sara L. Mastros published The Book of Magical Incense through Llewellyn in 2017. She had spent the previous decade researching the intersection of folk herbalism and ceremonial magic, contributing to Pomona Sprout’s (a pseudonymous zine on plant sorcery) and teaching workshops on resin identification. The book grew out of a simple problem: many historical recipes call for ingredients like opoponax, styrax, and galbanum that had become obscure even in magical supply shops. Mastros cross-referenced botanical names, common names, and historical synonyms so a reader could find the actual material rather than a substitute.
The timing mattered. The 2010s saw a renewed interest in direct primary-source magic, partly driven by online communities that shared scans of the Greek Magical Papyri and the Heptameron. Practitioners wanted to work with the same materials that ancient and medieval magicians used, not generic “incense blends” from commercial shops. Mastros gave them a sourcing guide and a method.
Most incense grimoires list recipes by name: “Prosperity Blend,” “Protection Incense.” Mastros does the opposite. She lists by planetary hour, then by spirit or operation, then by ingredient. A reader who needs to invoke the spirit of Venus during the hour of Venus on a Friday does not scan a table of contents for “Love Incense.” They turn to the Venus chapter and find a recipe keyed to that exact timing.
Each recipe includes the traditional source, the botanical and common names of every ingredient, the quantity relative to the base resin, and the method of preparation (mortar and pestle versus triple-grind versus layered in a ceramic dish). The book also provides substitutes for ingredients that are legally restricted or endangered, such as sandalwood and some agarwood species.
The symbolic logic is consistent: the planetary ruler determines the base resin. The specific spirit or intent determines the secondary herbs. The phase of the moon determines whether the incense is burned once or prepared and stored for repeated use.
We light ours in a fireproof bowl on the balcony, charcoal disc resting in a bed of sand. The book does not assume you have a dedicated temple room. It assumes you have a window, a flame, and the correct hour.
One common practice is the preparation of the “Fixed Incense” for a thirty-day working. The book describes how to mix the dry ingredients, moisten them with a few drops of a corresponding oil, and seal them in a glass jar that sits on the altar for a full lunar cycle. Each day the practitioner lights a pinch, not a full spoonful. The small dose creates continuity without exhausting the supply.
Another practice is the “Threshold Fumigation.” Mastros draws from the Greek Magical Papyri method of purifying a space before a ritual by walking the smoke into every corner with a feather fan. The book specifies which resins to use for general cleansing (frankincense and myrrh) versus which for a specific spirit evocation (frankincense with a single added resin that corresponds to the spirit’s nature). The difference is not symbolic. It is functional.
Scott Cunningham’s The Complete Book of Incense, Oils and Brews (1989) is the most widely owned incense reference in modern paganism. It is also a kitchen-sink collection with little sourcing and no planetary hour structure. Cunningham gives you a recipe for “Love Incense” that works on any day at any time. That is useful for casual practice. It is not what a ceremonial magician needs.
The Book of Magical Incense sits on the other end of the spectrum. It demands precision. If the recipe calls for three parts frankincense to one part mastic, it means three grams to one gram, not a pinch and a shake. The book assumes the reader is willing to source gum mastic from a Greek grocer, not a metaphysical shop.
Another comparison is The Key of Solomon, which includes incense recipes but buries them in long passages of conjuration. Mastros extracted those recipes and made them usable without the surrounding ritual framework a beginner might not yet understand.
The most common misconception is that the book is for advanced practitioners only. It is not. The introduction explains planetary hours, ingredient sourcing, and charcoal safety in plain language. A beginner who can read a clock and grind coffee can use it.
Another error is treating it as a recipe book for everyday scent. The incense described here is not for enjoyment. Some combinations smell acrid, especially those that include sulfur-bearing herbs like asafoetida. That is intentional. The book is not about fragrance. It is about effect.
A third mistake is ignoring the sourcing appendix. Beginners sometimes substitute cheap resins that do not carry the same chemical profile. Mastros includes a list of reputable suppliers, but more importantly, she explains how to test a resin for purity (break it, smell the dust, burn a grain on a hot knife). The book is honest about the fact that some ingredients require work to find.
FAQ
Can I use the recipes without following planetary hours? Yes, but the book’s structure is built around them. Skipping the hour reduces the precision, not the efficacy.
Where do I find the rare resins? The book lists online botanical suppliers, Greek and Middle Eastern grocery stores, and incense shops that stock liturgical-grade materials.
Is this book suitable for a beginner? Yes. The introduction covers everything from charcoal handling to timing calculations. The recipes themselves are straightforward.
Does the book include safety warnings? It does. Each resin entry notes smoke toxicity, skin sensitivity, and whether the material is safe to ingest or should be kept away from children.
The Book of Magical Incense is not a collection of pleasant smells. It is a working manual for anyone who treats incense as a precise instrument of magical operation. The recipes are not suggestions. They are instructions. If you are ready to source galbanum from a botanical dealer in Cyprus and time your grind to the hour of Mars on a Tuesday, this book will serve you. For more foundational reference, see our glossary of resins and gums. To understand how incense intersects with broader grimoire traditions, read our guide to planetary magic. And to explore the full lineage of practical occult texts, visit the grimoires hub.