Our Musings

 

 ’Children of Cain’: A difference of opinion?

Comments upon a forum dedicated to Craft issues, drawn from and based within an Interent posting of an Interview with Mr Howard [with Three Hands Press] concerning his new book, has brought several emails to my attention expressing divided opinion on the matter.  Some approve a public response, others contest the subject as unfit for public consumption. And I agree with both for different reasons! 

To this I add that general public statements and comments can and should largely be ignored. But when someone makes a statements from an assumed position of authority, this demands a careful and considered response to counter those statements by someone in an actual position of authority.

 In point of fact, no-one may present themselves as having the definitive opinion on another’s tradition.

There is obviously a need for clarification on this matter once placed in the public domain. Without conclusion, all loose ends may at any time be rethreaded to generate misleading commentary, even if by others having no vested interest in the matter. In fact I agree wholeheartedly with Mr Howard  view regarding this response to his online Interview  that avidly promotes his forthcoming book – The Children of Cain’, when he said that there is wisdom in keeping these things private. Indeed! Would it had remained so. But as opinion was given by Mr Howard on points we know to be in errror, we seek to address them here.

It should be stressed that sometimes, just sometimes, there is a real need to make a stand for clarity and truth against anything that appears to undermine the integrity of one’s own purpose and work, even if no intentional malice or ill will was behind such acts. To ignore such erosions we invite doubt and cynicism to gnaw at the line of Virtue as if to sever it from its source. Those who would wish it cannot do this. We cannot do this. That is NOT our choice nor ability to manufacture.

With regard to the varied views and works of Robert Cochrane, other letters soon to be published in John of Monmouth’s forthcoming book will clarify much speculation there too. They reveal much that has been needful for some time.

So, in choosing to respectfully counter Mr Howard’s assertions within his Interview he holds on the Three Hands Press website,  I hope that perhaps all can be laid to rest and the real Mysteries can be pursued without distraction, which I might add, the Clan continue to do with impunity. Being front man, it is my role and mine alone, to tackle such matters as I feel is necessary.

We also accept that though fascinating, the negative attention these matters can inadvertantly attract are tiring. We therefore remind interested parties to accept that we did not incur them. We did not encourage them. We merely wish to provide this response for balance, having previously failed to conclude them privately. Others return them to the public eye for scrutiny. So we try again to quell speculation with fact.

Virtue. A weighty and complex subject. It has been picked over clean on this site and others. But not in context. No one view of this is correct for the whole, only where it touches them. Our Covenant holds it as countless other mystics have for hundreds of years. Others may see it differently.

John [E.J. Jones] once described it to us during a time we had difficulty ourselves in grasping the enormity of this esoteric facet of Craft and of the Mysteries. We failed for a while to fully assimilate its mystery and import, and try as we may, we floundered. John finally broke his normal ‘Socratic method’ and expressed it in simple terms that cannot be beaten.

No-one passes ‘Virtue’. No-one owns ‘Virtue’. No-one gains Virtue. Each person has their own which should never be confused with that carried by a line or stream of practise. Shani expressed this well in turn when she alluded to the Dalai Lama, and how after death, that spiritual force finds a new host.

This host is sought out, discovered, recognised and dutifully installed as ‘head’ and spiritual leader, the mediating link between his people, the spirits and their deities. E, J. Jones humorously noted it was his duty to appoint that which is already vested in another, never his to give. What is ‘passed’ is not Virtue per se. Authority certainly is though once the host is recognised.

That Shani acquired that Virtue, is all that matters. How and when is irrelevant to that fact.  Furthermore that same Virtue RC had guarded and shared through his wife and then Maid had in fact departed RC in his final weeks of life. This was his final despair. She also rejected it and so it found a new host.

But there is more. RC had in fact made E, J. Jones his spiritual heir long before his death, and his statement that he had died ‘without passing on his virtue’ refers in fact to his own, as a ‘witch/pellar’ that should have been gifted his physical heir, that is his son. This of course did not happen. This confused us as I said, so bear with me. John and his wife were the last people from the Clan to see Robert Cochrane before his death.

Robert Cochrane’s widow soon after withdrew from all remaining members of the former Clan but remained close to John and his wife, and to Bill and Bobby Gray. And to Doreen Valiente. These few [minus RC’s widow] worked magically together regularly to a greater and lesser degree over the years that followed, until finally they all went their separate ways.

The authority to continue as the Clan of Tubal Cain with all investiture and rights including all written works was then given by RC’s widow to John, appointing him as its Magister. E, J. Jones always considered himself the guardian and caretaker of that tradition and spent many years seeking the host where its Virtue resided. Mr Howard admitted himself that John’s own words described his elation when he ‘found’ that person in Shani, stating- ‘She is the one, the chosen one.’

The Covenant is the final declaration of this process as it binds in Troth the one appointed with authority to the tutelary deity through Virtue of recognition [literally]. E, J. Jones in assuming this was widely known among the older and more genuine Crafters, saw no reason to explain what to him was obvious.

In summary then:

RC’s personal virtue [the ‘fifth art’] *died with him.

RC’s spiritual virtue was gifted to John.

The Clan’s Virtue found its own new host.

John and others of the Clan DID continue the work, there was NO ‘break’ in continuity.

These facts have been stated many times by E, J.Jones and by ourselves, and I am very disapointed that Mr Howard has expressed a view contra to these facts, based entirely upon conjecture and personal opinion drawn in part, it seems, from the fact that John declined to share the then more discreet elements of Clan praxis with him. And why should he? It was his right to choose exactly what he did or did not say as he saw fit.

Again, as Mr Howard knows through private discussions between him and ourselves, John declined the same information to us, as he did almost all of the Clan’s teachings. It was his way. We had to find out those things ourselves through validating spirit contact through the egregore. When we did, he expanded upon each aspect. Mr Howard, being outside the Clan, was not engaged in that process. Thus the original Luciferian elements known to RC, and others, especially John, were discussed and explored under his tutelage and since, as is fitting for an evolving stream of gnosis.

A rolling stone gathers no moss!

Though lengthy, I sincerely hope this has more than clarified any confusion arising from various comments presented by  Mr Howard’s Interview.

*[there are five arts, gifted between an old magister and his successor, four involve certain rights held through the medium of the egregore to call upon various spiritual numina for specific causalities. the fifth art is the gift of blood heritage, a direct link through dna between members of a physical family. this adds to the spiritual heritage another dimension parallel to it.]

Robin-the-dart

MAY THE WORD PROTECT YOU FROM THE LIE!

Put Not Your Trust in Princes!

They say that whomever the ‘gods’ seek to destroy, they first make mad.

So as the worm turns and with it spins the wheel of fate, binding ever tighter all within Her silken snare. Chaos fans the tremors o’er the web of Wyrd; balking against change and innovation, all shudder in mute acknowledgment to Her seismic attraction. Her grip tightens further, breath is stifled; blind palsy atrophies those already sleeping, despair gnaws at the living. In stasis only do we consider the significance of portentous event as eyes drift, cast ever downwards vainly seeking the mechanics of cause and effect. Alighting upon some new ‘thing’, salacious ignition kick-starts their jaded cerebellums. In ironic paradox, this small glimmer remains unwelcome; twas ever thus. Pure naked Truth – poison! Uncompromising light pierces the glib morass of stagnancy, writhing under Her sting, one after another. Pure apotropaic poison, arcane magics of the darkest kind. Yet Her cure leaves the bitterest trace, a whisper of vegetal rot, the putrid decomposition of the Lie, uttered without guile from lips dry with rasping polemics, ministered in honey.

And so I say, Put Not Your Trust in ‘Princes’.

Those who foolishly know not Her measure, be warned! She has yours! Dancing fools bleat their ill s upon those whose purpose they crave, devolving into the hollow shells of shadows, of dank and musty places where wretchedness breeds freely the malcontent of self serving agendas, fit only for mocking those who shine with the ardour of the blessed. Tis the nature of the beast to covet all things it has no gift to hold; thus it torments the ‘other’ soul, nurturing it disingenuously, counting the days until the harvest is reaped , stealing all light and virtue from each hapless, trusting soul benign enough to share, foolish indeed to ‘give’ these creatures even a glimmer of the ‘Work’; for their desire increases beyond measure to take what cannot be given, to own what is free. Genius yields not to vice. Virtue may not be plundered thus. Such entanglements draw Her net ever tighter, until headlong they fall, fall…..down into the abyss of their greatest fears, the well of despair and deprivation. All opposition dispossessed, becomes prey to the wanton. Truth devolves into the Lie and Lie becomes ‘pseudo truth’ mocking, unwittingly, covert!

Again I say, Put Not Your Trust in Princes.

Shards of broken dreams fragment the glacial Mirror of Her Eye. Time alone reveals the arts of deceit, the mask fades, and the real demeanour, the facile veneer cracks open the prism of hypocrisy, now exposed to the distractions of the fetid ambitions of soulless eyes, of parched rasping lips, yes, the smiling viper is poised, eager now to strike – it has stalked its victim long enough. Hungry and impatient, it is merciless in it quarry. Yet sword in hand it deflects its purpose, concealed within the throes of defender, observed in choice moments of clever politicking. But always, in all things is agenda served. Only the angle of the blade, for those who notice their sleight of hand will see the falsity at play in this cruel game. Abjure at your peril.

So I beseech you; Put Not Your Trust in ‘Princes’.

Amazingly, as the dross is sloughed into the mire, gold resides in the keening of true blood; champions unknown, warriors of the just, rise to this foul gauntlet. Friends known too reserve arms to stem the flow of illicit slander, countering the steady drip, drip of poison – Hungry now, Nemesis rises, Her ravenous vengeance holds no bounds, and feed She shall upon the bones of those who betrayed Her chosen ones. Unsung heroes all, to whom life itself is owed. The ‘Word’ is buoyant against the ‘Lie’, strong against the vain fancies of the ‘great and the good’; strong against the shifting affectations of a foe known but unseen. Powerless are they to withstand Her wrath. Trial and Tribulation are given up to Nemesis, devourer and avenger of monstrous misdeeds, binding them to Her for all eternity.

So, heed me when I say, Put not Your Trust in ‘Princes’.

Fickle are they whose authority is self-imposed, whose hubris is boundless in the endless proclamation of the monosyllabic ‘I’ …Signs and sigils evoked for foul are awarded only in kind as the guardians of Tradition, the Shadow Company mark such deeds with vigour. Ivory Towers disconnect the omnipotent from all realities save their own avaricious objectives; riding on the grace and talents of others, they pitifully cleave ever deeper into the wanton dominion of time an tide, the leveller of all falsehoods and ignorance. Oh to be the movers and shakers of the age; Oh to be adored, nay hailed as Master of all Gnosis. If not by fair means then foul! Drip, drip, the poison continues to pollute the stream, ever into the well of memory, clouding the waters of perception, the lens, now distorted forges only confusion in the wake of their ignominy. First it is this, then not this, then not that! U-turns and somersaults the envy of the finest acrobats inculcate mental gymnastics worthy of better enterprise, where no ideal except anothers’ is adopted, wholesale in a trice. The tourniquet turns, tighter it pulls on them, as they diminish ever smaller. Her cold stare burns their flaccid virtue into toxic vapour, until finally as the death rattle rises choking them on their own bile, they hurtle into the bloated media bearing the ‘Trump Card ‘

The ignoble, poised with bated breath are thus revealed at last, they who’d watched as others made a play for Virtue, sought only to steal gnosis for themselves; and thus it continues:

And so I advise – Put not your Trust in Princes!

Memento Mori! Remember thine end!

 [images -  wickicommons]

The Five point Star of Love and Death

 

“Become
at one with truth and you must surely die. Take up the works of truth and you
are a condemned man, for the human race as a whole does not want truth, but the
comfort of illusion. We are still babies suckling at a breast whose milk is
poisonous, yet we think that we flourish upon poison. Truth, no matter how we
interpret it, feeds demons as well as saints.”

We are born, we emerge, we find love, acquire wisdom and then we die!
Between these five points our purpose is engineered by Fate, to which we either surrender or
resist. The friction between these opposing poles creates the dynamic of the
causality of our lives, specifically the people and events within it. Our ‘mark’
patterns this interweaving as the accord between the dictates of want and
desire, all those aspirations and disappointments we experience as we shift
from one stage of this cyclic rose, to another.
Just occasionally an exceptional person will enter our field of being and everything we thought
we knew, everything we thought we wanted dissolves into the extraordinary
gravitational pull that person exerts over our soul. Drawn inexorably within
their own patterning of fate, we are but a supporting role to the greater
picture, our own life a subtle cameo in the production of a universal vista, sensed
as being greater than the sum of its parts.
We have no choice.
Through chaos, and grief, upheaval and turmoil these remarkable individuals become immensely
influential catalysts for great paradigm shifts, sweeping away the dusty mores
of a stagnant era, breathing new life into the turgid mire of the arts and
sciences for which their gift of genius propels humankind into a higher level
of our universal evolution.

Such a person is often a hero. In this case such a person was an anti-hero.

Nonetheless, that warrior and priestly code was woven into the fabric of his life, expressed
through a sequence of oath, honour, justice and truth and finally courage in
the face of the awesome Word, his description of the Faith he followed, lived
and died for. In a world where demands are increasingly levied against all
claims for empirical provenances, there can be none greater than that ‘Word’
itself.

The genius of Roy Bowers then, was his ability to manifest his belief in waves that still
flow, impacting as the tsunami that emanated from the gentle fluttering of a
butterfly’s wing. Many have called to task not just his work, but how he
acquired it, from where, by whom; asking many questions regarding his choice of
tutelary deity whose name places him seemingly at odds with the Greek names of
the trinity central to the Clan. Yet by his own explanation he clarifies this
by expressing them as ‘mere approximations’ of those potencies known and understood
within his Clan dedicated to Tubal Cain, often described as  ‘the first smith’
recorded in the Old Testament.

This illustrates the gross misunderstanding of the esoteric virtue of these deities and of their
true and original function for and among humankind. It is said that each of us
aligns ourselves with, albeit often unwittingly,  a deity for whom we ‘feel’
a particular affinity. A ‘fatal’ attraction, if you will. Our aspirations are realised
through the kalas of these deific forms, and the purpose of our lives are given
in that assignation.

It was no accident that Roy Bowers chose Tubal Cain specifically, no oversight, no error;
where some have suggested that it would surely have been more appropriate given
his Anglo-Saxon heritage and claims for his lineage, that he would have chosen
Wayland. The Roman smith god Vulcan has also been suggested had Roy Bowers wanted
a compatible name for Hekate, Hermes and Saturn, the triad by which the Mythos
of the Clan is predicated. But he did not choose those other forms. And he did
this quite mindfully, marking his fate with the outcast, the wanderer, yet also
the innovator, the catalyst for growth and for expansion.

 

Cain, the all father, is given the great civilising force of the archaic world, the city
builder and architect, founder of stability and agriculture, the shift from
stone-age cultures to bronze-age culture, the innovator and generator of wealth
and society. Tubal Cain, far more than a mere forger of metals, extends those
gifts further in furnishing the world with the musical and poetic arts. Furthermore,
as the triune composite (the root of Jubal, Tubal and Jabal) he engenders the
basic structure of society along with his twin sister the beautiful Namaah, the
weaver of cloth. Immediately we can see the fundamental fourfold pattern, oft
quoted by Roy Bowers, his signature blessing of Flags, flax fodder and frigg: a
home and hearth, food, and clothing.

 

Most importantly, the abilities to express the joy of these gifts through song and ritual – the basic requisites of the Craft.
It is also no happy accident that the root of jubal, jabal and Tubal signifies
a watercourse, a ‘stream’ the craft term for lineage. And so we may conclude
without doubt, the true and undisputed genius of a man whose own round of life
and death changed forever the craft of his time. Like all true avatars, his
light illuminated a deeper purpose for us all. His promethean fire, the gift to
‘man’ alone (as in not beast)is exactly as he stated, the means by which we
come to know god. And all things are his, the star crossed serpent.

He knew exactly what course his life would take, aligned to such force, what it would exact of
him; but what it would bring through him was the ‘gyfu’ of his fate, bound upon
the five petalled rose, Her star of fate, the wheel of life and death. The
Craft world is much the richer for his gifts, and for his divine fire, the
inspiration of true genius, a gift from the gods.

And She has “gathered him up home again.”

 

Dedicated to Roy Bowers 1931-1966

 

 

 

A Midsummer Night’s dream: Dreaming the Dark!

 

“I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,

Where cowslips and the nodding violet grows.

Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine,

Where sweet musk-roses with eglantine;

There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,

Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight”

 

[William Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night’s Dream]

 Across the ages, many plants have been ascribed special significance due to their propensity to induce spectacular, visionary and prophetic dreams. Particular plants have proved popular, cropping up in diverse locations and throughout many centuries with little fluctuation. Throughout the Old World, Mesoamerica, and Southern Continents, narcotic beverages have been administered to the ‘seers’ of a given tribe, culled from herbs sacred to them specifically, to ensure favourable results.

 Thiselton-Dyer cites [1] particular examples of visionary narcotics used extensively by Amazon tribes peoples and by the Californian Indians. Children subject to its hallucinatory effects were guided through prophetic visions to garner specific information about their enemies. Similarly, he proceeds to note how the Darien Indians used the seeds of the Datura sanguinca in children to exploit their delirium. Subsequent revelations allowed tribal elders to resolve  problems and assist them towards the acquisition of needful resources .

 Medicine-men of the Delaware  drank intoxicating decoctions to incur extraordinary vision-quests. Tobacco too was highly honoured by many of the North American tribes as a plant for stimulating a ‘supernatural ecstasy.’  In North Carolina, a common practice involved the removal of moss taken from the grave of a murder victim that is worn sported as an amorous amulet to beguile the attraction of a would-be lover. Held and inhaled while dreaming, it returns an errant stray lover home again.

 The medieval ‘Doctrine of Signatures’ expressed the essential ‘oneness’ of being, and was drafted into magic, medicine and astrology by physicians and researchers of all ‘Natural magics.’ Despite this, many superstitions pertaining to the dream-inducing effects of plants have survived within several common sources of modern European folk-lore. We hear of how a much treasured four-leaved clover, a mystical symbol also associated with prosperity, is placed under a pillow by a would be lover to dream of his lady-love;  daisy-roots and the rustic maiden serve a similar function.

 Further east, the ‘son-trava’ dream herb, now identified as ‘Pulsatilla patens,’blooms in April with the most stunning azure-coloured flower, and once placed under a pillow, all dreams thereafter are claimed to be fulfilled. Taking a shift from the ground to the heavenly canopy, the Elm tree,  known as the ‘tree of dreams’ was used by Virgil in his epic tale – Aeneid to forecast the oracle, an object of powerful prophecy.

 Other flowers indicate prosperity in life; among which the violet and the vine dominate history. The pregnant mother of Cyrus the Great was recorded as having dreamed of a glorious lush and prolific vine. Plants foretelling good fortune when seen in dreaming include the palm-tree, olive, jasmine, lily, laurel, thistle, thorn, wormwood, currant, pear, with the most fortuitous being the rose [though not white]. Longevity and prosperity are naturally supplied by the advantageous reverie of such obvious candidates as the oak, apricot, apple, box, grape, and fig.

 Yarrow or woundwort, named for Achilles [achillia millifolium] who was instructed by Chiron in the arts of herb-lore, is a much prized and versatile fragile looking herb with many interesting properties. Held over the eyes, it is said to bestow the ‘sight,’ yet is also advisedly strewn across the bedcovers on Midsummer’s Eve to avert the antics of the spiteful fey. It has acquired another more sinister use according to folk-lore, where love-sick maidens are instructed to seek out a young man’s grave, upon which this mystical plant grows freely.  Plucking the freshest leaves they must recite the following charm:

 “Yarrow, sweet yarrow, the first that I have found, In the name of Jesus

Christ I pluck it from the ground; As Jesus loved sweet Mary and took

her for His dear, So in a dream this night I hope my true love

will appear.”[2]

 

In truth, many plants fulfil the role of ‘love-divination,’ though none so popular as the rose. Within dream flora further popular plants that auger well for affairs of the heart are the raspberry, pomegranate, cucumber, currant, and box.

 Certain flowers though, remain fixed within the calendar itself, relating to particular seasonal customs. Various festivals generate a prolific interest and activity. For example, Midsummer’s Eve, is extremely popular for numerous flower charms. Another delightful example requires nine different kinds of bloom [preferably in a chaplet] again placed beneath the pillow or head of he/she to dream of their sweetheart to come.

 Mugwort and plantain have long associations with Midsummer, when young maids would search anxiously beneath the plants among their roots for a particular growth, a ‘coal’  [dark or wizened root]that when plucked on this eve only, would be placed beneath their pillows, securing prophetic dreams of husbands to be.

 Sage leaves, twelve in total, mindfully plucked, held up to one’s face and crushed at midnight on Midwinter’s Eve conjures the shade of one’shusband to be. Holly is another favourite used by lovers in various charms, particularly again at Midwinter and Midsummer, less so at All Hallows and Day of Janus. Here is a recipe and method for a typical folk-charm endorsed by many a young maid:

 “Before retiring to rest, place three pails full of water in her bedroom, and then pin to her night-dress three leaves of green holly opposite to her heart, after which she goes to sleep. Believing in the efficacy of the charm, she persuades herself that she will be roused from her first slumber by three yells, as if from the throats of three bears, succeeded by as many hoarse laughs. When these have died away, the form of her future husband will appear, who will show his attachment to her by changing the position of the water-pails, whereas if he have no particular affection he will disappear without even touching them.”[3]

 St John’s wort, the summer herb, sacred also to Balder is a potent herb for use in divination, though it must be gathered on Midsummer’s Eve. This is the trick, as it is said to carry off the picker on a fairy horse for a wild ride, only to be dropped hours later, miles from home. Sprigs of the evergreen Myrtle, sacred again to Aphrodite were kept under a bride’s pillow to ensure the constancy of her lover. Mattresses stuffed with the soft and fragrant new beech leaves whisper gently to all lovers asleep upon them, pervading their dreams with imaginative and complex tales and stories.

 St. Valentine’s Day is observed with various charms for would be lovers; one requires the pinning of bay leaves to each corner and centre of the sleeper’s pillow, again with the intention of inducing the image of one’s future husband. Another variation of this simple charm for inducing a prophetic dream involving bay leaves, takes two, freshly plucked, sprinkled with rose water, placed again upon the pillow beside the would be dreamer, reciting this charm, until they fell into sleep.

 ”Good Valentine, be kind to me,

In dream let me my true love see.”[4]

Another, more involved process almost guaranteed to produce successful results was performed on St. Luke’s Day, where the dreamer is instructed to:

 “Take marigold flowers, a sprig of marjoram, thyme, and a little wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them to powder, then sift it through a fine piece of lawn; simmer these with a small quantity of virgin honey, in white vinegar, over a slow fire; with this anoint your stomach, breasts, and lips, lying down, and repeat these words thrice:–

 ‘St Luke, St. Luke, be kind to me,

In dream let me my true love see!’

 This said, hasten to sleep, and in the soft slumbers of night’s repose, the very man whom you shall marry shall appear before you.”[5]

 Dew collected from the Lady’s Mantle was allegedly used to seek and procure the famed philosophers stone, yet its crushed petals assisted in peaceful dreamless sleep. This is contra to the fragrant honeysuckle and hops that induce erotic dreams , featuring in many a lover’s summer bower. However, dreaming of fruit or flowers out of season is perceived as ill-omens of woe: “A bloom upon the apple-tree when the apples are ripe, Is a sure termination to somebody’s life.”

 And once more, according to an old Sussex adage–

 “Fruit out of season, Sounds out of reason.”[6]

 Mythical vines offer a sacred connection to the ‘other’ providing a medium of communication between the world of the living and the dead. But more intriguing is the fact that this ‘contact’ actually appears to the ‘spirit-worker as a two way ladder by which the ‘Ojibways’ traverse between earth and the opposing end they believe to be twined round a Star. Images drawn from this travelling are retained as pictograms, glyphs collected over time as the memory of the dreaming prophecies for these people. They provide a visual record of the power they wield as gifted workers in that field.

 Anthropologists, having studied such examples alongside other folk records are able to conclude that dreaming of white flowers invariably forecasts a death. Comparable to this is the superstition surrounding the sudden outburst of the blooms of the alba rose, taken as a sure sign of the imminent death to the dweller closest to it.

 In Scotch ballads the birch is ‘feminine’ presence again is long associated with the dead:

 “I dreamed a dreary dream last nicht;

God keep us a’ frae sorrow!

I dreamed I pu’d the birk sae green,

Wi’ my true love on Yarrow.

I’ll redde your dream, my sister dear,

I’ll tell you a’ your sorrow;

You pu’d the birk wi’ your true love;

He’s killed,–he’s killed on Yarrow.”

 Dreaming of the yew tree foretells the death of an older person whose wealth will provide a substantial legacy. Dreaming while subject to the soporific fumes of the yew tree signifies the alteration of the brain’s chemistry, resulting in chaotic imagery related to sex and death. This hypnotic perfume is a potent aphrodisiac, similar to the mandrake. Intriguingly both the yew and the mandrake are linked to chthonic deities, holding the virtues of love, death and sleep/dreams [Aphrodite, Hypnos and Thanatos], drawing them together as the ‘triple bane’under the auspices of the single and enchanting patroness of these not so subtle potencies.

 The fragrant and delicate meadowsweet or ‘queen of the meadows’ is another heavy soporific from whose influence the dreamer may never awaken. The fateful ‘atropa belladonna’ or beautiful fair [pale?] lady gifts the ‘sight’, but also madness and death. Used externally as bewitchments, it is worn as a chaplet across the temples and crown.

 Plants that are seen as those of ill omen denote misfortune: plum, cherry, withered roses, walnut, hemp, cypress, dandelion and garlic. Herb Robert, an invasive wild flower is cautioned against picking, as its nickname ‘death come quickly’ reveals; or ‘if ee pick’n someone’ll take ee.’[7]

 Beans, oddest of all, again associated with the Pale Leukothea, incur great terrors and grief in plenty-fold! Sleeping in a bean field is said to induce horrific nightmares and sometimes even death! Folkore gifts to them the anchor of the departed soul, haunting the earth, spiralling upwards, seeking new life. Thyme is another herb believed to attract and ‘hold’ the souls of the dead, through the punning of its name ‘time’, a quality given only to the living. It is therefore never included in funereal wreaths. On the other hand, rosemary sprigs under the bed avert the haunting of spirits and nightmare imagery, the pungent aroma keeping all ill at bay.

 Held as the definative sacred symbol of the Universal Goddess by many, the bramble vine of white flowers and black/red fruits plays a considerable divinatory role, as we should expect from this tenacious and glorious plant.  

 “To dream of passing through places covered with brambles portends troubles; if they prick you, secret enemies will do you an injury with your friends; if they draw blood, expect heavy losses in trade.” To dream of being pricked with briars, “shows that the person dreaming has an ardent desire to something, and that young folks dreaming thus are in love, who prick themselves in striving to gather their rose.”[8]

 And there ends and begins another tale, of distaff, needle, ladies fair and foul, all spirit wanderers in weal and woe..

[ Images: answers.com ; sealmaiden.tumblr.com ;epyle.blogspot.com ; celtic-twilight.com] 

TOMMOROWS DREAM

I Have been Pierced by the Arrow of Love

I have been pierced by the arrow of love,

 what shall I do ?

I can neither live, nor can I die.

Listen ye to my ceaseless outpourings,

I have peace neither by night, nor by day.

I cannot do without my Beloved even for a moment.

I have been pierced by the arrow of love,

what shall I do ?

The fire of separation is unceasing !

Let someone take care of my love.

How can I be saved without seeing him?

I have been pierced by the arrow of love,

what shall I do ?

 

 Bulleh Shah

                                 

 

In making a tribute to love, we are humbled by its witness. To be in the presence of a true love is awe inspiring. This emotive force is the real power of the Universe- the key that opens many doors. A magical grotto, a cavern of wonders was a credit to those gifted and generous enough to give willingly of their time to create an atmosphere that was inspirational. Blending into the inky darkness, I became absorbed within the sonics of this space made sacred by the intent of those present. Standing closely, it resonated as an intimate delight, a wellspring, a womb of creation.

Rising upon the sweet cadences, the poetic echoes of the ceremony, its poignant depths cascaded around me as the very streams of water poured into the vast cistern, central to this setting. A fiery ouroboros enveloped its rim, reminding me of the constant movement of life and time.  Two beautiful souls like the waters of the Great Ma became conjoined, linking their spark to the many streams that form the great cosmic ocean. It’s cool caress and ceaseless depth express an incredible power where all merged; two glowing sparks, absorbed only in that moment, proclaimed their oaths before their ‘Patrons’ and with great solemnity.

There I witnessed those two sparks blend as one, igniting a glow so intense that it drew all other sparks to it, thereto act as witness in that sublime union. It proved beyond any doubt, that love really does transcend all boundaries; it is beyond any and all externally imposed obstacles, asserting its own virtue as all such oppositions dissolve in the light of truth. Love burns away all doubt, for love is the weapon of truth and the ignorant are exposed by its searing brilliance. 

I extend a warm hand of friendship to those two souls, and thank them for inviting us to witness a rare and precious alchemy of spirit, a transformation of two through the act of union, where by the sharing of sacred bread and wine, a partaking of each other is given all blessings of and from the divine order, an invocation of a ‘good fate’ and blessings from the whole Clan are granted by their appreciation and awe.

May it become your reality too.

Robin-the-dart

MAY THE WORD PROTECT YOU FROM THE LIE!

images: blog.rats.at and unfoldingdestiny.com

poem: Translated by: J.R. Puri and T.R. Shangari Works and Poems of Bulleh Shah

Roodmas :Sacred Dance and May’s Eve.

 

Dancing finds its origins in the Palaeolithic age, where tribal members would achieve emotional and rhythmic unity between themselves and their totem animal and/or tutelary deity, which sometimes but not always were one and the same thing. In these proto- shamanic communities, the dancers adopted the guise of certain animals by wearing horns, skin and tail; one would be chosen to lead the dance. An altered state was believed to facilitate communication with spirits of animals required for food and of the greatly revered ancestral hunters of the tribe to whom they appealed for aid.

 Dance was also a significant feature of Dionysian religion, whose ecstatic practices released its aspirants from their individuality, to merge with God consciousness. To be fully effective, the ego needs to be shaken off, and cast aside.  This requires trust and practice, letting go of the ego is never easy, but in time, will lead to greater lucidity within ritual, a greater intensity and the increased awareness/sensitivity to subliminal experiences.

Both exhaustion and pain/suffering will also lead to transcendence, but without ‘will,’ the resultant pain can become the ‘end’ to the ‘means’, degenerating into an exercise in sado-masochism. Pain [generally induced by feats of endurance and/or scourging,] should only be exercised in order to shatter the limits of human consciousness/awareness – to open the door, to cross the threshold of conceptual, cognitive responses. Pain is merely a tool; it should only ever be the ‘means’ to a pre-determined and focussed ‘end’. However, over-indulgence or exceeding the brief is almost always counter-productive, rendering the whole exercise pointless, often voiding the entire magical enterprise. 

Exhaustion, through dancing, fasting, physical strains, sex and laughter, can, in most cases be the simplest and most effective techniques of achieving altered states. Everyone has different limits and tolerances; push yourself, aspire to exceed them, but slowly and safely. A reed may bend with gentle and persistent manipulation but will snap if pressed too firmly…………Exhaustion dissolves conscious identity, creating a vacuum, a state of in-between-ness into which revelations seep. Pain and crises are mere thresholds of endurance, part of a cyclical pattern of evolution…..to move away from something, one must move towards it.  But how much crisis and dissolution is needed? For extreme pain does not induce extreme enlightenment!! Ego determines the level of intensity required to break down the formality of identity and control…….first exhaustion, then void of ego consciousness, then channelling through oneself.

Remember also, that living fully at the edge of your reality living every moment in your magic, in prayer and in full awareness of your magical argosy will facilitate a far quicker transition into altered states, than those aspirants whose compartmentalised lifestyle causes frustrating delays. Like an underground stream, awareness should trickle away beneath the surface, ready to swell and erupt when needed, vitalised by every heartbeat. This is true will.  Your life should be a living talisman for your magic, an articulation/expression of perceived cumulative experience, manifest in every moment……………

Traditionally, Roodmas, May’s Eve or Beltane – the feast of good fires, heralds the time for merrymaking, for welcoming in the Summer, for joy at the renewed vigour in plant, man and beast. This single rite more than many, is suited to the ‘dance’, erotic ecstatic, shamanic or simply celebratory. But upon looking closer, we may discern that such activities ‘mask’ an even deeper celebration,  for these things remain within the bounds of the outer mysteries, the exoteric; they are ‘apart’ from the true core significance of this time in the ritual year.

This is the time of the Holly King, the sensual, erotic reveller, the shaman initiator, the ‘Lord of the Dance’ – the Solar King who reveals the true meaning of ‘Beltane’, the fire quickening in the blood, in life, fecund and verdant. Just as in an exoteric, mundane sense, Beltane signifies the release of cattle from barns and pens, from their winter confinement, so it is that esoterically we are also released from our confines of the introspections of Winter. The doorway offers us an escape, a release into another world where we are once more free to explore and expand our occult faculties.

Roodmas, May’s Eve or Beltane celebrates this freedom of mental expansion, of growth induced by the awakening of the spirit within. Moreover, the avatar of initiation – Al Khidir, the spirit of the Green Man, triggers all this activity. Outwardly, he represents the fecundity of nature, of new life, re-generation and its fertility rites, themes that ‘mask’ his true virtues. Green tendrils issue from silent lips, breathing life and energy into oracular powers and divine speech, wisdom rises from his roots, rising like sap in to fresh growth, sprouting from these masked sprits, ‘guised’ aspects of primal energy.

Throughout many ancient cultures, ranging from Slavonic peoples to Indo-Aryans, from Europeans to Egyptians, the colour green represents secret initiatory aspects, especially prevalent when combined with Horns and animal skins. Later ‘Celtic’ language peoples absorbed these understandings into their histories and mythologies, transmuting the colour green into that of ‘Fey’, the hidden people, our ancestors, guides and muses. Within Sufi tradition, the Green Prophet, known as [Al Khidir], drinks the waters of immortality and spends eternity initiating all seekers.

May’ Eve balances All Hallows’ Eve in the ritual year as diurnal portals into the otherworlds paralleled in liminal time, places of great age, secrets, of death, truth knowledge and wisdom. Polarised aspects of life and death are represented by the symbols of each seasonal avatar – the foliate living mask of the Green Man, and the Skull and Crossbones of the Reaper. The Man in Green [Robin] becomes the Man in Black [Harlequin].

Nine magical woods [oak, ash, hazel, alder, elder, willow, birch, rowan and hawthorn make up the balefire], each one an offering to their associative dedicated deities, invoked for protection and illumination during the journey. The Maypole also has much deeper significance as the cosmic axis; when placed within the omphalos [the epicentre of our creation] it facilitates release upwards into the other worlds, the outer realm of astral levels and altered realities. Effectually, it becomes the shamanic pole [Axis Mundi] utilised by our European ancestors for thousands of years, which also takes us down into the underworld at All Hallows’ Eve. Indeed, it still serves this function for the Yakut Shamans in the East and for the Aborigines of Australia.

Attached by ribbons [representing vines], we circumambulate, winding round and round the cosmic pole, the nexus of the sacred tree that binds the power of the Sun, Moon and Stars down to Earth, acting as a conduit, entwining all within  the cosmic dance of time and space. This cosmic ‘mill’ is thus frenzied, being more evocative of the ecstatic rite of Dionysus [also a horned ‘green’ deity associated with initiatory and experiential rites], whose revellers also wore masks of vines and laurel [hallucinogenic], both evergreen……. eternal as the soul on its eternal cyclic journey towards enlightenment.

Interestingly, the orgiastic rites of Sabarar [Shiva] in India directly parallel these masked rites of ancient Thrace, Asia Minor and Crete. He becomes the medium for prophecy as man and plant spirit align in purpose, the ‘Holy Fool’, the wild and wise ‘Woodwose’, the serpent, disgorging and devouring itself within its own universe to become the living tree of knowledge. This ‘Summer Lord’ brings harmony through disruption, synthesis through symbiosis and renewal through regeneration. As ‘Natajara’ he dances creation into form, inspiring poets, seers, dancers to follow in his wake.

And so our leaping here is no simple act of sympathetic magic to induce the crops to grow, but serves to stimulate the rush of endorphins in to bloodstream to enhance our transition into altered states – a shamanic shift into true sabbatic flight. The ‘Leader of the Dance’, resplendent in foliate mask and phallic club [reflecting his role as initiator], instigates a quickening, leading his followers into the circle where everyone dances until exhausted. Thereafter to explore their own journeys in a meditative state of light trance; thus the Wild Man is invoked upon this Sabbat, through dancing and journeying as the guide to our re-awakening.

But the Creatrix, the Shakti force to His form, is not forgotten in these rites for through Her expression of creative sovereignty, balance is achieved, harmonising the fiery impetuosity of God energy. She confers the right to be yourself, to discover your True Will and to explore its boundaries magically – a gift for true expansion.

By Shani Oates©

[images – wikicommons and www.onlinepainters.co.uk]

The Basic Structure of The Craft

THE LAW

“Do not what you desire -
do what is necessary.
Take all you are given -
give all of yourself.
“What I have – - – I hold!”
When all else is lost, and not until then,
prepare to die with dignity.”

Desire is of course about gratification. It is about the sensuous delights of life itself. It is completely subjective. It alludes to illusion.

Necessity is the harsh, biting reality, the unrelenting tide of ‘fate’. This wave of assault forces the hand to act in accord with the will aligned to the external demands of duty, of sacrifice, of non-subjective causes.

Holding all that is given concerns the ability to receive. Giving is easy enough. How many of us can take? In taking we acknowledge the bond twixt giver and receiver and recognise the value of sharing gifts, though not ones of material worth. They are of great value and must be nurtured in faith, preserved by discretion and hallowed in awe.

Giving of the self in return is the surrender of will, rightly asserted as not being virtue. The will is an impediment to true sight and is given up. Removal of this obstacle is the giving of the ‘all’ – the self as a blank canvas for the virtue, as yet untapped within, to be stimulated by the teacher without.

This mentor keeps all for himself, that is to say, his gnosis is his own, it is of no use to the next man who cannot walk in his shoes. It is held by him as his guide and key to the next level of his/her own evolution. The mentor instils many things within his student, but never his own argosy. Wryd is an individual tone.

When one loses sight of the truth, loses the way to it or abandons it, then this person is ‘lost’, literally and figuratively. Without Truth, there is no hope, no understanding and no purpose in this life given to discover the profound secrets of these things.

This brings us to the reason for death. Without purpose, ”The Faith’ is dead. Without vigour in life, virtue wanes. So life loses its hold and we slip into stasis, the cold grip of death. It beckons us towards another life, another role through which to fulfil the ideals we lost in this one. And then we choose when and how such a death is acquired. The appointment is arranged by the context and according to the dictates of circumstance. No-one else decides this point in time, but ourselves.

In order to clear up grave misunderstandings concerning how such a Law on one level, may be generally expressed, Robert Cochrane sought to explain the principals and rules that some clans and families within the Craft known to him adhered to. Yet still, 50 years later, many in the Craft community, including some claiming to be traditional have little or no understanding at all of how this actually works, whether applied to ‘self’ or ‘community’. At its heart ‘The People’ have kept up those traditions formed naturally to these Isles, injecting a spiritual aspect to express a specific mystical approach. The law of pure mind, pure speech, pure heart, are essential to advancement of the self.

Thus people of low integrity can and do pray on the ignorance of the community. A Clan system has one Tutelary god; the ‘holders’ of the clan regalia are THE tribal leaders and represent the point of contact, which in our case is ‘Tubal Cain’. It is neither democratic, nor subscribes to hubris, being past these self-limiting and restrictive mind sets. Neither are its ‘people’ autonomous. We are a family, pure and simple. Contact is augmented through the group mind – the Egregore. Things ‘shift’ as given, and evolve as received.

When an oath is taken in the Clan system it is binding to the old ones, to have honour, to embrace truth, to hold close the love of your brothers and sisters, to be discreet, and not to mislead, and above all not to put in danger any member, by exposing the group or any individuals to outsiders not of their kin. This is an insidious crime. To lose grace causes expulsion and exile. To break this beautiful bond activates the most potent act of self-cursing (remember thine end) . Although if nothing is believed, then this will mean nothing, at least in no way comprehendable to such a person. I have knowledge of many streams but claim none but my own. ‘What I have I hold.’

So please, always ask around reputable sources, read as much as you can and research, it should be the duty of each seeker to ‘take all you are given’, but also to ‘give all of yourself’. So while there are many differences between all traditions, of whatever ilk, whether inspired a year ago or a hundred years ago [which has NO bearing in its sincerity or authenticity]. The genuine in the Craft should protect all seekers; an injury to one is an injury to all; yet sadly all do not adhere or agree to the above principles.

May you then find the Truth in all you do. What ever path you chose will be the right one, no genuine system is better than any other, and you are in charge of your own destiny, use it wisely and you cannot fail.

The Law states – `do NOT what we desire’ suggesting to me that even though we may
choose the preferable stance of harmony between want and need [the profane
mirror to desire and necessity]in our mundane life, or general situations other
than or distinct from those relating to oath bound obligations, sworn duty,
devotion or vocation within the `arte’ where `necessity’ becomes the hand of
fate. Life is the gift of all joy and pleasure, we are indeed dead without it.

Necessity’ here is not generated by subjective passion. If we do act through
the `Law’ in matters impassioned, then we exploit it for those personal reasons.
To be most effective, an almost detached state of acceptance must be entered
into. The action should conflict with `desire.’

Above all, we should never lose sight of the creative virtue of joy, of
earthly delights nor of the virtue of desire, the selfless devotion to being and
becoming greater than ourselves. This horse pulls in the opposite direction to
necessity. They cannot be harnessed together, serving separate courses of
action.

To paraphrase Robert Cochrane – In fate and the overcoming of fate lies the true Grail.

‘Starbreaker’
When truth and honour are placed into the ‘World of Man’, obstacles will rise out of the ground like weeds in a field, thorns tear at the flesh, and wild animals will hunt and attack all who stand in their path. The barren landscape is the environment in which we would default, our vision upon that plane is that of one among the wounded men, lost from the wisdom of the Muse, crippled with ego, and misunderstanding, being unable to drink from the Source, existing only upon thorns and polluted water. Cut off from Wisdom man becomes the beast that tears at itself and others. But truth like pure light will shine through a thousand layers of felt, and within the barren landscape many oases stand to refresh the traveler.
For the Source may be found in the ‘High Place’, where it flows accessible to all who seek it, a stream that imparts a particular channel into it; an egregore gives direct access to it; through its totem, a recognizable key provides the optional barrier to those who defame it. The Source cannot be owned or controlled, but it can be touched, seen, tasted; yet like Mercury it cannot be held onto without difficulty, a cunning ruse to prevent it from becoming stagnant and thus it must continue to flow. A cup full can be drunk but the ocean cannot be swallowed, it moves around all obstacles avoiding that which is not able to embrace it, but it can still shape all that it touches to its will over time.
I am humbled before humanity, for when I see truth in the eyes of someone else, I see the Great Ma, of pure love flowing back to the Source. It tells me She is still here, that my foolishness and ego are transient, and I am reminded that I am still only a child. Because I am the wanderer in hell facing the baroness of humanity, who in holding back the tears of Compassion are blind to beauty; yet for the pilgrim the seven veils are lifted, the intoxication of the mother’s milk clears the vision to the real beauty that surrounds us all. So the meaning of the traditional (craft) to us is, tradition, a system of the work, craft, the vehicle in which and by which you travel, yourself.
Robin the Dart
MAY THE WORD PROTECT YOU FROM THE LIE!