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In scholarship

Personal Gnosis: Some Preliminary Thoughts

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

I’ve been using the word Gnostic a lot.

I should probably talk about it.

I first encountered the word “Gnosis” in Phil Hine’s Condensed Chaos. I met it again — a lot — in the various works of Peter J Carroll. Then I encountered it again, as “Gnostic” or “Gnosticism”, in Bart D Ehrman’s Lost Christianities. The last gave some context and meaning to the glib, 1990s pomposity of the first two.

Since then, it’s become something of a rabbit hole. Rune Soup. Aeon Byte. Ecstatic rituals, modern and ancient. Conspiracy theories.

“Gnosis” is generally understood to be Greek for “knowledge”. Touching base with the dictionaries at Perseus, it seems to be a little more than that: there is a strong implication of inquiry; Heraklitus used it to suggest cosmic knowledge; some sources indicate a sense of being known. “Gnosticism”, meanwhile, shares a key feature with the word “shamanism”: many scholars believe the word to be too broad, too modern, to be of use in discussing ancient sources. It is certainly a large and broad subject, too vast for me to discuss at bredth. But I do think it may be useful, both to my readers and myself, to talk a little about a few of the through lines and what they mean to me.

[A preliminary note: this is probably the first in what may be a very long series of posts. Due to its personal nature, it will not be as citation-heavy as later posts. When I start talking facts and theories, I’ll go back to Chicago Style for you. Today we’re talking about the broad strokes, emphasizing my feelings and UPG.]

Inquiry, Revelation, and Awakening

The mystic’s first task is to seek knowledge. No more, no less. Through research, experimentation, ecstasy, and art. Seek knowledge.

Having attained knowledge, having awakened to her truth, the mystic’s next task is to awaken the world around her. Not by sharing the truth she has found, per se, but by spurring others to seek out knowledge for themselves.

What “knowledge” constitutes Gnosis varies somewhat from tradition to tradition, even person to person. The broad implication always seems to be knowledge of the cosmos. Or, more narrowly, knowledge of the source of all things (“God”). The neo-Pagan term Unverified Personal Gnosis (UPG) seems overwhelmingly to refer to the needs, nature, and personality of the gods. From where I sit, Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel (KCHGA) would probably qualify, though I don’t know that most ceremonialists in pursuit of that Knowledge would consider themselves Gnostics. The Chaos Magick use of “Gnosis” to mean little more than “trance” seems, to me, to water the term down unnecessarily.

Divine Spark

When I first discovered the modern neo-Pagan movement in the mid 1990s, this was one of the ideas that drew me in. The notion that each person is born with a spark of the same divinity as possessed by the gods.

Ancient and more conventional versions of Gnosticism attribute this divine spark to an intercessory figure, often named Sophia, whose departure from the heaven / the true source / the alien God / whatever marks the beginning of the Gnostic narrative. There are too many variations to count or describe here, but the gist of it is that by accident, error, or mercy, the Sophia / savior figure brings the spark of divinity from heaven to earth and transmits it to humanity.

Many Gnosticisms reserve this divinity for humanity; animist visions perceive it in literally all things. For myself, I lean toward the animist vision.

In many versions, the Gnostic inquiry and awakening (see above) culminates in a visceral awareness of this divine spark. So awakened, and seeking to awaken those around her, the Gnostic seeks rites by which to return to Sophia and/or the alien divine source from which Sophia came.

Archonic Interference

There is something fundamentally wrong with the world. There are people and places, both mortal and cosmic, that clearly want nothing so much as they want everyone else to suffer. These corrupting, controlling forces are the archons, who seek to imprison all who bear the divine spark so that they might steal it for themselves.

The name “archon” also comes from Greek. The root, archo, means to be first; from that we have arche, which simultaneously means law and origin, and archon, which means ruler, lord, or king. Another common phrase in English is “Powers and Principalities”. The archons are cannonically cosmic tyrants; Gnosticisms which perceive allies among the forces of the cosmic forces refer to those powers as Aeons. In a perfect world, this would make all Gnostics Black Block anarchists; tragically, this is not the case.

In many forms of Gnosticism, the chief archon is the Demiurge: the mad god who either created our sick,sad world or who took the work of the true creator and perverted it into a prison. “Demiurge” is, of course, also from Greek: demiurgos, maker or craftsman. This monstrous divinity has many names; my favorites are Yaldabaoth and Sammael (they’re fun to say).

It is this aspect of Gnosticism which is often responsible for its reputation as world- and life-hating. Certainly those strains exist. But, that way lies nihilism, and I try very hard not to go there.

For myself, I do not see an inherent conflict between the notions that, on the one hand, life and the world are sacred; and that, on the other, there are parasitical and/or cancerous cosmic powers who wish to drain the joy out of everything. Just look at people. What is the cosmic reflection of earthly Status Quo Warriors? Of parasitic billionaires? Of murderous tyrants who claim divine favor and are not struck down by lightning?

As above, so below.

Live a Mythic Life

“Write your own Gospel, live your own myth.” This phrase comes not from ancient sources, as far as I can tell, but was coined by Miguel Conner of Aeon Byte: Gnostic Radio. It is, I believe, both his most radical and most useful thought associated with modern Gnosticism.

In the words of [look dude’s name up], “The awakening of any individual is a cosmic event.” Or, as Miguel Connor likes to say: The awakening of any individual is a cosmic rebellion.

If the gods who oversee the world are evil — and only the most toxically positive deny that at least some of them are — then to know goodness is to rebel against them. If the gods of this world wish us to live in ignorance, then to seek knowledge is to rebel against them.

There is a dark side, of course. The notion of a mythic life, a cosmic battle between an awakened elect and monstrous forces of control, seems to make Gnostics even more prone to paranoid delusions and asinine conspiracy theories than the rest of the New Age and neo-Pagan population. Frankly, I’m a queer historian: I know damn well how the rich and powerful have oppressed their subjects since the rise of agriculture; that doesn’t make the conspiracies that fascinate the pseudo-enlightened (chemtrails, hollow earth, reptilians, Bilderberg) any less farsical, particularly given how those same people point to feminists, queers, anti-racists, and anti-imperialists as divisive weapons and lapdogs of the Secret Chiefs. But I’ll dig into that, later, along with so many of the hanging threads above.

What’s important to me, personally, and to this introductory blog post is the mythic potential of life. Not every myth is heroic — we are not all (thank the gods) Theseus murdering the Minotaur, seducing and then abandoning Ariande. Some of us are the Roman citizen-soldier, whose only ambition is to go home and serve our families. Some of us are the Sybil, holed up in our divine caverns, hotboxing sacred fumes, spewing mad prophesy to those brave and desperate enough to listen. There are so many myths, and an infinite universe to fill with more.

In art, hedonism, scholarship

Pride and Paganism 1/2: Dance for the Dead

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

It’s Pride Season, and that always puts me in a contemplative mood.

I guess I should start by saying that I was a late bloomer. I didn’t grok that I was bisexual until I was about 21 years old. In my defense, sex education and mainstream culture in the 1990s had left me with the impression that bisexuality was something that only existed in women (and let’s not even get started on all the transphobia that my genderqueer ass is still struggling to sort out). I didn’t go to my first Pride Parade 2007, after I moved to St. Louis, in part to come out of the closet. I didn’t have much experience with the community. I was still pretty fresh out of the closet, still pretty ignorant of most politics. 

It was a lot spectacle.  I took hundreds of pictures with my first digital camera, a ViviCam3705.  It meant a lot to me to go with the folks of BASL, to see and be seen.  I bought my first pride jewelry.  I had my first “what do you mean you want to have an actual conversation before I suck your dick” encounter with a gay man.  It was wild.

Fast forward a decade and change.  I haven’t been to a Pride festival or parade in years.  There are a lot of reasons for this.  Part of it is that I’ve always worked weekends — even in shops where not every jeweler worked Saturday and/or Sunday, I’ve found myself in the position of Weekend Jeweler.  Part of it is poverty — in Kansas City, unlike St. Louis, Pride is a ticketed event, and the venue they chose previously was one whose policies made bringing your own food and beverages difficult.  Part of it is my growing sensitivity to heat — I had made plans to meet my friends at Pride after work, last year, but heat exhaustion defeated me.

Part of it, though, is that I don’t like the direction Pride has taken.  I’m a history-minded queer, you know.  I know that the modern liberation movement began with a riot sparked by police brutality.  I know that many of the first Pride festivals were Gay-Ins — massive displays of public queer affection meant to confront, shock, outrage.  It wasn’t that long ago that half the states in the country passed constitutional amendments in “Defense of Marriage“.  You can still be fired or murdered anywhere and everywhere in the country for being too visibly queer (particularly if you’re a woman of color).

So it bothers me that Pride events have been taken over by corporations that profit off queer trauma survivors’ and queer youth’s abuse of alcohol (without doing anything for the movement besides some PR stunts and HR handwringing).  It bothers me that people are advocating for larger police presences at Pride festivals and parades.  It bothers me that, in most parts of the country, Gay Liberation (a phrase that, when it was coined, was every bit as radical and frightening as queer anything) has become LGb(t) Assimilation.

And yet … cops whinging to be included in Pride parades is an improvement over clockwork raids of gay bars.  Corporate sponsorship / takeover of Pride festivals is better than every single queer knowing that his, her, or their job was at stake if anyone, ever, found out.  Assimilationism is better than countless lives swallowed by sham marriages.  But … those aren’t the only options, are they?

I oppose the institutions of marriage and military service.  And,  yet, I demanded an end to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell because, so long as the institution of the military exists, it’s better that queers be allowed full participation.  I demanded Marriage Equality for the same reason.  Being able to imagine a better world does not mean we cannot or should not celebrate victories in this one.

Unlike marriage and the military, Pride is not an institution with roots in previous civilizations.  Pride is a late 20th Century bid for revolution.  The Gay Liberation Front, formed mid-riot, was as opposed to the Vietnam War and to poverty as it was to the oppression of queer people.  Thus, marriage be damned, Pride’s assimilation by mainstream capitalist and imperial forces is a betrayal of its own roots — a clear case of winning a few battles while ultimately losing the war.

I don’t have any answers here.  No thesis.  Just hard questions about goals, tactics, strategy.

Remember that the Nazis burned the library of Magnus Hirsfeld’s Institue for the Science of Sexuality, setting back sexual science and queer liberation by at least a hundred years.  Remember that in mid-19th century United States, the police systematically raided gay bars for fun and profit.  Remember that Reagan (and most USians) ignored the AIDS crisis for more than a decade, figuring that the queers deserved to die.

I dream of a better world, but I don’t know how to get there.

I believe in Pride.  The procession.  The pageantry.  The mad Dionysiac revel of it.  The seeing and being seen, our warts and asses (sometimes literally) on display beside our vital life and joy.  But it needs less Bacchanalia and more Sporagmos; fewer drunken satyrs, more maenads tearing blasphemers limb from limb.

When you dance for Pride, you dance for the dead.  Don’t let our murderers and their sympathizers turn a profit off of you.  Don’t let their successors use you as a public relations prop.

In scholarship, Uncategorized, witchcraft

Lust of Results is Not Your Problem

Author Satyr MagosPosted on 2 Comments

I’ve been reading and talking magical technique a lot, lately, so I’ve been re-exposed to the notion of “lust for results” and it’s been driving me up the wall.

Let me lay it down like this: I was once a presumed-male 16 year old with even more lust in my heart than I possess today.  I know precisely how wanting something too much can screw it up for you, and I honestly believe that it’s this memory that Carrol and Spare and even less douchy chaotes are holding in their hearts when they speak of lust of results.  But here’s the thing: it’s not the wanting that’s the problem, it’s the being an inconsiderate and creepy fuckwit part that screws it up.  As a magical principle, the destructive power of lust of results just doesn’t hold water.

Historically and socially minded magicians talk about this a lot: there are three things that people turn to for magic before all others: money, sex, revenge.  As such, folk magic, the grimoires, and even the PGM are all thick with spells to bring you those things.  They are things that people want desperately, things that people can’t think rationally about.  They are results that people lust over.  And, quite frankly, if they were things that magic couldn’t bring people just because they wanted them too badly, books of magic would be a lot thinner, and the pockets of magicians and sorcerers across time would be a lot dustier.  More to the point, the desires for money, sex, and revenge, are the things that get people into magic in the first place, and if wanting them bad enough to enchant for them were a guaranteed failure, then no one would keep practicing magic long enough to pursue more enlightened goals.

Put another way: blaming magical failure on “lust of results” is a fucking cop-out.  Although I can think of a couple notable exceptions, most of us aren’t calling upon the Gods Above and Below to protect and grow our existing wealth.

You don’t call upon the forces of the cosmos to bring you things you can get just by walking out your door.  By the time you’re enchanting for money, you’ve probably been stuck in your shit job (or unemployed) for a while, and you’ve already probably put out a hundred or so resumes and applications.  By the time you’re enchanting for sex and love, you’ve probably got a few failed relationships under your belt and some serious emotional baggage on your back.  By the time you’re enchanting for revenge, you’re probably up against forces that you cannot face on an even field of battle.

That is to say, for the most part you don’t enchant unless you’re lusting for results.  Also, take some time to talk to some witches: we know what great spell-fuel lust and fear and hate can be.  Thus, we must look for another, more meaningful explanation for spell failure.

Generally speaking, modern Chaos Magick operates under the assumption of a probabilistic universe.  (I single out Chaos Magick, here, because Chaotes are the ones having interesting conversations about how magic works behind the curtain, and because Peter Carrol and Gordon White and Andrieh Vitimus are the people I’ve seen talking about this in print).  So, to reframe the debate in those terms, it turns out that most of us don’t start enchanting for results until the odds are already stacked against us.  Again: we lust for results when our magical goal is objectively more difficult to achieve.

From this probabilistic perspective, then, the “lust for results” argument is completely non-sequiter.  Lusting for results is only a problem if causes you to act against your own interests.

Why then, can a skilled magician, witch, or sorcerer find themselves in a position where they can happily enchant their friends and clients into new carreers but cannot do so for themselves?  Frankly, I would turn to non-magical explanations, first.  Stress and trauma reduce cognitive function and creative capacity: it’s harder to come up with good magical solutions to your own problems.  Moreover, speaking now only of American mages, thanks to the poison of prosperity theology in the cultural waters, we may well blame ourselves for our circumstances, further reducing our ability to see solutions to our problems.

If we must find a magical explanation for the failure of a skilled magician to adequately alter the probabilities of their situation, I propose a different metaphor: leverage and angles.  It is easier to do prosperity magic (or many kinds of magic, for that matter) for another than for ourselves because we do not have the best angle of attack on our own problems.  Although I cannot explain why this may be, based on my own observations I believe that this is particularly true of sympathetic magics.

In summary, I believe that “lust for results” is rarely if ever a satisfactory magical explanation for failure to manifest one’s desire.  I believe that it has survived so long by playing into the worst parts of where mainstream and magical cultures overlap – victim blaming, “u mad bro?”, caring isn’t cool – and by virtue of its pedigree.  I propose that any time we are tempted to use “lust for results” as an explanation for a failed enchantment, we reassess the actual probability of success on the one hand, and the material action nesscessary (vs. taken) to back up the enchantment on the other.

In scholarship, Uncategorized, witchcraft

Producing a Lexicon of Queer Witchcraft

Author Satyr MagosPosted on 1 Comment

This post was originally written several years ago, while I was still in the Sunrise Temple.  For some reason I can’t recall – possibly because it didn’t tie in neatly with the Ceremonial Experiment – I decided to post it exclusively to my Tumblr.  I repost it here, now, because I was looking to link to it as I was drafting my response to the Ruth Barrett issue and was irate that I couldn’t find it.  It was, probably, my most popular Tumblr post, and I think that the discussion is still relevant, and I am still struggling to think clearly in the wake of post-festival and post-tragedy collapse.  The below post has been slightly edited for spelling and grammar.

This is a thing that has been on my mind for a while, and I’m going to float it here before I begin drafting a larger post for the main blog.

I know for a fact that I am not the only genderqueer witch who doesn’t fit comfortably under the trans umbrella.  I strongly suspect that many like me share my struggle to find language to describe their experiences.  The one word I know that comes close to describing the way in which my spirituality and gender identity intermix–Two-spirit–is not mine to use.  Being a Classicist, though, I have access to two whole lexicons from which to less problematically adopt words:  Attic Greek and Classical Latin.

Let me, therefore, propose a word for those of us whose spiritual genders embrace a combination of masculinity and femininity: digenes, from διγενής.  Literally, it renders as “two kind”, but is more commonly taken to mean “of dual or ambiguous nature”.  For those who wish to explicitly embrace a broader spectrum, the neologism polygenes (πολυγενής) can be coined: many-natured.  If you don’t like genes, phusis can be used: diphues (διφυής) or polyphues (πολυφυής): literally two- or many- natured.  Digenes is historically testified to describe Dionysus (citation pending), and diphues to describe Eros in the Orphic Hymn.

So: the proposal:

digenes, diphues, polygenes, and polyphues

Attic/Koine Greek borrow-words and neologisms to describe the experience of genderqueer spirituality for those of us whose traditions do not come equipped with such words.

In scholarship

Star.Ships Calling

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

As a yet-unpublished writer, the last eighteen months have been rough on me: the list of people I know and admire who have published before I have has grown immensely.  Rufus Opus, Lance Tuck, Luna Teague.  Most recently, now, Gordon White has blown onto the scene with not one but two books in the last fewmonths: the first with the most prestigious occult publisher of our age, and the second with the largest.  My hat off to you, sir, you fucking grand over-achiever.  Holy shit.

On the off chance that you don’t already know who Gordon White is, stop what you’re doing and check him out now.  Gordon runs the twin pulpits of his blog and podcast, Rune Soup, whence he pontificates on a wide variety of subjects, mostly culture and  the paranormal.  He speaks from a Chaos Magick and animist perspective, which is refreshingly off-center, and he is very, very clever.  Some day I hope to be cool enough to win an interview on the podcast.

for book page

The first and (arguably) more ambitious of his two books is more theoretical.  Star.Ships gathers up a wide swath of archaeological loose ends from the late paleolithic and demonstrates how they may lead to the earliest portions of history.  Gordon weaves his argument from the recently discovered paleolithic monuments of Gobekli Tepe to the infamous heads of Easter Island to the submerged ruins off the coast of India.  He draws on cutting-edge linguistics and genetics research to illustrate how the now-widely disseminated 1990s theories of human migration desperately miss the mark, and turns into the analysis of geologists and engineers regarding a variety of ancient “mysteries”.   In doing so, he attempts to fill in the “missing links” of western esoteric tradition, and argues that great swaths of human history have been influenced by a handful of stellar powers.  He also, almost incidentally, condemns the current state of scholarship in general and the field of Egyptology in particular.

I am, by training, a Classicist.  This is to say, on the one hand, that I know little or nothing of the paleolithic sites Gordon points to to illustrate a number of his arguments — particularly Gobekli Tepe, to which he points so often — and I look forward to spending a fair bit of my spare time over the next year looking up everything in the bibliography.  On the other hand, however, it also means that I know better than most how much a shambles academic knowledge is regarding the moments just before “history” (that is to say, the things we wrote down) begins.  I mean … there are Classicists who still believe there was a Dorian invasion, but no city of Troy, and that Pythagorus invented the math he clearly stole from Egyptian engineers.  It was a professional hairdresser who demonstrated how the women’s hairstyles of Roman statuary were physically possible and not sculptors’ flights of fancy; it was the engineers of a century ago who provided the first viable theories of how the Egyptian pyramids might have been constructed; and I have personally seen at least three drunk construction workers on YouTube demonstrating how single individuals might have erected the megaliths across the British Isles.  Finally, having given up my dreams of pursuing a Doctorate entirely because of my own experiences navigating the politics of the academy, I am entirely sympathetic to his condemnations of that institution.

This late to the game, however, there is almost no point in writing a full review of the book.  To that end, I have only three more things to say on the subject:

  1. Unlike so many, Gordon White does an excellent job of distinguishing between his data and his conclusions.  If you are uncomfortable with his conclusions, he cites his less mainstream sources very clearly and has an extensive bibliography at the end.
  2. The most important thing Gordon has to say in Star.Ships is not actually his core thesis, but the mantra he repeats as he makes each of his points: it is the task of science to accumulate data; it is the task of the magician to provide meaning.
  3. Go buy the damn book.  Gordon White’s Star.Ships from Scarlet Imprint

</fanboi squee>

 

 

In scholarship, witchcraft

Orphic Hymns to the Sun: Translations in Action

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

A great deal of the current work being done with planetary magic right now relies heavily on the use of the Orphic Hymns, chiefly the 18th century translations by Thomas Taylor.  Long-time readers may recall that I am uncomfortable with those translations, and have argued that the more recent and more accurate translations of Apostolos Athanassakis be used instead.  It was not only inevitable, then, but entirely by design that my first week of conjurations put these two translations back-to-back to see what differences might be discerned in their efficacy.

For those magicians who are not also ancient language geeks (how have I not bored you to death?), the gist of it is that the Ancient Greek in which the Orphic Hymns were composed was written in meter rather than rhyme, and hammering the verses into a simple English rhyme-scheme takes some serious torture.  Also, archaeology is amazing, and we know more about the languages of Hellenistic Greece today than Taylor did, so some of his mistakes may be rooted in bad dictionaries.  Some magicians, equally if not more geeky and educated as I, believe that the Taylor translations work better magically for all sorts of reasons, but I ride this hobby horse to hell, regardless.

Taylor’s rhyming cant does, I must concede, a certain something for the brain of the English speaking magician.  We have this whole thing with magic and rhyme, and any good Chaos magician knows how valuable it is to tap into that sort of unconscious power source.  Moveover, between their ready (and free) availability, and the work of Rufus Opus (among others), the Taylor translations of the Hymns are explicitly tied to the planetary rites of the modern Western magical tradition.  All this goes to say that when I used the Thomas Taylor translation of the Hymn to the Sun, by itself, as a part of RO’s Seven Spheres rite, and as a part of conjurations of my own design, I already knew something of what to expect.

The warmth of the Sun responds readily to the hymn, and one may ride that way direct to the planetary current, and the Archangel Michael or the Titan god Helios respond equally readily to accept the offerings laid out before them.

The translations of Apostolos Athanassakis are aimed at the casual enthusiast as much as the professional Classicist, so they are not as sharp-edged as some might fear — the pages are unmarred by indications of broken text in the original, or annotation regarding the academic infighting of one translation versus another.  Moreover, in the particular case of the Hymn to Helios, the differences between the two translations are much less stark and more stylistical than other Orphic Hymns.

The Sun that responded to Aradia and I when we called by this hymn, both by itself and as a part of the Seven Spheres rite, was startlingly different from that which answered to the Taylor translation.  It was tarnished, or perhaps brazen rather than gold.  It was older, more aloof, more … Titanic.  Aradia described the experience as having used a back door to the sun.

It was the Athanassakis translation of the Orphic Hymn to Helios, substituted for Taylor in the Seven Spheres rite, which produced my most vivid experience of the experiment so far: the sensation of having ascended to an old, cooling, and abandoned region of the Sun, and of being observed by a vast red-gold eye, the size of a planet, staring widely at my from within an almost understandably vast head.

 

In scholarship, witchcraft

Seven Spheres in Review

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

I ordered my copy of RO’s Seven Spheres the second day after it was released.  I think it’s telling that people who ordered the day before I did got their copies ten days before I did.  My copy is numbered 120/1000.  I was already half-familiar with a lot of the material from the Seven Spheres in Seven Days project and the magical experiments that came before and after, but I took my time going through the book.  I took my sweet time performing the rituals, too, and even longer processing the effects before even beginning to write this review.  In the intervening time, more people than I care to count have already reviewed the book in great depth, so I will keep my own comments brief and largely personal.

The book opened with a preface, “On the Gender of Kings,” that makes good-faith effort to reconcile the highly gendered language of the rites with the much wider reality of the occult community.  It falls little short in that it doesn’t question the legitimacy of male-as-default, but as an opening gambit by a straight white male hermeticist, it’s a sea-change.  So thank you for that, Fr. Rufus Opus, it means a lot.

The following chapters go one to provide a rough outline of the neo-Platonic theology upon which the book hinges.  After, he goes very specifically into the theology and philosophy of the kingship metaphor.  These sections are both interesting and helpful, but, based on Aradia’s struggle to understand some the material, I don’t believe that they are fully comprehensible without a decent background in either Classical Studies or the wider world of Hermetics.

While the Seven Spheres does not actually contain a complete philosophy (a good thing, in my opinion), it does contain a complete ritual structure.  With only a little outside knowledge and no outside ritual, one could actually use the Seven Spheres as the basis for an entire ritual practice.  Rufus Opus has combined the Stele of Jeu the Heiroglyphist with the Trithemius’ spirit conjuration and the Thomas Taylor translation of the Orphic Hymns into an elaborate but effective and accessible rite.  Each of the seven conjurations is largely the same, substituting the names of the appropriate archangels and planets at the appropriate times and reading the (loosely) appropriate Orphic hymn.

I have only three complaints about the book, one of which is editorial and two of which are academic.

The first academic issue is one of a citation.  In the chapter about the Sun (p.50), Rufus Opus makes reference to Supernatural Assistant in the Greek Magical Papyri.  Unless he is refering to the Stele of Jeu, itself, which never uses that language, the only such rites I know of (or can find, quickly consulting the table of rituals) are PGM I.1-42 “Rite”  and PGM I.4 “The spell of Pnothis”.  The first opens with the “deification” (drowning) of a falcon, which is to then be stuffed and made offerings; the second requires the head of a (the same?) falcon.  I sent the good gentleman an email for clarification at the time, but never received a response.  This saddens me immensely because I want to read those rituals, damn it.

The second academic issue is one of translation.  Thomas Taylor’s Hymns may be good for magic, and beautifully ensconced in the public domain, but the are awful English representations of the Greek.  Athanassakis is the only legitimate English translation currently available.

Finally, there appears to be a transcription error in the ritual script.  On page 114, one is instructed to say, “…prepare now the way between myself and the sphere of Mercury…” regardless of the sphere one is conjuring.  Because there is no explanation elsewhere in the book as to why one always trucks with angels via the sphere of Mercury, one suspects that this is supposed to read “… sphere of [Planet Name]…” even as the space for the Angel’s name is noted at the bottom of the page and again on 120.

Aradia and I began our journey through the spheres on Thursday the 1st of January.  It took us about nine weeks to make it through six of the seven spheres — we never felt called to conjure Saturn.  Each time we conjured the archangels of the spheres, we asked for their blessing that we might be beloved of gods and mortals, and that they appear before us that we might know them.  In each of those rites, I drew the Powers that I saw.

The positive effects of those rites are still reverberating through my life.  I’ve finished my first novel and gotten it out to several friends for editing.  I’ve opened a portfolio site to sell my photography.  I’ve decided to go back to school for my Master’s degree.  I’ve begun an ambitious artistic and magical mask-making project for the main ritual arc at this coming Heartland Pagan Festival.  I’ve found a new lover.

I cannot possibly recommend this book strongly enough.

In scholarship, witchcraft

ξένια: The Ethical Implications of Hospitality and Witchcraft

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

Behold, ξένια (xenia):

“… There you have my lineage.  That is the blood I claim, my royal birth.”

When he heard that, Diomedes spirits lifted.  Raising his spear, the lord of the war cry drove it home, planting it deep down in the earth that feds us all and with winning words he called out to Glaucus, the young captain, “Splendid–you are my friend, my guest from the days of our grandfathers long ago!  Noble Oeneus hosted your brave Bellerophon once, he held him there in his halls, twenty whole days, and they gave each other handsome gifts of friendship.

…

Come, let us keep clear of each other’s spears, even there in the thick of battle.  Look, plenty of Trojans there for me to kill, your famous allies to, any soldier the god will bring n range and I can run to ground.  And plenty of Argives too–kill them if yo can.  The men must know our claim: we are sworn friends from our fathers’ days till now!”

Both agreed.  Both fighters sprang from their chariots, clasped each other’s hands and traded pacts of friendship.

— Iliad VI.251-279.  Translated by Robert Fagels.  Penguin (1990).

From ξένος, “stranger” (though, specifically a civilized neighbor, not βαρβαρος ) and often translated as “guest-friendship”, ξένια was the ancient Hellenic practice of hospitality that assured travelers a safe place to stay, on the one hand, and the good behavior of guests on the other.  In a very real sense, the reciprocal obligations obligations of hospitality among mortals mirrored the reciprocity of piety and patronage between mortals and gods: it was a covenant.  Guest and host honored their duties alike, because it was one of the founding ethics of their society; to fail to do so invited chaos.  The central conceit of the Iliad, after all, is that Paris/Alexandris violated the terms of hospitality when he abducted Helen (willingly or unwillingly, the primary text is unclear … and how does being brainjacked by Aphrodite, as Helen implies she was at III.460-5, calculate into discussions of consent?), and the otherwise un-unified whole of Greece went to war for it.  For further examples, the whole Odyssey is basically a treatise on what goes wrong when you violate the terms of hospitality.

This is one of the Hellenistic practices that translates almost directly into my own life: all who come under my roof come under my protection–for the duration of their stay, at the very least.  Those who partake of my hospitality may always expect (at the very least):

  • clean water, and what food and booze I can afford to share (all my friends being as poor as I am, that painful caveat is mutually understood)
  • a safe place to stay at the end of the party and an intervention of they are too intoxicated to travel on their own
  • a safe place to stay when traveling through my territory
  • the use of my shower and laundry facilities
  • that, barring simple accidents, their bodies and property are safe within my territory
  • that they may always request a change of subject, excepting only if an intervention is taking place
  • that, while sexually charged situations may arise, sexually predatory behavior will never be permitted
  • that, should anyone encroach upon them, I will always take their side

But the idea of sacred hospitality also intersects, in my mind and heart, at least, with Hermetic notions of the Kingdom and with my feminist notions of witchcraft.  For those who partake of my hospitality on the regular, the protection follows them home.  And, however problematic it may be, I expect the same of them.   They are allied nations, in a sense, and the standards by which I judge the hospitality they offer are raised considerably.  Although I have never been handed this law as a taboo, it is the only position I can hold given my particular background of neo-Hellenism, Hermetics, and feminist witchcraft.  Simply put, fair or not, I hold the hospitality of others to my own ethical standards as a matter of spiritual obligation.

The thing of it is, though, these are not just words.  Ideas have consequences–ethics in particular.  What does one do, then, as a modern neo-Pagan neo-Hellenistic feminist witch, the divinely-charged manager of one’s own spiritual world, when one learns that a friend–the lord of an allied Kingdom–has grossly violated the laws of hospitality?

Clever readers will have already noted that this is a particularly neo-Pagan spin on one of the fundamental issues in feminism and other social justice movements: how do we police our own spaces?  What is the best way to respond to racist, sexist, and homophobic language when it’s coming out of the mouths of people we love?  What do you do when your friends exhibit sexually predatory behavior?

I don’t have the answers to these questions, unfortunately.  Confronting bigots in the wrong way often leads to them doubling-down on heir biases; socially isolating predators can lead to faster escalation.  Do we bind them then?  Curse them into oblivion?  Feed them to the Furies or to Tartaros, himself?  But I’m tired of seeing these issues blown off in Pagan circles as “divisive”, or being the fault of people who just can’t hack it (whether “it” be the liqour they’re drinking or the permissive atmosphere of festivals or whatever), or dismissed as “politics” and therefore unrelated to spirituality.

I am, however, hereby formally proposing that, at the very least for those of us who see a sacred component to hospitality, these are issues of spiritual consequence.

In scholarship, witchcraft

Orphic Hymns: Taylor vs. Athanassakis

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

English: Orpheus
English: Orpheus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Classicist Apostolos Athanassakis recently released a new edition of his English translations of the Orphic hymns—previously released in the 1970s and, to the best of my ability to determine, the first new translation since Thomas Taylor’s in 1792.  I’ve been going over the hymns and notes for the last month, and using the hymns in my rituals for the last two weeks.  I must admit, that I’ve been rather surprised by the results.

Firstly, the Athanassakis translation is every bit as different from the Taylor as I would have imagined: no anachronistic rhyming couplets, no 18th century euphemisms or evasions, no substitutions of Roman names for Greek.  Because Classical scholarship has come a long way in the last two hundred years, I do not hesitate to assert that the translations are more accurate for reasons other than the brutal mangling needed to turn Koine iambic hexameter into English rhyming couplets.  And, to my delight, my own translation of the Hymn to Phanes ends up looking pretty solid.

For worship of the Hellenic gods, the new translation is by far superior: epithets are better preserved, and Athanassakis pointedly maintained what he felt to be the religious feel of the texts.  Dionysus, Phanes/Eros, Hermes, and Aphrodite have all responded well in my private rites.

For in/evocation of the Planetary powers, however, and to my extreme surprise, I have found the Taylor translations to yield much better results.  This is partly because, however I may despise them aesthetically, rhyming couplets make great magic.  This may also be partly because the Taylor translations have been so thoroughly incorporated into the Hermetic tradition, and thus provide better access to that magical current.  Further, the actual textual differences between the texts(coincidentally or otherwise) align the Taylor translation more closely with the Planetary powers than with the divine mythology.

Thus, while I must strongly advocate that any Hellenic-flavored neo-Pagan invest in the Athanassakis translation, as well as anyone with a scholarly interest in the hymns, ceremonial magicians have no need to do so.

In art, scholarship

Dionysiac Sketches

Author Satyr MagosPosted on

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A pair of sketches from the last few days: a female satyr (unattested in the 5th and 4th centuries Greece, but appearingin the Roman era and rife in later neo-Classical periods) and a Dionysiac phallus.

From Eric Csapo:

The zoomorphic concept of the phallus is pervasive in Greek thought-one has only to think of the many representations of phallus birds in Greek art.  It is also essentially Dionysiac. The phallus icon of Dionysus and the phalli carried in Dionysiac processions are always regarded as independent living organisms, of which the glans is a head, equipped with eyes and sometimes with (phallic, horse-like) ears and other animal attributes (see Plates 1A, 1B, 1C, 3, 4, 8A, 8B).41 The eyes, ears, and the phallus are the essential organs of the Dionysiac creature, but especially the eyes and phallus, because, though one can be possessed by music through one’s ears and possess others through theirs, it is by one’s own eyes and phallus that one is both possessed and takes possession.
— p.260 “Riding the Phallus for Dionysus: Iconology, Ritual, and Gender-Role De/Construction.” Phoenix. 51. no.3/4 (Autumn – Winter, 1997): 253-295. Emphasis mine.