Journey Through The Obsidian Dream

In previous stages of my life, I was almost exclusively a solitary practitioner. I met with other witches and magicians, learned what I could from them, socialized where I could. I had my coffee house group, back in high school. There was the WPA (back before it became the Cauldron). I’ve attended public rituals of various kinds off and on, even tried to teach a few times. But mostly, it’s just been me, myself, and I.

In the last two years, I’ve done more groupwork than in all the previous fourteen years of magical practice combined. I’ve done public rituals that actually worked, joined a practice group that almost became a coven before it fell apart, tried to show a few things to a pack of young people at school. And all throughout it all, I have maintained a regular and powerful practice with my partner, Aradia.

Before all else, keeping a magical practice with your lover is every bit as powerful, transformative, and awe-inspiring as it’s supposed to be. It is more intimate than all but the very best sex, and the synchronicity it builds makes everything else better, more harmonious.

You see a lot written about that synchronicity. It’s mostly pretty fantastic and romanticized: empathic links bordering on mindreading, unity of will that precludes disagreements, mind-blowing mutual orgasms, prescient knowledge of where the other is and what they’re doing. If these extremes are possible, though, Aradia and I haven’t reached them, nor have any couple I know of.

What the myth leaves out is even more to the point. The empathic bond that can create a closed circuit of escalating glee can just as readily bring both partners spiraling downward in the middle of say, a panic attack, or at the end of a bad day. We’ve experienced both varieties. “Is this headache mine or yours?” is a conversation that Aradia and I have actually had. We get sympathetic foot and leg pains.

We’ve shared dreams a few times. The incident that exemplifies the oddities of our synchronicity was that once, when I was having a fried chicken craving that had been twice thwarted by nasty, dried failures, she dreamed of going on a fruitless quest for rich, juicy fried chicken. She also has more dreams that are completely, random, and nonsensical than she ever had before knowing me.

We appear frequently in one-another’s tarot spreads. When we have plans together for an evening, that usually shows up as well – a couple of weeks ago, for example, we both drew the Princess of Disks on a night we had already planned to see Pasiphae to do tarot readings for her.

None of these things have shown up in any sources that I’ve ever encountered. Which is interesting, because I don’t believe for a moment that our experience is isolated or unique. More research is required, I suppose.

In witchcraft

March Full Moon Reading

Satyr Magos09/04/2011

The full moon came while Aradia and I were on a mad, seven-day road trip to visit four of the schools to which I have applied. We were in Chicago, staying with old friends, and managed to take the time to do our monthly readings.

My annual reading promised me a 5 of Swords month in March, which I definitely felt – late papers, stress, exhaustion – and an Ace of Wands month for April, which I am definitely already experiencing – with nearly 4000 words written already on various school and personal projects, and a new short story draft completed.

Here is my reading for the moon which has almost passed:

HOUSE	CARD	GENERAL MEANING	SPECIFIC MEANING
1^st – Self, Viewpoint	6 Cups	reawakening of the spirits, emotional recovery, and well-being	enjoyment of work, finding one’s center, and being open to experiences
2^nd – Finances, Income	8 Disks	Cautious new beginning, moderation, and patience	waiting for an opportunity,
3^rd – Daily Experiences immediate influences	Knight of Swords	versatility, experience, emphasis on the rational mind,	moving directly toward one’s goal
4^th – Home-place family, land, roots	3 Cups	fulfillment, joy, well-being	fruitful relationship, time of joy
5^th – Fun / Pleasure children, hobbies,	IX the Hermit	contemplating what is essential, seclusion	stay home and do homework instead
6^th – Work illness, duty, routine	9 Cups	optimism, meaningful experiences, quiet happiness	enjoyment of work, advantageous conclusion of contract
7^th – Partnership associations, spouse	6 Disks	increase, material gain, welcome development	fruitful relationship, happiness in love
8^th – Taboo / Crisis sex, death, taxes, loans	8 Cups	weakness, broken hopes, resignation	I’m afraid of failure: duh
9^th – Higher Perception journey, movement	10 Wands	blocked development, problems with authority, “straight jacket”	mastering inner tensions through external effort
10^th – Recognition career, ambition, status	XIII Death	parting, natural end, renunciation	fulfilling an assignment, retirement
11^th – Friendships groups, social activities	VII the Chariot	mood of departure, thirst for adventure, assertive will	new relationship, animated impulse, decisive action
12^th – Secrets & Fears hopes, ambitions	10 Cups	fulfillment, culmination, success,	yes, I’m just as scared of victory as of defeat. duh
+2 – Current Position / / Outside Influences	Ace of Cups / 5 Cups	bliss, inner wealth, openness // dashed expectations, disappointement

In Uncategorized

Struggling for Practice

Satyr Magos09/04/2011

My actual ability to maintain a regular practice is better than my ability to maintain this blog … but not by much. Since staring the new semester, my life has been a mess of work, school, not-quite-enough sleep, and a few other troubles that I’ll actually get into in posts of their own.

I’ve pretty much lost track of the moons. I didn’t even do a Full Moon reading in February, and I haven’t ever gotten around to decoding the one I did in March. I haven’t checked back with my annual reading since January. I haven’t done a Dark Moon journey in longer than I care to contemplate, and Aradia and I didn’t get our Yule altar down until Ostara. I missed the last Dark Moon by a matter of days, even as I was slowly drafted this post.

Of course, there’s no chance that all of this is related to how stressed out I’ve been lately, is there? No, perish the thought!

Things are finally looking up. I did (finally) start my Imbolc mead with a little help from a late snowstorm and our Brid candles. I’m researching recipes for a similarly belated Ostara mead, but the internet is being less than helpful. I have done public Tarot readings on the last two First Fridays. I have gotten back to doing weekly and daily readings – three- and one-card respectively.

You can’t change the past. All I can do is strive to do better.

I’m getting ready to bottle my Beltane mead – I finally have artwork for the bottle. Sadly, it looks like Aradia and I will be celebrating that sabbat by ourselves – Pasiphae and Aidan are otherwise occupied, as are others we’ve worked with in the past. Which will make things interesting, as duo Beltane rituals run an above average risk of ending in pregnancy. Some creativity may be required.

We will be out at Gaea, though. So perhaps we will be able to join a public rite, or be invited to a smaller one.

In art

“Kneeling Satyr”

Satyr Magos04/04/2011

Lo, behold the satyr wild – fierce and bold and free –

from Dionysos’ revel he but stops to rest

and fall upon upon a bended knee,

‘neath twisting branches verdigris,

and offer thanks for life by Bacchus blessed.

Crowned he is by curling locks and grapen vine,

a face cursed by beauty, yet lit by wicked grin:

for his sculpted chest is brazen, bare, and fine,

and ‘twixt lean hips kitled in goat-skin,

hangs Priapos’ boon, not quite hidden.

One clawed hand he rests on muscled thigh,

his breath restored, and his ardor keen.

The other paw he lifts toward gods and sky –

his eyes fierce-bright with silver sheen –

and that grin, first wicked, leers now obscene.

A poem from my Creative Writing class. Prior to this class, I had not written poetry since high school, and it is doubtful that I will ever do so again unless similarly forced. Still, I’m not displeased with this piece: an ode to a statue, perhaps once a lamp, almost certainly an idol. The photograph is mine, taken in the Nelson-Atkins museum of Kansas City, MO.

Those who know me in the real world, of course, have already seen this poem posted elsewhere, but not the picture.

In scholarship

Academic Rites of Passage

Satyr Magos14/02/2011

In this last week I have undergone two rites of passage binding me closer to the world of formal academia.

Monday, I accepted the invitation – originally received last May, but overlooked because I didn’t really understand what the organization was, or what opportunities it would have afforded me – to join the Phi Theta Kappa honor society. Membership in the society will open a number of doors for me (though not quite so many as it would have had I accepted the invitation immediately, and with it a great deal of scholarship money I didn’t know existed), ranging from letters of recommendation, to possible transfer scholarships, and perhaps even to consideration for the larger honor society upon which it was patterned, Phi Beta Kappa. If nothing else, it is a welcome recognition of my academic accomplishments so far, and confers upon me the right to fancy regalia at my graduation ceremony in May.

Saturday, I endured the trial of the ACT in the hopes of securing admission to such lofty schools as the University of Chicago or Reed College, which require such rituals even of transfer juniors. This particular trial (and/or its competitor, the SAT) is actually one of the things that I was elated to avoid when I first decided against college. Though I did not study as hard for this test as perhaps I should have, but I believe that I did well. If nothing else, I am certain that I did at least as well on the real thing as I did on the practice test, on which I received a score of 29.

The college testing experience is, I believe, nearly universal in the United States. I remember clearly being pressured and herded toward the PSATs and the SAT in high school. Although Wikipedia assures me that the ACT is more popular in the midwest, it’s not the one I remember being “encouraged” to take. That element of shared experience, combined with the fiscal sacrifice, the rigid structure, and the intellectual ordeal, makes the ACT an excellent example, in my opinion, of a non-magical rite of passage.

The Phi Theta Kappa membership (particularly if I have the opportunity to be formally inducted) is a slightly different rite of passage. I was selected by a mysterious organization based on my academic performance, I made a sacrifice (again, money), and will be rewarded with certain signs that will set me apart from the larger student body and with access to information available only to initiates.

Interestingly, the Greek letters Phi Theta Kappa stand in this case, not for a motto, but for virtues – wisdom, aspiration and purity – and the group associates itself with Athena. Fortunately, She was already on my list of deities for whom I required idols.

In witchcraft

A Dark Time of the Year

Satyr Magos07/02/2011

According to the Wheel of the Year, Imbolc is the time when we can begin looking forward of spring. We have passed the depth of the darkness with Yule, and entered the Waxing Year. Fires are lit, beer is brewed, and Brigit – however you choose to spell Her Name – is invoked for her blessings of warmth, health, fertility, and artifice.

In Kansas City, however, early February is the coldest, darkest part of the year. This year more so than usual, with an straight-from-the-ice-of-Hel blizzard starting the evening of Monday 1 February and lasting through Wednesday 3 February. The roads had barely even been cleared after the first round of foot-deep snow. Aradia had to put off a business trip for two days, waiting for them to clear the I-70 corridor; I lost another two and a half days of classes.

Somehow, Aradia and I just weren’t feeling that Imbolc Fire. We sat around the house watching bad TV and trying not to think about how cold it was outside. We still haven’t changed over our altar from Yule, and I haven’t yet started the Imbolc batch of mead.

For the last week I’ve been living on leftovers and takeout. The house gets dirtier. My mind gets more and more scattered. I didn’t really sleep last night. I should be doing more homework, using the snow days to ahead in my classes; working harder on my admission essays, due the first of March; and studying for my ACT, which is this coming Saturday. I’m keeping up with my classes, and working again, and making progress on the essays … but the ACT scares me so bad that it hurts – an almost physical pain – to think about it. It’s hard to say which of these things is “cause” and which are “effect”.

Aradia comes back from St.Louis tomorrow, and I need to get the house clean enough for us to change out the altar and celebrate Imbolc. Hell, I need to get the house clean enough that I don’t feel like a fucking bum. I need to get my head screwed on straight so I can sleep and get done what I need to get done. The ritual will make me feel better. Having another gallon of mead bubbling away under the altar will make me feel better. Having my shit together will make me feel better, and feeling better will make it easier to keep my shit together.

This semester could easily define me for the rest of my life. I need to not fuck it up.

In art, witchcraft

Yule Altar 2010

Satyr Magos18/12/2010

Aradia and I finally got around to setting up the Yule altar. Last year, we focused a lot on the sun and the rebirth. With the full moon coinciding this year, we decided to do a lot more balance.

The centerpiece, which you can’t quite see in the photo, is a mask I made last year for the Summer and Winter solstices: black on one side and yellow on the other, with a solar disk on the brow and golden horns at the corners. The seemingly out-of-place jug under the tree is honey destined for the Yule mead.

In witchcraft

Stomach-soothing Ginger Tea

Satyr Magos17/12/2010

Something made me sick yesterday. I’m not sure if it was the perhaps-too-old soup I had for lunch, or the reubens Aradia and I had for dinner Wednesday night. Several friends recommended Kimchee – which, granted, I’ve been meaning to add to my fermentation experiments; it’s on the list after kimbucha – but I wasn’t willing to pour that into an already sour stomach. So the Squirrel Bandit provided me with this:

Take a 3 inch thumb of ginger (do not bother to peel it -just cut off funky parts)and grate it or slice it into a small soup pot and 6 cups water (2 cups if you are making syrup for later in the week). Boil until the kitchen smells like ginger and the water gets yellowish, add 4 Tb honey and wait a few minutes. If you can handle it add 2 Tb lemon or lime juice.

Drink hot or add syrup to seltzer after chilling.

Tasty and soothing.

In Uncategorized

Coming out of Hibernation

Satyr Magos13/12/2010

Solstice approaches and the daylight wanes almost to nothing. Here in Kansas City we’ve just had our first snow and our first night below 0F. The semester is over, with only one final exam left between me and (hopefully) sounder sleep. It seems as good a time as any to reacquaint myself with the world.

At 14,000 words my NaNoWriMo novel is neither a failure nor a success: in fewer than 20 days I doubled my fiction word count for the school year. I’ve written one major and one minor paper in the last two weeks, the first of which I may share here.

I’m working on my recipe for my Yule mead. While searching for inspiration, I found a fantastic beginner’s recipe: http://www.moremead.com/mead_logs/Ancient_OCC.html

And while I’m sharing links, I found this while catching up on Chas Clifton’s blog: http://mysterytheater.blogspot.com/2010/10/free-classic-weird-fiction.html

Happy day, all.

In art, witchcraft

Thought of the Day

Satyr Magos07/11/2010

I’m not posting much for two reasons: 1) I still haven’t gotten back on that big magical bandwagon yet, though I’m doing better; and, 2) it’s National Novel Writing Month. Because it’s NaNoWriMo time, and because I just did the First Friday thing to celebrate my birthday with one of my oldest friends, I’m in a certain headspace. Eris Hilton has recently summed up that headspace well (though the rest of the post is actually unrelated):

Magic isn’t rocket science …

It’s rocket art.

Interestingly, in the midst of my frenzied writing, I’ve had a couple breakthroughs with key ideas on how to develop my own mystery tradition without relying any more than absolutely necessary with some of the more … problematic elements of neoPagan cultural appropriation.

One word: Labyrinth.