A Few Notes on Weakness

This is moreso a follow-up to my post Falling Apart, Coming Back Together that I had been meaning to write, plus a supplement to my more recent Past, Patterns, and Keeping Silent.

To help me begin, I’m going to bring up Phil’s comment in the former post, in which he brings up some very good points. In order to help me compile just what I’m trying to say however, I’ll start off by saying that I too have chronic illness–in fact it was the onset of this chronic illness that tipped the scales when it came to my shamanic practice. I had leanings most of my life, but it was in 2005 when this thing hit, that the dam really burst open for me. I still have it. No amount of discipline, praying or “mind over matter” will ever make it go away. It’s here, and here to stay for the rest of my life. This doesn’t make me weak, or inadequate, and certainly not incapable of performing the duties in the path I walk. I walk a more ordeal-oriented path as a result–but this wasn’t my choice. Psychological scars also are present, and there are things, mentally and physically, that I will never “get over”.

Or, to put it this way: Certain things never will be gotten over–and no one should ever expect you to.

Sometimes it is only in the presence of injury, disease and related hardship that true knowledge can fully blossom.

In fact, this is one of the reasons why I always detested and despised the New Age drek The Secret or the Christian Purpose Driven Life, or otherwise related ‘name-it-and-claim-it’ philosophies. No matter how skilled a magician you are, or how hard you pray or how disciplined you are…shit happens. It just happens. It’s what you do with that shit, what you transmute it into, that matters.

Phil’s quote in his one reply was quite handy in this:

This is where the idea of lycanthropy as a disease can be useful. If you let it control you, and it is the master, that’s the bad situation where you have amnesiac werewolves who go on killing sprees. If you can control it, and use it most productively, let the beast out when it needs to get out and so forth, then that’s a position of true power and mastery, and it doesn’t involve squelching it or conquering it, or getting rid of that disease either (which is something one rarely sees in films and such…).

Of course you can apply this to a wide variety of ailments, but the general idea is there. And I think, for the moment, I’ll leave you all to ruminate over that, because my ability to form intelligent words right now is drastically flagging at the moment.

The Past, Patterns, and Keeping Silent

In looking back through my childhood (not an easy thing to do), I realize that I had all of the (stereo)typical behaviors of a magician and shamanist in the making. Traumatic events, both explained and unexplained. My brain was wired differently–so differently that I was consistently medicated for it from the age of seven, and reminded of it for every day of my life. I didn’t start actively trying to make friends until college, and even then, I wasn’t very social. I’m still not. As far as practitioners go, I’m very, well…solo.

Though unlike some, I was very underwhelmed when I began reading about magic, paganism and the occult back in my preteen years. It all seemed to describe to me things I knew already, or was already experimenting with. I somehow didn’t seemed too incredibly surprised to find others doing the same, though I was surprised to be able to connect with like-minded individuals who fit that niche. When it came to the occult and the paranormal, the big thing that really surprised me was that a thing like “otherkin” and “therianthropy” existed outside of my own little island of being. The honeymoon period with that, however, is long since over. I no longer actively seek connection between peoples that fit those two descriptors, simply because most of them are merely trying to escape from themselves and the species or world they were born into. I have no commonality with the false, the damaged, and the confused.

It leads me to wonder why I deal with the occult or animistic community at times. I can’t really say I deal with it as much as some–I am virtually inactive on most social fronts aside from my writing. But the patterns I seem to pick out most readily is the glorification of the bullshit artists and “internet shamans” that float around out there. The ones that are glorified for their fanciful storytelling, name-dropping, pity-partying and attention-seeking through their traumas (which, they feel, is an automatic badge for the practice of shamanism). Although they claim to be healers and to (desire to) help others, in the end they help no one but themselves–if you can really call it “help”. The people they surround themselves with are nothing more than yes-men, psychophants and enablers. But amongst these people are those who, I was astonished to find, are actually reasonably intelligent people. It stunned me to think that people who were so smart could be duped by such high school grade behavior. It wasn’t until I read Daniel Pinchbeck’s Toward 2012: Perspectives on the Next Age did I find out that Carlos Castaneda had actually duped a fair amount of professors who even had studied the Yaqui culture. Suppose this thing could happen to someone regardless of intelligence, though it leads me to speculate why, and how. The essay within the book, “Shamans and Charlatans: Assessing Castaneda’s Legacy” is well worth the read and relevant to this part of my rant. In fact, Reality Sandwich has some great essays in general on a variety of topics.

But it’s one of a few reasons why I step back, or remain on the periphery of what people there call “community”. I was never much a social being, which is kind of funny you think, coming from someone who claims strong alliance to canine archetypes. But witnessing this sort of thing is a turnoff towards community. The bullshit artists, the spindoctors. Plenty of people can write books and still be completely incompetent, and just because you’re popular doesn’t always make you right. I’m also a private person, and the extreme freedom by which occultists and shamanists share in gross detail their experiences is beyond me. I hold strongly to the clause, “To keep silent”, or as Christian Sedman in Generation Hex puts it:

We could tell other people straight out, but of course the minute you talk about magic–the shit you’ve turned into gold–is the minute it turns back into shit.

But hey, at this point you’re thinking “Well hey Solo, you do write about magic, right? Yes I do. I love doing so. I want to inspire people, or at least shoot out that signal flare out there that yes, there is someone else out there who isn’t doing this for wholly selfish reasons, or to find some sort of crutch for an inadequate life. Sedman goes on to say:

Sometimes you can write about it. That kind of works. The best thing you can do with something you’ve written about magic, I think, is inspire somebody else enough to try it themselves, so that they can see for themselves.

Even within the paradigm of magic and the animistic, there is so much people aren’t seeing, and it can be frustrating. I try not to waste too much time myself though. I am too constantly involved in the magical and animistic world to always pause enough to write about it or network or “do business”. Or, perhaps it’s too involved in me.

Shells, and other things

The Symbolism of the Cowrie Shell

I visited the coast this weekend, trying to get away from some of the stress of home. Amidst the tacky, tourist-trap gift shops, one could find many stores selling a wide variety of seashells and other related things from the ocean. I developed an intense attraction and desire to pick up cowry shells, and ended up coming home with a whole big bag of them, mostly cypraea moneta and cypraea annulus. Now, I aware of the basic nature by which cowries were appreciated by the Egyptians, and I had planned on picking up a few for my practices. As it turns out, I find that cowries have so many other meanings, associations and uses–some of which I find rather synchronistic and fortuitous to parts of my current situation.

Ah, the interesting things in life.

In any case, I plan on updating a little more on my trip, because a close encounter with feral ponies has served to remind me of certain thoughts on totemism I wish to express. I’d also like to address some good points and some thoughts that a few others made in my last post at some point.

Website Pimpage: Dreamhart

Dreamhart

A comprehensive website featuring a collection of essays and notes on everything from reiki and magic to otherkin. Run by Jarin, a close and dear friend of mine, who has years of practice and research under his belt. His stuff is good, so check it out.

Earliest Link Describes Christ as ‘Magician’

Oct. 1, 2008 — A team of scientists led by renowned French marine archaeologist Franck Goddio recently announced that they have found a bowl, dating to between the late 2nd century B.C. and the early 1st century A.D., that, according to an expert epigrapher, could be engraved with the world’s first known reference to Christ.

If the word “Christ” refers to the Biblical Jesus Christ, as is speculated, then the discovery may provide evidence that Christianity and paganism at times intertwined in the ancient world.

Full story here.

Magical Mutts and Paradigmal Pedigrees

Recently I was involved a bit in a discussion on different types of magic and learning styles–primarily those who learned through institutions of magical learning or other organized group, versus those who learned on their own. The whole discussion amused me greatly, but it also made me think.

To me, I see two sides of the issue. On the one hand, I see those who have learned under a particular tradition. They were probably part of a group, and learned through some sort of training or initiatory or grading process. They’ve received their “paradigmal pedigree” and have the paper trail to show it. On the other hand you have the “magical mutts”, those who have studied and learned on their own, with no formal training, and probably with no real involvement in any magical group.

The former side sees the latter as undisciplined, and probably not really practicing “true” magic. The latter sees the former as too stuffy and rigid and too caught within their particular rut or paradigm to grow further. Terms like “slave’s magic” and “hedge magic” are brought up. Either that or, I’ve seen instances where the mutts wished they had pedigrees–probably something to do with an insecurity of somesort maybe, as opposed to a desire to learn anything else on one’s own. And well, the ones with the pedigrees don’t like being accused of taking too narrow an approach with their magic, of course.

I simply sit, observe, and chuckle to myself at times when I encounter these sorts of exchanges. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen such discussions, even outright arguments (though the one I most recently witnessed didn’t qualify as an argument by any stretch) boil up before. I use dog metaphors when discussing this sort of thing because I think its an appropriate parallel, and well, it goes with my whole theme you see. As for me personally, well. I myself would classify as a magical mongrel (even an outright pariah* in some cases, based on some of my more ah, unconventional beliefs and practices).

You ask a bunch of dog owners, and you’ll get a bunch of different responses on wether or not a mutt or a purebred is the better dog to have. There are accounts where you can train a mutt just as easily to do a purebred’s job, and there are accounts where you can only rely on a specific conformation or behavior to get the job done. Sometimes the bloodline becomes too bottlenecked–old traditions too rigid and restricting–there is a need for new blood. In the end…really, it doesn’t matter to me wether you learned by yourself or you learned under a specific group, tradition, or system.

What I look for in a person is Knowledge, Will(ingness), and Intent. Whether you are a part of a tradition or forge one of your own, these things are important. A more appropriate saying is that it isn’t the size of the dog in the fight that counts, but the fight in the dog. If a person goes about their magical work and play with full sincerity and willingness to learn and follow through, and the knowledge to back it all up–or the willingness to acquire said knowledge, then that’s the important thing. Discipline, in short. Anyone can have that, or gain it, or develop it on their own.

I’d have to say I have quite a bit of fight in me. I’m still fighting, and I don’t have any plans on stopping, either.

*Pariah: A mongrel feral dog that lives on the outskirts of civilization and is generally shunned. The Canaan Dog of Isreal is an example of a pariah dog that’s become a breed…now that would make for an interesting metaphor.

The Biology of Pokemon

The Biology of Pokemon

There are some postmodern magicians and occultists out who work with fictional sources, some might find the above link useful in their studies. It’s certainly interesting at least from an educational perspective, and of course for any plain old gamer geeks reading this (I’d count as more of the former though, than the latter).

Drive-by Coyote-musings

If Coyote taught me anything in my life, it’s to never be a specialist. Being a jack-of-all trades has its benefits, and it’s much easier to avoid stagnation and being stuck in a rut. Coyotes themselves aren’t specialists, they are immensely flexible creatures both genetically as well as socially and intellectually. They can function in small packs or large, or completely solitary. They can scavenge, they can hunt. They can adapt to almost any environment. The pressures put on them by humans and the ever-changing environment around them only seem to aid in their transformation. They are indeed a very alchemical creature.

There are advantages to being a specialist, just as there are advantages to being a jack-of-all-trades. Just compare a hunting coyote to a hunting jaguar (which, the two do share overlapping territories in South America and formerly states like Arizona and New Mexico) and you can see which one is the more specialized hunter. However, there are also advantages to adapting oneself in multiple areas at once–of the two animals, which one happens to be endangered, and which one thrives despite the pressures put upon it? I’m going to throw the breaks on this metaphor for now though, because it dances dangerously close to lauding one totem over another, which is certainly not my intention nor my focus.

Steering back on track, my focus here is that, as a totem, teacher and even godform, Coyote has taught me that it doesn’t benefit me to stay in ruts. This is especially true of my magical and shamanic practice. Sticking to the tenets of my primary totem, I always make sure to keep myself constantly flexible, so that I’m able to evolve and adapt my practice, and my mind, as often as possible.

Sacred Make-Believe

Lately I’ve been reading Patrick Dunn’s Magic, Power, Language, Symbol: A Magician’s Exploration of Linguistics, and it’s by far becoming one of my favorite books (my list of favorite books keeps getting longer, it seems). It’s given me quite a bit to chew over, and this isn’t going to be my last commentary on the book. But something he mentioned really stuck out with me, specifically as it relates to some of my earliest forms of magic-working which I initially referred to as “playing pretend with myself”, which I later augmented to a form of ritual-working or “sacred make-believe”. This technique he talks about is called derive and is mentioned in an article called ‘Beneath the Pavement, The Beast’, written by Stephen Grasso in Generation Hex. To quote Dunn:

Derive (pronounced approximately “duh-REEV”) was originally a way of integrating artistic sensibility with the environment, by deliberate derangement of the senses and drifting from locale to locale as if they were unfamiliar or alien.

Just recently I can recall doing something very similar to this, in my travels to Germany, were everything was unfamiliar to me in a very direct, literal sense as well. But, seeing as some of the specific places in Germany I was visiting had ancestral or symbolic ties, I also saw it as a very magical and very, hm…to take a page out of Patrick Harpur’s book, diamonic quality to it, in which multiple layers of awareness and multiple levels of existence were overlapping. This was especially apparent in my trip to Kassel-Wolfhagen, my ancestral hometown. Even the beginning plane-ride into the country, flying from west to east, and back again a month later from east to west, held for me very deeply symbolic connotations. Dunn goes on to say:

The practice of using derive for magic is not entirely in line with situationist principles, such as they were, but it does provide a means of regarding the world not as an alien piece of art but as an analogue to the astral plane.

This seemed to hit the nail right on the head with some of my previous practices, things that started out simply as pretending with oneself (something I did often, as I was a bit of a loner as a child–something that seemed to bother the adults more than it did me), and which I later became to call “sacred make-believe”, if for nothing else when I realized early on, at least subconsciously at first, that these sorts of “quests” or “missions” had very real impacts on the world around me. And still do. That said, I do like the term derive much better, and I get this funny sort of feeling when I realize how giddy it makes me when I find words to pin to things.

I’ve always enjoyed this more active role to astral-journeying, a way were one can interact on many different planes at once. Then again, I’ve always found myself a threshold-creature, never really keeping both feet in the same place at any one time.

Interesting Quote…

Mostly for my own notes, but I figured whoever reads this might be interested, too. This originally came from a publication that my partner was studying for one of his classes. He posted the quote into his private LiveJournal, and I’m reposting here to share.

“In Neoplatonism, the bond of love forms a correspondence among all things, a “common relationship“ that allows the equation of love with magic. As Ioan Couliano states, the relation between love and magic depended on the analogous relation between microcosm and macrocosm, the “structure of cooperation” between “the world’s parts.” Marsilio Ficino writes in his Commentary on Plato’s Symposium on Love that “from this common relationship is born a common love; from love, a common attraction. And this is the true magic.” Extending Couliano’s discussion of the relation between love and magic in Italian Neoplatonism to include its implicit political dimension makes it possible to envison the manipulation of the cosmic hierarchy from the middle of the social ladder. In other words, the Neoplatonism of both Castiglione and Ficino suggests that the courtier may control the prince through “love,” the representation of their interconnection that he hopes to turn to his advantage.
[…]
Representations of Elizabeth’s sovereign Chastity contained the magical assertion (with its distinctly religious overtones) that the queen occupied an intermediary position between God and her subjects as well as between nature and mortals, as the means to assert her divine power. And on occasion, she was not simply an intermediary, but pictured as God himself.”

(Susan Frye: Elizabeth I. The Competition for Representation. New York, Oxford 1993, p. 110f.)