Making a (Magical) Effort

“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life.  I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.”   
~ Theodore Roosevelt

Sara wrote a post over at Candlesmoke Chapel this past week about her difficulty connecting to the deity/spirit that she feels has been calling to her, and I'm thankful that she chose to share her frustration - and here's why:  Sara does the work.  And the work isn't always easy.

Sometimes our practice seems more accessible.  After you've put in the time.  The meditations, the journeying, the crafting, the circle casting, the dirt digging, the ecstasy - the roads open faster.  You don't have to wait at the gate anymore.  You've done the work and the door is wide for you. And those on the other side are expecting you. They know you. You've lit the candles and whispered the prayers or shouted the chants, and you've left the offerings.  And they've been accepted. You have been accepted.

It's convenient to stay in that place, where everything is safe, and you create the same charms and speak the same words, and the door always seems to be open.  

But I don't think this path is supposed to be easy.

Sometimes new spirits approach, and you aren't sure how to connect.  Or you end up on a new land base and are left with the task of introducing yourself.  You may seek to learn new work (or likely old work), and feel defeated when it isn't so effortless.  Your divinatory tools or skills may wane or fall flat.  Your full, fiery, never-tiring heart may just burn the hell out.
  

At times, it's going to be ridiculously, agonizingly, difficult.  And struggle isn't reserved for the newbies.  The old hands, the hereditary lines, the ones who found a book at ten years old and never looked back - they don't get a free pass.  Experience doesn't mean it will never get challenging.

I am still new.  I've been actively working at this strange, enchanted path for a little less than seven years.  And most days, I feel like I know nothing.  

Two weeks ago, during the dark moon, I was planning a particular working where I felt that a circle would be beneficial.  I don't always use a circle - it often isn't practical for the work I do. But in this case, it seemed like a good idea.  As I was getting ready, I felt a very real fear.

What if they don't come?  What if no one shows?  What if I'm just standing here while the spirits are off partying somewhere and they don't want to lend a hand or sing backup?

I didn't forget how to throw up a circle.  I had left my offerings and done my due diligence, and practiced my little witcheries.  But I'd been ignoring some things too.  I'd been holding up the "I can't see you" hand, trying not to look through my fingers at the messages coming my way all summer. 

The spirits are not your dogs.  You don't get to kick them and then expect them to show.  You can't ignore them and then throw a lasso up in the hopes of catching one to work with you.

In the end, my circle was perfect and those I invited, came through.  But it was a great reminder that the work is never done.  There is no resting on your laurels or wearing a "Hecate Is My Homegirl" t-shirt and expecting the spirits to be constantly riding shotgun.

Do the work, culitivate patience (as Sara says), and don't be surprised if it sometimes feels a bit like swimming upstream.  The effort is worth it.




picture courtesy of wiki commons
"A Visit to the Witch" by Edward Frederick Brewtnall (1846-1902)

The Ultimate Recycler

There was an episode of Thorn Coyle’s Elemental Castings a while back, where she interviewed someone who spoke of psychopomps and who specifically mentioned jackals.  I wish I could remember the exact episode and the guest.  The conversation, of course, was in relation to the Egyptian god Anubis (Anpu) who was a god of the underworld.  As the popularity of Osirus as underworld god rose, Anubis was later relegated to transition work such as embalming/mummification and overseeing the weighing of the heart against the feather of Ma’at.  The guiding of human souls to the scales of Ma’at was attributed to both him and his brother Wepwawet.

Thorn’s guest said something about jackals which has stuck with me since I heard the episode that day.  She said that jackals eat that which no other animal can find use in.  Long after the carnivores have finished their meals, the jackal, with its fantastical digestive system, can consume and process decay and turn it into energy.

As someone who had for most of their life felt damaged, this was a profound moment.  The thought that something out there could take the most broken, ruined parts of me and turn them into something useful was astonishing.

I could blame religion or a sensitive disposition or a brutally critical parent for my belief that I was wrong in some way and all those things have a seed of truth in them, but at some point the belief became mine and I nurtured it.  I understood as I grew older, that I wasn’t really broken.  I wasn’t damaged in some un-repairable way.  But it takes a while to loose a root that deep.  It was a fortunate day, almost two years ago, when he showed up and started digging.

He first appeared as a rather large presence standing behind me in meditation.  There was a considerable sense of protection.  His calm demeanor and substance were comforting.  I was immediately enamoured.

Since then, I’ve had lessons on death and transition and rebirth.  Lessons on repurposing that which seems unusable.  Lessons on letting go.  I understand now that I am not broken.

Those parts of me that I let decay are now being reborn, and those that I will not use again are being recycled into something new.

Hail the jackal - the ultimate recycler!

Bacchanalia

The Bacchanalia was a religious festival in honor of the wine god Dionysus or, as the Romans called him, Bacchus. The bacchanalia were originally held in secret and only attended by women. (Although it was later thought that some men were admitted to the festival early on.) The festivals occurred on March 16 and March 17. Later, admission to the rites was extended to men, and celebrations took place five times a month.

Dionysus is the ancient Greek god of wine, the inspirer of ritual madness and ecstacy, and a major figure of Greek mythology. He was also known as Bacchus, the name adopted by the Romans and the frenzy he induces. In addition to winemaking, he is the patron deity of agriculture and the theatre. He was also known as the Liberator, freeing one from one's normal self, by madness, ecstasy or wine.

In 186 BC the Senate decreed that the Bacchanalia were prohibited throughout all Italy except in certain special cases which must be approved specifically by the Senate. In spite of the severe punishment inflicted on those found in violation of this decree, the Bacchanalia survived in Southern Italy long past the repression.

Livy (the Roman historian) says that the rapid spread of the cult, which he claims indulged in all kinds of crimes and political conspiracies at its nocturnal meetings, led to the decree to prohibit the festivals. Some modern scholars who view the period with 21st century eyes doubt Livy's account and argue that the Senate acted against the Bacchants for one of the following reasons:

- Women occupied leadership positions in the cult (contrary to the patriarchical Roman values of the time).
- Slaves and the poor were the cult's members and were planning to overthrow the Roman government.

Although Bacchanalia doesn't get it's day or two on the calendar, I think it's a wonderful option to celebrate in lieu of St. Patrick's Day. I just can't drink green beer. But wine and revelry - absolutely. I'm not really up for the orgies and other debauchery that happenend in the 'good old days' but I think I can find enough to keep me suitably distracted!

Whatever you celebrate - Bacchanalia or St. Paddy's Day - do enjoy, and be safe!



(Information taken from www.wikipedia.com and www.about.com)