Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Riding the Wheel

Riding the Wheel

By: Spanish Moss

Crossroad of Flesh,

Crucible of Death,

By Blood, Breath, and Bone!

Mirror of Stars,

Well of Abyss,

By Sleep, Dream, and Seen!

Flight of Vision,

Gate of Twilight,

By Besom, Bead, and Drum!

Rhythm of Tongue,

Utterance of Beckoning,

By Charm, Rune, and Word!

Fragrance of Ecstasy,  

Cup of Intoxication,

By Blossom, Root, and Leaf!

Swirl of Passion,

Rout of Mill,

By Sway, Shake, and Stomp!

Knot of Rule,

Tow of Seething,

By Measure, Cord, and Hiss!

Tine of Eight,

Brand of Five,

By Meena, Mona, and Mack!

Goat of Black,

Foam of Sea,

By Chalice, Blade, and Flame!

Monday, August 8, 2016

Which God?

Lucifer, Kali, Herne, Thor… our Goddesses and Gods all have one thing in common. No this isn’t a post about “All Gods are One God” or some other pan-deity argument. Nor am I arguing for or against such; everyone can enjoy their own theological stance in that regards as far as I am concerned. This post is about assumptions and why that matters.

With only a few exceptions*, the thing that all of our Goddesses and Gods have in common is names. Sure we also use a plethora of titles, and rightfully so.

I’m sure that most of you reading this are already nodding in agreement with thoughts of “of course it matters,” “it is only respectful to use their names,” and “duh, how else are they gonna know we are talking to them?” Beyond matters of practice though, it also matters.

It matters that we use names for a couple of other reasons though. Our orthopraxis nature has room within it for beliefs that run the gambit. We have everything from polytheists through monists on over to atheists and everything else in the cauldron of possible individual beliefs. Although this is true and perfectly as it should be, in my opinion that is, the fact that we use names in said practice shifts us into a different perspective in how we think about spirituality.

In doing so we force the conversation of theology and religion as whole to hold room for us. It isn’t always an easy conversation. Challenging others assumptions never is. As a Witch I’m a fan of transgressive religious practice and so this is perfectly fine in my book.

I’ll give an example. Last week in a conversation I had with a Religious Studies scholar the question was posed “can religious experience or a philosophical argument ‘prove’ the existence of God?” Here you see is where names matter. Because the question is in such stark contrast to how I think about my Craft my knee jerked. I couldn’t even start down the road of the meat of the question because we were not only in two different ball-parks but playing different games altogether. Almost without thinking, I forced the conversation that followed to include us. You see, my knee jerked and my mouth uttered before the brain thought it through. I asked, “Which God?”

In regards to the story, the conversation that followed was awesome and can best be summed up with the following quote, neither from me or said scholar, but wholly relevant to the place the conversation ended up:
“One of the most common misconceptions about the world’s religions is that they plumb the same depths, ask the same questions. They do not. Only religions that see God as all good ask how a good God can allow millions to die in tsunamis. Only religions that believe in souls ask whether your soul exists before you are born and what happens to it after you die. And only religions that think we have one soul ask after ‘the soul’ in the singular. Every religions, however, asks after the human condition.”

– God Is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World by Stephen Prothero
If you look at the base assumptions of any religion, you find will the questions that religion plumbs. One of ours is names. Knowing this you can extract the marrow at the center of the questioning; you can look your own beliefs square in the eye for scrutiny. There is a knowing that is accessable when you do so.

Boidh Se!

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

*Cause there are always exceptions in matters of religion, spirituality, and the occult.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

A Rite of Death

Beneath the canopy of the Stars of Heaven and the Moon’s almost full shimmer, I shiver from the cold trail of death’s wake and the chill of the Western wind up from the Isles of Annwyn from which it returns.

Kneeling in the damp grass before the shadow cast altar I pick up the incense I had laid out and hold the end to the flame of a candle. As I blow out the lit tip the smoke wafts it sweet fragrance about me invoking the memory of rituals past.

I place the incense in the holder before the picture of the deceased and watch as the smoke passes across the image. “Holy art thou ancestors of the Witch Blood, of kith and kin, you whom sit upon the Thrones of the Mighty Dead in the Halls of the Fated-folk, witness these offerings and heed the call to guide one of your own into your company ,” I say just loud enough for my own ears.  Then I toll the bell seven times, each chime shatters the silence in sharp contrast to the calm night.

The chalice is cool to the touch and drips condensation as I raise it in salute to the night sky before beginning to tip the contents upon the ground. The red wine splatters the grass and roots before the altar. The dark stain reflects the dim of the night sky as if it were freshly spilled blood. “Accept this offering o Mighty Dead, may it stir your memories in aid of this rite. Allow it to uplift you and the one who joins you now.” I invert the chalice and sit it back on the altar.

Then I pick up the small loaf of bread from its silver dish next to the photo. Holding it to before the altar, I rip at it, tearing at it with my hands as crumbles fall upon the earth. The last few pieces I sprinkle across the altar itself before wiping my hands against the sides of my robes. Then with my right palm gestured towards the altar I say, “Accept this offering o Mighty Dead, may it feed your power in aid of this rite. Allow it to sustain you and the one who joins you now.”

Stooping I grab an unlit black candle staged beneath the altar. I hold it wick to wick with the lit white candle. I watch the flame pass, growing in strength, mesmerized by the swirling of the dripping black wax as it commingles with the white. I sit the candle in its brass holder before the photo next to the incense and inverted chalice. “Accept this offering o Mighty Dead, may it illuminate your path in aid of this rite. Allow it to warm you and the one who joins you now.” I reach down and pick up the bell, ringing it seven times more.

Sitting the bell down I knock three times upon the altar and pronounce, “So mote it be.”

Boidh Se!


“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Friday, September 11, 2015

Where Witches Go and How to Get There!

There is a metaphorical place that is really a state of awareness in which those of us practicing Traditional Craft attempt to achieve. The idea is akin to one our ritual axioms where we say we are building our circle and temple space in a “time that is not a time and a place that is not a place.” This is also us talking about ourselves. We, our Craft, is designed to create our life about us, just like the casting of circle, a place that is not a place and a time that is not a time. In essence this state in which we aspire transcends but also permeates immanently throughout the entirety of our life—if we make it so.

Mythically this state of being is spoken of as the Witches Sabbat(h) unto which the Witches would travel. At the Sabbat they would metaphorically sing and dance the story of life and intimately, meaning on the personal level, enter into ecstatic congress with divinity. For those of you familiar with flying ointments and the practices of hedge-riding, I’m not talking about those practices at this junction but the whole of the Craft. On that note it is important to remember that our praxis and lore can have multiple meanings. The Witches’ Sabbat is one of those items that is also a symbol of the aforementioned state of being.

Reaching the Witches’ Sabbat is in one sense the same as being the time that is not a time and place that is not a place. The trick is getting to the Sabbat so that the Witch can create about them a life that echoes throughout the whole of existence as the indistinguishable marriage to the sacred. In this our praxis is the vehicle for getting there. This is the reason that Traditionalists stress orthopraxy, or at least one of the reasons.

In the story of the Witches’ Sabbat, Witches travel to the Sabbat by flying on their besom. Our practice, the Craft that we are the legacy of, is like the besom. The besom is our vehicle. Likewise, our practice is the vehicle that allows us to travel to the goal. For this to happen successfully the Witch must become adept at their magick or the besom will never take flight. Additionally, the Witch must come to know and trust the workings of the besom (read as our practice) in order to traverse the journey. In this the focus has to be on the flight and not the eventual destination, continually adjusting one’s heading, grip, and magick, or the Sabbat won’t be reached. This of course is all a teaching story.

Ultimately, the Sabbat is not there, it is here. It is right now, right here. The praxis is not a besom but it is the means. In time the illusions of place and time, and the metaphor, fall away. That is if the Witch takes refuge in the heart of their Craft. To do all of this, the Witch must climb upon the besom and make it their tool.

Boidh Se!


“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Friday, May 1, 2015

Beltane: Wedding the Divine!

It was on a Beltane roughly a decade ago when I first looked through the eyes of the whole of the universe as my own. This mystical experience isn’t the same as your run of the mill spiritual epiphany or ah-ha moment. It was all encompassing.

There is an analogy I like to use in regards to explaining the theologies that fall under the umbrella of the Craft. Interestingly enough the original idea came from talking with my son. It was “the talk.” By which I mean the talk where I had to explain that some people only believe in one God and that sadly many of them will refuse to understand who we are and what we do, and that they can and will be mean about it. He was perplexed almost beyond words. When he finally did speak he said, “But the forest has more than one tree in it.” Brilliant! That is all I could think. Needless to say the conversation continued for quite some time but that one analogy from the depths of the mind of my son has stuck with me.

It’s not a perfect analogy, but none are. A forest is full of many different trees. Some of which many Witches establish relationships individually with. This is spirit work. Polytheism. Animism. Other Witches don’t but choose to work with the wood of the trees. I like to think of them as wood workers like carpenters. These are those that touch upon the essence of the material that composes the spirits. Broadly speaking they like to throw around terms like the divine and the sacred in lieu of specific “trees.” Others like to study the forest and uncover the inner workings and connections of the whole ecosystem. Yet another group likes to focus upon the cycles of the forest. Most Witches though are way more complex than any one of these simplified and limited categories and instead mix it all up to include some I didn’t mention.

My Beltane experience all those years back trumps all of it. In one instance, as I was standing in a doorway watching it rain, I was each plant and animal in the forest, I was the essence that made the whole, I was the inner workings, I was each point in time throughout all cycles, I was the sky and earth below, I was each star and planet to include the sun and moon, I was the nothing in which it all sat, and more. Is this the same as enlightenment? No, not as commonly defined. It is more of a shattering of an illusion, a taste of the feast on the table.

This is what Beltane is about, at least from a Traditionalist standpoint. Beltane is when we are crowned the ruler over the spiritual kingdom. Custom and myths tell tales of the rulers of old being wed to the land at the beginning of May. Just as they are wed to the land we are wed to the spiritual land and crowned with the whole of the heavens as the rightful sovereign. Today is the celebration of the consummation of that union.

This is all speaking from the individual perspective though. Now take this idea and expand it to include the forest and see how each category approaches this point upon the cyclic myth differently, and how each of those applies differently to us.

Boidh Se!


“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Thursday, April 30, 2015


I wrote this recently. It was an exercise into a form of writing I don't usually play in... it was fun, and hopefully the spirit of it will come through the words. 

The Witches Sabbat
Off to the Witches’ Sabbat we go,
A sojourn into the divine personal,
By the light of the moon onward into flight,
An inward journey will only do.

Pulled by a call into the brush thick and dense,
The hardest is the first step of many,
Therein before an altar of truth all kneel,
Found here is the initiation by heart.

Upon a mound the throne does sit,
By whose authority the spiritual is wed,
To stave every hunger there is a simple feast,
The hallowed deepens with each toast.

A heralding wild call and we dance,
The rhythm of life the drums we beat,
Twists and turns the steps spin,
Transformed in cycles are we.

By a crackling fire we open heavy eyes,
A blanket of eternity draped thereon,
Continue before our eyes the Sabbat goes,
Never having to leave all is here.

Boidh Se!


"Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path."

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Stir the Cauldron

There comes a point when the Witch knows. They know what they need to be doing in the work, they know what resonates with them, and they know how to be in that place between the worlds. They simply know. This does not mean that they always do the work. Knowing a thing and doing it are quite different. This point of being is a threshold in their Craft though, the step from learning to possessing.

Great magick and internal alchemy result not only when the Witch has the realization of knowing their place in the Craft and cosmos but when they proclaim “fear, ego, shadow, dweller, etc, be damned I am doing this thing!” There is an old Latin phrase that is common amongst the world’s Special Forces that applies here, “Qui audet adipiscitur!” In English it is “S/He who dares wins!”

Learn it; do it. Just as the Craft of the Witch is deceptively easy it is equally complicated when not tempered by actually experiencing it. The Craft is transgressive; it is on the fringe challenging us to transform. We just have to dare to stir the cauldron.

Boidh Se!


“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”