Mayfaire in Retrospect

I am a horrific critic of myself. I don’t say this asking for anyone to try and comfort me and explain that I “did so well.” I say it because it is the truth; I am very VERY tough on myself, especially when it comes to the standard I expect to meet. I realize this and do my best to overcome it.

So follows is my review and thoughts on Mayfaire 2012. I would like to point out; that I believe it is the only review I have ever heard of that was written by one of the event organizers. This is my perspective, but with that, please recognize the above and forgive me this flaw, also know that no matter how much you may want it otherwise, it’s not something that is any time soon about to change.

Mayfaire is a festival organized by and for the community around the celebration of Beltane. So perhaps it is a bit odd, that Mayfaire began in November as far as I am concerned. Within a week or two after the festival Shadow Harvest (occurs around Samhain), I found myself sitting, wondering if I had imagined the words that had come out of my mouth not two minutes hitherto. I had willingly offered to organize the festival, coordinate the planning, and be the central axis for the execution of its operation. Why? Why had I done it?

At the time, I had seen the toll that the previous and repeated effort for organizing two festivals a year was taking on several of my very close friends. I also knew that I was the one with the logistical experience for this kind of event. Within a few weeks… no scrap that. Within a few days, it had transformed into an act of devotion between me and the Witch Goddess and Witch God. A very long story made short, I spent on average an hour a weekday up until the festival began devoted towards planning. I pretended that Mayfaire didn’t exist on the weekends.

Friday morning I arrived at Mayfaire before the gate was scheduled to open, armed with a stack of paperwork and an extremely detailed military style schedule and operational plan. Yes, I meant every word of that sentence. I used the same exact instruction letters and spreadsheets for Mayfaire that I use in the military for planning training events. Within ten minutes, I had already made two changes to the plan, a trend that was on going and why I had a pen attached to my clipboard. This was expected. As the Prussian General Von Moltke said, “No plan ever survived first contact with the enemy,” well, I am here to tell you, “No plan ever survived first contact with the opening of the festival gates.”

The very first thing on my 'operational' schedule (not the one passed out) was the very first of many minor obstacles. The gate was to open at 1000 (10 a.m. sharp), and I had no one to stand it. The community, as they did throughout the weekend, came to my rescue. Someone that I more told than asked was more than happy to take care of it. I won’t bore you with further such petty details. Just know they existed and each and every time, the community stepped in when I asked them to. Thank you!

After a quick meeting, I assisted in making the Festival Announcements. They were quick and straight to the point. The seed that was planted months before hand had broken the surface, soon we would know whether it would flower or wither. I made my rounds frequently in those first few hours, setting precedence. I missed out in entirety on several good workshops because of it, luckily there were a couple of music performances and I could enjoy from afar. On the first day, I stood in on about a quarter of Kenny Klein’s class, “History of Modern Paganism.” I was present for the entirety of the Opening Ritual.

The tone for the weekend was set during Opening Ritual. At least for me the tone was set at that time. It was serious, solemn, informative, and simultaneously full of mirth, laughter, absurd silliness, and a reminder not to take any of it too serious. The Muscadine Grove, ADF, had on one hand made serious gestures of offering to the Folk, Gods, and Ancestors, all the while on the other hand, spontaneously breaking out into booty shaking dance.

Don’t get me wrong, as much as it may sound like I did nothing but run around coordinating on the first day, it just ain’t true. I worked, truly worked, about 30 minutes out of every hour. The rest of the time was spent sitting, making sure I ate, keeping Lady Clayfeather from stressing (which is simply not allowed and was strictly forbidden in the published Letter of Instruction), and most importantly laughing, chatting, and greeting old and new friends alike. So whereas I could have attended more proceedings, I chose to attend to other things.

I awoke around 0600’ish (6 a.m. Pagan Standard Time). I felt rested, having slept later than usual compared to my normal work schedule. I meandered around the fire, ate something, and found some caffeine. As the camp began to stir I went to find my clipboard, Lord and Lady forbid had I lost ‘my brain.’ I soon found out that there had been a minor domestic squabble brought to the festival and promptly went back into coordinator mode. Once the problem was solved, the mega-phone was soon in full swing again as the day’s events got underway.

All the classes and workshops throughout the day were splendid, and I know because I either attended full-out or caught most of them in between my duties and wondering the vendor booths, campsites, and the ever present chatting.

Saturday brought my biggest disappointment of the entire festival. A friend of mine became very upset about some things at the festival and left early, having reached their limit. I feel for them and wish I could have done more.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but the biggest part of any festival is the main ceremony. I am only gonna say a couple of small things here. Firstly, I thought the ceremony went great. The wickerman burning was breath taking. But I have one minor little confession, which I make in the spirit of this blog. I changed the ritual on the fly, more than once, throughout the whole thing. So there you go, there is the dirty little secret every Priest and Priestess learns early on.

I am only gonna say two more quick things about Saturday. The Maypole Dance and the Festival Potluck, both handled by other local groups, were both the most well done I have ever seen. Well done, you know who you are.

Sunday brought with it the pains of the central fire mirth the night before. I was not hung-over, but sore from exerting so much in my dance with the fire and drummers. I am glad to have gotten to fire dance. It is something I deeply look forward to. I am grateful for all those that drummed their hearts out so I could fall into the trance that makes it possible. However, I am still recovering.

The raffle was probably the most fun on Sunday with everyone laughing, being silly, and tensely leaning forward in their chairs glancing every few moments at their tickets. The crowd very soon thinned out and by the time the closing ritual came (smooring the fire), there were maybe twenty people left, out of the 156 that had signed in.

So there you go. That was Mayfaire, or at least one experience of it. Please enjoy the pictures that follow. By the way, I took none of them, I’d give the proper credit due but I’ve lost track of where I’ve pulled them all from.

May Pole Dance.

The Wicker Man in perspective.

Wicker Man with ritual participants in background.

Wicker Man, see how high the flames go.

Almost done burning.

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Mayfaire

There will be no proper blog today, and none at all tomorrow. I am helping to co-coordinate Mayfaire 2012, and will be out of pocket. Today, I leave you with a prayer I wrote. Blessings!

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"Holy and sacred Mistress of the Fea, she who art the Queen of Annwyn. Thou Goddess Rhiannon, thou elusive Rider of the Moon, thou Mother of the birds three. Your blessed name shines its Otherworldly Song from the heavens upon our brow. O, Silent Herald thy Truth we hear at the Gate of our heart, grant us thy Throne of our Divine Self. Unveil thy face to our call and be a crown unto the inner Kingdom. Riding in brilliant gold thee we seek, hooves of mystery upon the land, bestow the wisdom of the hunt unto our reign."

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Manifesting Guilt

Guilt is a prison. It binds and controls us. We enable it and rationalize it, and sometimes we take comfort in it. It is a twisted comfort, an internal turmoil of shame, fear, and regrets that while damaging, provides us with a wall from the seed from which it sprang. From the moment that guilt is allowed any foothold and fed, the roots will run deeper and the thorns will hook,

the wound will only become tattered and seeping in our own wallow.

A Witch controlled by guilt, is not the master of Self. Instead, the emotions rule the mind and the mind the Witch. If the image of the Witch is nothing else, it is not that of a servant. The power of the Witch that has been robbed is that of knowledge, the knowledge of what sprouted the seed. To sit still and listen, to observe, will make the nature of this beast better known. Still, this is not acting. But first, there must be a step.

The inward path is the Obscured Way that can,

and often is, less appealing than the work necessary to take a step down that path, so that the tendrils that have grown across our wellbeing can be pruned. Every time a Witch feeds guilt, it is done with the Will of a Shaper of the Universe, and so as the Witch does, they make things manifest.

Alone in the dark, many new to the path and only just come upon the hidden trails, find that life outwardly becomes that which they have made inward. “As above, so below,” goes both ways.

After the first step, that of having decided to pull up the weeds, the Witch needs to know where to direct their energy. The answer lay there before them, if they are willing to look. It is time to take examination of each hook and see just how it has ahold.

Then armed once again with the spear of the mind, the first hook can be pried free. One hook at a time, the Witch makes their Harvest until at the root of their prison they find the seed, that they empowered to block out the Sun.

Do you tend your garden, or let it overgrow the path ahead?

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Sacred Center

In the home life of old, the fireplace w

as the center of activity in the house. It warmed the body, provided light, and cooked the food that sustained. Even today, many of our aging elders can recall the dependence upon fire. I can distinctly remember several times in my life, when a much older relative reminisced about a time in their youth when everyone would hurry on a cold winter morning to get the fire going. Granted, the spiritual significance that our Pagan ancestors gave the fire was something that was intuited and not a part of the overt spiritual lifestyle of our immediate elder's age.

This dependence upon fire is not something that today’s generation, in the West anyway, or our future generations, will know. The need is no longer there. Modern luxury has removed from the household this central place of gathering, and not adequately replaced it. Is there even a place in the modern household where everyone can be counted on to gather? Sadly, my only answer to that question, further demonstrates the disconnect that is so prevalent within the majority of Western society, to include the households of most Contemporary Pagans. For many, thankfully not all, the TV has become the new center.

Will our children relate stories to their descendants about when they would rush to turn-on the television on to keep out the world? Or will they be one of the few with another story to tell?

As magickal folk, Witches of all varieties are inherently spiritual. The nature of this spirituality varies, but it does not change the fact that they are spiritual. Part of the process of the spiritual journey is to find the inner place where we are at the center of the universe; to stand as the tree that spans all existence. An often neglected truth is; this inner center is aided via the outward reflection that we give it. Take the time and cultivate the relationship with a place, so that it becomes the proxy focal unto which our devotions are reflected inward. For many, that center has once again become the hearth-altar.

The hearth-fire is like an altar, one in which the cunning fire burns and provides. It is no wonder that there are old rituals for how to start and put out this sacred center. Some Traditions of Witchcraft practice their arte not in a circle or at a table with their regalia neatly laid out, but before a fireplace. In Gaelic Reconstructionism and forms of American Druidism, there are similar practices extended to the home altar and ritual fire-pit during group worship. If a house has no fireplace, altars in the home can be one such shrine.

What is important is not whether or not our center is fire, but that we have a center. Perhaps though, the ideas of the hearth-altar will assist in finding that the place around which your own spiritual life revolves. As for finding the center for the whole family, well that is truly a difficult task, which is my opinion would be a worthy pursuit.

What have you replaced the hearth-fire with?

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Salvation

Salvation!

It is a word that makes Contemporary Pagans squirm in their seats, especially when the topic is brought up in regards to their spirituality. This is due to the connotations the idea carries over from Christianity.

Our path is almost entirely made up of converts from another religion, the mass majority coming from a form of Christianity. It is long past the time that we stop allowing mere words to bind us and our language. As a Priestess I know is fond of saying, “It is time for a paradigm shift.” It is time to step out of the box we have climbed into.

The salvation of the Witch is not from sin, suffering, or false belief. Nor is our salvation a requirement. There is nothing from which we must be saved. However, there is something to which our path opens us up to. In this moment, we obtain salvation. It should be noted that salvation is a byproduct, not the goal.

The choice could be made to continue toiling in our everyday lives, never taking that first important step, or for that matter, taking another and another, down the crooked path. Instead, the initiated sets themselves apart, and looks inward. Therein, they begin to tend the cauldron of their being.

At some point, the contents will be brought to a boil and divine inspiration will flow forth into their lives.

So how does salvation enter the picture? Simply put, salvation is from the illusion that we are separate. It is not likely that most would use that term, but in the moment of all-ness whereas we are the Macrocosm, we liberate ourselves from any misunderstanding that there is a division between. In the singularity, we are as before a sum can be counted. Stepping into the moments of all encompassing now, is to stand as the Crossroads. At that point, the tree, well, and stars are conjoined at the center of our being. Then, as is its nature, the mind reasserts itself, and tries to convince us that there is a line between us and divinity.

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Seated in the Now

The following is something I wrote awhile back. I was reflecting upon the nature of the spiritual journey and just let my thoughts flow. Maybe there is a roebuck in the thicket therein, or maybe it is just the false trail of a lapwing. You decide, but question even that.

Here is the original.

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At some point you reach that moment, not exactly the one you have been striving for, but one that you have been walking towards all along. Seated upon the bench, along the way, perhaps it is easy to understand that this is but one of many such benches, and many have sat here before. In the end, this was not your goal, but here you are, at a place you had not planned to be at when you had first started traveling your spiritual landscape. You’ve been told what lay down this path, and thus far everything is nothing and exactly like the map said it would be. Would the same prove so for the rest of the journey?

But what of the goal, there was clearly one when you started? Since then you have learned that the goal will never be reached if it is the focus, but instead the path should be the goal.

So is the path the goal or isn’t it? At this moment the goal can be either in the distance in some far away land, which can never be reached by foot, learning to fly can’t be that hard, or the goal can be to enjoy what has been found. The question then is no longer the same, but an inward reflecting one. What exactly has been found?

Looking down at worn boots and dusty traveling clothes, the marks of the journey are easy to see and the road though unclear at times can be recalled. Was this what was found? Dirt? The feeling is there, that a wise man or woman would smile knowingly and say that, “It is what is below the grim that has been found.” This is hard to judge as the grim obscures, and it is hard to tell if the flesh, blood, and bone are the same. Maybe at the next stop there will be a tub with some water and maybe a bit of soap.

Now the questioning that started this whole mess has returned, but in a different manner. No longer is the light cast upon the mysterious unanswerable tombs, but unto the volumes of the supposedly given. So that is what this bench is a testament of, how one gets here. All the questions that were sought are like far away dreams compared to the all unknowing, and even the questions themselves are up for scrutiny.

It is not dark out, nor night, nor a dilemma of the soul. Or at least if it is, then the cloak is one well hidden and hard to lift to see truth, a lapwing in wolf’s clothing. For a moment, there it was as if the walking had begun again. Perhaps for a change, instead of chasing the moon as does the sun it would be nice to tend the land a bit, grow some crops, and who knows, maybe even reap the fruit of the now.

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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

Bibliourgy

Witches love books. In fact, it has been my observation that Contemporary Pagans, regardless of the brand or flavor, are all avid readers that are borderline book hoarders. I, myself, have several bookcases of books, most of which are occult, magical, or Pagan. My amazon wishlist is several pages long; and I am always on the hunt for that next tomb of written ambrosia.

At any given moment there are at least a dozen books laying about the house in various stages of being read and a small pile of ‘I will get to these as soon as I clear some off my preverbal reading plate.’

For Witchcraft, in all its forms, to be a religion without scripture, interestingly we owe the rapid spread of the Craft to the written word. Partially this is because early on, and in many areas still, there is not another means of learning. There is a deeper pull though; books are magick. Not only are they a direct link and means of tapping into an author created reservoir of information but also the books themselves will develop an egregore.

The written word is just that. Script is nothing more than words that stay, because of this, words that were thought of in the author’s mind previously, thousands of years in some cases, are given form and transcend the moment of their creation into the minds of future readers. Here is where a magical link is formed. From the chaos of the author’s mind, the words are birthed forth as the Mother, and the author acting in the role of the Father is the force that gives form to which was born, thusly written. The resulting book then forms from the same seed of thought that the author had, when it is read by another. Every time that a book is read, the same occurs, but new thoughts are spun by the audience, and these add themselves to the link. Collectively all of these thoughts build a magical pool within that group mind. So as I said, books are magick. I do not find it surprising that magickally inclined people are drawn to such powerful catalysts of magick.

So I don’t have a term for ‘book magic’ or the use of books as a method of magickal workings. I am sure there is one, and if anyone knows it please comment and make it known. Until I find an actual term for it I will be using Bibliourgy as my solution. It is a combination of Theurgy and Bibliomancy. Theurgy is the study of magick, more specifically the study of ritual magick. The Greek, “urgy” means, “making.” Bibliomancy is the use of books as a means of divination. The Greek, “biblio” means, “book.” I, however, am not an expert in Greek, so I might have just made up some gibberish. Anyway, as it may have been guessed, I am blogging about Bibliourgic methods and theory, but just a bit.

Books have long been used as a method of divination by magickal practitioners. This is particularly true when it comes to using scripture to accomplish this. Since scripture is authoritative and divine in nature by those that attribute it as such, then by adding a methodology of questioning and randomly selecting a passage, the Divine Will relating to those circumstances is suppose to be revealed. There are various methods that exist across the spectrum of religions. The Bible, I Ching, Quran, even the Greek Iliad, and many more have all been used.

The method of Bibliomancy that I am most familiar with comes from Southern Conjure, and makes use of the Psalms from the Bible. All one needs to do is to sit quietly, holding the Bible, while reflecting upon the topic of the question. After a few moments, the question is asked, and the Bible randomly opened, within the Book of Psalms. With eyes closed, place the finger on the open page.

This is supposed to mark the relevant answer. Don’t feel comfortable using the Bible? This method can be used with almost any book of scripture. It is important that some form of scriptural text is used because of the nature of the egregore surrounding the book. As fun as it may be to try divination with Harry Potter, it just doesn’t have the same reservoir of divinity tied to it.

Sometimes magickal practitioners will tie a Geis to a book. A Geis (geasa being plural) comes from the ancient Irish. It is when a taboo has been specifically been placed against or upon an individual, the breaking of which will bring about dire consequences. It is a fairly common practice for Witches to write in the opening pages of their grimoires a threat or hexing words against prying eyes. This is a form of booby trap hexing that the author ties into their concept of the book and it is passed via the link created, to the reader, when it is read. Does it work or not? The simple and complex answer is, “yes and no”. This copy of the Book of the Law, has a geis written in it that is suppose to activate against anyone that reads it twice. Likewise, this book on magick written by Isaac Bonewits has a geis in the front that would activate in the case someone uses the information in the book for harm. So do these geis work or not? Yes and no, but it is even more complex now because the number of minds involved just increased a whole lot. The more people involved in the receipt of a geis, the more energy that must be spread throughout, so unless others beyond the author are adding to the initial form, then the likelihood of success diminishes.

Sometimes books are specifically written as a form of magick. The Cultus Sabbti is famous within the Traditional Witchcraft community for the creation of a small number of grimoires that are magicaklly programmed to draw like minded individuals to the book. Sometimes it is successful and sometimes it is not. Sadly, because of the rarity of their books, they are often sought out by profiteers, hoping to make a profit on resale, in addition to those that are legitimately drawn to the knowledge therein.

As mentioned, books transmit information. The writing of a book itself is an initiatory experience that the author undergoes. This, however, can and often is expanded to others. Within BTW, the newly initiated Witch hand copies the Tradition’s Book of Shadows (BoS). During this process, they are told oral lore that is not written, and they in this act of writing by hand, connect themselves with every Initiate that has done the same. They are further immersed into the energy of that Tradition’s egregore, amongst other things.

Hand written books can also be used as a method of giving offerings to one’s God or Goddess. Imagine the hours spent hand copying an entire text, pouring one’s time and energy into the effort; to only then proclaim before your Deity that it was in honor of them, and to toss the manuscript upon a fire. All of that energy is sacrificed.

So what methods of Bibliourgy have you encountered?

Boidh se!

-Spanish Moss

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