The Slow Burn of Initiation

We all want things yesterday; quicker service, faster broadband, shorter travel times. If something is good surely it will be even better if we can get it in half the time? In the busyness of our day-to-day lives wouldn’t it better if we could apply the aesthetics of our drive-through, take-away culture to our spiritual aspirations as well? Being a Shaman sounds so cool! Surely a couple of weekend workshops should do it or even better could I do it via Skype?

Most of us know deep down that this isn’t going to get it done. In a disposable age of quick fixes, fast food and bodge jobs, something at the root of our souls wants substance, and in our hunger for something truly nutritious we have a hunch that the thing that we seek will require real effort.

I have previously written on the blog about the influence of the Slow Movement and the way that it may help contemporary magicians cultivate maturity. Rather than increased mindfulness being limited to a set of internal practices, the Slow Movement challenges us to wonder what would happen if such a mindful perspective was brought to bear on the whole of our lives. What would our eating habits look like, our transport arrangements, our approach to child-care?

In my own pursuit of initiatory work I was reminded of this perspective once again as I reached an apparent impasse. After an investment of over 20 years of working with the type of non-linear, improvised form of sorcery know as Chaos Magic, was it time to call it a day and move on or was I able to find another gear, a deeper level from which I could continue to practice with a sense of integrity and personal congruence?

When something becomes as all-consuming as the pursuit of awakening, it can be hard to pause and take stock. When our internal fires are ignited, the pursuit of gnosis can expand to fill both our waking hours and dreamscapes. The gift of consciousness pushes us to expand and transcend the parameters of nature, and yet to do so without respecting both our physical and psychological health leads us vulnerable to burn out. As much as we may lust to the see the fruition of our own Great Work, wisdom seems to ask that we seek times when we surrender the work back to the earth and its cycles.

This concept of a necessary pause and rest first came to my attention via the work of Edred Thorsson. In his Nine Doors of Midgard he provides the seeker of mystery with a magical syllabus that can easily involve between 3-5 years of sustained engagement. In the course of pursuing such a heroic undertaking, it becomes critical to step back from the work; to bury it so that it might re-emerge invigorated. The depth of work set out in the Nine Doors is both awe inspiring and daunting. Looking back, my own failure to complete it in a sustained burst initially felt like an affront to my success driven ego, but now I realize I had something important to learn.

When we get to the point where we feel burnt-out or our practice feels stale or broken, it can be a profound opportunity to tune in to our deepest motivation. As a Chaos Magician, it would be all too easy to fill this unease with the pursuit of a different paradigm or the shiny baubles of new techniques, but for me I knew that this would have been missing the point. For me I was faced with the far more daunting task of reconnecting to initiatory “need-fire” i.e. when life circumstances strip us back, what remains as our vital drives and motivations? What is it that I have to do?

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Working with Slow Change

In pursuit of my own initiatory work I recently took a trip to Prague to meet with a group of magicians from around the world. Prague is an amazing city that feels like a heady meeting place of East and West, the modern and ancient and it was a fitting context for my own attempts to slow down and reconnect to the deep motivation for my own work.

Prague has its own wealth of occult history and lore; the legend of the Golem, the adventures of Dee and Kelly being but two. As you walk among its streets, its baroque and gothic buildings feel fully in keeping with the pursuit of the hidden and the nightside. Via Rudolph II’s obsession, Prague has long been associated with the art of alchemy and this alongside its love of absinthe’s green fairy created for me an enjoyable sense of romantic seediness.

These rich references to alchemy seemed to mirror the slow change and transformation that I am seeking. The Spagyric processes of drawing out and bringing together via fermentation and distillation require time, space and attention. Recently this process of Solve et Coagula (“To dissolve and concentrate”) has felt especially present at both the level of self via initiation and within the macrocosm of the natural world through the loss of beloved family members. This is a slow-burn process that has required patience and an awareness that artificially rushing things is likely spoil the intended goal.

In the spiralling gyre of my own initiatory work, it feels as though I am continually seeking to refine this process of stripping back and slowing down. Definitely not easy, but in doing so I allow the possibility of tuning in to the essential fires of my work and an acknowledgement of what my head, heart and body need to make this journey sustainable.

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New Perspectives on Time: Astronomical Clock- Prague

Steve Dee

 


 

Don’t forget you find more Steve Dee deliciousness in his new book A Heretics Journey: Spiritual Freethinking for Difficult Times.

The Army of the Dead; on transformation at Halloween

I can feel them, the army of the dead. They are behind me and growing in numbers. At Samhain our attention is drawn to them; we remember the dead. There’s a personal twist in this for me, since my birthday falls the day after Halloween. Moreover this year I get to level up to 50. Growing up in 1980s Thatcher’s Britain I imagined that I’d probably be picking through the radioactive waste of a post Protect and Survive England long before the time I reached adulthood. But here I am, half a century old.

As we age we know more and more dead people. Grandparents, parents, colleagues, heroes and friends… This Samhain when I make a toast to the Ancestors there will be many names to remember, and every year that list gets longer.

When we consider our ancestors, whether biological or cultural, we come up against all kinds of interesting issues. One is that our ancestors were not all wise and wonderful. History (and even pre-history) are replete with examples of people being cruel, ignorant and short-sighted. Medieval people killed hedgehogs because they suckled milk from cows. In Christendom people were permitted to eat fish on fast days since fish was known to have no nutritional value. In prehistoric Britain times burning the woodlands on the high hills was a strategy to attract the deer making them easier to hunt (then changes in the weather left the high hills with treeless acid soil; each moorland in Britain is an example of ancient environmental damage).

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Spirit form from Wistman’s Wood. One of the last groves of moorland wildwood in England.

While we can acknowledge what appear to us to be the failings of our ancestors it’s also the case that, however good, bad or indifferent their care, we owe our existence to them. In magic, especially magic of the Left Hand Path or Thelemic varieties, there can sometimes be a tendency to see the magician as the autonomous, antinomian, lone wolf; a brave hero who steps away from the crowd to bravely explore… blah blah. This kind of Atlas Shrugged attitude can work for a while, and indeed there are times when we should undoubtedly celebrate our (apparent) individuality. But when we are young, or old, or caring for children, or unwell – that’s when we need what philosopher Hanna Arendt calls the ‘ethic of care’. For while the romantic notion of the heroic individual has power and value, the fact is that collaboration, care and mutual interdependence are actually the rule in the universe and the monad of isolated individualism is something of an illusion. If nothing else, ‘you’ are mostly the flora and fauna of ‘your’ body. ‘You’, each time you breathe, exchange around 5-8 litres of air each minute across a surface inside ‘you’ as big as half a tennis court. Even ‘your’ conscious, deliberate decision making happens first in the unconscious brain and is only later, retroactively, made into a story of choice in the mind.

So while the army of the dead grows in my backstory every year, and I know that one day I shall join that company, I also know that it is because of the work of those ancestors that I have come into this moment of being alive. What should I do then in this moment, in this liminal festival season between life and death (which is actually where we stand all the time anyhow, whether there are carved pumpkins in evidence or not)? One thing I can do is to seek to heal the hurts and wrongs of the past, and transform these into something good.

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The Great Pumpkin

When we access the deep levels of ourselves (whether through ritual, trance, psychedelics, art or other means) we are touching not only ‘our stuff’  but also the collective wounds of our ancestors, the collective Chiron of our tribe, our culture, our nation, our species. Engaging with these hurts – the ones from the collective psyche and those we acquire in our individual lifetimes – and transforming this pain into something that benefits ourselves and others, that is certainly The Great Work.

This is really important stuff; though magic can indeed be about wild imaginal adventures and parapsychologist phenomena, it is mostly in the inter-personal realm where its results unfold. I’ve done loads of ‘transformation’ rituals over the years and never grown a new pair of arms (despite my devotions to Ganesha). I have however been able to make important changes in relationships within myself and with others. This has led to real world effects in many areas of my life and the lives of others.

Samhain brings us up close and personal to our relationship with death in all its forms. Our awareness of our own death is of central importance when it comes to understanding human behaviour. Some psychologist studying our death fears have proposed a terror managment theory . These ideas developed out of a series of experimental observations; when faced with reminders of their own death people often respond by taking refuge in belief systems and behaviours that act to reduce the terror of dying. When we are reminded that we’re going to die (even via subtle unconscious cues) we reach out for things that in some sense appear to guarantee our immorality; national identity, religious or ideological beliefs etc. Moreover when we seek to mitigate our terror of death through joining in with things that are ‘bigger’ than us (the party, the flag, the religion that ‘never dies’) we are also more likely to engage in ‘othering’ behaviours. We become less well disposed, less kind towards those who don’t take refuge from death with the same party/flag/religion that we’ve chosen.

This stirs up more stuff from the bottom of the Halloween cauldron. If recalling our own death makes us more reactionary, nationalistic or fanatical, what can we do?

I think part of the answer lies in gaining a deeper understanding of the issue, something that our leaders learnt in ancient Europe through their initiation at the (probably psychedelic) Temple of Demeter at Eleusis; namely that we need not fear our death because in an important sense it doesn’t exist.

Now this isn’t as it may at first appear a way of dealing with the problem by flat out denial of the obvious. Instead it is about realizing that ‘I’, that individual self, while so convincing and indeed useful, isn’t really a single ‘thing’. Instead ‘self’ – a process of awareness arising and passing away – is at any moment present in the universe in a multiplicity of forms. Sure individual people have histories, narratives, birthdays and deathdays but the ‘self’ that identifies as an individual in the world, that sense of self only exists in awareness. We need not fear the absence of ‘self’ in our death anymore than we fear the absence of ‘self’ before our birth or the obliteration of ‘self’ when we sleep. Leaving aside the more subtle issues of exactly when life finishes in our bodies, when we are dead the ‘self’ continues to arise in all selves in the universe. There is therefore no death in the usual sense, not because we cannot die but because the sense of self we have is enlarged. This understanding is frequently gained by those who have had near-death (or near-death-like) experiences induced by psychedelic medicines or other practices. Rather than becoming more fearful of death, having brushed up against it, people emerging from those states instead find that they don’t cling so tenaciously to this ‘self’ that (especially in Euro-American culture) we value so highly. They no longer fear the reaper because they are no longer foxed by the (convincing and sometimes helpful) illusion of the separate self.

As I complete my 50th orbit round our star, and as skulls and cobwebs are placed in windows to invite in the trick-or-treaters, my thoughts turn to death. I remember that while grief and grieving are natural and human what’s behind me isn’t an army of the dead. Rather the dead are my sangha, my community and whatever their story they have things to teach me. Sometimes they teach me not to be like them, not to make the same mistakes, sometimes they whisper wise and simple ancestral knowledge in my ear. Mostly – like children delighting in dressing as vampires, ghouls and zombies – they remind me not to take my ‘self’ too seriously. I am reminded to enjoy my awareness but not to cling to it. I am reminded to welcome the memories of the dead; to honour them and to work to heal the hurts they they could not mend while they lived. Moreover I realize that there isn’t such a great divide between the living and dead, for in remembering the dead they live in and through us.

Which reminds of the beautiful requiem poetry of Marge Piercy from her novel Woman on the Edge of Time:

Only in us do the dead live. Water flows downhill through us. The sun
cools in our bones. We are joined with all living in one singing web of
energy. In us live the dead who made us. In us live the children unborn.
Breathing each other’s air, drinking each other’s water, eating each
other’s flesh, we grow like a tree from the earth.

May you have a blessed Halloween.

Julian


Coming up next…

Walking Backwards Or, The Magical Art of Psychedelic Psychogeography – colour copies of this collaboration between me and Greg Humphries are now collectors items, but the monochrome edition is now available.

Nikki and I have just released details of our next retreat at St Nectan’s Glen.

We’re writers and we’re on drugs (mostly tea…) Psychedelic Press are celebrating 10 years of their imprint by going on tour. Me, Nikki Wyrd, Danny Nemu, Ben Sessa, Robert Dickins, Charlotte Walsh, Peter Sjöstedt-Hughes, Torsten Passie and Reanne Crane are doing a series of events in England, Ireland and Scotland. Grab your ticket for this now!

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Meanwhile Nikki and I will be at The Cube in Bristol later this year as part of their psychedelic season, more details soon. The next in this series of events is on November 1st.

My new book The Fool & The Mirror: Essays on Magic, Art & Identity will soon be available for pre-order!

Nikki and I will also be at Occulture in Berlin which is shaping up to be an amazing conference.

Have a fabulous Samhain!

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“No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away…” 
― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

 

 

 

Truth, Lies & Magick

I’ve been reading Gary Lachman’s new book Dark Star Rising: Magick and Power in the Age of Trump which set me thinking about the nature of ‘fake news’ and the complex relationship in magic between the stories we tell ourselves (and each other) about the world, and the world itself.

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There are hundreds of great examples of how things that are not ‘true’ lead to real and ‘true’ outcomes. In mathematics we have crazy concepts that never-the-less still generate real and useful answers, imaginary numbers are perhaps the most obvious example. Then there are all those imaginary lines we draw in the globe for the purposes of navigation and communication, and for deciding which day it is. Such imaginary lines include the (in some respects quite recent) notion of national boarders which of course are a major concern in the politics of America First and Brexit.

Here are a few thoughts on how things that are not ‘true’ can indeed manifest as real things in the world. Not through a naive New Thought solipsism (the kind of thing usually marketed as ‘prosperity consciousness’) but rather through the multiplex processes of culture and the imagination.

One of my favourite tales that I didn’t mention – about the relationship between truth, lies and magick – comes in the form of a chess playing Turk. This was a (fake) robot automaton from the 18th century which (it is said) inspired Charles Babbage and more broadly the industrial revolution. Check out ‘How a magician helped the industrial revolution’ by Gregg Tob for this amazing, and instructive, story.

Details of the December event at The October Gallery with the author of Dark Star Rising and yours truly coming soon.

Julian Vayne

Priesthood and Service

During my recent reflections regarding the path of Druidry, one issue that I have found myself returning to is how we manifest maturity on the spiritual path and what this might mean in relation to what we give to others. While it remains open to a degree of debate, one of the characteristics that might be imagined to define a Druid –  as being distinct from the role of either Bard/Poet or Ovate/Seer – was the way in which they helped mediate specific social processes within their given communities. Whether via legal adjudication, philosophical consultation or by acting a celebrant during major life-rites the role of the Druid/Priest requires that they embody specific principles or perspectives within the external world.

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#Life Goals

Having spent the last 40 years ensconced in a spiritual journey that has allowed me to encounter a wide variety of folks who have laid claim to concepts of Priesthood, I thought it might be helpful to explore some of the shared concepts that seem important to those who minister with varying degrees of esoteric intention.

Perhaps the first and most obvious thing to observe, is that a Priest (whether Male, Female or non-binary) is usually a Priest of something or someone! Priests of virtually all denominational stripes are seeking to mediate and embody a deity, a principle or a process. Even if the mission of our Priesthood is broad, there needs to be a certain degree of clarity regarding the perspective they are seeking to represent to the wider world. Some may be attracted to the status or accouterments of the Priestly role, but without a clear sense of vision as to who or what our service is being offered, such Priesthood is likely to be little more than cosplay. For our Priesthood to have depth it feels critical that we have internalized our goal to a degree that it has truly transformed us; we have moved beyond merely articulating truths and more profoundly we are seeking to become them.

Most forms of Priesthood seem to incorporate both the function of Priesthood i.e. what you actually do and the ontology of Priesthood i.e. how you as a person have been transformed internally by having Priesthood conveyed upon you.  When we examine different traditions, we can see the way in which they place varying degrees of focus on either part of this vocational equation. For some schools Priesthood is predominantly sacramental and initiatory in that the goal of ordination is the alchemical transformation of an individual spiritual DNA. For others Priesthood is less about identity and a person may move in and out of a Priestly function depending on the role or function they are adopting at a given time.

In seeking to comprehend ministerial roles that are more defined by function, I was aware of my own background as a former Christian and the way in which the Protestant emphasis on “the priesthood of all believers” sort to minimize any unique status or intermediary role for those who sought ordination. I am aware of the way in which my own biases have been formed by a good dose of Welsh anti-clericalism, but I’m glad to say that this has slowly softened over time as I have been more fully able to appreciate the initiatory and transformational power of having such vocations acknowledged.

My own journey into Priesthood has been a long and winding one. In my late teens I became a seminarian with a view to become an Anglican Priest, but this was eventually derailed by the crisis of faith that pushed me to explore a more magical-gnostic path. Eventually my exploration of magic and the Thelemic-Tantra espoused by AMOOKOS led me into an intense encounter with the Egyptian deity Sekhmet and I became increasingly aware of the obligations that this experience carried with it. During my own in encounter it was made abundantly clear that if I wished to continue a working relationship with these forces, it would entail both cost and obligations in representing her reality to others. While I am a firm believer that vocation can take manifold forms that are uniquely shaped by the individual and their context, based on my own experience I would question the validity of any call to Priesthood that doesn’t have its basis in both marked intensity and sacrifice.

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Will you have a cup of Tea Father?

Although we should be cautious about any insistence that a person’s Priesthood must involve service to a physical community who hold similar perspectives (this is especially the case if adherents are spread over a large geographical area), we mustn’t underestimate the impact that our presence and embodiment might have on those in our more immediate sphere. The very magical act of someone pursuing a deep vocation and the creative flame of the daimonic-self can be both inspiring and potentially disruptive for those who feel they are simply going through the motions of day-to-day life. This in part is the challenge of our service as a Priest: the ideals and forces that we are seeking to manifest, become intensified and crystallized within ourselves as we take the risk of mediating them to those around us.

In the last 10 years my own Priesthood has found expression via mentoring, writing and more publicly in naming ceremonies, hand fasting and delivering eulogies at funerals. Often those seeking such support have been less concerned about the fine detail of my wyrd theological preoccupations and more drawn to the way in which my own initiatory process has enabled me to sit with challenging life processes. It feels as if what I have to offer is less about metaphysical certainties and far more about an ability to explore Mystery. For me those who manifest Priesthood most readily are those for whom their offer of service to others is as a natural overspill of the work that they are embodying in their own lives. This is at once the challenge of feeling called to such vocations but also the powerful initiatory role they can have in forging our magic.

Steve Dee

 

Season of the Mushrooms – why 9/20 is the new 4/20

Here in Britain, the autumn—season beloved of poets and witches—has arrived. For many people, myself included, the rapidly changing amount of natural light (and particularly the disappearance of direct sunshine) can come as something of a shock. As the dark rises, and we scurry into the new academic year, the romantic melancholia of the season can feel difficult, even oppressive. We may describe our feelings simply as being ‘under the weather’,  we may declare ourselves ‘depressed’ or medicalize our emotions as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).

Me and Damh the Bard are on the same page when it comes to our love of the sunshine. But Dave is a Leo (check his luxurious mane of hair) whereas I’m (predictably) a sex-drugs-occult obsessed Scorpio. So while the autumn does sometimes drag me down, with its blank grey days, there is also excitement as the dark rises; anticipation of Halloween and the following day, my birthday! Autumn brings those mists and mellow fruitfulness, and in all that fruiting  there is an additional excitement. The appearance of a wonderful medicine that can help us address, amongst other things,  the psychological challenges of the dwindling light. Appearing at just the right time to support our seasonal wellbeing, as if planned by Nature Herself ;). I am of course talking about that most magical of plants (okay, yes I known it’s not technically a plant…) the liberty cap mushroom Psilocybe semilanceata.

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Food of the Gods

One of the most potent forms of psilocybe mushroom, the magical elf caps of Psilocybe semilanceata start to sprout at this time of the year. One can find them throughout the British Isles, notably on the damper, western side of the country. Of course without a licence it would be illegal to pick and use these mushrooms, even for the purposes of helping to mitigate one’s depression or SAD. Though arrests for psychedelic mushroom foraging are uncommon, there are cases of people being prosecuted for doing so (for instance the recent bust of Paul Lee Corbett, a 63-year-old man from Washington State facing a charge punishable by five years in prison).

What makes the current legal situation with mushrooms even more insane is that, thanks to the scientists at the cutting edge (or should that be ‘gently waving and breathing’ edge?) of the Psychedelic Renaissance, we now know that this is a very valuable medicine. It can get you high, it can be enjoyable, it can be challenging and it can definitely help you. Psilocybin, in addition to being a remarkably safe substance (arguably safer even than LSD) can catalyze many capacities within humans; this substance can help us problem solve, it can help us deal with our end of life anxiety, it can help us address psychosomatic illness, it can help us unpick our addictions to other substances or debilitating behaviors, it can reliably trigger mystical experience. It’s about as close to a panacea as you can get.

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Mushrooms in your mind – Placebo vs Psilocybin

Psychedelic mushrooms can be found growing in the depths of many cultures and have, since the mid 20th century, rapidly sprouted in the consciousness of modern Western culture. From Maria Sabina, sharing her mycophilic mystery with Valentia Wasson and her daughter, through to Terence McKenna’s inspirational, and maybe even partly true, Stoned Ape Theory These days, even with legal limitations on our use of them, mushroom culture is alive and well and now boasts it’s own special day which is coming up soon!

Adding to the now traditional pro-cannabis celebrations of 4/20, advocates of mycelial magic have, over the last few years, been promoting the festival of ‘9/20’ (the 20th of September). Using a variety of tactics the 920 Coalition want to encourage appreciation of and dialogue about the beneficial use of psychedelic mushrooms. Meanwhile, The Psychedelic Society are doing their bit with a petition to change the classification of psilocybin in British law. There are also ways you can get down and dirty with mushrooms by cultivating your own. In Europe the irrepressible Darren Springer has been running workshops helping people learn how to cultivate delicious oyster mushrooms.

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Putting a cap on September

As the autumn rains begin to fall across the Northern Hemisphere people are out and about searching the hills, as perhaps their ancestors did, for the sacred magical mushrooms. Mushrooms that bring us laughter, healing, ecstasy and communion with the spirits. (I’m not sure why ayahuasca has such prominence these days when a large dose of mushrooms will have a very similar visionary and healing effect).

It is indeed the case that harvesting psychedelic mushrooms is prohibited in many places. In that respect I would simply like to quote what I heard recently from the awesome mushroom advocate Kilindi Iyi. Speaking as an African-American he pointed out that black people in the USA didn’t get the vote by voting for it. They had to break the law, reminding me of that Thomas Jefferson quote: “If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so.”

Happy Mushroom Season All!

Julian Vayne

PS I’m facilitating a Magical Mushroom Ceremony next month in London, same date time and venue as Darren’s Shroomshop growers workshop. See Darren for production tips or come to my workshop and ceremony for ideas on how to hold and explore psychedelic mushroom space. Follow this link for tickets. Hope you can join us!

Ahoy!

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Psychedelics and The Beast

Here’s my presentation from Beyond Psychedelics in Prague this year, I hope you enjoy it.

During this brief lecture I mentioned Aleister Crowley’s Rites of Eleusis. These were a series of public rituals that took place in 1910. As part of the ceremony Crowley served a kykeon to the audience – a magical drink named after the mysterious beverage given to initiates during the ancient Greek rites of Eleusis.

While we cannot be certain there is good circumstantial evidence to suggest that Crowley included an extract of peyote in these rituals. This is interesting in that it wasn’t until decades later that Wasson, Hofmann & Ruck advanced their view that the ancient Eleusinian kykeon contained a psychedelic substance (The Road to Eleusis, 1978). One might conjecture that Crowley was the first person to suggest that the ancient Eleusinian ceremony was a psychedelic initiation. An insight born of Crowley’s keen understanding of how ritual (and ‘strange drugs’) work.

You can read some more background on Crowley’s use of mescaline in The Cactus and The Beast by Patrick Everitt. If Crowley did use peyote in his public rituals, then his work may also constitute the first modern western psychedelic artwork (well before the Human Be-In, concerts by the Grateful Dead & Hawkwind etc). Yet another reason to love Uncle Al .

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Stay high, stay free!

Julian Vayne

PS.. Speaking of psychedelic ceremony if you are in London in October you can come along to a Magical Mushroom Ceremony! Hurrah for mushroom season!

Summer Time & the Living is Easy

Hello All!

I hope you’re having a fabulous summer! I’ve been really fortunate to have been invited to attend a number of amazing events this summer, including The Third Summer of Love, to address The Netherlands Psychedelic Society and the excellent Beyond Psychedelics conference in Prague.

The most recent of these delights was Ozora, a wonderful festival of music, arts, healing and psychedelic goodness in Hungary.  Nikki Wyrd and I were  asked to speak which also meant we got to hang out with an excellent crew of people including Jennifer Dumpert, Erik Davis, Christian Greer, Kilindi Iyi and many more (you can check out the daily newspaper of the festival here). The wooded site of Ozora – where the festival is held – celebrates its 20th year in 2019 and, unusually, is a dedicated location with permanent infrastructure and buildings. This means that when the festival happens (in August, just like it did in 1999 to celebrate a total eclipse) there are the most amazing structures to play in. These included a vast multistory visionary art gallery, an astonishing performance space (one of many) featuring a great thatched dome, blending low-impact technological with hand crafted traditional building methods, complete with a vast yoni sculpture over the stage.

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Under the Dome in Ozora

At the venue for the talks, a beautiful old barn (the oldest building on the site), one of the big topics of conversation was how to get the ‘vibe’ (for want of better words) of communities like Ozora to take root in wider culture. The other major topic of concern was the uneasy relationship between dualisms such as nature and culture or (post) modernism and (neo) traditionalism. It’s good to explore these tensions but I was again reminded of the importance of sitting with complexity, of welcoming uncertainty and remaining open and curious rather than retreating into a rigid fixity of belief. (Steve Dee and I have written about this lots. It’s also a key issue that Steve addresses in his latest book The Heretic’s Journey.) We have to settle for the fact that life is messy and things rarely (if ever) fall neatly into moral categories of good and bad (to take one such dualist tension). In some respects much of what we are wrestling with in these discussions are actually topological problems, where our physicality (basically tubes with arms and legs) gets us all exercised about whether, for instance, ‘spirits’ (here we are again…) are ‘inside’ or ‘outside’ us. These kind of discussions, around delimitation (who is/is not a shaman, whether we should be embrace Technology or return to Nature etc) are sometimes rather simplistic.

Life it’s a complex business and while we may seek for neat answers, like the experience of festival itself, part of the joy is in the diversity, plurality and range of ‘answers’ on offer. How should you spend your festival? I saw people reading, doing yoga, dancing wildly, resting in hammocks surrounded by scented clouds of exotic herbs, communally cooking, caring for their families, giving lectures about psychedelic ecology and more – these are all legitimate answers to the question of what to do at a festival. Which is ‘higher’ or ‘lower’ or better/worse etc depends on what we are actually trying to understand and explore and many other variables. Rather than grasping for certainty we can instead relax into the chaos, the richness, the uncertainty and enjoy the exploration.

But it wasn’t all cerebral stuff at Ozora, there was also some of the most amazing music I’ve heard in quite a while. Lots of impromptu, lo-fi and acoustic sounds and also storming sets from Eat Static, The Herbal Orchestra, Steve Hillage, Higher Intelligence Agency, Mad Professor, Tangerine Dream and many more. Good medicine for the soul!

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Taking a break from the dance floor at Ozora

Back in Britain I’ve almost finished a new collection of essays, due out this autumn and I’ve been adding a few more videos to my Youtube channel . The autumn will see Nikki and I hosting further retreats at St Nectan’s Glen and we can also announce that later this year will see the 10th anniversary tour by Psychedelic Press UK Writers on DrugsTickets on sale now 😀

The summer is a time when we can celebrate where we are, who we are, and the wonderful things around us. As occultists we are often attracted to the challenging, the dark, the transgressive, but we should also ensure that we take time, not only to make hay while the sun shines, but also to enjoy it!

As the trees begin to show the first signs of the fading light, and as the blackberries come in to season (yes, already!) we can take the warmth of the summer within and cultivate the light in the gathering darkness.

May your summer ripen into glorious gold!

Ahoy!

Julian Vayne

PS You can listen to Steve Dee talking about his latest work with Miguel Conner on Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio

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Hope to see you on tour!

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