Uncategorized | The Blog of Baphomet

I recently bought a black mirror from the extraordinary witch, writer and academic Levannah Morgan. Levannah, as visitors to many Pagan events in Britain will know, is also the creator of a wonderful array of home-made, beautifully crafted objects. These range from what are clearly ritual tools (like my mirror), through to charms, knitted hats and socks which, though ostensibly simple knitwear, are undoubtedly magickal objects in their own right. In this sense Levannah straddles the worlds of the Wicca (she’s a High Priestess of many years standing) and what some call ‘Traditional Witchcraft’ (which we might briefly define as being the use of folk magic).

the witches mirror

The relationship between ‘The Craft’ (ie Wicca) and ‘The Craft’ (ie Traditional Witchcraft). Is one where I’ve observed a fair amount of contention. For instance one of the Traditional Witchcraft facebook groups I belong to (arguably the most venerable group in that social media forum) sets out its stall by stating (in one of those pinned post thingies) that it is emphatically not a group for people interested in Wicca. The whole vibe of Trad. Craft (aside of discussions about which is the most ancient of its facebook manifestations) is one of toads, skulls, horned spirits, circumambulations, spelling coven ‘cuveen’ etc etc. Now I’m down with all that; I love a bit of folksy style magick the same as the next wizard who happens to live in an 18^th century west country cottage. However when I actually look at this style in relation to the work of the Wiccans I know (of which Levannah is one) I find it hard to see more than the narcissism of minor differences between the assumed distinctions of Trad. Craft versus Wicca. Read, for instance the engaging book Traditional Witchcraft by Gemma Gary. A likeable vision of the Craft which feels like a more folksy (and of course west country orientated) version of the classic Mastering Witchcraft by Paul Huson However if one were to compare say, Eight Sabbats for Witches by Janet and Stewart Farrar with Traditional Witchcraft certainly there are differences, but these are greatly outweighed by the similarities.

Now one of the criticisms of Wicca by Trad. Craft people is that Wicca can be ‘fluffy’, of course by that they mean that it can emerge as a ‘love and light’ focused gentle spiritual tradition which doesn’t have the earthy scent that Trad.Crafters imagine suffuses their preferred style. Various allegations are made against this ‘fluffy craft’; that it’s not much more than a superficial, product orientated life-style choice. You can get your Wicca off the shelf, mediated through the work of writers such as Silver Ravenwolf et al. Thing is that for every example of vapid consumerism by ‘Wiccans’ I can find just as many examples of similar behaviour within Trad.Craft culture (a recent high point of this for me was this ‘stang’ formerly owned by Cultus Sabbati guru and asthma victim Andrew Chumberly, being offered for sale, admittedly along with a ‘talismanic’ edition of the Azoetia and a letter or two, for £3000). Incidentally the text of this uber spooky volume may be found HERE. (There are certainly some enjoyably evocative bits of material in Cultus Sabbati literature, and it’s also true to say that sometimes the Emperor is completely skyclad…)

“I trust the sight of the young people refreshes you?”

So it seems obvious to me that a superficial engagement with any spiritual tradition says more about the person doing the engaging, and not necessarily much about the tradition in itself.

Another aspect of the Wicca/Trad.Craft dichotomy arises from that fascinating word ‘religion’. Wicca is, in some sense, a religion (though my preferred understanding would characterise it as a ‘mystery religion’, closer to the classical sense of ‘mystery’ described recently by Ronald Hutton in a lecture at the Pagan Federation Devon and Cornwall conference). Trad. Crafters, while generally being of an animist bent are, it seems, typically more concerned with operative magick (often of the type described by chaos magicians as ‘sorcery’). They frequently acknowledge (unless they have some really out-there fantasies about secret Sabbats being celebrated on hilltops in the middle ages) that the operative witchcraft of the past (or folk magic, to use what I feel is a more accurate term) was done by people who would probably have identified themselves as Christians.

Meanwhile Wicca, particularly in parts of the United States, has made the fully-fledged transition into a church or denomination of Paganism. This is perhaps (and I’d love to hear the thoughts of North American witches about this) because religion plays a different role in American society than it does in British culture. The question ‘which church do you go to?’ is an important component in getting to know someone in the USA, whereas in Britain it’s unlikely to be an item for discussion at all. American religion plays an critical role in social identity and so the creation of a neo-Pagan Wiccan ‘church’ (with all that means) makes total sense. However to the British Trad.Crafter this all looks very suspicious and a long way away from solitary rituals involving rhyming charms and black cat bones.

But in the reflection of the black mirror such divisions begin to blur. Here I am, an initiated Gardnarian/Alexandrian Wiccan and chaos magician making use of a tool fashioned by the skilled hand of my Sister. Is this Traditional Craft, Chaos Magick or Wicca in action – could it perhaps be all three?

I recently had the good fortune to work with a group of magicians exploring the Sethian current and our experience of the turning year. These practitioners are seeking to experiment with the techniques of music, movement and trance as a way to cultivate a more receptive understanding magic and the pursuit of gnosis. Basing the focus of ritual on the Egyptian calendar as envisaged by Mogg Morgan in “The Wheel of the Year in Ancient Egypt”, we found ourselves working with the serpent goddess Renentutet, whose festival coincided for us with the festival of Imbolc within the Celtic year.

The serpent goddess Renentutet

Following a ritual opening and a number of exercises designed to raise energy and engage the bodymind, we prepared for the burial of our beautifully constructed corn mummies and the release of serpent energy back into the earth:

“Awake in Peace! Great Queen, awake in peace;

Thine awakening is peaceful.

Awake in peace! Snake that is on the brow of a king

Awake in peace; thine awakening is peaceful.” Pg. 91

Such a burial spoke powerfully to us both of our own honoured dead and the impermanence of our own physicality. However enlightened we may or may not be, these realisations are born in and through the flesh. None of us is younger than 40, and our magic is mapped on a canvas that inevitably is woven with loss and significant health challenges.

From a Sethian perspective, this burial echoes that of Osiris and the triumph of Seth’s consciousness over the Osirian rule of law. In his murder of Osiris, Seth symbolises the magician’s antinomian need to revel in our awakening and non-conformity. Like the return of spring, the societal needs for law will invariably re-emerge, but the magician is the one awake to the tensions and dance that get played out as we seek to push forward the dialectic between protection and liberty.

When something becomes as all-consuming as the pursuit of awakening, it can be hard to let go. When the internal fires are ignited, the pursuit of gnosis fuels our both our waking hours and dreamscape. The gift of consciousness pushes us to expand and transcend the parameters of nature, and yet we are bodies still! 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.

This concept of a necessary pause/burial 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 5 to 10 years of sustained engagement. In the course of pursuing such a heroic undertaking, the need to step back from the work-to pause, to rest, to take stock becomes critical. The depth of work set out in the Nine Doors is both awe inspiring and daunting. Initially my own failure to complete it in a sustained burst felt like an affront to my success driven ego, but seeking to follow the God of consciousness often drives us to these places of necessary deconstruction!

The disposability of western culture often does little to cultivate a sense of commitment and longevity of focus, especially while struggling with boredom or a sense of burn-out. If things get tough and we feel unable to sustain our initial sense of intensity and interest, we move on and seek yet another glittering bauble to distract us from our core pain (at least that’s how it works for me!) Perhaps the wisdom of the wheel of the year and other cyclical schemas is that they build into our experience an enhanced appreciation of ebb and flow. Nature oscillates; it advances and retreats-there are seasons for surging forward and times of rest and lying fallow. When our inspiration or energy levels run dry, rather than going shopping, perhaps we just have to wait.

The Gnostic in us rightly desires to push-on and expand in pursuit of the transcendent and the cosmic, but to do so without reference to the wisdom of natural cycles is folly. As we reach-out in pursuit of the Dog-star of Seth’s awakening we need to stay connected to our bodies and our planet with all their messy, irrational longings. We need to remain rooted to ensure that our magical mutations lead to sustainable evolution.