steve dee | The Blog of Baphomet

Dear readers, I have recently been enjoying Yvonne Aburrow’s excellent All Acts of Love & Pleasure: Inclusive Wicca published by Avalonia Press. What I have really enjoyed is Yvonne’s thoughtful and inspiring reflection on how a contemporary Pagan path (in this case Wicca) can evolve and become more conscious regarding issues around inclusivity and power. For our magic to be real, it needs to impact directly on issues regarding justice, freedom and seeking political change within society. To meet with the Gods means not only to access archetypal forces from times past, it can also ask that we engage with the on-going impulse of cultural transformation that fed into the Neo-Pagan revival.

Let Hir worship be within the heart that rejoiceth

Inspired by Julian’s recent musings on Priesthood, I’ve got to thinking about the exoteric dimensions of our occult or esoteric paths. As magicians it can be easy to get lost within the labyrinthine halls of our spooky clubs. In seeking to plumb the depths of mystery and our own process of psychological change we can be endlessly inventive in developing techniques and elaborate symbol systems. While folks may find value in roaming the paths of the Qliphoth or in liaising with denizens of the Nightside, it seems fair that at some point we should ask “and what difference does that actually make?”

Personally I think that the socio-political implications of our paganisms will be as diverse and complex as the religions themselves. It may well be that the libertarianism of a Setian and the eco-collectivism of a druid are equally valid ethical stances generated by their personal philosophies. To me what feels critical is that our claims to personal development or magical advancement need to birth something that contributes to the betterment of humanity.

This is not to suggest that we all need to be reduced to blanket prescriptions as to the focus and shape that our activism should take. The manifestation of our spiritual passion into the realm of Midgard can take many forms. Whether via writing, music, marching, advocacy or innovative financial investment, the forms of our engagement are rightly tailored to our personal preferences and drives.

In Yvonne’s book, we are given a really helpful overview of Wicca’s historical development and the wide variety of theological positions that initiates into that tradition might hold e.g. forms of monism, duotheism, polytheism and animism. These are rarely neatly delineated positions and there are often huge overlap and apparent inconsistency as people seek to live the reality of how they engage with their experience of the Gods.

As with all good books, Yvonne’s work triggered my own reflections as to how my own take on Pagan Theology might help shape my own attempts to evolve a deeper sense of engagement. This list is by no means definitive and each deserves a blog post of its own:

Multiplicity: Even if one’s Paganism takes a decidedly scientific and monistic form, there is usually an engagement with the concept of Polytheism at a mythic/psychological level. The idea that we should understand the divine as a series of differing beings (or principles) that have an interaction or relationship with each other is appealing for many of us. While Polytheism can take many theological forms, what it does seem to entail is a move towards acknowledging the multiple, the complex and the relational nature of how we experience life and contemplate the numinous-what we might call “Pantheonic” consciousness.

In our devotional work we may well chose to focus our energies towards a specific deity within a given pantheon e.g. the God of consciousness, the female destroyer, the Son of new endeavours etc. but we remain conscious of the whole. Similarly in our activism we may focus on a given issue (Indeed we have only such much time and energy) but seek to resist becoming overly narrow in perspective.

In reflecting on this emphasis on theological interconnection, I couldn’t help but think about the general increase in awareness of intersectionality with regards both identity and social issues- issues rarely (if ever) stand in isolation, rather the parts effect the whole in a way that demonstrates the subtle ecology of any given situation. Such awareness helps us more fully appreciate both the weight of multiple struggles and also the positive impact that change in one sphere can have in creating larger scale change.

Localised discourse: In my practice, much attention is given to location and what might loosely be called “the spirit of place”. As much as my being a magician is located somewhere my head and heart, it only really becomes activated within the context of “what’s out there”. I can only really focus and shape magical attention when I am in the place of doing it.

In many ways my activism (i.e. living my life in relationship with self and others) is profoundly shaped by the place I find myself in. Yes I am increasingly connected globally and engaged in struggling to evolve macro scale principles, but “small is beautiful” still has meaning. Yes I may contribute by signing numerous on-line petitions, but what am I willing to do within my immediate communities. How can I use a form of “social animism” to tune-in to how reflection and change might occur at a grass-roots level?

Importance of human drives: In her book Yvonne helpfully seeks to examine ideas of what holiness, piety and sacredness might mean for the modern pagan. In contrasting an integrative Wiccan perspective with potentially more dualistic paths, we can begin to evolve ethical and spiritual positions that have sensuality at their core.

While issues such as sexual liberty and artistic expression may be seen as somewhat periphery when confronted by issues such as poverty, war and terrorism, it is my view that they are often at the very heart of why these conflicts take place. The drives to experience pleasure and to express creativity are central to humanities’ attempt to find meaning in life. Many conflicts and the resulting social inequalities seem to result from trying to overly police these passions via either religious or political means. In seeking such constraint and potential suppression, it is sadly all too common that that those threatened by their own humanity then project onto an “Other” who becomes demonised in the process. For our spiritual paths to take seriously the pursuit of sacredness in its fullest sense, it must call us back to the sensual and provide a challenge to thin-lipped piety.

While there are always dangers inherent in the process of seeking to evolve forms of religion that are more inclusive and liberal (consumerism and over-simplicity spring to mind!), they do offer the possibility of informing any process of social change. Yvonne’s book provides us with an excellent example of how religions can evolve. These are processes that rejoice in the way in which our ever inventive humanity interacts with the divine. To be open about this unfolding does not rob our religions of power, rather they ask us to seek and use power consciously.

In Feeding Part-Made Gods I got down to some speculative musing about how Vampire dynamics might be at play in our engagement with strange god-forms. As we feed on the magic they embody, so also their presence in the realm of ideas is strengthened as they sup on our attention. While some may be dismayed by such visceral metaphors and what they say about our universe, it was my contention that they can be helpful when worked with consciously.

This vampiric principle, while certainly susceptible to a degree of gothic excess, is also quite helpful in understanding how Chaos Magic (CM) seems to interact with other more ‘traditional’ religious paths. In seeking to describe the type of ragged, punk rock energy often associated with CM, we are presented with a current that has a rather irreverent, shifting and arguably consumerist engagement with the religious traditions they engage with. At best this relationship seems symbiotic, at worst it could be depicted as parasitic and vulnerable to accusations of cultural appropriation.

Culture vulture

In a recent dialogue with some magical friends, one colleague observed that CM seemed to be like the serpent swallowing its own tail. What my friend was seeking to convey was that while it may have brought new energy to western occultism, without traditional material to engage with it would ultimately prove barren if its relentless deconstruction was eventually turned in on itself.

This question of what constitutes ‘tradition’ and ‘traditional religion’, is fraught with potential confusion and the construction of false dichotomies. If we start with the root concept that traditio (Latin) relates to that which is handed down from a group who have had a shared experience, then we are already faced with questions like ‘how long have they had to be engaged in doing it?’ and, ‘how many of them?’. If folks within pagan communities are pointing towards forms of ‘traditional Wicca’ and ‘traditional’ forms of Crowley’s Gnostic Mass, this illustrates the fairly recent time frames we are working within.

Many of us, in walking more ‘left-field’ spiritual paths, are in search of anchor points via which our self-narrative can feel more secure. Reference to historic precedents for what we are doing often feels appealing as we seek to legitimise the risks we are taking and the spiritual terrain that we are hoping to navigate. The prevalence of this tendency seems to provide some evidence for such myth-making to be a shared human need.

Chaos magicians are no different. Certainly in seeking to understand my own love for this approach, I have sought to locate the historic examples of magical practice that help me (somewhat ironically) to create my own sense of ‘historic’ Chaos magic. Whether it be appeals to the ‘dual-observance’ mash-ups of Cunning men, or Austin Osman Spares’ use of sigils and concept of Kia, I’m undoubtedly keen to find others ‘who did it like I do it.’

Ia! Ia! It’s the Kia!

What probably separates CM from most other magical paths is the way it seeks to engage with the concept of Truth. While many paganisms and magical philosophies tend to start with a certain mythic theology or religious revelation (e.g. Wicca or Thelema), CM in its Postmodernism is far more focused on the performance and practice of magical ‘doing’ in response to the cultures that it finds itself within. Rather than claiming a revelation of some great ‘truth’, it is openly symbiotic and relational in expressing itself in the terms of something that it is responding to.

For some this may seem shallow, rootless or overly adaptive, but at best I believe that such an approach openly highlights the syncretistic dynamic that is at work within culture anyway. As magicians the interface between ideas presents us with a liminal space, within which new ways of being can be explored.

For many the concept of syncretism has something of a bad name, it speaks of blurred boundaries, conceptual overlap and a dilution of tradition. Personally I believe syncretism is all of these things, and, that it is inevitable. In thinking about an ideology, be it a political or religious one, even those that make claims to being revealed rather than emergent, are reliant on context and the adaptation of or reaction to existing ideas. As I have written about elsewhere – Slow Chaos – it may be that our discomfort with syncretism is more about the pace at which it occurs rather than it happening it all. In contrast to a more organic process whereby two or more differing perspectives interact over time, perhaps our sense of psychic indigestion relates to the rate in which we are bombarded by a plethora of competing worldviews day in, day out.

Perhaps the beginnings of an answer to how the process of syncretism can be both slowed down and directed creatively can be found via the process of hybridisation. In trying to tease apart the possible differences between the process of syncretism and that of hybridisation, one of the primary differences seems to be the degree of consciousness brought to the activity. While syncretism often occurs unconsciously via proximity, hybridisation usually involves the deliberate splicing together of at least two differing perspectives in order to produce a new entity that functions more effectively within the context that it is developed. In reflecting on my own adventures in hybridising Zen sitting practice with Heathenry. I have begun my own process of trying to identify some of the common traits that might be shared by those engaging in conscious hybridisation. Some of my suggestions are as follows:

A sense of vision related to the hybrid being proposed- rather than it being just an amusing ‘mash-up’ the individual or group involved feel that something important is being offered and that there is a sense of aesthetic coherence between the paths involved; for me the combining of Zen and Heathenry related to ideas around personal responsibility and stoicism, as well as my own perception of a more minimalist sensibility.
A desire to engage as thoroughly as possible with the primary source material of whichever traditions or ideologies are being combined.
A high degree of transparency with regards to both the sources being worked with and the process of combination itself.

Probably like any good art, the sacred technician seeking to work with these hybridising processes needs to combine both vision and discipline. Vision ensures that the endeavour itself is fuelled by the uprising of creative energy inspired by the need to contextualize spiritual ideals. Discipline hopefully reduces the likelihood of simply using religious buzz words in order to legitimise personal whim.