Archive for the ‘Pagan History’ Category

  Garlic and superstition have gone hand in hand for millennia. A tasty, natural curative –garlic’s power as a magickal protective charm and as a potent remedy has remained strong from ancient times through to the present day.

  Worried about vampires? No problem. Carry some garlic and decorate your doors and windows with it. The use of garlic to protect against these pop culture prevalent denizens of the night is perhaps the most ubiquitous use of the aromatic bulb known today.

  But its usage as a form of apotropaic or warding magick is far more ancient. The ancient Egyptians would utilize it to protect the sanctity of contracts and oaths. Medieval miners would carry it down to the mines with them to ward against evil spirits like the invisible and mischevious German kobolds. The pungent odor and easily portable bulb and cloves of the garlic plant ( allium sativum) made and, indeed, still make it, an ideal charm against evil in all of its multiple forms. Its Sanskrit name Rasona or Lasuona actually means ‘Slayer of Monsters.’ But not all of the monsters it protected against were of the fiendish variety. More often then not, it was the monstrous interior medical ills that garlic was utilized to protect against.

  The second century AD Roman physician Galen of Pergamon labeled garlic as a ‘theriac’ or antidote which eventually translated into its widespread usage in imperial Roman medicine as a universal panacea or curative. In Ayurvedic medicine, one of the earliest ongoing systems of homeopathic curatives, garlic was utilized as an aphrodisiac, stimulant, and charm against virulent diseases like smallpox. Indeed, the sulfur and selenium components within the garlic bulb which presumably originated as a defense mechanism against hungry predatory animals result in garlic’s scientifically recognized properties as a valuable antiseptic, which does indeed aid in protecting against bacteria, inflammation, and viruses. Recent studies indicate that the consumption of garlic may help prevent against certain types of cancer. Garlic was recognized early on for its curative powers, but we are only just exploring the tip of the iceberg of what its wonderful biological magick can do for our own biological systems.

  Biomagick aside, my particular favorite fact in the litany of garlic’s history (some of which is included above and others of which you will encounter in Sacred Mists fabulous Herbalist Course ) relates to its ritual usage. Garlic was once the primary offering to the great Greek goddess of magick herself: the mighty Hekate. The third century BCE philosopher Theophrastus recorded in his botanical texts Enquiry into Plants and On the Causes of Plants how garlic would be offered at crossroads and in front of the three-faced statues dedicated to Hekate found at such places.

  SO the next time you throw a bit of delicious garlic into your cooking, take a second to speculate about the long legacy of interaction between garlic and humankind. For at least five thousand years men and women have consumed this tasty plant and utilized it in their magico-medicine practices. It is a tradition of tastiness and superstition predating biological scientific fact, one which you are continuing by adding it into your daily diet.

Is your city a god or goddess?

  One of my favorite things about the socio-political phrase ‘the separation of church and state’ is that it does not include pagan concepts when it separates out ‘church.’ Organized monotheistic religion is automatically cast as a bias for political motivations, while the more spiritual ethos like those practiced here are allowed a place at the table. Political iconography is full of pagan and esoteric occult elements which subtly play on the psyche of the masses to promote ideas of community and nationalism.

  Just take a look at the statue of Liberty. She’s not just a pretty lady wearing a tiara and holding up a torch. She is a sculpture of the Roman goddess of Liberty. And yet she is not a museum statue, or a remnant of a bygone age. She is actively worshipped as a symbol of welcome for the huddled masses searching for the promised land of the American Dream. And for those already in the United States she is a perpetual guarding symbol of the democratic spirit she so poignantly embodies. Overall, she was an entirely apropos gift from the republic of France to the United States: the first government of the modern era to successfully practice democracy (the only previous working variant having been in 5th century BCE Athens).

  The Statue of Liberty wears a stylized toga comparable to those of Republican Rome (an antique civilization the France of the past three centuries has actively idealized). She carries a tablet of laws (the political variant of the moral Ten Commandmants) and a torch of enlightenment. But most intriguing of all ~ is her crown. Her crown hearkens back to ancient traditions of city-goddesses, where the deity most associated with the city (or the personification of the city itself) would wear a divine mural crown symbolic of the city’s walls or battlements. From the creation of the first cities there has been an implicit identification of the city as an anthropomorphic divine figure ~ a protector of man analogous to the city battlements she wears on her crown. The most prominent iconographic depiction of this centers on the ancient Near East, where the Tyche city- of the Phoenician coast reigned supreme. She was a symbol of the town’s prosperity and linked to the well-being of their inhabitants, the various Tyches could be counted on to guard the fortune of her denizens.

  Anthropomorphization, or the transformation of a concept or inanimate object into something human, is something man and womankind intrinsically does to make these concepts or objects relatable. We do it in a myriad of different ways, both in ancient times and modern, often without even thinking anything of it. We name our cars. We treat our domesticated pets as human children. We even cast the gods in our own image, and then justify this by saying that we were cast in his or her image and that thus it is an infinite playback loop. By granting the space we live in, i.e. the nation, the city, the street, the house, etc a personhood, we make it easier for us to relate and understand the understandable.

  Why does it rain? Because the weather god is sad. Humanity, even perceived humanity, implies an understanding of culture and emotion. In casting human forms on the divine, we cast them into a society which parallels and interacts with our own and therefore can be understood as a grand godly soap opera. It makes the big scary unknowable things about the universe fathomable while still retaining some elements of their mystical mysteries.

  Creating these humanistic symbols also builds a community, who, if they have nothing else in common, at the very least possess this shared iconography. Just as sports teams has associated colors, team jerseys, and a mascot ~ so too can this team building psychology be applied at wider levels of society. The personified nation, be it in the form of the statue of Liberty or the likes of the Roman Empire’s Roma, acts as a visible totem for people to follow and share.

  Gradients of civic divinity can be seen throughout modern society. From the goddesses on state seals to the magickal spells implicit in state, government, and even school models. The deification of space and of concepts is happening all around you.

  And so, this week I ask you to look around your world and inquire into how many wonderful gods and goddesses may be going overlooked and in need of a bit of your attention. Is your city a god? Does your school have a patron goddess? What do you anthropomorphize and why? Why is it so important that humankind does this?

Isis may be the more famous “witch-deity” of ancient Egypt, and Thoth is viewed in later mythology as her assistant, but Thoth is actually the older of the two; and perhaps: the more subtly powerful. Indeed, in the Old Kingdom, at a period when the city of Hermopolis/Khmun ruled over the Egyptian landscape: Thoth was a leader of the main pantheon of gods, known as the Ogdoad, where he represented the moon. The curve of the crescent moon, so closely resembling the beak of the ibis bird earned Thoth his name and totem animal. The name “Thoth” is the anglicized version of the Greco-Roman Tehuti, from the hieratic “dhwty” (believed to be pronounced something along the lines of ‘dee-how-ti’ or ‘do-out’), which means “he who is (or is like) the ibis.” The association with the ibis is also a reference to early creation myths where Thoth took the form of an ibis during the formation of the world. In some of the earlier creation myths, it was believed that it was Thoth who technically created the world, sometimes in his own capacity, and sometimes acting as the force behind the creative thought of another, higher god, typically the god Ra.

Thoth was believed to be the philosophical power or force of thought (hence his wife Maat’s specific role as the idea of good and pure thought). He was the action which turns thought into being. Thus he is also attributed with the creation of both speech and writing: those two arts, so taken for granted in the modern world, but which allow mankind to communicate their thoughts to one another. Thoth therefore represented the idea of translated knowledge; and when knowledge is power, the person or deity responsible for it and its communication holds the proverbial key to the Upper and Lower Kingdom.

The idea of Thoth and the importance of speech and writing were so important and well recognized in ancient Egypt that most prayers thank Thoth for the ability to communicate with the divine, even if they are actually trying to communicate with a different god more specifically. One of Thoth’s many attributed epithets is “He who listens to prayers,” which is a sort of ancient joke: if Thoth is invoked in every prayer, he therefore gets to hear every prayer and can eavesdrop on the conversations of the other gods and their parishioners. Even in death, funerary prayers were not addressed just to the more direct gods of the dead, but also to Thoth.

The written and spoken word were both considered powerful magicks. Spoken magick relied not just on everyday speech, but on using the correct pronunciation, tone, and cadence when speaking; and these were facets of what was taught in the texts and temples of Thoth. Most, if not all writing, was initially considered magickal. For: in being able to read and write, one was literally channeling the power of Thoth into a concrete and physical form. And it involved a high degree of controllable training in order to both read the symbols and recreate them as writing. Thoth was therefore the god of scribes and palace administrators; and he was invoked in almost all forms of written communication, including that between the ruling powers and foreign dignitaries. Though not the patron deity of many of the Pharaonic dynasties, he was powerful enough to be integral to their rule.

The written word gave the power of Thoth a corporeal form which could be physically used in magickal rituals. Eating words was supposedly a way in which the magickal power of the texts and the heka of Thoth could be channeled directly into the consumer.

He could also grant the deceased further gifts for the Underworld if he felt so inclined. And if, in reading the ib, he encountered a powerful mage or witch to his liking, he might employ their soul further to do his bidding. The ancient Egyptians believed there were many aspects to the soul, and this is partially responsible for the complex and unique funerary arrangements for which they are so famous. But other than the ib, the other aspect of the soul which specifically intrigued Thoth was called akh. The akh was the ‘effective intellect’ or magickal knowledge which the person may have possessed. If the tomb was disturbed, thereby disrupting the ability of the various aspects of the soul to unite: it was the akh which would come back and, for lack of a better word: haunt the tomb or the robbers who desecrated its final resting place. In this sense, the akh might be considered a type of ghost. If, when Thoth assessed the soul, he found the akh of the deceased particularly powerful, he would offer them a role as one of his or Isis’ magickal companions (or in some instances enslave them). These elite groups of akh spirits existed as a semi-divine co-hort of minions which the two sunnu or priests of the gods, Isis and Thoth could call upon to enhance the strength of their own heka or send out on individual missions.

For more on Thoth and other witch deities of the ancient world, look forward to the College of the Sacred Mists upcoming class History of Witches in the Western World, taught by yours truly.

  If you, like I, have ever pondered the plurality of culture in modern Wicca and Neo-paganism, then you should read this book.

  If you have ever wondered at how Celtic symbolism, the Kabbalistic Tarot, Native American Spirit Animals, and the use of yoga, kundalina, and chakras (etc) can all be blended together within New Age counterculture and contemporary spiritual practices ~ then you should read this book.

  How and why did all of the ancestral traditions come to be peacefully united within the context of modern paganism? How has the cultural diffusion of the world at large contributed to such a delightful polygenesis or amalgamation of past and present? If your interest is piqued at this very notion…then you ought to read this book.

  Sabina Magliocco’s Witching Cultures: Folklore and Neo-Paganism in America is not just an ethnographic exploration into modern Neo-paganism, it represents a new and important step in the anthropology of the contemporary magickal community. Unlike the classic foundation texts on the anthropology of modern witchcraft like Hutton’s The Triumph of the Moon and Luhrmann’s Persuasions of the Witch’s Craft: Ritual Magick in Contemporary England, Magliocco’s work does not just seek to explore the existence of a magickal community and their perceptions of magick, but rather strives to understand how the multi-cultural magickal menu came to be so diversified. In attempting to understand how magickal and spiritual traditions are borrowed and hybridized into contemporary practice, Magliocco explores the underlying anthropological meanings and psychological back-story behind such acceptance and incorporation. It is not a history book, it is an examination of modern practices. Though it is light on the structuralist anthropological theoretical framework it was undeniably written in, it is a groundbreaking text in pagan and (by association) wiccan studies.

  Witching Cultures: Folklore and Neo-Paganism in America is a celebration of how the practice of modern magick delicately and respectfully crosses cultural boundaries to create approachable and shared meanings. As Magliocco concludes “The art of magic allows our imagination to transcend the boundaries of local blood and geography, to experience, at least in part, other cultures and time periods and feel empathy with other living beings (237).”

  Of all of the witchy texts I have reviewed lately, Witching Cultures: Folklore and Neo-Paganism in America by Sabina Magliocco is my new favorite and I highly recommend you give it a go.

  Alfred Lord Tennyson’s 1842 poem, The Lady of Shalott creatively manufactured one of the most influential witch figures of the second half of the last millennium. A combination of the witches of Avalon from the medieval Arthurian sagas and Edmund Spencer’s Faerie Queen, the unnamed Lady of Shalott is both and she is neither. She is a powerful seer separate from society, yet one who sorrows. She has seemingly sacrificed human interaction in exchange for her mystical powers, and yet she regrets this sacrifice: longing to love and be loved in return. And this is perhaps her most notable contribution to the witch-lore of the centuries that were to follow: the myth that the witch cannot or should not love a mortal without sacrificing her power or some other element of self or magickal community.

  Obviously, this is not a true concept. A witch, like any other human or even mammal, is capable of love and of being loved. However, in casting the Lady of Shalott as a tragic victim of her own power, Tennyson unwittingly launched a pop culture campaign exploring this idea of love vs. magickal power, and the combination thereof. It was a particularly popular notion in witch-films and television of the middle twentieth century, notably the classic films So I Married a Witch and Bell, Book, and Candle as well as the magickal sitcom Betwitched.

  The power disparity between the witch and her lover (and indeed Bell, Book, and Candle’s insistence that she sacrifice her power if she is to be in love) descends from The Lady of Shalott’s dark focus on the ethics of its witch-faerie star falling in love. It begs the question of whether she can love without magickally influencing the object of her love to love her back? It also debates whether a relationship between a magickal being and a non-magickal being is a balanced relationship. These related questions are vital to two anthropological discussions: the influence societal, or in this case, otherworldly power, has in any relationship (i.e. Does the Queen or the Royal Mistress really love the King or did she marry him for the throne?) and the modern magickal nix on the use of love magick for ethical reasons.

  Where Helen of Troy was the face that launched a thousand ships, the boat of the Lady of Shalott launched a series of ethical questions integral to both the anthropology of magick and the psychology of relationships.

  For a more in-depth look at the Lady of Shalott, her fellow literary witches, and other historical and mythical witches: keep your eye out for the upcoming class: History of Witches in the Western World! NEW from yours truly and exclusively offered at the fabulous Sacred Mists!!

Pictured above is John William Waterhouse’s famous version of The Lady of Shalott.

  I recently underwent the mild trauma of my first bee sting. According to medieval French superstition, this means a stranger or a guest is en route. According to various ancient Mediterranean and Eastern European rituals, I ought to keep the poor little bumblebee. As the first bee I’ve personally encountered this year, he will bring me prosperity for the coming spring.

  Bees, and the honey they so cleverly create, are sublimely steeped in magick and sacred ritual. From the dawn of time to the present, throughout religious turmoil, changing geopolitical borders, steps forward and steps back in morality and human behavior, bees and honey have been a mainstay of human society. Perhaps even more so than our canine companions, bees are man’s best friend (despite the occasional sting).

  Though the relationship between man and bees is suspected to have begun earlier, the first appearance of bees in the archaeological record is in an Epipaleotlithic rock art depiction of a figure climbing a ladder to collect honey from a cluster of encircling bees in the Spider caves or Cuevas de la Araῆa, which date to approximately 8,000 years ago. So ancient is human involvement with bees, that the word for mead a( drink made from their honey), is so old that its base roots in proto-Indo European dialects affected its usage in a myriad of later tongues: from ancient Greek, to Sanskrit (where it is still used as madhu), to Chinese dialects and Old English, etc…The latter of which is where we get the current term of ‘mead.’

  As the only natural sweetener humans of the Old World encountered until the Age of Exploration (circa 14th century AD, less than 700 years ago), when they discovered the wonders of sugar cane; honey had an early significance among the foods of the forest and later, the town. Typically, that significance falls into the sacred category. Honey appears prominently in early mythology, both as a physical offering of the gods and as something consumed by them. In ancient Babylonia, vows were sworn to the god of honey. Protection spells against evil magick made to the sorcerer-gods Ishtar and Marduk were sealed with gifts of honey. The Greek god Zeus, patriarch of his pantheon, was raised on the honey of sacred bees kept in the Cypriot cave he was raised in. The later Norse gods drank only magickal mead in their mythical Halls, as did the glorious dead they invited to join them there. In the ancient RigVeda, honey and soma are said to drip from the sacred fig tree which stands at the center of the universe. In other words, honey permeates world mythology, coating it in delicious sticky sweetness.

  Human use of honey for ritual purposes is also significantly prevalent: from ancient times up until the modern day. Ancient texts and epigraphic evidence describe honey as a frequent offering to a variety of deities and spirits. It was either left out in a cup before an altar, poured on the ground as a libation, or burned. The Iliad describes its use as a funerary gift for the fallen warrior Patroclus. The Odyssey features it in Circe and Odysseyus’ necromantic ritual to ask advice of the spirit-seer Teiresias. The ancient Phoenicians would smear honey onto standing stones and burn it at their altars. The latter of which was later forboden by the Old Testament (Leviticus 2:11), indicating its former widespread use among the ancient Israelites and their attempt to cease such pagan rituals within their new, more monotheistic religion. The controversial use of honey within monotheistic rituals continued (almost begging the question ~ what is it about honey and bees that is so delightfully pagan the Church would consider it dangerous?), despite the initial covenant between God and Abraham featuring the promise of a land filled with milk and honey (Exodus 33:3). The Christian Synod of Auxere in 585 AD forbade the mixing of wine and honey (wine only!) for consecrated beverages. The Synod of 692 forbade the offering of milk and honey at saintly altars. The witch trials of the Burning Times occasionally centered around the magickal theft of honey by presumed witches who were charged both with the theft by demonic means and the use of the stolen honey for nefarious Sabbaths. Ironically, however, the art of beekeeping was most well developed in the Catholic monasteries of the early Medieval period.

  Honey (and therefore bees) are particularly associated with happiness and sensuality of love and life. Honey was wildly popular in the ancient world as an aphrodisiac. The famous first doctor Hippocrates advocated the taking of milk and honey to induce love and ecstasy. The making and gifting of honeycakes, particularly in Eastern European traditions, was associated with rituals of courtship and romance. Conveniently, the use of honey, as advocated by the Kama Sutra, has resurfaced in the modern world; returning to its rightful place in erotic magicks. The prevalence of the term ‘honeymoon’ is a further continuing reflection of the associations between honey and the sacred act of sex and bond of marriage. With the exception of certain sub-Saharan tribes, honey has prevalently been considered a particularly suitable wedding gift and a particularly beneficial substance to be consumed at weddings, particularly by the bride and groom. The threshold of the honeymoon suite or first home of a couple is likewise best smeared with an offering of honey to encourage prosperity. Certain areas of Germany still perpetuate the ancient practice of decorating local beehives in honor of a wedding, so that the bees which created the honey for the wedding feast might also partake in the festivities.

  On the flip side, honey has often been associated with death. The earlier discussed passages of the Iliad and Odyssey aptly reflect ancient usages of honey in death rituals: namely as offerings to the deceased and in death-involved magick. Funerary and spirit gifts were made of honey, logically, to literally sweeten the deal and the afterlife beyond. Honey was often used to bathe the dead prior to burning or burial. This is especially evident in ancient Egypt, where a ritual honey bath was a part of the expensive mummification process. The deceased are still offered a teaspoon of honey in some modern Hindu funerary rituals, often so that their language might be sweet and powerful in the next stage of existence.

  The medicinal uses of honey, as a curative (i.e. to prevent death and discomfort, thereby increasing the likelihood of love and life ~ all of which it is associated with), are also noted in both ancient and modern sources. Its properties as an antiseptic for wounds made it a particularly powerful magickal curative in ancient poultices and medications, evidence for which is outlined from Egyptian magickal-medico texts onwards. The soothing nature of its consumption eases sore throats. Its quick metabolic dispersal rate makes it easy to digest and transfers a considerable amount of comparative energy to the consumer. Recent studies also indicate that consumption of local honey may ease certain allergies via an increased familiarity with the pollens used to create the honey.
  Be it for medicinal or magickal purposes, honey is a potent ingredient. As one of the most natural and sacred of binding agents, it can be employed to increase the strength of any concoction. Its utility as a biological offering increases its power as an offering to the gods, and especially to localized house spirits. Spring offerings of honey are particularly effective, especially with regards to the latter creatures.

  Bees, as the architects of honey and as creative industrial creatures in their own right, are also due considerable respect. Indeed, the bee, perhaps alone among insects, has been offered its own respected role within mankind’s understanding of ecology. The bee’s complex social formations and patterns of organization have long been lauded: from New Testament references to the honeycomb up through the social theorists of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Though rarely revered as deities in their own right, the bee as a provider of sweet goods to humans has been recognized from the designation of the Lower Kingdom of Egypt as the Land of the Bees, to modern usage of the bees image on consumer goods (like the Honey Nut Cheerios Bumble Bee). Though typically adverse to insects, the bumble is one of the odd exemptions: perhaps simply because there is something innately magickal to them which resonates with the magickal within all of us.

  Check out honey and bee -related products at the Sacred Mists Shoppe! Janet Farrar’s Honey Bees Pendant is a personal favorite of mine!