Spirited (33 page)

In Christian mythology, it is linked with the holy grail, referring to the chalice Jesus drank from at the Last Supper and that which caught his blood at his crucifixion. In the Arthurian legends, the Knights of the Round Table are on an eternal journey to seek out the holy grail and to behold the sight of God.

Many feminist Witches today speak of the holy grail as being a metaphor for the attainment of that which is at the end of desire. It has also been suggested that as the knights seeking the grail were men, then the holy grail must symbolise the feminine spirit (the anima) they yearn for.

The Pentacle

As an elemental tool, the pentacle is placed in the quarter representing earth and often takes the form of a flat stone or disc with a pentagram drawn or painted on it, among other symbols.

Perhaps the reason the pentagram represents the earthy qualities of existence is its association with the form of the human body. This was best demonstrated by Leonardo da Vinci in his drawing of the Vitruvian Man, in which a naked man is shown lying sprawled in the midst of geometric patterns. His arms are held at even length and his legs are apart. If a line was drawn from head to leg, leg to arm, and so on, the pentagram manifests.

The word
pentacle
itself is believed to descend from Ceremonial Magick and the old grimoires that attest to Qabalistic influence. High Magick is a very goal-orientated system and calls upon the aid (evocation) of various orders (both demonic and angelic, usually of Judaic origin) to assist in the obtaining of success. Pentacles are created by high magicians in order to promote particular planetary energies within their rituals; they are also worn on the person for various reasons, but largely to protect.

The Wand

The wand has long been associated with Witches and Wizards in popular culture. The Harry Potter series features the wand prominently as a tool of “wizardry” and sorcery. Generally, the wand is very similar to the athame in its functions, e.g., the channelling and projecting of energy. The wand, however, has often been given a far more passive role in ritual despite its long history and association with the Craft.

In almost all ancient civilisations, the staff (simply a larger wand) has been seen as a symbol of authority and power. The Egyptian pharaohs are often depicted in their mummified form with a shepherd's crook and whip crossed over their chests. This is believed to have symbolised the influence of pharaoh as both law enforcer and king in the afterlife—the shepherd's crook symbolizing love and guidance, and the whip his authority and dominion.

In ancient Greece, the
kerykeion
(or caduceus), the rod of Hermes, was an instrument of healing and balance. The familiar insignia of two serpents entwining a winged rod is now a well-known symbol of the modern medical profession. In fact, the staff of Asklepios (also associated with medicine) also consists of a serpent and a staff. Biblical tales in the Old Testament tell of Moses' staff, which was given to him by God as a channel for his divine power. With the staff, Moses bloodied the Nile River and parted the Red Sea to deliver the Jews to freedom.

There are countless literary references to the wand and staff as an instrument of the divine and of Magick. In Wiccan covens today, the wand is often secondary to the athame, which is odd, as the athame's intimate association with Witches seems to have sprung out of nowhere, whereas the wand has always traditionally accompanied the Witch.

In my coven, we have both a wand and an athame. We generally cast a circle with our athame; however, if we are invoking the elements with a tool, then we work with the wand, because we feel that the elementals are far more receptive to wood than to metal (which to them would be regarded as an implement of careless human destruction).

As a phallic symbol associated with the Wiccan fertility god (think of the thyrsus-carrying maenads who dance for Dionysos), the wand is seen as corresponding to either fire or air. It is my personal opinion that somewhere along the way, the traditional lore relating to the wand and athame became interchanged due to their phallic symbolism and similar functions. I tend to connect the wand with air, as traditionally, wood was used to fashion the tool, which in its original form of a tree bends to the winds, whereas the athame's blade is forged in the fire.

Traditionally, the length of the wand should span from the crook of the elbow to the tip of the index finger. In terms of width and size, you should be able to comfortably hold the wand in between your thumb and index finger. Most wands are straight in nature to aid in focus, but I know for a fact that a slightly curved or bent wand will not hinder the flow of energy, as my first wand was a bent piece of wood and worked spectacularly. Also, there are certain types of woods that are favoured. For example, rowan, apple, oak, and willow are said to produce the best wands, but ultimately the tree your wand comes from shouldn't matter at all, as long as the wand suits your purpose.

However you find (or buy) your wand, the experience and initial power lies in the connection felt between the wand and yourself. There must always be an element of familiarity between you and your tools.

Eclectic Trends

Eclecticism has always existed within the Pagan community. Wicca is itself a healthy fusion of a collection of metaphysical and spiritual traditions. However, because of its early place in NeoPagan history, it has become what is “traditional.” Then again, Norse Heathens would argue vehemently against the suggestion that Wicca is traditional, as Heathens have a particularly strong link to their history and their ancestral lands. It is clear that tradition, history, and culture form the foundation for NeoPaganism.

Over time, the exclusivity of Wiccan covens and their scarcity spurred a silent revolution in the community. Publications such as Rae Beth's
Hedge Witch
and Scott Cunningham's
Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner
have given ample reason and support for both the solitary path and self-initiation. Prior to this, both were perceived as being of lesser value than membership in a traditional coven and were considered to invalidate the individual's experience. Nowadays, the number of solitary practitioners is presumed to outnumber coven-bound Witches, and the concept of self-initiation (or no ceremonial initiation at all) is completely valid, at least in the eyes of the majority. The overwhelming embrace of the solitary life has led to the discovery of Eclecticism and its positive aspects. Despite the somewhat flimsy New Age hue of the Eclectic approach, there is certainly a sense of cohesion, personality, and creativity that is primary in all Eclectic styles. The prevailing reluctance against Eclectics among the minority may be understood as an insecurity or unwillingness to breach cultural and religious boundaries. Or perhaps it is a case of superiority based on the belief that a specific tradition is the be-all and end-all. Whatever it is, there arises a question of respect whenever the topic of Eclectic Paganism crops up.

As Pagans, respect is high on our priority list, and to intend harm is a crime of great measure. The belief that Eclectics relish the chance to steal from another's belief system or cultural practice is absurd! The very reason for Eclecticism is the impersonality within the current traditions, which then inspires the individual to focus on their own needs, desires, and preferences and develop a spirituality that draws on the rhythm of the heart. In both practice and theory, Eclectics are particularly astute in focusing on their own growth and reconnecting with the primal patterns of their soul. Intent is not a matter of incision or cunning but rather the subtle channelling of what the inner self already knows as truth. To illustrate this, I shall introduce a fictional character by the name of Rachael and tell her story.

Rachael has been studying with an Alexandrian high priestess for the past four months and is working towards her first-degree initiation; however, the more she learns about the Alexandrian tradition, the more she realises that its Ceremonial elements will not serve the unfurling pace of her own magickal journey. When Rachael discusses this with her teacher, the high priestess smiles knowingly and congratulates Rachael on listening to the beat of her own drum. Before they part, the high priestess recommends a few books and individuals whom Rachael might find helpful in her journey to spiritual fulfilment.

The next morning, Rachael travels into the city and heads for the local occult bookstore. There she purchases Scott Cunningham's
Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner
and
Living Wicca: A Further Guide for the Solitary Practitioner,
as well as Phyllis Currot's
Book of Shadows
. On talking with the store clerk, she is drawn into an in-depth conversation about the intricacies of spirituality and the beauty and vibrancy of Paganism. The store clerk, who is fascinated by Rachael, suddenly mentions a new book entitled
The Dancing Shaman,
which he believes Rachael will find interesting. After perusing the contents and the blurb, Rachael agrees and collects her purchases before leaving.

In the next three days, Rachael devours book after book, discovering a mystical world steeped in the symbolism and dreaming of the unconscious mind. Working with the practical structure of
Living Wicca
, Rachael begins to flesh out her core principles and practices while forming a greater understanding of herself. Finally she reaches her last book,
The Dancing Shaman.
Upon opening the book, Rachael is suddenly struck by a strange sense of déj
à
vu, and the words seem to writhe and vibrate. That night, after having finished the book, she walks into her room and retrieves her athame and a torch from the kitchen.

Rachael stands beside a glistening stream and, breathing deeply, she centres herself, growing more and more aware of the blood that pulses within her veins. Spirals flutter along her periphery and the world slips away; there is nothing, and yet all of creation is within this concentration of being. Entranced, Rachael's body moves to the patterned lessons of Alexandrian Wicca. She casts the circle and invokes the quarters. Then, in accordance with the teachings of
The Dancing Shaman,
Rachael withdraws to the void and enters a world of rippling darkness and shattered light—a world that is strangely familiar to her.

Rachael journeys through the landscape of her mind, searching for what calls her. Then suddenly a flash of light illuminates the shroud of grey and a many-faceted diamond appears, wedged in the dark earth. Rachael hesitates and a sense of foreboding overtakes her body. But persistence, curiosity, and faith coax her forth, and her slender hand reaches for the diamond. Upon contact, the air around her begins to shake dangerously and blinding white light floods her vision. A voice, so pure, ignites in the fissure of silence, and a flowing meld of notes forms a distinct understanding inside of Rachael.
“All things are reflections of the other, and it can only be within that truth weaves a path of its own. Freedom is but a flame upon the torch of the divine, and choice is the hand that bears it.”

Rachael opens her eyes and finds herself lying down beside the stream, the fresh glimmer of dawn light dappling her pink skin. The inner journey that Rachael experienced the night before returns to her memory, and the soft lull of morning gently caresses her. Standing, Rachael is overflowing with an exuberance she has never felt before. A harmonic resonance of something special remains within her; an ancient wisdom courses through her being. She looks to the subtle sphere that surrounds her, the vague shimmer of something more, and sighs a note of release. Rachael farewells the elemental guardians and opens the circle in the Alexandrian fashion, for it is something that she has grown close to and feels is useful. She walks from the stream, never looking back, for she knows that she will spend many nights with the company of her Self and Nature.

At home later on, Rachael calls the high priestess and relays her experiences. The priestess listens patiently, absorbing Rachael's words.

“Last night, I was told that freedom is the key, that choice is my path. And now I understand that I should do what feels right to me.”

The high priestess pauses and smiles before she speaks. “A path is three things. The foundation upon which it is laid—this is its strength, its security, the reason it exists in the first place. The second is its direction and movement—its turns, its surroundings, and its focus. And the third is the traveller, the Fool of the Tarot. This is you, and you are choice. For the mystery is that as you walk and as you make the decisions about which way to turn, what you want to see along your journey, what experiences you would like to encounter, you create your own path. For in truth, there is no foundation but you, and there is no direction but you.”

After the phone call, Rachael turns and walks to her bedroom. Kneeling by her altar tools, Rachael pledges an oath.

“The path I walk is a mirror. It reflects that which I seek and yearn for. It is the cultivation of effort, energy, and spiritual union. The path I walk is mine and forever shall it be. Blessed by the gods and by Magick, so let it be.”

Rachael's story is one of seeking. It is typical of those who desire metamorphosis—all those who are willing to break free from traditional moulds and embrace their divinity. This is the central truth of the Eclectic way. There is no disrespect, infringement, or flaky na
ï
vety. Instead, there is contemplation, understanding, deepening, and honesty. For it is in the face of the Self that we must learn to be open and ultimately accepting. In fact, I often remark that Eclecticism is the best thing that has ever happened to the Pagan community. After all, the arrogance and exclusivity communicated by many tradition-obsessed individuals and groups does more harm to our spirituality than good.