Ravemore's Notes

A little meandering… Pagan reflections on a left hand path.

Month: August, 2016

Practice or Wishful Thinking

It seems that so many potential travelers on the occult pathways encounter two significant hurdles. I hear about it and read about it more often than I would like. Ironically they are both primarily self-fulfilling prophecies in failure if allowed to take root… but can be easily avoided with some thought and action.

How many times have you, or someone you know, began those first tentative steps in the direction of a particular path. You see the trailhead through the brambles and briars and slowly claw your way in that direction… only to give up, turn around, and begin looking elsewhere for an easier way? What does this simple allegorical paragraph really mean though? I think it boils down to this… You find a particular tradition that seems to call to you and you are drawn to it like a moth to the flame. After doing some research and asking some questions you start to see some inconsistencies that shake your faith. You get hung up on specifics. You find too many holes with missing information. You begin to doubt… and you start the search for something canned and ready to be served to you on a silver platter.

Then there is the second pitfall, which often blooms forth from the first like a foul smelling corpse flower… The nagging comments and responses from the “experts” and other “Sheeple” wandering around in stupid flocks. They remark on how their path is the correct one… and how yours is not. They point out the inconsistencies in your beliefs. They explain how the historical record does not support what you believe… or how it refutes it. They compound the doubt in you from number one, and if you have not already left the path to search for another… here is where you often will.

My recommendation is fuck both One and Two… The Gods do not care if your ritual differs slightly or drastically from what a book written by another man does. They do not care if you have a different name for them. They do not care if you fill in the gaps and holes with your own myth and stories. They do not care if the date of your Sabbat does not correspond to what an ancient text says. They do not care if the words being uttered from your mouth into the darkness praising their glory and beseeching their aid are not pulled from an ancient Book of Shadows or translated from some obscure cypher. They do not give a shit… and neither should you. Find your own way. Take of the wheat and cast away the chaff. Build your own temple. Set your own corner stone. Carve your own rough ashlar into that perfect fitting block. Turn your wishful thinking into Practice.. and thereby put your feet firmly upon the path to obtaining the eternal flame between the horns of the Goat God of the Witches.

Tis the Season

Two Esbats before the Great Feast of Samhain… I’m almost giddy. It seems every year I begin looking forward to this Hallowed Night with eager anticipation, and it becomes more intense as I get older… Perhaps the Low Road becoming closer and clearer in the distance as I pass through my middle years? The crisp cool nights.. almost cold. The smell of the balefire and candles. Spirts flitting in the black shadows of night. The Old Gods here with a more tangible presence. Soon my Lord Lugh will arrive in the Underworld… greeted by The Crone and guided into The Cauldron of Rebirth. 

The Holidays are so very important to our religion… all religions really. In these modern times they are taken for granted. The Sabbats and Esbats are the mortar that holds together our symbolic temples. They provide the structure and meaning that makes our beliefs more than just casting spells and weaving arcane enchantments. Ritual is a tool by which we are able to delve into the mysteries… experience them, not just read about them and say “yes I believe.”

Taking Stock

Having recently moved to Ohio from Washington State and settling into a new position at work, things are beginning to settle down and I’m having some extra time to scribe some of my thoughts into the ether. It has been a rough year and a half preparing for this role. Now there is no more subdivision and neighbors boxing me in, looking over my fences… or peering into my home from nearby windows. No more wailing babies, their presence being carried to my ears by a light breeze over a short distance. What do I have now? Peace? A feeling of freedom from oppressive societal bonds? Yes… all of those. A large five acre plot of hilly forested land, streams, and no neighbors… Spirits roaming and inhabiting the dark nooks encased in thick foliage. I can feel them… sense their curiosity, and perhaps a hint of darkness? Something primal? I sit on the patio in the evenings when there is a reprieve from the oppressive humidity and puff on my tobacco pipe, lost in thought. Plans for a forest temple are coming together. These woods will observe Left Hand Rites. The Old Gods will be worshiped here. They will have their pagan idols. They will have their witch…

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