McKillip has been successfully publishing high fantasy novels since the Seventies, and her latest, The Bards of Bone Plain, released last month in a trade paperback edition is fabulous. It does not score as highly on the Paganometer as some of the other books we review here: the society it portrays is, apparently, wholly non-theistic, and the relationships it presents are implacably heteronormative. However, if you are part of a bardic tradition, like making music, or enjoyed the subset of McCaffrey’s Pern books centered on the Harper Hall, then you will almost certainly enjoy this book.

The novel is structured into two parallel narratives separated by several hundred years, and the chapters alternate between the two. The earlier narrative takes place at the founding of the kingdom of Belden and the establishment of the kingdom’s first bardic school at Caerau which will grow to become the capitol city of the kingdom. The later narrative takes place at the school in a time when the monarchy is long-established and steam power has just been discovered which gives the novel the faintest tinge of Steampunk.
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A significant new biography upon Ben Jonson- Ian Donaldson’s Ben Jonson: A Life (Oxford University Press)- was reviewed Sunday last in the New York Times Book Review (Jan. 22, 2012, p. 1); all the more remarkable, as no one writes biographies of Ben Jonson, who would otherwise be considered the Supreme Writer for the Elizabethan/ Jacobean stage- were it not that he had William Shakespeare for a contemporary: William Shakespeare, who so dominates the Stage-Scene of the era as to render virtually invisible any of his fellows. This new work (praised by the NY Times) represents an invaluable opportunity for Pagan readers of the Juggler to acquaint themselves with Mr. Jonson’s works.

And why, exactly, should Pagan readers of the Juggler wish to acquaint themselves with the works of Mr. Ben Jonson, Play-Writer of the late 1500s-early 1600s, you might ask?

Why, for the simple reason that Pagans might well wish to acquaint themselves with the works of Mr. Jonson’s overshadowing contemporary, Mr. William Shakespeare- because they both are writing in England during the last Great Age of Witchcraft, and so (as any good biography of William Shakespeare will make a point to tell you, and as I expect this biography of Mr. Jonson by Mr. Donaldson will): they are writing from the point-of-view of a cultural milieu that accepts totally the belief in Witches and the Powers of Witchcraft.

Therefore, what Mr. Shakespeare and Mr. Jonson have to say about Witches and Witchcraft is presumably going to be instructive, as it emanates from the Last Period in which Witchcraft was accepted as part of English Life and English Culture.

Having read Ben Jonson: A Life, the Juggler Reader will be well-acquainted (I am sure; I haven’t actually read this book yet, which I was unaware of until yesterday) the Juggler will then be well-familiar with the events and context of Ben Jonson’s life: and can then go on to read The Alchemist (Jonson’s satire on the Magick-practicing ways of the London of his time); The Sad Shepherd (a wonderfully elegiac Paganistic Forest-Fable, that features a Witch united in a Spiritual Union with a Pagan Forest-Deity); and The Masque of Queens (basically, a Witches’ Energy-Raising ceremony).

Having then read Donaldson’s biography and these works of Jonson’s: perhaps the Juggler will agree with me, that the best explanation for what the Witches in both The Sad Shepherd and The Masque of Queens are doing is: they are Raising Energy, as defined by Gerald Gardner in Witchcraft Today (once one has read Gerald Gardner’s description of Energy-Raising in Witchcraft Today, I don’t see how certain major Witch-Works of the late 1500s-early 1600s, including probably the most famous Witch-Work of all time, Shakespeare’s Macbeth, can be read NOT seeing the Energy-Raising dynamic at work).

If one is going to take seriously the idea that Gerald Gardner genuinely did inherit an ancient tradition of native English Witchcraft (as say, Philip Heselton does, in his important revisionary research): one might well look around, to ask- is there anywhere else in English culture that I can see such a thing as Witchcraft Energy-Raising?

The answer, I believe, is actually, yes: and I think it is found in the Witchcraft-Plays of the Elizabethan/ Jacobean Periods- leading me to believe that Energy-Raising is indeed the “Secret” to English Witchcraft (well, hardly secret to the Elizabethans and Jacobeans, who incorporated it into their Witch-Plays- but grown so secret in time that, had it not been for Mr. Gardner and his initiation into a surviving tradition of English Witchcraft, we might never have known of it, and modern Wicca might never have been).

It starts with reading the Witch-Plays of the late Elizabethan/ early Jacobean, and then asking yourself, are these Witches raising Energy or not? If not, what are they doing?

If yes: then what does that mean, to find Witches in works whose provence cannot be questioned- performing Witchcraft through acts of Energy-Raising, exactly as Gerald Gardner claimed all along?

It all begins by reading about Jonson (and Shakespeare) and understanding the cultural context in which they wrote about Witches.

 

 

In the category of “Pagan Scholars to Watch For,” please add the name of Robert Mathiesen. A medieval philologist teaching at Brown University, with a great interest in the history of Magickal practices, Prof. Mathiesen uncovered (from the Historical Society of Pennsylvania) Charles Leland’s remarkable Book of Shadows (recently published); earlier, he collaborated with Theitic (an Initiate into the Tradition founded by Gwen Thompson in the early 1970s, and now an Elder in this Tradition, as well as its archivist) on The Rede of the Wiccae: Adriana Porter, Gwen Thompson, and the Birth of a Tradition of Witchcraft (Olympian Press, 2005), wherein they examined the Rede of the Wiccae, published in the Ostara issue of Green Egg Magazine in 1975. Attributed to her grandmother, Adriana Porter, this was a series of rhyming couplets, intended to preserve a bit of wisdom or folk-knowledge in an easy-to-remember rhyming style. The last couplet- “Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill- an it harm none, do what ye will”- is probably the best known.

Because of Ms. Thompson’s attribution of this “Rede,” or series of rhyming folk-couplets, to her grandmother, the story of early-on-the-American-Witchcraft-Scene High Priestess Gwen Thompson and her grandmother Adriana Porter has come to be recognized as one of those “Grandmother Stories,” whereby someone claimed Extreme Authenticity for their Practice of Ye Olde Crafte by citing some elderly relative (often one’s grandmother) as an Initiating Instructor. (Wicca Spoilers): Mathiesen and Theitic, in reviewing the Rede, find that most of the couplets appear to represent genuine examples of folk-culture “Lore-Text”: or the transmission of useful folk-knowledge through an easily memorized couplet-form. These, however (the majority of the couplets that comprise the Rede), do not really reflect any specific Wiccan or Witchcraft sensibility.

Upon examination of the smaller number that seem specifically Wiccan-oriented (such as the one cited above), Mathiesen and Theitic determine that someone else (probably Gwen Thompson), acting upon the inspiration of her grandmother’s folk-collection, created certain couplets intended to reflect a Wiccan viewpoint.

Lore-Text, and the types of rhyme-meters generally employed in such (as according to Mathiesen and Theitic) is a very interesting subject (to which I wish to return): however, what is intriguing at this point, is the research presented in this book that suggests that the first migrations of European settlers into the New World brought with them the Magickal customs of the Old: exactly as one would imagine they might, considering the degree to which Magick remained ingrained in Europe through at least the 1600s.

Mathiesen and Theitic begin Part 3 (p.33) by quoting John Greenleaf Whittier’s 1865 poem Snowbound, wherein he recalls the Oral Culture tradition of story-telling around a fire on a winter’s night. Things take an oddly Classical tone when Whittier brings up a “gray wizard’s conjuring-book,” seen by his mother as a child, as well as an uncle, “rich in lore of fields and brooks, of Nature’s unhoused lyceum, in moons and tides and weather wise, he read the clouds as prophecies, and foul or fair could well divine, by many an occult hint and sign, holding the cunning-warded keys to all the woodcraft mysteries”; “Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome had all the commonplace of home, and little seemed at best the odds, ‘twixt Yankee peddlers and old gods.”

Trusting that their reader will have seized upon the mention of a “gray wizard’s conjuring-book,” encountered in rural New Hampshire in what must have been the late 1700s, the two authors describe (p.35) how Whittier explained in his foreword to the poem that the book belonged to one “Bantam the sorcerer,” a member of the “strange people who lived on the Pisquataqua and Cocheco,” and the book, a copy of the 1651 English edition of Agrippa’s Occult Philosophy. In another work, The Supernaturalism of New England (1847), Whittier elaborates upon this individual, describing him as a Quaker who was considered a “conjurer and skillful adept in the art of magic,” who acted as a neighborhood Cunning-Man “without price”; his book (in 1847) was “still in possession of the conjurer’s family.” The 1790 United States census lists this man as Ambrose Bantam, the head of a small family living in Somersworth, New Hampshire. (p. 36) Remarkably, Mathiesen and Theitic find that, in old New England, “such people were not particularly rare.”

Fascinating as it will be in a moment to discover why such people were not particularly rare in old New England: let us stop and dwell upon this “conjurer’s book” (a mid-seventeenth century edition of Agrippa), possessed by a Cunning-Man in the late 1700s, in the northernmost New England states. So far, at the Juggler, we have seen (1) a Colonial Era grimoire, known as the “Joshua Gordon Witchcraft Book,” held at the University of South Carolina, and (2) a German-language “Cure-Book”, carried into Appalachia by a German immigrant in 1790. And here we have a copy of Agrippa being put to operative use by a Cunning-Man or local Wizard, in rural New Hampshire, also in the late 1700s. It does indeed begin to look as if Magick-Use played some part in the early settlement of America (maybe not a huge part, as obviously Magick-Using America has to square with the America of Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams: still, the Revolution is “only” eighty years after they literally tried Witches at Salem).

In “Magic and the Occult Sciences in Old New England” in The Rede of the Wiccae (p. 36), we learn of Cunning-Women and Men, Fortune-tellers and Palmists, Scryers or “Glass-Lookers,” Dowsers or “Rods-Men,” “venders of charms and other small magics,” and even the occasional astrologer, alchemist, or perhaps even a conjurer of Spirits. As the authors observe, such folks will not be found among “the urban elite of New England,” preferring instead the privacy and low profile of relatively isolated rural areas- and seaports, as sailors have always been an especially superstitious lot, eager to improve their chances on the hazardous seas with charms and spells. They point to George Lyman Kittredge, who (in 1928, in his fantastic book- and one of my personal favorites- Witchcraft in Old and New England) “recognized a great continuity” between England and early America in such Magickal practices- “as was only to be expected.” Since England is so heavily dominated by Magickal thought during the 1500s and 1600s- both Queen Elizabeth, in the late 1500s, and King James, in the early 1600s, believed in the Powers of Witchcraft and Magicke, as did innumerable of their subjects- “by chance alone,” a proportion of Magickal-Practicing folks will make the migration into the New World.

The reason that this is not more generally known, is that scholars have only recently become aware of these facts. Mathiesen and Theitic observe that it has been only in the last 15 years or so that research has been undertaken into such subjects; they refer to Richard Godbeer (The Devil’s Dominion: Magic and Religion in Early New England, Cambridge University Press, 1992), who has reviewed much of the evidence of 17th century New England Magick-Use, finding it to resemble 17th century English Magickal practice (as one would expect). They refer also to the work of Peter Benes, who identifies 90 such individuals in New England between 1644 and 1850, suspecting that he has only scratched the surface.

Other fascinating research is alluded to, involving early Mormonism and follow-up on “old hints” that the Smith family (of the Mormon founder Joseph Smith, Jr.) had been “deeply involved with a subculture of magic that had flourished in New England and upstate New York during the 1700s and the early 1800s.” A “persistence of occult and hermetic teachings as well as alchemy and ceremonial magic” was found throughout “the same regions during the same centuries,” with specific evidence “far more numerous and varied than anyone had ever suspected”- including general stores that advertised books on the occult sciences for sale, both current and antiquarian, as well as traveling Spirit-Conjurers who maintained sideline interests in alchemy and perhaps even counterfeiting. Mathiesen and Theitic even point out a photograph published by D. Michael Quinn, of a curious, black-handled, double-bladed, hand-forged knife possessed by Joseph Smith, Sr., engraved with sigils (as were several other artifacts owned by the Smiths) copied from Agrippa’s Occult Philosophy and Reginald Scot’s Discovery of Witchcraft (both of which were re-printed in England during the mid-1600s).

Add to this the 1950s documentation of one of Edgar Allen Poe’s West Point military instructors, who wrote “extensively” on alchemy and who owned a manuscript copy of the medieval grimoire the Lemegeton, said to date from 1512- and, as the authors of The Rede of the Wiccae conclude (in this kind of digression from their main topic, which is Gwen Thompson’s Rede): “The myth of a Puritan New England, where occultism and magic were rare, and quickly stamped out whenever they appeared, is no more than a myth. The reality was very different indeed.”

 

 

All was not Love and Light for the Native American Two-Spirit, according to Jim Elledge, in his anthology Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Myths: From the Arapaho to the Zuni (Peter Lang Publishing, 2002). Native Americans could be as conflicted as we over Queer People, and a distressing number of stories reflect violence against LGBT Two-Spirits. For instance, in the Assiniboine story “Lesbian Love” (1909), a man lived with his wife and sister: “The woman wished to have intercourse with the girl.” “While her husband was hunting, she eloped with her sister-in-law.” Finding the two of them gone when he returned, the man went to look for them. He found them in a camp, his sister nursing their child. Having been born of an “unnatural ” love, the child had no bones in its body, and was all floppy and continually crying. The man approached the two women, and demanded to know, “Which of you has seduced the other?”

His sister cried that, “Your wife persuaded me to elope with her.” The man killed the abominable child and told the women to accompany him home. After a distance, he bade his sister to go ahead. He pulled out his knife and killed his “wicked wife.” He severed her limbs from her body, and although the “slain woman had many relatives, no one cared to avenge her death.”

The idea that grotesque children resulted from Queer Love was widespread. In the 1907 Fox story of “Two Maidens Who Played the Harlot With Each Other” (the title alone tells you all that you need to know about this tale): “Once a long time ago,” there were two young men who were interested in two young women. But these two women were so aloof, they would not even speak to the two young men, who began to suspect “something was wrong with them.” One day, when the women went to gather bark from the trees, the two men stole after them, creeping out of hiding to spy upon them. “When they drew nigh, behold, the maidens were then in the act of taking off their clothes! The first to disrobe flung herself down on the ground and lay there. ‘Pray, what are these (girls) going to do?’ was the feeling in the hearts of (the youths). And to their amazement, the girls began to lie with each other.”

As shocked an exposure to Same-Sex love as one might hope ever to encounter. The two young men ran up to the two young women; the one who had been lying on top fell back- her “clitoris was standing out and had a queer shape, it was like a turtle’s penis.” The maids pleaded with the youths not to tell on them, explaining that they did not act under their own will; “we have done it under the influence of some unknown being.”

In time, one of the young ladies came with child, which was (“strange to relate”) born like a “soft-shell turtle”- another example of the Native American belief that unnatural babies came from “unnatural” unions.

Then there is the 1906 Pawnee tale of “The Hermaphrodite.” Once there lived in a village a young man who, despite being a “fine-looking” youth, “never cared anything for women.” One night, the youth dreamed of Spider-Woman, “sitting with her legs spread out and a spring of water was coming out from between her legs.” She told the young man that she was turning him into a woman.    The youth felt sick, and had medicine-men come to him. One confirmed that Spider-Woman was turning him into a woman, and told the young man’s family that they would have to gather the green moss from the bottom of a stream, for the medicine-man to cure him. Alas, no moss was to be found, so it was decided that Spider-Woman did not want the youth cured. The young man was so ashamed, “he committed suicide rather than be half woman and half man.”

An extreme form of anti-Gay bullying might be seen in the Western Mono story of “The Coyote Called ‘Another One’.” (1942) There were three coyotes, and “another one,” who wished “that he might be a woman, for he wanted to cohabit with one” of the coyote brothers. That night, “Another One” changed himself into a woman, and approached the three coyotes. They recognized him as “Another One,” and skinned him alive. While they laughed themselves sick at the sight of him, “Another One cried at every twig that touched him, for being nothing but raw flesh, he was bleeding all over.”

Let us not forget how “Falcon Captures the Cannibal Berdache” (Yokut, 1940): “Berdache [a somewhat derogatory word denoting a debased 'Two-Spirit'] was a cannibal. He went around tying men up and cooking them.” Talk about your rabidly anti-Berdache stereotyping: this is a Berdache John Wayne Gacy, combined with a Berdache Jeffrey Dahmer.

However, few stories, are equal to the Sioux tale of “The Sioux Woman Who Acted Like a Man.” Powerful in its brevity and concision, I offer it (quoted verbatim) beyond the jump, as an example of how ideas of honor and propriety may differ from culture to culture.

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Charles Godfrey Leland  (1824-1903) is well-known as one of the inspirational individuals for modern Wicca and Neo-Paganism, primarily through his book Aradia, which purported to be a “Gospel” of the nineteenth century survival of Witchcraft. Aradia holds a somewhat dodgy space in the Neo-Pagan canon, owing to the reliability of his informant, an Italian Witch named Maddalena; however, the majority of Aradia presents a seemingly straightforward account of Italian Witch-Lore. Leland obviously spent the better part of his life fascinated by sorcery and folk-Magick, becoming something of an expert in the uncovering and collecting of Magickal methodologies.

His formidable knowledge of English Witchcraft is on fine display in this remarkable work of his creation, The Witchcraft of Dame Darrel of York, the fanciful account of a medieval English Wise-Woman. Discovered by Brown University Professor Emeritus Robert Mathiesen among Leland’s papers held by the Historical Society of Pennsylvania (where he uncovered Leland’s original manuscript for Aradia, which shows that he was working from an Italian text generated by someone else), and published in a very handsome facsimile by The Witches’ Almanac, Ltd. (2011), The Witchcraft of Dame Darrel may represent the first modern Book of Shadows.

Leland was a very talented artist, who clearly dedicated much study to medieval art and classical architecture; the book is beautifully illustrated (in the manner of illuminated manuscripts) with elegantly rendered drawings and characters that display immense personality on the page. The book is Leland’s fiction- but one produced on a massively intense level, and assembled with a prodigious amount of information. The book concludes with an encyclopedia of folkloric and mythic creatures- common enough to find in our days of mass-assembled knowledge, but far less easily obtained in the nineteenth century when study into folklore and the Magickal practices of Old was relatively rare. A fascinating tendency in the nineteenth century is to begin to gather up the Witchcraft/ Folklore material of the Past: Walter Scott assembled one of the first collections of Witch-Case materials in the early 1800s, when he collected such Scottish Witch-Cases as he could find, publishing them as his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft; Jacob Grimm is moved to collect the mazillion scraps of Germanic Folklore the he can locate, eventually published as the four-volume Germanic Mythology; Leland belongs to this group, in that he is moved to seek out actual methodologies for Magick- I don’t suppose it would be stretching a point too far to suggest that Gerald Gardner also (basically) fits into such a category.

Leland is plainly moved by his studies in Magick to create this fantastically imaginative “account” of a medieval Witch; the resulting work is a marvelous work of love, beautifully artistically complemented, and wonderfully preserved in this gorgeous facsimile volume. This book would be ideal for collectors of the (Neo) Pagan Past (or the Nineteenth Century Pagan Past); for instance, I so hope someone has had the thought to present the New Alexandrian Library with an edition.

 

 

One of the things that fascinates me about the Queer Folk stories encountered in Jim Elledge’s anthology Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Myths: From the Arapaho to the Zuni (Peter Lang Publishers, 2002) is their identification of Queer Archetypes. For instance, in Pleiades and Taurus, we found Lesbian Separatists (“Womyn Only” Natives), and in Warrior Girl, we met what used to be called (in LGBT lingo) a “Stone Dyke” Warrior. In “How Lizard Sodomized Coyote” (Chemehuevi, 1984), we see another Archetype: the Cruising Male, strolling around looking for sexual adventure. Coyote (it seems) was “going along” one day, when Lizard appeared form behind a rock to make an interesting proposition: “Oh, Coyote, come over here and anus-fuck me!”

(That is exactly how the invitation is phrased, in so deliciously blunt a manner, that employing euphemism would kill the effect; it amuses me because I know guys who wander the streets of Chelsea, New York City, looking for men to whom they can issue a similar proposal.)

Coyote is somewhat startled, and goes, “Excuse me?” Lizard replies, “I said- I want to anus-fuck you!” Now- if you notice- Lizard is such a sly Trickster-Sodomite, he has changed the conditions of his offer from one sentence to the next; how he fares in his enterprise might be judged from the story’s title.

A Trickster Element enters the picture, with the Male Two-Spirit. A common theme is that of a man who masquerades as a woman in order to trick another man into marrying him (as in “Nanabushu Pretends to be a Woman,” Ojibwa, 1917). A frequent stratagem in these circumstances is to scavenge the “female parts” from a deceased animal, to put to operative use in the marital tipi; the Great Spirit Ma’nabus humiliates a chief’s arrogant son in “Ma’nabus Humbles a Chief’s Son” (Menomini, 1915), in this manner, seducing him before throwing the “now putrid flesh that he had used as a vulva” in the prideful youth’s face. He cried, “Here is what you have been loving!” The youth was “covered with mortification.”

There are so many examples of men who pretend to become pregnant that they have their own section, “Pregnant Men.” (pp. 123-138) Often this is managed, as in “Nih’ancan and Panther-Young-Man” (Arapaho, 1903), by smuggling a small animal (in this case, a bunny) under one’s dress. (The ending to this story kills me: Nih’ancan has disguised himself as a woman in order to persuade the hot hunter Young-Panther-Man to marry him [her]. Having told [her] husband that [she] is pregnant, Nih’ancan takes to carrying around a cooperative rabbit as [her] “baby-bump.” Tiring of this one day, Nih’ancan pulls the bunny from under [her] dress, and wraps it in a blanket as [her] baby. A neighbor stops by to ask, how is it that- since Nih’anacan and Young-Panther-Man have not been married all THAT long- how is it they now have this baby- who, by the way, looks an awful lot like a bunny-rabbit? Nih’ancan says, here’s how; pulls up [her] dress; and shows [her] erect penis.)

A sexually playful example of the Male Two-Spirit Trickster is seen in the Hopi story “The Hehe’ya Trick the Hui’ki” (1929). This tale postulates (1) Males, doing Male things, with (2) Females, doing Female things, and (3) the Hehe’ya (“Men No Women Will Marry”) moving between them, playing tricks upon both the Males and the Females as subversive Outsiders. One day, the Hui’ki men were hard at work in their fields when the Hehe’ya came to help them. The men, being hungry, told the “Men No Women Will Marry” to go get food from their wives. As the Hehe’ya departed, the men called after them, “By what name shall we know you?” The Hehe’ya answered, “We are called ‘i’ich chova’ [hasten to copulate].”

So the Men No Women Will Marry go to the women, who feed them lunch. The Hehe’ya tell the women, “Oh, by the way, your husbands want you to copulate with us.”

The women were like, “Oh, that is foolish! Do not talk so crazy!” But the Hehe’ya had taken so long by that point, the famished men began to call after them, “I’ich Chova! I’ich Chova!” “Hasten to Copulate! Hasten to Copulate!”

So the women were like, “Oh well, OK,” and they copulated with the Hehe’ya. However, the men came investigating just now, and upon discovery of the trick played upon them, the Hui’ki drove away the “Men Whom Women Will Not Marry.

 

A rollicking good Passamaquoddy tale is “Kuloskap and Pukjinskwes” (1921), from Jim Elledge’s anthology Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Myths: From the Arapaho to the Zuni (Peter Lang Publishing, 2002), which depicts an evil Native American gender-shifting Witch and a very helpful Wizard-Fox:

In that particular village, everyone was so strong and brave, it was as if “everyone was a Black cat” [presumably like unto a panther or something]. However, the biggest and strongest, the one who kills the most meat, is the chief Pogumk, whose “father (was) a bear.” Then there was Pukjinskwes the Witch, who was a “she-Black cat.” “Woman or man she becomes according as she wishes, but in these days she is a man. Then she being evil; she hates the chief. A long time she considers how she can punish him and take his place.”

So one day evil Pukjinskwes suggests to the chief that they go gather eggs on an island. “They go in a canoe. Again they canoe further still.” When they land, the evil Witch abandons the man on the island, pushing off in the canoe singing, “I leave Pogumk on the island; now I am chieftain.” When they decide Pogumk is not returning, they make Pukjinskwes the chief.

After twelve days (on the thirteenth), the chief remembers his friend the Fox, “who is a wizard or a magician.” So the chief sings, and the Fox hears him, “although he is far off.” Loyal Wizard-Fox that he is, he heads right for the island and tells his friend the chief to hold on to his tail; he will swim the chief back.

This is hard, because the Witch has made it very stormy and the weather is bad. Finally they make it back to shore and the chief thanks his friend the Wizard-Fox. He sets off to find his tribe.

Soon he sees his brother, Sable. He tells Sable to go to camp; build a big fire; and throw Pukjinskwes’ baby into it.

Once Sable has done so, the Witch screams with fury. She takes off after him, “as a wolf which is starving chases a rabbit.” She rages after him, “You must go as far as the island where Pogumk is, in order to save yourself!”

When she has said this, Pogumk steps from behind a tree. The Witch is taken aback, and tries to say that she was only chasing Sable in jest; no for real, she likes Sable.

Pogumk answers her: “I know you, and we know your devices, you evil demon.” Then (this part I find really interesting): “as his magic comes to him, he uses his power,” and Magickally seals Pukjinskwes to a tree.

She rips herself loose, but is so mad with shame and insult, the Witch “departs forever from mankind; running wild like a vile wolf.”

She came to a mountain-top and sat fuming on a log. She resolved to turn herself into something that would give torture to humans forever, when the perfect solution hit her- a mosquito!

So that (you see) is the origin of the first mosquito, who was the evil Witch Pukjinskwes.

A lively story featuring Native American Magick-Use. It’s too bad that the villain is a cliched Wicked Witch, but it does demonstrate interestingly that the Native Americans had the concept of a Wicked Witch (a number of cultures actually retain the Archetype of a Wicked Witch). It is fascinating the number of ways that Pukjinskwes resembles European Witches, especially in that (1) she can shape-shift from male to female, and from human to mosquito (2) she can cause storms (3) the scene where she takes off after Sable is reminiscent of the one where Cerridwen chases down the poor dude who stuck his finger into her cauldron (4) the Witch Pukjinskwes (like European Witches) has monster-children, which causes her to- like European Faeries- (5) steal pretty human babies, to pass off as her own. The story ends explaining how a handsome youth thus kidnapped, wondered why he was so good-looking and his siblings so pronouncedly ugly. “They were born at night; you were born during the day,” his Witch-Mother told him.

 

 

The title says it all: Apocalypse Not: Everything you know about 2012, Nostradamus, and the Rapture is wrong.  This little volume by prolific AODA Archdruid John Michael Greer perfectly encapsulates the origins, proliferation, and modern manifestations of humanity’s strange longing for Armageddon, tracing each strand to its point of origin and eviscerating it at its source.

Not content with discussing only the belief that the world will end on De­cember 21, 2012, Greer plunges deep into what he calls the “Apocalypse Meme.”  He likens the meme to a virus, an infiltrator that buries itself deep into the human psyche and propagates itself by spreading from person to person.  Outbreaks occur over the centuries, but these are merely flare ups of the virus-like way of thinking that has plagued humanity for over 2,000 years.  Any new ideas, from the ancient Chinese longing for the Kingdom of Great Peace to a modern computer geek’s conviction that artificial intelligence will lead us to a singularity that brings a new Eden to the world are part of the overall sickness.  These days, according to Greer, the most virulent strain of the virus began as really bad scholarship on the Mayan culture and spiraled into a worldwide fear of impending doom.

The 2012 phenomenon, Greer argues, is really only a symptom of a problem that has plagued humanity for well over two millennia.  He traces the idea of Armageddon back to the beginning of Zoroastrianism, the world’s first major monotheistic religion.  Zarathustra, the prophet that brought Zoroastrianism to the world, had to deal with one major problem: If there was one all-powerful, good god, why did evil and suffering exist?

This is something polytheistic religions did not have to concern themselves with, but the first monotheistic religion had to deal with it directly. Zarathustra gave the answer to this question which has followed monotheistic faith through time: our world is temporary and will “sometime very soon be replaced by an eternal, perfect world in which evil and suffering will have vanished forever.”  Thus, Greer claims, began apocalyptic thought.

Once introduced, the thought pattern began to spread.  Greer pinpoints its entry into Jewish theology, but finds that Judaism was only a temporary home.  The implicit idea of a good god battling the forces of evil toward the inevitable end of eternal paradise was accepted naturally into early Christian theology, and the evangelical nature of that faith, according to Greer, spread the idea throughout the western world and introduced the apocalyptic meme to the globe.

Greer details the many forms which the meme has taken in Christian thought over the centuries.  Early writers predicted that the end would come in 497, 800, and 1,000 CE.  When these prophecies failed, further prophecies of the Antichrist and doom that followed his birth proceeded through the centuries. Some predictions took a gentle form, seeing the end of the world as the beginning of a new era of peace and love, where, “free from the burden of original sin, humanity would once again be naked and unashamed,” worshiping in the nude and practicing free love in their new Eden.  Needless to say, the early Church authorities didn’t look too kindly upon that.

Other versions were decidedly more militaristic.  Greer details each of these, from the violent Taborites of fifteenth century Bohemia to the twentieth century obsession with the Rapture that culminated in the breathless Left Behind series. Despite their differences, all of these things had in common the original apocalyptic idea of, “we’re good, they’re bad, and soon our god will get rid of them.”

The book does spend a little too much time on the Christian narratives of Armageddon, and some of them are a bit of a stretch, but he does follow the apocalyptic meme past Christianity and into secular culture.   We learn, for example, about Charles Fourier’s idea in the late 1700’s that our world’s attainment of a state of Harmony would “turn the seas to lemonade” and that “lions would give up their carnivorous habits and become friendly, vegetarian anti-lions.”  We also learn the history of the UFO movement that has expanded so much of the modern idea of apocalypse.  There was Dorothy Martin, who in the 1950’s predicted aliens would save her and her followers from the earth’s destruction, and whose failure ultimately led to valuable sociological research on the concept now known as “cognitive dissonance.”  We also learn how the meme led to the tragic Heaven’s Gate suicides of 1997.

Only after careful analysis of the history of apocalyptic thought does Greer turn his full attention to what is currently the most fashionable apocalyptic storyline, the Mayan calendar’s supposed ending on December 21 of this year.  Greer details the misunderstandings, intentional cover ups, and utopian dreams that have fueled this particularly strong line of apocalyptic thinking and uses Mayan culture’s own writings to show that the upcoming winter solstice was just another day on their calendar, and was neither the cataclysmic destruction nor the dawning of a new age of peace and understanding that many people claim it to be.

One of the best parts of the book is the afterword, in which Greer discusses the wishful thinking that drives behind the apocalypse meme.  He thoughtfully details the hopes and dreams of each subgroup of society, each of which yearn for a world which has been cleansed of those who disagree, a world in which all of those who agree with “our” line of thinking will live together in joy and harmony.  It’s a powerful image that has seduced many a Taoist, Christian, computer scientist, and New Ager over the centuries.

But despite the oddly enticing siren song of our planet’s demise, the Earth’s existence will end on its time scale, not ours.  So read Apocalypse Not, then go ahead and make plans for December 22.


 

 

Gerald C. Milnes concludes Signs, Cures, and Witchery: German Appalachian Folklore (University of Tennessee Press, 2007) with the chapter “Revels and Belsnickles,” discussing the Europe-wide habit of marking the winter months in the disguised masquerade of unruly spirits. (Folklorist Violet Alford and social anthropologist Carlo Ginzburg document these phenomena as well, which are often accompanied by animal-masquerades; Ginzburg hypothesizes that both the masked “spirits” and the seasonal “animals” are efforts symbolically to imitate the Spirits of the Dead.) “It has been proposed that the cold and dark northern European winters held such authority over human existence that, in prehistory, people sought to give assistance to powers that could influence the change to longer, lighter, and warmer days- The midwinter period received great attention and was assigned great importance, and the period from November to March was filled with ritualistic activity.” Most importantly: “Early European folkways that reflect that historical activity are still found in West Virginia.”

(Interestingly, Mr. Milnes starts next by discussing megalithic stone circles, used to measure increase and decrease in sunlight. This brings him to James Frazier and The Golden Bough, then to a “spurious social movement” [that's us, folks], prompted by Frazier’s work and books such as The Witch Cult in Western Europe [1929] by Margaret Murray, whose wide dissemination “inspired the neo-pagan movement that began in the mid-twentieth century and has carried on into the twenty-first.” Few of the “hundreds of titles proposing modern activity with direct connections to historic pagan activity” withstand scholarly scrutiny- Mr. Milnes feels- but “with published approval given to ritualistic behavior and magical methodologies, the practitioners are here to stay, and they believe that their actions assist nature’s processes in ways that have have lingered since prehistory.” [p. 184])

Again, that is Us that he is talking about, giving “published approval” to “ritualistic behavior and magical methodologies,” us Practitioners, “here to stay,” believing that our actions assist Nature’s processes- in ways that have lingered since before That which we call History began.

European masked (“mumming”) traditions, also called “guising” (from disguise), “allude to the death sacrifice, curative reactivation, and rebirth of the spirit” that form the basis for the seasonal customs that range from late October to early November (All Souls’ Day/ Halloween/ Samhain), to the Winter Solstice (Saturnalia, Christmas), and on to Spring (Fastnacht, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Lent, Easter). Although the various ethnic groups that settled in Appalachia arrived with their own distinctive means of observing the mid-winter season, the custom of belsnickling became prominent. Belsnicklers disguise themselves and roam the countryside (sort of like Trick or Treaters, actually), offering and receiving sweets; occasionally playing pranks; and challenging those whom they visit to guess their identity: the “custom is strong within living memory among older people,” and the practice continues in West Virginia. “Belsnickle” derives from the Anglicized name of a German mid-winter Elf: Pelz Nicholas, “pelz” meaning “fur” or “pelt,” so, “St. Nicholas-in-fur.” This Elf was once a dark, forbidding character: “Be careful or the Belsnickle will get you!” being a good way to keep children mindful, especially as the Belsnickle carried a switch with which to punish naughty or disobedient kids.

Nonetheless, belsnickling “is a ritual tradition so strong that you can not find an older Pendleton Countian who did not participate in, or is at least well acquainted with, the practice.” (p. 190) For surely, “these practices stem from ancient midwinter observances that originally were efforts to assist nature in the death/ rebirth process,” (p. 196) and the “drive to re-experience and influence the ancient tug of war between the cold, dark, and negative aspects of winter and the good, light, fertile, and growing aspects of spring/ summer still form an archetypal force that will not be denied.” (p. 194)

In conclusion, allow me to quote a poetic blessing recited by belsnicklers as they visit a neighborhood:

“Awake, awake, my neighbor dear,

And to my wish prolonging year,

The new year now is at the door;

The old one’s past and comes no more.

I wish to you a happy year,

That from you bad luck may be clear;

You and your families and all the rest

May with content be ever blest.

And you I will incline

This shall be an ending wish of mine.”

Merry Solstice, Jugglers!

 

In interesting contrast to the Two-Spirits of the Native Americans is this cross-dressed Germanic priest encountered in Tacitus’ Agricola and Germania (Oxford World’s Classics edition, A.R. Birley, trans., 1999): Tacitus, “generally reckoned to have been the greatest of all Latin historians,” wrote the first history of Britain (in his 98 CE biography of his father-in-law, Agricola, Roman governor of Britain), as well as the first detailed account of the Pagan Germans. For this reason, he is of interest to modern Pagans, who will find his mathematical Latin writing style easily digested. In Germania, we learn of the land and geography of the German region (Chapter 5 tells us that “it either bristles with forests or festers with marshes”), as well as the origins and characteristics of its people (Chapter 16: “none of the German people live in cities and they cannot even bear to live in adjoining houses”; Chapter 22: “As soon as they wake up, which is often well after sunrise, they wash- no one thinks it disgraceful to carry on drinking all day and all night” [gee, just like modern Pagans]).

We learn in Chapter 2, that in “ancient songs, which are their only form of record and are a kind of chronicle, they celebrate Tuisto, an earth-born god. To him they attribute a son, Mannus, the forefather and founder of their people.” In the discussion of “Religion” in Chapter 9, Tacitus tells us that the First Century Germans principally worship Mercury, offering Him on fixed days sacrifices both human and otherwise; “Hercules and Mars they appease by animal offerings of the permitted kind.” (Tacitus follows the Roman habit of interpreting the Gods of other people in terms of the Romans’ own; according to the Notes [p. 106-7], “Mercury” is actually Odinn, “Hercules” in reality Thor, and “Mars” Tiu, the “original sky-god of the Indo-Europeans.” Curiously, Tacitus also references certain Suebi, who sacrifice to Isis, although he has “little idea what the origin or explanation of this foreign cult is.”) “In general, [the Germans] judge it not to be in keeping with the majesty of heavenly beings to confine them within walls or to portray them in any human likeness. They consecrate woods and groves, and they apply the names of the gods to that mysterious presence which they see only with the eyes of devotion.”

Chapter 8 tells us that the Germans “even believe that there is something holy and an element of the prophetic in women, hence they neither scorn their advice nor ignore their predictions”; we go on to hear tell of Veleda, “long regarded by many of them as a divine being,” and a “prophetess from the Bructeri” (Note, p. 106), as well as Albruna and a “number of other women.” Dio wrote of Veleda’s “successor, Ganna,” and Strabo reveals Cimbrian “priestesses who were also seers.” (Note, p. 106)

In Chapter 40, we come to the famous passage that describes the “common worship of Nerthus, that is, Mother Earth,” with days of festivity and joy following as She tours the countryside in Her chariot drawn by cattle and accompanied by attendant-priests. What really interests me at this point, however, is Tacitus’ description of Suebia in Chapter 43, where among “the Naharvali a grove of ancient sanctity is pointed out.” “The presiding priest is dressed in women’s clothes, but they say that the deities, according to Roman interpretation, are Castor and Pollux: that is the character of their godhead, of which the name is ‘the Alci.’ There are no images and no trace of the rite being imported, although they are worshipped as brothers and young men.”

An intriguing pair of young male Deities, venerated in a grove of “ancient sanctity” by a Transvestite-Priest: colorful people, the Suebians, who “blacken their shields and dye their bodies black and choose pitch dark nights for their battles. Their terrible shadowy appearance, like an army of ghosts, creates panic, as no enemy can endure so strange and almost hellish a sight. Defeat in battle always begins with the eyes.” In Notes (p. 130), Birley suggests that this “military tactic” might originate through some kind of “religious rite,” as the soldiers are imitating the Spirits of the Dead imagined to rail in the air under Odinn’s command.

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