Magic and wonder have been important to me spiritually for my entire life. As a child, I learned basic magical skills — like energy protection, artistic magic, relaxation, and healing meditation — from my family. We were all very connected with nature, and the sacredness of the outdoors.
I began having out of body experiences when I was a teenager. When I met my familiar spirit, it was an angel who protected me when I was very sick. My familiar helped me to become a stronger and braver girl.
Miriam Dyak (Seattle, WA) All my life is poetry. Close to 60 years of writing poems, journals, books and not about to stop. I am a Social Artist, Voice Dialogue facilitator and teacher, dream weaver, gardener of souls.
SHE who Laughs, Lasts The past, the present and the future walked into a womyn’s gathering. They were in tense.
The AULD ONES say: One day, you realize that you are older than almost every other living being. Your familiars: cats, dogs and other close critters; the wyld messengers: birds, serpents and others who visit you; most plants; and even other humans day by day are increasingly your younger sisters, children, grandchildren. That’s what’s so great about trees! They are the only species where so many individuals are older than you! In the dark inspiration that marks Winter Solstice, find a tree. Place your palms upon her, slow down, and seek counsel. Take in this elder’s survival story; let the patterns in your mind mirror the patterns she shows in bark and branch—yule feel tree wisdom swaying your own canopy. Honor your tree with a token, or—well, go ahead, you old tree hugger you, embrace her. Then, take a wide stance. Raise your arms. Look up—invoke the return of the Sun! Good Night (simple words that are always true) to the year of Wild Card XV—X for the girrrl gene, V for the sacred vulva—celebrate your jolly old self.
Ride the Night Mare. See with owl eyes. Dream with sleeping bear.
Objects can hold power, and collect energy. In "The Magick of Making", we explored how magick can be instilled into artwork by the maker. But what if you're not an artist/maker? And what about items that weren't originally made with magical intent but take on meaning for you?
Even if you don't consider yourself a "material" person, there is undoubtedly some sort of token that means more than the sum of its parts to you: your grandmother's thimble, a book from your father, the feather you found on the street on that really rough day, the rock from the hike you went on during that vacation, your "lucky" sweater.
Whether an item is made by humans, manufactured by machine, or created by nature, it has the potential for meaning, and meaning can be acquired most typically via association or by function.
In my last article, I put forth the notion that we humans have had the need to create art encoded into our DNA. Along with the need to create images, humans have had the need to “make special,” to “make sacred,” and art can fulfill this need. By bringing art into a space, humans make the space special. When the art reflects beliefs about the divine, the art that inhabits that space makes it sacred. I spoke at length about cave paintings in my last entry, and I believe that those paintings could in fact have been making ancient caves into sacred spaces.
As humans moved from a hunter gatherer existence into something more settled, areas where they settled often included sacred places where their relationships with the divine could unfold – temples. When I was in graduate school, I strove to understand what installations were and what “site specific” art, as installations are more commonly called these days, were and where they fit into art history. Temples themselves are “site specific,” created to meet the needs of a particular people in a particular place. In this article, I will look at some pre-historic peoples and their need for the creation of permanent sacred space.