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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in Death and Rebirth

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

What do you say when a witch dies?

Not My condolences.

Not Rest in Peace.

Not (vacuity of vacuities) I'm sorry for your loss.

Reborn to the People.

 

In his ground-breaking 1954 book Witchcraft Today, Gerald Gardner presents himself—rather disingenuously, be it admitted—as an anthropologist investigating, and eventually being initiated into, an archaic tribe that, counter to any rational expectation, has somehow or other managed to survive, hidden in plain sight, in contemporary Britain.

Gardner's witches believe in reincarnation. When they die, they hope to be reborn among their own.

It's a compelling vision, and one that reads utterly authentically. This is not the “stop the train, I want to get off” reincarnation of Hinduism or Buddhism, or the “every day, in every way, I just get better and better” reincarnation of Theosophy, but a tribal reincarnation in which the highest concern is not Me, but Us.

No wonder so many of us were drawn to this vision. Who wouldn't want to belong to a tribe?

Besides: who could possibly want to be reborn as a cowan?

Reborn to the People.

 

In Marvin Kaye and Parke Godwin's Masters of Solitude novels, a post-apocalypse America has broken down into its component parts. The East Coast, now one sprawling mega-megalopolis, has literally walled itself off from the rest of the continent, and left the rest of us to stew in our own juices.

Meanwhile, out in the howling wilderness, the witches live, broken down into regional tribes: the Shando, the Wengen, the Karli.

Like witches everywhere, they believe, if not in reincarnation per se, then in rebirth, and when they die, they hope—who wouldn't?—to be reborn to their own.

Reborn to the Karli.

Reborn to the Wengen.

Reborn to the Shando.

 

Witches these days may or may not believe in reincarnation, but we do believe in rebirth. You can't look at the natural world and not see that things go round and round.

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A Winter Solstice Tale: Ereshkigal and Our Beauty and Wounding

On the longest night of the year, in the thick of the mysteries of the sacred dark, turn your mind to the Great Below and the fearsome voice of Ereshkigal:

“I am the still, held breath of the dark that precedes the dawn.
I am the hands of the Earth that cup the seeds of new life.
I am the dark powers that pulse within the fleshy matter of your body.
I am the death that promises rebirth, and the kiss that awakens you from your death slumber.
I am the keeper of the lost parts of your soul, and of secrets that can set you free.”

Inanna turned Her mind to the Great Below and Her Goddess sister Ereshkigal. She surrendered everything, even Her life, to the Underworld mysteries of death and rebirth. And through these mysteries, Inanna was transformed into Her full Goddess presence and power.

As terrifying as this journey may seem, know that its rewards are immeasurable. On this darkest of nights, the seeds of brilliant new beginnings, within and without, are stirring from their death sleep, ready to return from the darkness to the light.

Be brave, follow in Inanna’s footsteps. Make this conscious descent, stripping yourself bare of your worldly masks and illusions, and habits of belief, thought and action that stand between you and your truest, most beautiful potential. Do these things and Ereshkigal will grant you entry to Her realm and help you discover the seeds of your new beginning and the way forward to the soul-based life you long for.

Ereshkigal does not rise from Her throne as you enter Her inner sanctum. She is dressed in a red velvet sheath that molds itself to Her voluptuous, curvy form, with a silver circlet as a crown and silver snake bangles on Her ankles and wrists. A smoky heat and feral power rises from Her amber skin and strong, bare limbs, marking Her as a dangerous, commanding being that could easily reduce you to ashes. With an imperial scrutiny, She pierces through your outer veneer into the core of your being. There is no hiding in Ereshkigal’s realm.

Hold your own under Ereshkigal’s probing, black-eyed stare, and stay in your center and power. As formidable as She appears, Ereshkigal’s intention is to help you, not to harm you, though She will ask much of you in service of your greater becoming.

“I know why you are here,” Ereshkigal says, “You have dared to stand before my throne in the Great Below because you seek the miracle of my rebirth magic in your own life and journey of soul, where new beginnings emerge from death and darkness. But be warned, there is a price to be paid for so potent a magic. As the new dawn is born from the darkest night, so too the beautiful new beginnings you desire emerge from the depth of your wounding.

“Long has been the dark night of soul of your human species. Long have you done great harm to each other, and to the good green Earth. Long have you run from the pain and sorrow of this grievous wound. Whatever personal wounding you carry is a reflection of this greater harm.

“But all is not gloom. Nothing lasts forever. The dark night of soul for you and your human kin is ending. A new dawn beckons for those brave enough to dare the rebirth magic of my Underworld realm. As a reward for your bravery, I will show you what you seek.”

Ereshkigal leaves Her throne and circles around you. Her movements are sinuous and creature-like, and Her nostrils flare as She sniffs the air, seeming to take your measure from the scent-signature emanating from your form.

“However you have learned to deny and hide from your wounding will not serve you in your pathwork with me,” Ereshkigal whispers in your ear, “I strip you of these things so you can see the truth that is your life and your world, though you travel my ways by your own freewill, and I never ask more than what you are able to bear.”

She presses Her hands, firm and hot, into the front and the back of your mid-torso. Your mind and body become still, silent, empty. Whatever you think you know, think you are, think you want, vanish. There is only the pulsing, fleshy darkness of your inner landscape and the pulsing, potent darkness of Ereshkigal outside and inside of you.

“Where you find your wounding, you also find your beauty,” She says, “When you show up to your pain, you also remember your joy. In stepping into the fullness of your life story, you shed a smallness of being for a bigness of presence and power.”     

As Ereshkigal withdraws Her hands, something passes through your skin. She uncurls Her fingers and two shining seeds rest within Her open palms.

“These are the seeds of your beauty and wounding that are waking within you,” She says, “Within their compressed interior are the makings of a bright new beginning — a magic that can heal your soul, brewed from the illuminating meeting of your beauty and wounding. You cannot reclaim one without the other.”

Ereshkigal turns your hands palm upwards and places the warm, pulsing seeds within their cupped interior.

“These seeds come with challenge and choice,” She says, “You can take them inside of you and then change will come. Or you can cast them back into the dark. But to no avail, because change will still come. What is waking in you will not let you rest until you have taken the next step closer to the soul-based life you are meant to live, and the new dawn waiting to be born from your inner darkness into the sunlit world.”

The darkness around you begins to lighten as the longest night gives way to the new dawn. Ereshkigal and Her realm grow fainter and fainter until they disappear altogether. Yet the power of Her presence and words remain, beckoning to you from the shining seeds.   

One more time, be brave. Raise your hands to your lips and swallow the magic of these seeds whole. Take them inside of you and feel the stirrings of a new dawn within your gestating interior. Though you cannot know where these seeds will lead you in the months to come, you have dared the Great Below and claimed its powerful rebirth magic as your own.  You have taken the next step into the soulful life that is yours to live and in the weaving of a new-made world.  

Artwork: Julie Dillon

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs

Nidhoggr is the worm that eats the dead. Many things in mythology are taken too literally and need to be examined as symbolic, but in this case the standard interpretation is ignoring the obvious literalism of a worm eating corpses. This is not describing punishment of sinners, it’s recycling. Worms literally eat corpses. Then they turn the matter into worm castings that grow plants.

This isn’t really novel gnosis in that I did not arrive at this insight while writing my novel, but I did discuss it in my head with Sigyn one night while I was at least partly asleep, and I only developed the ability to talk to gods and have them answer me while I was writing a novel with the gods as characters in it, so in a way all the conversations I’ve had with them since then follow directly from the writing of the novel.

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Shadow Animals:The Trickster and the Bringer of Death

Two difficult types of Shadow Animals are the Trickster and the Bringer of Death. Most Pagans are familiar with Tricksters since they know about Coyote and Loki, who transgress societal norms. The Bringer of Death is an animal who causes a near-death experience. People who undergo a Near-Death Experience (NDE) often gain more spiritual power by dying and then being reborn.

Dark Trickster

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Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
The Fall of The God

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Leaf Man Rise Up

This autumn children's game, a variant of "tag," comes from the old Hwicce tribal territories in England's southwest Midlands. Like many traditional children's games, it is circular, self-replicating, and orally transmitted. The game's ritual structure and deeply mythic resonances will hardly be lost on anyone likely to be reading this post.

Players gather in a circle, hand-in-hand, around a mound of leaves. (In some versions, they circle.) They chant:

 Leaf Man Rise Up Leaf Man Rise Up Leaf Man Rise Up

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