Sulum Factum Magus

Sometimes life throws up some difficult choices, and it’s hard to know which way to go. There may be the voice of reason saying one thing, the heart calling in a different direction, a variety of talents and possibilities demanding to be given time and attention, various people in your life ready with advice, some good, some bad, and somewhere lost in the clamour, the calling of the soul.

Sometimes the biggest problem is being immobilised by the need to choose, and not knowing which direction to take. So we do nothing, and allow the status quo to carry on. However this is rarely in our best interest.

One of the sayings I am fond of is that often, it’s not so much about making the right decision, but making the decision right. Some people become immobilised, because they can’t figure out the right decision. Maybe they can’t figure it out because there is no alternative that is right, with all the others wrong. Any alternative would do, if only one would make a decision and stick to it. Making the decision right, means to commit to a course of action, and put your best foot forward, whatever you have chosen. This commitment will in turn bring with it energy and enthusiasm, and this will act in the situation to give the best chance of a positive outcome.

Another aspect of ‘making the decision right’ is the process of coming to a decision. My philosophy is to work with a balance of all the human faculties. I try to think things through from a practical perspective (engage the mind). I try to come to an awareness of my feelings about each alternative, and the source of these feelings, whether they be from fears, or past experiences positive or negative, or indications of a soul calling. I also engage my intuition about the various alternatives, perhaps through tools such as a tarot spread, which incorporate also the willingness to take guidance from guides and inner world contacts, and my own higher self. I may also engage my imagination in trying to picture to myself how life will turn out under the different decisions, what I will be doing each day, where I will be living, my state of mind, the happiness of my self and my family, whether I am in tune with my soul calling and so on. After such a process, the decision is often much easier. You’ve made the decision right, so you can make the decision right!

There are a number of tarot cards that are tied up with decisions and choices. The three that come to my mind are the seven of cups, the lovers, and the hanged man. The seven of cups is seen in many decks as the need to make a choice, or being unable to decide on a direction, because there are many possibilities before one. Often this is seen as a positive sign, indicating choices and options, but when reversed, may mean stagnation or immobilisation through inability to make a necessary choice. The lovers is said to indicate a time of choice in the process of individuation. The young man pictured in the card must choose between loyalty to his mother, and the desire and love for a young woman. It marks the process of growth and becoming one’s own person, separating from the parental influence and guidance, and making one’s own way in life. On a deeper level, the mother represents to me the internalised bonds, the apron strings, that often tie a young man to his mother. These are bonds of strong emotion which also circumvent one’s life experience. There comes a time when the safety of home must be left behind in order to experience the full richness of life. The young women represents on a deeper level, the calling of soul, which ever beckons one to follow, and to leave behind one’s comfort zone. The symbolism on this level applies as well to either sex.

To me this card then represents the fundamental choice which must be faced time and time again by the person who wishes to grow into their spiritual maturity – the choice to follow the calling of soul, and leave behind the familiar. It is all the more poignant for the love and comfort that surrounds one in the familiar. It would be easy enough if one’s present was full of conflict and misery when soul called you to something different. However when one’s life is full of love, comfort, and the many satisfactions of a happy home or work environment, it is a much more painful choice when soul comes calling you to something different. But the call must be answered, for to refuse it, leaves one strangely hollow, and a little disappointed. Domestic comfort and the loves of home begin to lose their shine, for the soul begins to pine. Yet it is still a choice, as one cannot be forced to follow the call of soul.

Another card that talks about choice is, to me, the hanged man. The card is often interpreted to mean sacrifice. However I see it as sacrifice in the sense that something must be cut away from one’s life in order to make space for something new. Otherwise the new has no room to grow and develop. However it is not easy to cut away parts of one’s life – there is always a cost attached. It may be a monetary cost, for example, forgone income when one chooses to work part time in order to give oneself time for study or a project of personal importance. It may be the cost of foregone dreams or goals, as in for example giving up practising the violin, and the dream of performing, in order to spend time writing a novel. To me, the card represents the hoary old truth that only by painful sacrifice can worthwhile things come about. Considering the sacrifice involved in almost any undertaking, is it worth it? My view is that only the call of the soul is capable of justifying the sacrifice required.

The hanged man also resonates, for me, with a story told about Merlin, when he had returned to court after spending time alone in the wilds as a madman. A boy was brought before him, and he was asked to prophesy how the boy would die. “By falling from a high place”, said Merlin. Then in order to trick the sage, the boy was dressed in different clothes, and brought back. Merlin was asked again to prophesy the way this apparently different boy would meet his death. “By hanging from a tree”, said Merlin. Again the boy was taken away, and this time dressed up as a girl, and brought back. Merlin was asked to prophesy how the ‘girl’ was to die, and he replied, “Women or no, by drowning”.

On becoming a young man, the boy was hunting a stag, if I remember correctly, and died by falling from a rock, upon which his foot got stuck in the cleft of a tree, and he ended up hanging upside down with his head in a stream flowing under the tree, and so drowning. So as it turned out, all three prophesies were fulfilled.

Curiously, considering what I posted recently about him, the Norse God Odin is also associated with hanging from a tree (in this case Yggdrasil, the world tree), and the threefold death, and thus also is associated with the Hanged Man of the Tarot. It is also curious that in the last year, I have taken to sleeping with one leg cocked foot to knee, for no particular conscious reason, just as depicted in the tarot card. Hmmmm.

Blessings

Robyn :)

As the name Robyn Wood may indicate, I derive a deal of inspiration from the figure of Robin Hood, who has, in my mind at least, always been associated with the pagan mysteries. Thus it was with great delight that I recently came across the volume “Robin Hood. The Spirit of the Forest” by Steve Wilson. Steve Wilson is no stranger to the esoteric side of things, being associated with the Fellowship of Isis and the Druid Clan of Dana, and known for his work as a Chaos magician. Steve surmises that the stories of Robin Hood have a common source with the Hindu Ramayana, which source also led to the Arthurian Legends and the stories of Finn McCumhail from Irish legend. However this stream was married to the lore of the people of the forest, the fairy archers, whom he contends may have been the remnants of forest dwelling neolithic people. Such forest dwellers, often of small stature, are found today still in the forests of Africa, Indonesia, and South America, often making use of arrows and darts.

With the advent of agriculture, and forest clearing, accelerated by the need for large amounts of wood to fuel the blast furnaces of the iron age, the forest dwellers were brought into conflict with the forest clearers. Through out Brittain, flint arrow heads are still often found, called by the common people fairy darts. While academia assumes these to date from the late stone age, Mr Wilson points out that this is just an assumption, and that there is every chance that forest dwelling people could have survived into historical times, before being wiped out or integrated into the wider population. Such flint arrow heads could therefore be much more recent than supposed.

Mr Wilson then traces the development of the Robin Hood mythology through historical times, looking at historical records of May Day celebrations and the Morris Dance, whose characters were often Robin and his associates. Throughout, there is the theme of the good king pitted against the bad king, in common with Egyptian mythology (Osiris and Set), the Arthurian legends (Arthur and Mordred) and a prevalent theme through much of European paganism and modern neo-paganism and Wicca.

In particular, Mr Wilson finds a resonance with the Welsh stories in which Gwynn Ap Nudd, the lord of the underworld, fights with Gwyrthur Ap Greidayl, a solar hero, for the love of Creurilad, the flower maiden of spring. He contends that this mythic sequence attached itself to the figure of Odin, imported with the Saxons, himself associated with wood and trees, and whom Mr Wilson finds etymologically to be the source of both “Robin” and “Hood”.

Thus in the figure of Robin Hood we have a composite of Saxon deities and Celtic mythological motifs – themselves not so unrelated as commonly supposed, as both have a common Indo-European origin. Rather than the common picture of Celts and Saxons at war, Mr Wilson paints a picture of integration and cross fertilization, as exemplified in the English language itself, where we find a predominance of Celtic words and Germanic grammatical structures.

The book carries on to consider the development of the Robin Hood myth in the current age, considering TV and movie renditions, and the part it has played in the neo-pagan revival, especially Gardnerian Wicca. It concludes with recognition that the spirit of Robin Hood is today more in need than ever, with the way that forest clearing is proceeding relentlessly throughout the world, threatening not only the lives and livelihoods of forest dwellers, but the very existence of humanity. For the great forests are the lungs of the world. These sentiments I heartily endorse.

It is fascinating reading for anyone interested in the esoteric significance of the Robin Hood mythology. The Book is published by Neptune Press, 49a Museum Street, London, WC1A 1LY.

Blessed Be,

Robyn :)

One of the Deities that I have worked with ever since I became a pagan, is the Lady Epona. I remember the time well when she first spoke to me. It was when I was browsing through the book “Celtic Gods, Celtic Goddesses”, by R.J. Stewart. There is a beautiful painting of the Goddess Epona, with straight black hair, and carrying a sheave of wheat, surrounded by birds. As soon as I saw that picture, it touched me straight away, and I knew that I would dedicate myself to her service. And so I did. This is how I invoke the Lady Epona in my circle:

“Dear Lady, who rides the white mare,
Who rides in ebullience, joy and focussed abandon,
Dear Lady who brings forth all plenty and abundance,
Dear Lady from whose womb comes all life,
In whom We are brother and sister to all that live”

I make a special point of working with Lady Epona between Beltaine and Midsummer. She is wont to appear in my circle riding her white horse, festooned with jingling bells, as in the old nursery rhyme:

“Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross
To see a fine lady upon a white horse
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
She shall have music wherever she goes”

Beltaine is the time of the sacred marriage between the young solar king and the spirit of the Land, which is Celtic legend is often personified by a Lady who takes the shape of a horse. I like to ride behind her, on her white horse, listening to the jingling bells, and feeling the animal strength beneath me.

In other legends, the queen of Fairy is said to ride a white horse. When I was growing up, a game we used to play driving along was that we had to cross our fingers whenever we saw a white horse. We couldn’t uncross them until we saw a dog. Could it have been the vestiges of an old Irish custom – crossing the fingers to avoid the bad luck of being swept off to Fairy Land on the back of the fairy queen’s white horse?

In the ballad of Thomas the Rhymer, The Queen of Elfland appears on a milk white stead with “fifty silver bells and nine”. Thomas kisses the queen on her rosy lips, and then must go with her to Fairyland and serve her for seven years, after which she grants him the gift of prophecy. There is much behind this legend, in my view, which serves as a guide to the significance of the sacred marriage and initiation. I am sure that those who wish to work with it in depth will find it very rewarding.

For a version of the ballad of Thomas The Rhymer, see here.

Blessed Be

Robyn

One of the most important tasks, I believe, for any person, is to do something each day that nourishes the soul. One’s soul is rather like a neglected child for most of us. Concern for it rates quite a way down the ladder, after things such as money, sex, food, social position, and the many day to day concerns and occupations of life. Some people have even forgotten that they have a soul, and give it no thought at all.

The result is a life that is shallow and unsatisfying on a deep level. Victories, and achievements satisfy for a day or two, only to pale into a sense of vague disquiet. There is the feeling that there must be something more than this.

By the same token, life is no more or less than what we make of it. The pity of it is that many feel driven to make of their lives an arena in which the soul plays no part.

But what exactly is the soul, and how does one nourish it? The soul may be described as the deepest part of a person’s being, that part which is most intimately connected to the collective divinity of life. The soul means to some the spiritual part of a person’s being, which lasts eternally, and takes form within a physical body. There is the idea here of conflict between the soul, which is of spirit, and the needs and requirements of living in the material world, within a material body, an idea related to the philosophical dualism of the christian religion – which has been the subject of a previous post.

From my point of view, the struggle for Soul Expression is a battle not between good and evil, but rather part of the dynamic of spiritual growth. I myself believe that the soul is one’s true self, the spiritual core that transcends any particular life, and the part of one which seeks to drive one’s life and being in the most positive direction.

What does it mean to nourish the soul? The soul desires to be made manifest in one’s life. It desires to create a vehicle for its own experience, an experience of love, joy, and creativity. It desires to grow in wisdom and understanding. Thus it may desire experiences of sickness, death, conflict and misery in order to experience its own inner strength, and develop the ability to rise above such circumstances. However much misery in the world occurs, not through the action of soul expression, but through the lack of soul expression.

A person’s soul loves to express its joy and love and merriment with life. But more than this, a person’s soul has a guiding purpose, a reason for existence. Unless this reason for existence is comprehended, and acted upon, the soul pines and withdraws. This guiding purpose is different for each person, and each incarnation. It represents one’s most important life lesson. Usually people have a mistaken idea of their soul purpose. They adopt the aspirations and goals sanctioned by society, parents or peers, and shut off the messages from soul, in order to fulfil these non-soulful aspirations. In the long run, the achievement of these aspirations provides no lasting fulfilment. I have discussed this in more detail previously.

So how does one nourish one’s soul? Without doubt, the single most important thing is to simply intend to do so. Most people, deep in their heart of hearts, have an idea of what their soul yearns for. Whether it is singing, dancing, writing, gardening, healing, providing a fair business service, cooking, pursuing some scholarly subject, carpentry or what ever. However the yearning of soul is always a yearning to service. The dimension of service to others, or to life itself, is a hallmark of any soul purpose. Howeve it is unfashionable these days to see onself as in service to life, and so few have room in their lives for their own soul purpose. Consequently unhappiness stalks them like a shadow.

So take the time today to enquire into your soul purpose. It will emerge in the stillness of self which is produced by meditation, or by a walk in a beautiful natural landscape, or by listening to uplifting music, or whatever way you can contrive to still the incessant clamouring for attention of the rational mind.

In many old wisdom tales, including those of the Celtic world, there is the idea of the light and dark twins – two brothers who battle for supremacy in the natural world, and by implication in the life of each person. One resonance with this ancient mythological motif is that the dark twin is the aggressive and in-your face one, that incessantly demands attention, and whose actions are marked by selfishness. This is the rational mind in control of the life force and energy. It feels itself the centre of the universe, and the most important being of the universe. It is Mordred in the tales of King Arthur. All of us, without exception, have this aspect within us. In fact, it is what most of us take for ourselves, until shown otherwise through magical development or spiritual training. The other aspect is the light twin. This is the soul self, who exists to serve the Greater Good. This is Arthur himself, who overlooks the petty foibles and treacheries of his companions in pursuit of the Greater Good. The soul self, as does Arthur, often suffers a fatal wound from the dark twin, and is taken back to the other world to recuperate under the care of the Goddess. However the soul self is never defeated, and will return in due course, to complete its cycle of evolution and growth, and to solve the conundrum of how it may serve.

The choice of how one lives one’s life is a personal one. For me, it comes down to making the noble choice, to follow the calling of the soul, in spite of the many set backs and hardships that this necessarily entails, in a world geared up to repudiate the spiritual sensibility. I invite you also to make the noble choice! Start today, by finding a way to nourish your soul self.

Blessed Be,

Robyn

One of the deities that I work with is the Lady Arianerhod. She appears in the Welsh tales of the Mabinogion, where she plays the part of an independent noble woman, who lays a Geas on her son, that he won’t have a name until she herself gives it to him, nor will he have arms till she herself gives them to him, nor will he have a mortal wife. A geas is a bit like a curse, but is not necessarily a bad thing. More like a fateful obligation or necessary observance to keep the favour of the Gods. In some ways, a geas is also like a prophecy, as the geas usually indicates that some disaster will befall when the geas is broken. A Geas is typically pronounced at birth, or some other important occasion by a druid or sorceress.

Arianerhod’s son is being brought up by his uncle. In my reading of the story it represents at one level the historical struggle between the patriarchal new order and the matriarchal old order, with the crafty Gwydion, the main character in the story, outwitting his Sister Arianerhod, representing the old matriarchal order. In this reading, Arianerhod appears (from Gwydion’s point of view) as ungracious and ill-wishing, thinking first and foremost of her own social standing in stead of the child’s welfare. However digging a little deeper, we may see on a personal level that Gwydion wants to hurry the natural order and processes of growth, and in his haste and pride deprives the Goddess of her rightful influence in the development of the child, and later young man. The consequence is tragic. Thus the story may be read as a warning against human pride and hubris that seeks to outwit fate, or the Gods.

In any case, we can use this story as a signpost to the qualities and attributes of the Goddess, even though in the story, those attributes are given a negative expression by Gwydion. For example, when first Gwydion and the boy encounter the Lady Arianerhod, she doesn’t recognise the boy as her own. When Gwydion insists that she is his mother, she declares that he will never get a name until she herself gives it to him.

While Gwydion interprets this as a denial, it is no more than Arianerhod’s insistence on her right to name the boy – in her own time, a right that both Gwydion and Arianerhod accept without question. So rather than naming the boy himself, Gwydion asserts his power and independence by resorting to trickery to extract a name out of the Goddess. He and the boy visit her keep in the guise of shoe makers. By a series of ruses, Gwydion causes Arianerhod to board their boat. There she sees the boy shoot a wren, so that the arrow pierces between the sinew and the bone of the leg. The shooting of the wren is a symbol of divine kingship, associated with yearly battle between the dark and bright lords, an association further underlined by the wound being to the leg, a symbol also associated with Kingship. Indeed, the resonance here is with the wounded king, and this is a clue that the boy is destined to become the wounded king, around which develops the wasteland. Arianerhod remarks that the boy is possessed of a skilful hand, and this becomes his name, Llew Law Gyffes. Arianerhod is annoyed by the deception, and angrily pronounces a Geas that he shall have no arms, until she herself grants them to him.

The story, as recorded from Gwydion’s point of view, appears to be the story of a proud and curmudgeonly women who refuses to acknowledge her offspring, and Gwydion’s attempts to outwit her. However we may equally read it as the story of a proud and treacherous man who refuses to acknowledge the prerogative of the Goddess, and tries to rush the natural order of things through his trickery and devices, thinking he knows better than the Goddess. The angry Goddess, on a superficial reading appears to curse the newly named boy, however, on a deeper reading she is but asserting her prerogative once again. In spite of having been tricked out of her rightful name-giving, she now asserts her right of arms-giving, or presiding over the boys coming of age.

Once again, we are invited to interpret this, with Gwydion, as a curse by the Lady, with the expected outcome that no arms will be granted. But if this was the intended effect, why not deliver the curse directly? A similar episode follows, where Gwydion and Llew Law Gyffes go disguised to Arianerhod’s castle, and Gwydion conjures a fleet of invaders to appear in the harbour. Gwydion and Llew Law Gyffes promise to help defend the castle, and to do so, Arianerhod provides them both with arms. At this point the enchantment is lifted, and Gwydion declares that the boy has been armed, in spite of Arianerhod’s ill disposition towards him.

Arianerhod is furious. In the story, we are invited to suppose it is because she wished the boy to remain un-armed. However another possible reading is that she is furious because the arms were given inappropriately, without due ceremony, and therefore the occasion has been robbed of its numinous potential for conferring both power and wisdom, and deepening the connection with the spiritual source. The power of wielding arms, the personal power associated with personal combat, was once, at least in the old tales, taught by sorceress/priestesses, and the arms giving was an initiation into personal power. By tricking Arianerhod into giving arms, Gwydion actually robbed Llew Law Gyffes of this experience, which is not valued by the emerging patriarchal order. The story is one in which the role of the numinous, and the Goddess, is devalued, and replaced by man’s hubris, pride, and confidence in his own power and abilities.

In her anger, Arianerhod, pronounces that the boy shall now never have a women from the races who now inhabit the world, for a wife. In the story, we are invited to read this as an angry curse by a vindictive women. However a deeper reading is possible. Rather than a curse, it is a lament. It acknowledges that in bypassing his initiation at the hands of the matriarchy, hence foregoing his connection with the numinous, but claiming his adult role regardless, he is not a fit husband for any women. Women will see and know his shallowness, his hollowness, and turn him down. He is a man of violence and force, untamed and un-mastered by feminine guidance, and so can’t be trusted.

In spite of this final Geas, Gwydion and his Uncle contrive to create a wife, Bloduwedd, for Llew Law Gyffes by the enchantment of spring flowers – oak blossoms, broom, and meadowsweet. This however turns to tragedy, as we will see. Reading more deeply, we see a symmetry in this part of the story. As Bloduwedd is a contrived women, so also is Llew Law Gyffes a contrived man – both taking their form, in different ways, from the contrivances of Gwydion. Just as the wren was a mirror showing Llew Law Gyffe’s destiny, Bloduwedd is also a mirror for Llew Law Gyffes. As both are contrived, the match between these two beings is doomed to failure. Neither has the skill or maturity to allow love to flower. While Llew Law is away at the masculine court, occupying his mind with manly affairs unbalanced by the numinous, his beautiful wife is left at home, untended, and uncared for. She has an affair with a noble who ventures passed on a stag hunt. Once again, we have a resonance with Llew Law Gyffes, as the Stag represents the sacred King, and to kill him is to take his place. Thus the killing of the stag resonates with the illicit love that follows, and the plot to kill Llew Law Gyffes himself. Through trickery, Bloduwedd discovers how Llew may be killed, and passes the information on to her lover, who carries it out. Llew, grievously wounded, flies off as an eagle, and is discovered by Gwydion, roosting in a tree, where rotting flesh drops away from him, and is being eaten by a sow.

The sow is symbolic of the Goddess, and we may read this as the initiation of the Goddess – the dead flesh dripping away being the pride, arrogance and hubris which is devoured by the Sow, the Goddess, in this devouring form. Thus the initiation into the numinous that was ignored in Llew’s boy hood and youth, cannot be over-looked forever. It is a necessary transformation. In the end, the bitter circumstances of life will contrive to bring him to a numinous understanding of himself, or he will find death and/or despair.

Bloduwedd is banished to become an owl, a creature of the night, to be picked upon by the other birds.

So we can read this story in the Mabinogion as a tale that warns against the pride and hubris that causes men to usurp the rights and perogatives of the Goddess, and the old ways. It shows the consequence of such hubris – failed relationships, war, and bloodshed. And it is a pointer to the role of the Lady Arianerhod – as name giver, arms giver, and initiator. Three initiations are mentioned specifically – the giving of a name, the giving of arms, and the taking of a wife. A fourth initiation, that of bitter circumstances is a result of arrogantly refusing the first three. The Goddess cannot be refused. She is the mentor, the judge, she who bears the gift of contact with the numinous feminine. These pointers show how we may work with the Lady Arianerhod today. She may help with the seeking of the true name. She will mentor someone in the bearing of arms for a just cause. She will provide guidance in the conduct of love relationships, which respect the individuality and personal integrity of each party. She is concerned with coming of age ceremonies and life transitions, and may be invoked for her help in these matters. She may preside over such ceremonies, and provide the means for numinous contact with the true self.

While the story in the Mabinogion revolves the central character of Llew Law Gyffes, it provides a skeleton for contemplating on the spiritual journey, and the ever present danger of thinking that we know better than the Goddess. To put it in more psycho-spriritual terms, The rationo-centric sense of self, believing itself superior to the numinous collective consciousness, repudiates the role of the greater organism in the nurturing of the child of promise. Instead, it seeks to assert its own cleverness, its own agenda, forgetting that it is a servant of the whole. However this results in a person who is cut off from the numinous, the greater organism, and the best part of themselves. Their relationships and whatever they manifest must suffer. The wasteland grows around them. They trust the wrong people. They may suffer and be betrayed, or betray others. If they are to rise to their destiny, then life must intervene to bring them back in touch with the numinous – often this is through bitter circumstances which may as likely bring someone to personal and psychological ruin.

In the end, the rationcentric and the greater sense of the numinous must work together in a balance and harmony. Just as reason alone is barren, intuition can’t work in a vacuum. Both are needed in order to be whole. The balance of the individual and the greater consciousness. This is my reading of the tale, and I trust that it will make your reading deeper and more reqarding – though I don’t expect that all will agree with me! Whether it’s the intention of the original authors, I cannot say – however what we make of the story today is as important for us as what was originally meant. In the end, there is a sacred marriage here as well. The authors of antiquity have created a matrix, into which we project our our meaning, guided, however, by the symbols and narrative that have come down to us, and our own touch of the numinous.

The story of Math, son of Mathonwy, which contains the tale of Gwdion, Arianerhod, and Llew Law Gyffes, is one of the four branches of the Mabinogi. Links to online texts are available from the wikipedia entry.