We have covered the greater wheel of fortune and how it’s associated with the solar return and the point 180 degrees from the solar return, or halfway in the annual cycle. This greater wheel of fortune is very important to know if one is going to work magick to change one’s material situation.

There is also a lesser wheel of fortune that involves the moon and this lesser cycle is more characterized by the emotions than by material gain. It’s an important truism that if the emotions are not aligned with one’s greater material purpose, then one’s endeavors will ultimately fail.

This lesser wheel of fortune has the same basic components as the greater wheel. The natal chart lunar position is extracted and the halfway point in this cycle is determined by plotting a position that is exactly six zodiacal signs ahead of the natal moon position. For instance, my natal moon is in Gemini when the moon was gibbous (just before full), so the halfway point would be the moon in Sagittarius when it is balsamic. So I can use either the lunation types of gibbous and balsamic to represent the natal return and halfway point or I can use the signs of the moon in Gemini and Sagittarius. Either set of points have their validity.

Now for me the emotional wheel of fortune works like this: When the moon is gibbous or in the sign of Gemini, I am typically feeling very emotionally centered, grounded and fulfilled. When the halfway point is achieved, then my emotional state is decidedly muted and turned inward. It’s a time when I am not as certain of myself and feel compelled to question my motives and the things that I usually take for granted. The natal lunar point is an emotional high point and the halfway point is one of instability, where the unconscious mind is more able to affect me and my emotional sense of self.

The key to this emotional wheel of fortune is that it’s better to perform magical workings so that they achieve their climax up to but not beyond the full moon. The waning moon represents particularly difficult times for me and it’s much better to use that time for reflection, divination and contemplation, allowing the unconscious mind to unload some of its internal pressures and negative or dark self-perceptions in a controlled environment. It’s also a good idea to synchronize the greater and lesser wheels of fortune so that magical workings and mundane actions involving material advancement occur during the better half for both cycles. For me, that would be the second half of my solar year when the moon is gibbous. I would also be advised by these cycles to avoid taking risks during that same time when the moon is waning and nearing the new moon phase.

We can also analyze the transit aspects of the natal moon with the transiting moon and get a very clear idea of the kind of forces that are active. Like the sun, we can examine the aspect where the transit moon is in conjunction with the natal moon and the aspect where the transit moon is in opposition to the natal moon.

Transit Moon Conjunct Natal Moon

This is called the lunar return and it occurs once every month. It represents the beginning of an emotional cycle. It’s a time of emotional sensitivity and emotional intensity. It has a magnetic effect and tends to attract external events and people to its emanating field. Another way of examining the Lunar return is to determine the precise lunation type found in the natal chart. This represents the lunation type that one was born under, so it becomes a powerful emotional base for the individual.

Transit Moon Opposition Natal Moon

This aspect represents deepening moods and powerful emotions. One becomes self-absorbed and loses objectivity, which tends to create emotional oppositions with others. It’s definitely not a time to be dealing with relationship issues, business partnerships or emotional issues involving family or friends. It is a good time to go deep into the self and retrieve insights and directives from the deeper self.

So you can see, there is a Greater Wheel of Fortune involving the solar return and a Lesser Wheel of Fortune that involves the lunar return. Both cycles need to be carefully examined, and dates where both cycles are at their optimum can be chosen for the working of material based magick.

Bibliography

• Hand, Robert (1976) Planets in Transit: Life Cycles for Living Para Research Inc., Gloucester, MA

©2010 by Frater Barrabbas.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

Frater Barrabbas is a writer and practitioner of Witchcraft and Ritual Magick. He has published two books — Disciple’s Guide to Ritual Magick, and the two volumes of a trilogy, entitled Mastering the Art of Ritual Magick — Volume 1: Foundation — Volume 2: Grimoire. The third volume in this series, Mastering the Art of Ritual Magick — Greater Key will be published soon. You can contact him at this email address and visit his website.

About the Artist

I started studying in 2004 privately with a studio artist in Maine, then continued with self-study after my arrival in Canada in 2005. In 2008 I began working with my husband, Donald Tyson, illustrating his books, and have continued over the past year. I work with different mediums or even a mix. My favorite so far is watercolor.

Bynopar (and Butmono)

These paragraphs detail Jennifer’s evocation of these two kings, as a special bonus addition to her painting below. — Ed.

These spirits have highly shamanistic attributes. They were present before the ritual even started, while I was doing preparation and requesting to start the working. The appearance of the king reminded me strongly of an image of the Lord of the Dance, which I had seen on a plaque in Enchantments, in Maine. The only difference was that he had clothes on, though I would not have been surprised to see him as this image appeared. Initially, I felt very self consciously aware of the times I had not respected life. Though most of this was in the distant past, I was hesitant to complete the connection with these two spirits. They sensed my hesitation and reassured me of welcome in spite of my past shortcomings.

The music of Lord of the Dance seemed to be appropriate to the imagery. The crown was ram’s horns placed on either side of the head, and the torch was more like a scepter — but then it almost seemed like the torch would be more appropriate. Creative energies streamed from this spirit, diffusing through the entire universe. The effect of the energy made everything mundane seem trivial, and a steady white light and feeling of unity and being the phrase I am perhaps the most appropriate expression of this experience. Worries of the physical world became as trivial as the dust on the floor. Questions and worries were silenced, and a quiet stillness took their place. At the same time, there was also an awareness of the dance of life, that this spirit danced the universe into being. The stillness aspect of these energies was perhaps more represented by Butmono. He appeared priestlike with a gnarled staff. The brilliant white like came from Butmono’s heart chakra, into my head, filling me up totally until I was unaware of anything or anyone else.

I then had the realization that a conversation from earlier that morning was related to the influence of these two spirits. The conversation had been about plants, and I realized that the growing of plants, not necessarily the ingesting of them, could be used for the purpose of certain esoteric effects. The spirits pointed out to me the influence of the plants that I have growing in the house, and suggested things that could be added to them to increase the desirable effects of their auras. My task the afternoon following this rite was to re-pot the plants with worn out soil, as well as a couple that needed larger pots in which to grow properly. Only two of these plants have edible parts; the rest are house plants, yet their influence becomes apparent when the Butmono shows me how their auras actually work. An aftereffect of this evocation was a huge influx of physical energy. I re-potted all the plants, fixed a big lunch, and walked a few kilometers.

During the rite, I brought up two concerns with the spirits. That week, there had been some kind of interference with information and with mailing certain items out to another occultist. According to these spirits, the interference had been dealt with already and should not occur again if I allow the package to be charged before sending out. The interference was trivial and prankish in nature, even though it was rather disturbing to the people on my end who were involved in the incident. That was the first concern.The second was regarding our living situation and setting up a physical space for occult workings. The spirits reminded me that these things will occur in due time and that my concern was with the present. I was also reminded that the greatest temple was myself and the environment where I interact with the spirits. There needs to be a stronger emphasis on outdoor work.

The painting of Bynopar was originally watercolor, then scanned and continued with digital tools to improve the painting.

©2010 by Jennifer Tyson.
Text edited and image resized by Sheta Kaey.

Pan was lonely for the chase 

Moon-white thighs and wine’s embrace 

But the mood upon the land

was of cold and Death

He chanced upon the Waste in dread

Dreaming ferns and soft sunlight 

When into his loneliness came 

The cry of a Hawk 

and thunder awoke at the sound of its wings

Pan, called Dead, arose and trod 

the Dreams of serfs

to the end of the road 

There he spied naught but void

He saw within the darkness
a Shadow dancing in silence 

He perceived it was a Goddess

He, alone for aeons, trembled

With a shot and then a cry 

He launched himself into the sky

unleashing the raging
dance about him

She whose laughter is the starlight 

played about his shaggy form 

As he played his pipes 

she sang

The music they weave spins the stars

Galaxies dance about their play

She who is NOT

Loving he who is ALL

Dancing upon the Sands of Night
above the hallowed depths of darkness
between creation and destruction

Hail to the Twin flame 

Who are NONE in their joy.

©2010 by Aion131.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

I am the Bull in the Garden;
I am the lightening in the clouds;
I am the thunder in the air;
I am the rain kissing the earth;
I am the whirlwind
that crashes from heaven to Earth,
that raises Earth dancing to Heaven.

I am S/He
In whom God is manifest upon Earth.
I am the Great Jewel
brought down from Heaven,
raised up from Earth.

This place is sacred,
for here the Great God comes forth,
and Earth is blessed and transformed
into a sphere of light and blessing.

I am Sacred
because here the Great Spirit dwells,
and Light shines Gold out of my ruin;
where S/He builds up the walls of Jerusalem.

I am transformed.
I am the Hidden Tabernacle of the Most High
beyond the altar of incense0
in the secret Holy of Holies.

I am carried
into the Court of the Nations.

Amen.
Alleluia!

©2010 by Ambrose Hawk.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

The word “energy” is ambiguous, used as a cover word to describe a set of experiences and sensations, which may not actually be energetic at all. It’s a convenient word used to conceptualize those experiences, but at the same time it’s a fuzzy word because the experiences that fall under the umbrella term “energy” may not have anything to do with energy. Part of where this ambiguity comes from is associating the word energy with Chi. There’s no direct translation of Chi into English and so energy has been used as the word that roughly describes what Chi may or may not be (Bonewits 2007, Yang 2003).

Recently, as I was doing a breathing exercise to help me work through what would be termed an “Energetic Blockage,” I realized that the term wasn’t accurate to what I was experiencing. There was a gap between the concept of the energetic blockage and the reality of the experience I was actively involved in. I realized that the term “Energetic Blockage” could be used to describe the experience, but it wasn’t really accurate to that experience.

The actual experience was an awareness of physical tension in my body that was linked to an emotional issue I’ve been working on for the last couple of months. As I did my breathing exercise, I consciously focused on the physical tension, and specifically on allowing myself to feel it and work through the resultant emotions and thoughts that came up as I felt it¹. Eventually I was able to work through the tension to a point where it was no longer physically bothering me. The emotional tension had also died down. I’m by no means finished working through this issue, but for the moment the sensation was no longer prevalent.

The breathing exercise I used is a Taoist exercise for dissolving physical and psychological tension in a person’s body. Both breath and chi are utilized in the dissolving process, but that doesn’t mean energy is involved. In fact, what I felt was involved was a conscious effort to be present with the emotions and thoughts I felt, and a sense of movement in the tension itself. I feel that same movement anytime I’m doing breathing meditations and as such would characterize it as my experience of Chi. I’m not sure that awareness of movement would automatically mean that Chi equals energy however.

My point in bringing this up isn’t to be overly semantic, though it may seem like I am being just that. Rather, it’s to question carefully the words we use to describe the experiences we have. While energy is a convenient term to use, it’s also become an umbrella term to describe a wide variety of sensations and experiences. And whether we are using energy in the quantum physics sense of the word or using energy as a biological field of electromagnetism, or as the mysterious force of chi, when it becomes an umbrella term for all of those experiences and more, then it might be worth considering being more particular about how we use the word and also comparing that usage against the actual experiences we have.

The word energy is used in so many different settings that it’s not surprising some occultists are skeptical of the word. My own skepticism comes more from the conscious experience I mentioned above, which has prompted me to consider how the energy paradigm may be used as another way of fully being present with the body. If we can take sensations we feel and make them abstract by referring to them as energetic phenomenon, then we can also avoid being present in the body, and also being present with the emotions linked to those sensations, at least initially. And that may actually be beneficial, given that Western cultures, in particular, are body phobic. Having a word such as energy represent the sensations we feel might then make those sensations easier to deal with on a psychological level.

At the same time, when I feel a flush of heat stir in my hands because I’m doing a Taoist exercise that uses Chi, I recognize that a physiological reaction is occurring. The sensations of heat and movement that I’m aware of tell me I’m working with some kind of force or awareness that effects me on the physical as well as metaphysical level. When I do rituals, these same sensations can be felt and indicate that the ritual is occurring. And what I realize is this: Accepting that I feel these sensations in my body allows me to fully integrate my body into magical work. Instead of needing to use an abstract concept to explain what the sensations are, I can simply choose to be present with my awareness of those sensations and accept them as physiological expressions my body is sharing to indicate that all of me is present and focused on this ritual working I’m doing.

I do think the word energy has value in metaphysical discussions. I just question how we use the word, and if the use causes people to neglect or ignore an experience they could otherwise have. Taking a moment to just be in an experience without labeling it with a word or explaining it way or analyzing it can be the key to fully allowing a person to come face to face with the moment s/he is in. and welcome what s/he experiences for what it is.

©2010 by Taylor Ellwood.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

Bibliography

• Bonewits, Isaac & Phaedra. (2007). Real energy: Systems, spirits. and substances to heal, change and grow. Franklin Lakes: New Page Books.
• Yang, Jwing-Ming (2003). Qigong meditation: Embryonic breathing. Boston: YMAA Publication Center.

Footnotes

1. Quick Note of Clarification: It’s true that people feel tension or stress all the time, but we also get good at ignoring it. Consciously being aware of tension is inviting yourself to feel it and discover what the source of that tension is.

When people hear the sort of work we are involved with in the Order of Thelemic Knights, I am often asked why we believe that something like Thelema, when many of its adherents show a disdain for compassion, respect and hard work, would have anything life enhancing to offer individuals, much less the world at large.

The greater majority of people who have heard of Thelema only know it from the Web, or from some unfortunate meeting with a Thelemite on the street who views the philosophy as something of a fad or a means to rebel against their parents. Let’s be fair. Not every Thelemite has taken Crowley’s love affair with Nietzsche to condone a disregard for one’s fellows. Not all Thelemites are adolescence teenagers who parrot his every word because they think this makes them more powerful or admirable.

There are various groups who have embraced Thelema for whatever reason, creating a pretty tasty sectarian soup with which many Thelemites of different types can enjoy fellowship with their own kind. What pits the OTK apart from other Thelemic groups is that instead of focusing our studies exclusively to the life of Aleister Crowley, or some other Thelemic prophet, we are mostly concerned with how Thelema can help humanity solve the tremendous problems that we are about to encounter. We realize that we live in a different world than our predecessors, so we must endeavor to see how Thelema is relevant in today’s world. What does it have to say to us today?

It is no big secret, nor is it unfashionable as it once was, to say that the human race faces some very challenging times ahead. It is still a subject of great controversy and debate, but ignoring the science isn’t going to delay the inevitable. As resources become more difficult to find the human race is adapting an “every man for himself” or “me first” paradigm which is manifesting in some of today’s most important social issues, such as immigration, universal health care, and same sex marriage. The loss of resources, or the fear of losing resources is at the root of these issues. And this bigotry towards others will increase with the scarcity of resources. It will get worse before it gets better.

One of the things that makes Thelema relevant to us today is the Law itself. “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.” That is to say, every man and woman has a True Will or purpose, and the knowledge of that purpose will lead us to understanding our place in the grand scheme of things. We feel, for example, that man’s ignorance with regard to his relationship with nature has led us to the social issues (soon to be survival issues) we are facing today. We must each act in accordance with our own true natures. To do otherwise, or to likewise force another creature (such as an animal) into behavior which is outside of its own true nature is an abomination. To restate this in another way, The Law of Thelema implies that all living things have a True Will. What we mean by True Will is a deep understanding of one’s place within the cosmos and the realization that each of us is a piece of a puzzle too majestic to grasp intellectually. Knowledge of oneself leads to knowledge of the Divine.

“Love is the law, love under will.” Anyone that has ever studied comparative religion will recognize that Love is the universal constant driving force of the cosmos. Love always has been, and probably always will be, the foundation of our existence and the secret to our salvation. It is this Love that drives us toward the knowledge of ourselves indicated above.

“There is no god but man.” This is where we begin to really see the obvious value of Thelema as a solution to the world’s problems. Our mission is to unite with individuals who have had this realization in earnest. To know oneself is to know God. It is an easy thing to say, “There is no god but man,” but we seek those who have a gnostic understanding of this phenomenon. Only by adopting this view will the human race come to the realization of the Divinity of each individual, and the awesome power that individuals posses with regard to plotting their own courses. With that epiphany comes a rude awakening. One realizes that we have been in charge all along, and that ignorance has led us down the path of destruction. We can no longer blame god for these problems because we have created them ourselves. Neither can we wait for god to come save us from ourselves, for we have the power and resolution to do it for ourselves. Once Knowledge has been tasted, Faith and the way it helps us avoid responsibility will no longer serve to quench our thirst for answers.

“Ever man and every woman is a star.” This gift belongs to everyone; as Aleister Crowley said, “The Law is for ALL.” This makes it everyone’s job. If one accepts the Law of Thelema, then one is pledging to discover one’s own True Nature. That discovery will naturally bring one to the “god awareness” mentioned above, and then one must act accordingly to reverse the damage of thousands of years of ignorance.

What humanity needs today is a way to look at the universe, and a way of life befitting those with a sense of duty. If one person can accomplish much, imagine what a group of similarly awakened individuals could do. Thelema is what the human race needs today.

So how does this translate into our activities? We recognize the value of a specific set of virtues which have remained unchanged throughout the ages. By adhering to these principles we help to temper those as of yet unevolved instincts which are based on ignorance, fear and superstition, which will inevitably lead to the destruction of the world as we know it today. It is every member’s personal duty, to bring honesty, consideration, and self-discipline into their own lives. These are essential, not only for Thelemic Knighthood, but for all persons. In other words, we do this work because it benefits us as humans beings trying to discover who we are and our relationship with The Divine. This in turn benefits others, and that is a wonderful side-effect and a coincidence of metaphysical proportions.

Since we were first formed in 1999, we have raised several thousand pounds of clothes for the Lakota Indian Tribes and homeless; hundreds of pairs of shoes for street kids; books and school supplies for needy children; raised money for battered women’s shelters; provided security for The Red Cross during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, as well as disseminating instructional pamphlets to street kids about how to avoid AIDS and hepatitis . . . all in the name of Thelema.

All of this work was done by a handful of very commuted individuals . . . Thelemites, who see themselves as being agents of change, oftentimes using their own money to getting the job accomplished. No one in our organization ever receives any payment for the work that we do. All donations, dues or other forms of monetary support goes toward the accomplishment of our charitable campaigns. There is no glory or press, and in fact this work is often thankless. Doing it, however, is its own reward. And there you have it.

©2010 by Gerald del Campo.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

To begin, I must offer an unqualified spoiler alert. During the course of this article, I’ll be examining the complex and fascinating intersection between tribalism and mysticism, employing for reference points James Cameron’s 2009 movie Avatar, and the 1984 adaptation of Frank Herbert’s science fiction classic Dune. If you’ve missed either of these movies, please remedy this deficiency immediately, for cultural literacy’s sake if nothing else. I’ll endeavor to make this article accessible for everyone, including those who have missed one or both movies, so by the same token, don’t blame me when I ruin the movie for you. You have been warned. Additionally, I should make clear from the outset my intention isn’t to judge whether these movies are “good” — or even entertaining — in any traditional sense. I shall leave proper film criticism to those more educated in the nuances of the medium, or at least those with a somewhat more interesting point of view than my own. I’m much more interested in teasing out the lessons we might derive from science fiction about our own role as scholars and practitioners of the occult.

Regarding the inspiration for this article, I must thank the editor for her recent post regarding the movie Avatar. I had the pleasure of watching James Cameron’s beautifully rendered epic with several friends the weekend before Yule. If you haven’t seen this movie — Yes, the computer animation and the special effects are nothing short of amazing. Yes, the overall story arc proves exceptionally clichéd in places. I’ll stop short of calling it colonialist fetish porn, although other reviewers have leveled exactly this charge. (More of this anon.) Still, Avatar raises some meaningful questions about what being mystical means in relation with the rest of society.

In broad outline, the story arc of Avatar closely resembles that of the science fiction classic Dune. In Avatar, soldier-turned-mercenary Jake Sully finds himself on Pandora, an alien world largely inimical to human life; there the forces of human civilization are busily mining unobtanium, a rare mineral which is fantastically valuable back on Earth. Compare this premise with that of Frank Herbert’s Dune, wherein the young noble Paul Atreides moves to the desert planet Arrakis; Arrakis is a desolate and hostile world notable for being the only source of the spice melange, a mind-altering substance critical for interstellar travel and thus the continuance of civilization. Pandora is populated by the Na’vi, a supposedly primitive people who we learn are actually very much in touch with the rhythms of their world. Upon Dune, we have the Fremen, a deeply spiritual people whose survival skills are nearly as strong as their tenacious belief in prophecy and fate. Jake Sully finds himself among the Na’vi, and he learns not only the skills necessary to thrive within Pandora’s lush biosphere, but also an appreciation for the interconnected web of life upon Pandora. Paul Atreides, cast into the unforgiving wilderness during a coup by a rival noble house, becomes part of Fremen culture and learns the ways of desert survival. Both figures are eventually accepted by their respective adopted cultures. (Interestingly, in each case the protagonist must ride some dangerous beast in order to be recognized fully as an adult!) When human mercenaries arrive to drive off the Na’vi, Jake Sully successfully unites the various tribes of the Na’vi in a heroic campaign against the technologically superior humans. Paul Atreides, taking up the heavy mantle of messiah-figure, becomes leader of the scattered communities of Fremen in order to lay low the rival houses which conspired to bring down his family.

The patterns here mirror each other to no small degree. For our purposes, though, I should like to focus our attention upon the two spiritual cultures at work here — the Na’vi and the Fremen. Looking through critical eyes, we may find a surprisingly jarring contrast. While both peoples are undoubtedly spiritual, and — crucially here — connected with the rhythms of their respective worlds, the real-world analogues are very, very different. In the sky-hued and iridescent countenance of the Na’vi, we see reflected the shamans of Africa, South America, the Pacific Rim. In the wind-scoured and burning gaze of the Fremen, we observe nothing so much as the Islamic militant. By the artist’s design, we find ourselves inspired by the serene pantheism of the Na’vi. Conversely, we most often shudder when confronted with the naked, apocalyptic fanaticism of the Fremen. Whether these portrayals are even-handed or accurate, we will leave for another day. What matters here is this: Both the Na’vi and the Fremen are spiritual cultures which exist largely outside of the broader universes they inhabit.

This quality of apartness echoes the notes sounded by two authors here on Rending the Veil. In the Yule issue, Patrick Dunn observes that in the practice of magic there exists an element of separation, which “amounts to a cutting off not just of society but of the physical world.” (More on the second author — the insightful Ian Vincent — momentarily.) Dunn characterizes this process as “a turning inward” into the world of ideas. This inward focus is crucially important both for the Na’vi and for the Fremen, because both cultures are really defined by their inherent inwardness. When confronted with outsiders, both cultures act with some mixture of caution and hostility, attenuated for the specific encounter. When confronted by the beliefs and practices of outsiders, both the Na’vi and the Fremen instinctively close ranks and look inward, towards their own respective teachings.

In an article appearing in the March 1992 issue of Atlantic Monthly, noted political theorist Benjamin Barber described a cultural conflict he termed “Jihad versus McWorld” — in short, the conflict between the forces of tribalism and the forces of universalism. Jihad — speaking strictly in the context of Barber’s article — is the tendency to identify narrowly with one’s cultural, ethnic, or religious community. Jihad, in its extreme manifestation, is parochial tribalism taken to an extreme, coupled with suspicion or even outright hostility towards other cultural identities, whether tribal or universal. Jihad seeks to cut off the broader world, sequestering itself to prevent contamination by the external world. McWorld, on the other hand, is the homogenizing impulse which suggests all people are essentially equal, together with an essential disdain for the unique aspects of local and tribal identities. The universalizing paradigm of McWorld — at its worst — suggests all people are consumers within a world driven by culturally neutral economic forces.

Neither paradigm possesses an exclusive claim upon the moral high ground. While Benjamin Barber’s characterization of Jihad speaks of parochialism and even xenophobia, the impulse towards tribalism also preserves myths, traditions, and cultural artifacts, elements which resonate with older elements of our cultural and biological makeup. Left unchecked, McWorld reduces everyone to consumer trends and dollar signs. Still, the notion we all share an essentially universal identity as people grounds — morally and politically — the notion of universal human rights. We should also take note these two tendencies — the one narrowing our identity, the other broadening it — exist inside every single individual and across every single culture. Because these tendencies — considered philosophically — prove more ambiguous morally than Barber’s political focus, I will employ the terms “tribalism” and “universalism” throughout the rest of this article.

The respective worldviews of the Na’vi and the Fremen are strongly tribal in tone. Both cultures demonstrate elements of siege mentality, more or less justifiably, given the deleterious outcomes of each people’s interactions with the broader universe around them. The Na’vi find their very survival threatened by the arrival of humans, especially when the corporate authorities leading the occupation decides a Na’vi community must move to make way for the company’s mining operations. The Na’vi, however, perceive a broader threat to their way of life. Their fear finds expression in their ambiguous response to the school opened by Dr. Grace Augustine. According to the movie’s backstory, the Na’vi close the school because of its association with the occupation force; still, the tribe demonstrates an obvious and mutually held respect for Dr. Augustine.

Coupled with this tribalism we find a strong spiritual element. The Na’vi demonstrate a profound appreciation for the interconnected web of life around them, which translates into an essentially pantheistic worldview. The Fremen, on the other hand, embrace both fatalistic reverence for the wilderness and zealous devotion to prophecy. The broader universe crafted by Frank Herbert does include other religious expressions, notably the influential sisterhood of witches called the Bene Gesserit; still, the Bene Gesserit are only one player within a much larger complex of institutions. However important they may be for the story of Paul Atreides, the Bene Gesserit sisterhood cannot shape the worldview of the Galactic Empire to the degree the spiritual voices of the Fremen single-handedly define the culture of Arrakis. Indeed, tribalism and religion generally support one another. Spiritual traditions become an identity around which a tribe can find both root and shelter, and the resulting tribe then protects and perpetuates the dogma of the religion.

It’s not surprising that the universal tendency cannot so easily sustain this level of religious fervor. (Quite ironically, Western forms of mysticism — properly understood — exhibit an ineffable quality which precludes, and indeed transcends, the particular; sadly, this impulse seldom permits any real alliance between the broader universal impulse and the community of believers. Oh, and allow me to belatedly wish everyone here “Happy Holidays!” — See what I mean? ) Spiritual pursuits — including mysticism and magic — most often prove intensely idiosyncratic and deeply personal, and what is idiosyncratic and personal forever remains the enemy of homogenous community. The beings and phenomena of the astral realms — however the believer conceives them — become so many impersonal forces of nature of psychology, when cast beneath the relentlessly materialistic gaze of universalism. Tribalism, on the other hand, celebrates the personal myths and traditions which resonate with our primal selves most profoundly. Whether right or wrong, the tribal believer encounters Deity and the spirit world in ways more intuitive — more relevant — than the universal impulse allows.

The charge has been leveled that the story of Avatar amounts to cultural chauvinism, since the story shows an outsider who “out-natives” the natives, surpassing the wildest expectations of the tribal culture, in order to bring the disparate tribes together against their common foe. The damaging subtext, according to this deconstruction, belittles native culture by suggesting the natives could not themselves engage in such daring and heroic efforts in their own defense. We might well make the same inquiry of Dune, an endeavor further complicated by the fact the Fremen are notably guided by the prophecies of Dr. Kynes, another outsider who identifies with — and becomes part of — the religious conversation of the Fremen.

Before we can consider this train of thought, we must return briefly to “Jihad versus McWorld”. Barber himself suggests — in no uncertain terms — that McWorld is heavily favored within the broader culture wars. McWorld has the distinct advantage of looking past every possible division between diverse peoples as something essentially superficial. People are people are people, and when people who would otherwise belong to distinct cultural groups share this belief, then the universal tendency can bring to bear the full weight of the community during its battles with tribalism. A movement which embraces tribal thinking, on the other hand, devalues not only the broad, universal impulse which would homogenize the world, but also the surrounding tribal movements which fail to correspond with that movement’s identity or worldview. McWorld doesn’t need to divide and conquer; Jihad conveniently divides itself.

Herein we observe what I believe is the real reason why basically tribal peoples unite under someone like Jake Sully or Paul Atreides in the stories of science fiction. Their allegiance has little to do with the outsider’s physical or mental prowess, though both individuals are certainly remarkable and talented individuals. Neither the Na’vi nor the Fremen can be considered guilty of any misplaced reverence for the technological superiority of the outside cultures. No, the real strength of both Jake Sully and Paul Atreides lies in their cultural background. Both Jake Sully and Paul Atreides come from cultures which celebrate coming together for some common cause, and both are charismatic enough to communicate the benefits of intertribal cooperation to otherwise disparate tribes. The universal impulse which they champion isn’t superior morally to the tribal mindset. Jake Sully goes to war with the culturally arrogant and environmentally reckless corporate outfit he abandons, yet here we observe nothing so much as moral self-correction emerging from within the homogenizing force of McWorld. While Avatar shows clearly defined lines of good and evil, with Jake Sully representing the “good” aspects of universalism, and the corporation representing the “worse” elements, Dune adopts a more nuanced approach. Paul Atreides is clearly the embodiment of universal impulse among the Fremen, yet Paul frequently works from motives of vengeance and wrath, and his overall character remains morally ambiguous at best.

The defining element here isn’t the “advanced” culture’s psychological or moral superiority — Jake Sully and Paul Atreides are both uniquely talented individuals, yet this fact alone does not enable them to rally the disparate tribes and communities under one banner. No, the real conflict here is between the universal impulse and the tribal impulse, and here both Jake Sully and Paul Atreides claim their decisive advantage, since they emerge from universal cultures. (Of course, pragmatic advantage does not equate with moral worth, yet this is another discussion for another day.) In both science fiction stories, tribal peoples must adopt a more life-affirming version of the universalizing impulse which empowers their enemies, and Jake and Paul give them the tools to effect precisely this change.

What’s the takeaway for us as witches and magicians? Generally speaking, we are not the Na’vi, and we are not the Fremen. In the battle for the collective soul of our world, we are born into the universal impulse which suffuses the whole of Western culture. Every time we endorse universal human rights — every single time we look past someone’s skin color or sexual orientation — we affirm the universal impulse. Every single time we suggest in matters of religion there are many roads ascending the same mountain, we affirm the universal impulse. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There are life-affirming elements within universalism; any time we can tease those out, we add something important towards the health and sanity of our world. Our culture celebrates the universal impulse. We perceive in Jake Sully and in Paul Atreides noble protagonists who speak towards the most life-affirming incarnations of this mindset.

The practice of magic constitutes the crafting of paradigms. The doctrines of chaos magic make this aspect explicit, yet most introspective forms of contemporary magic embrace this notion to one degree or another. Even if the paradigm in question is nothing more than simple acceptance of some spirit world, the magician embraces a worldview apart from the cultural default of scientific materialism. And herein we see the “otherness” of the magician. Earlier within this article, I referenced Patrick Dunn’s treatment of the magician as something apart from the rest of the world. This impulse is tribal in tone. Equally tribal in aspect is the turning inward of the magician. I ran with the notion of inwardness as something defining about tribal societies, yet what this treatment misses (and what I believe Dunn catches) is this: The turning inward practiced by the magician is personal introspection; the magician remains ever the tribe of one. Choices about magical paradigm are made by the individual magician.

This idiosyncratic practice, this personal interpretation of our shared world, runs counter to the overall thrust of the universal impulse. And herein we discover the fundamental tension for those who practice magic within the Western tradition. We are children of the universal impulse which defines our shared culture, and yet we rail against (or subtly subvert) the homogenizing aspects of this same force. We are, to borrow an expression from Ian Vincent’s article in the Samhain issue of Rending the Veil, the “Tribe of the Strange.” We are those who step out of line, who dance with the unique beats of our own hearts. And it’s damnably difficult to step outside what the mainstream considers normal, without feeling a profound tension with this homogenizing force.

Friedrich Nietzsche, with his characteristic wryness, once proposed this tension conspires to prevent the emergence of genuinely great souls across humanity. The common people, bound together by simple and mutually held conceptual ground, are able to communicate with one another easily, facilitating their collective survival efforts. The great mind, upon the other hand, not only thinks “outside the box” of common thought, but also along unique lines distinct from other great minds. Unable to communicate either with the common people or with one another, they struggle in isolation to survive and reproduce. Now we might take issue with the notion that greatness contains some genetic component — Again witness the universal impulse at work! — and in fairness to Nietzsche, I think there’s some tongue in cheek which a surface reading of his work too frequently misses. Still, our own endeavor to preserve our individual uniqueness becomes doubly difficult, since nearly the whole of Western civilization remains indelibly universal in character. We are not the Na’vi, and we are not the Fremen. Simply phrased, we are not an inherently tribal people.

Nevertheless, the line separating the universal impulse and the tribal impulse, much like Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s famous line between good and evil, passes through every human heart. We might favor one mindset or another — we might be born into one world or another — yet the opposing viewpoint remains within us, always there in potential. This latent potential is what gives Jake Sully the capacity to understand, however imperfectly, the pantheistic and animistic worldview of the Na’vi. Likewise, the nascent tribal impulse within Paul Atreides makes possible his tempestuous and fateful connection with the devout Fremen.

As the inheritors of Western culture, we are universal within our thinking. People are people are people, and there are many roads ascending the same mountain. This universal tendency is what inspires virtual homes like Rending the Veil, wherein we find many authors and readers, with many distinct viewpoints, coming together with the common cause of learning from one another. As witches and magicians, as members of the Tribe of the Strange, though, we are tribal within our thinking. We nurture and develop paradigms which oppose or subvert the homogenizing and materialistic tendencies of universalism. And while we may find meaningful spiritual traditions and covens which share broad elements of our individual magical paradigms, our paradigms remain forever individual and unique, for the paths of the mystic and the magician remain forever inward ones. The challenge here becomes one of balance and integration. Taken to their respective extremes, tribalism devalues everyone and everything outside the narrow definition of the tribe, while universalism devalues everything which renders the individual unique and special. How can we champion the life-affirming elements contained in these two impulses, without falling prey to those perilous extremes?

The complete answer — should there be such — rests outside the scope of my article. I can only propose what might be the path towards an answer, since the real solution occurs within genuine introspection and open-minded dialogue. We are the Tribe of the Strange, and we must learn how to embrace both our strangeness and our latent tribal impulse. By our strangeness, I mean those unique paradigms and practices which make us witches and magicians. Our strangeness transcends any particular affiliation; by the very nature of our craft, our personal introspection transcends even spiritual tradition or coven. Still, this strangeness makes all the more urgent our collective efforts to communicate with one another as one singular tribe. We might not — cannot, really — agree upon every issue, and we must be okay with such differences. We must develop a common dialogue, however, should we wish to resist as one tribe the homogenizing elements of universalism which would deny our spiritual birthright. And we develop this common dialogue via the universal impulse which we inherit from our broader culture, just like Jake Sully, and just like Paul Atreides. Science fiction teaches us how to tease out the life-affirming aspects within our cultural makeup, without falling prey to xenophobia or to homogenization. Let’s continue the dialogue of our strange little tribe, here and elsewhere, embracing both our own unique greatness and mutual respect for one another.

Blessed Be!

©2010 by Grey Glamer.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

At first glance, Norse mythology can be a daunting dragon. Rough living, the world coming into being from a cow licking an ice man and humans starting as trees, enough names with Thor as a root you would need a spreadsheet to keep track of them, and then the world ends and no one can stop it and even the Gods die. Not only can it be depressing, but finding a good starting place isn’t always easy. I regularly see people new to Heathenry inquiring about good books to start with in order to become familiar with the lore. Douglas “Dag” Rossman has provided one which I think should be in the top five list of Things to Read First In Asatru with his book, The Northern Path: Norse Myths and Legends Retold…And What They Reveal.

The first section of the book is Rossman’s retelling of several tales from the Eddas along with his take on Beowulf and the Nibelungenlied. His tales focus heavily on those involving Old One Eye, including a take on the tale of Odhreorir very much in line with my fellowship’s view of the relationship between Odhinn and Gunnlod. “Beowulf” and the Ring cycle have both been greatly compressed, and are a much less intimidating introduction to both tales. Finally, Dag shares stories of Thor, the theft of Idunna’s apples, how Skadhi came to marry Njord, Loki’s binding, and Ragnarok. Each of the stories in the book show Dag’s own style, and not all follow what would be considered the canon of the lore. I don’t think this is a drawback; since there was certainly no written canon a thousand years ago, it is easy to think of different skalds varying stories based on region and their experiences.

Part two of the book covers Germanic cosmology and gives insight into the mindset of the people. Among the topics covered are the relevance of mythology, how he himself came to be a skald, an introduction to the Aesir, Vanir, elves, the enemies of the gods, the significance of Ragnarok, and how the lore has survived into modern times. I was very interested to read about his own experiences of creating an initiatory experience using the lore for young men attending Sons of Norway campouts. The idea of teen boys learning about their ancestry by participating in mock adventures and having to fare out alone at night combined with the mythology would make the Gods come alive for these young men. Truly, I am surprised that Rossman did not identify outright as Heathen, though he does mention people worshiping the Gods in modern times and his own implementation of an old Germanic mindset in his life.

One line that stuck out for me when I was reading was this section where he describes his idea that the battle between Thor and Jormundgand as allegory for order and chaos in the universe.

“In the scenario just described, it seems clear that Thor acts as a representative of Order, and the Midgard Serpent a representation of Chaos. Their first two encounters are standoffs, a reflection of the dynamic balance that exists between Order and Chaos, and which I believe lies at the heart of the orlog. So long as this balance is maintained, the Nine Worlds will continue to exist. Should Thor finally prevail over the Serpent of Chaos, nothing could ever change, stagnation would set in, and all possibilities for future creativity would cease. Should Thor be slain, Order would totally disintegrate, and the Nine Worlds with it. Alas, the Eddas tell us of yet a third possibility, a final confrontation between the two adversaries at Ragnarok (the Doom of the Gods) in which both will be slain …and the Nine Worlds consumed by fire and flood.” (p. 194-195)

I don’t agree with the honoring of giants who are depicted as outright enemies of the Gods, mind, but I thought this to be one of the simplest and clearest explanations as to why they might exist.

This is an excellent book for any Heathen library. Not only is it perfect to hand to someone to introduce them to the mythology and worldview without overwhelming them with names and unfamiliar terms, for those who are well versed in the lore it’s a very entertaining spin on the mythology. One can easily imagine a skald coming around the community a thousand years ago, with tales both familiar and new, all having his own special spin and perspective threaded throughout. Rossman’s work is truly inspired.

Five stars out of five.

Review ©2010 by Soli.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.

About the Artist

My interests in photography and film began in junior high school — a fascination leading me to pursue my undergrad and graduate degree from Ohio State University in cinematography. For the last 20 years most of my work has been in film and video — documentary and narrative film — specifically horror genre. The last couple years I decided to work more in still imagery primarily for the purpose of my desire to photograph pinup and exotic/erotic imagery, preferring to work with models and staged scenes. I have found working in photography to allow me to explore my own artistic endeavors on a more personal level since I do not rely on crew as I need to in film work. The collaboration still exists between myself and the model but it is more on the intimate.

About the Images

These images are of Mistress Persephone. She is one of the first models I started working with when going back to still photography and we have worked quite frequently ever since. My approach is rather simple — I shoot in digital, 35MM and medium format (Nikon and Hasselblad) Specifically, this series was shot with a Nikon D-50 with a f 1.8, 50MM lens. Typically I use hard, hot sources — but I also incorporate color gels influenced by classic Hammer horror films as well as from the films of Roger Corman’s Poe adaptations. For these I experimented for the first time with an Alien Bee B400 flash unit with a light modifier creating a narrow beam producing an edge highlight enhanced through Photoshop via the “glow” effect. My ambient fill is created with a homemade soft box with fluorescent daylight balanced lamps. The box contains 16 lamps (each lamp is 20 Watts — an equivalent of 75 Watt incandescent output). I can engage all 16 lamps or 8 lamps producing my desired illumination. For a touch of back light I use a collapsible reflector on a stand from Steve Kaeser Photographic Lighting and Accessories.

On this particular shoot, Persephone and I wanted imagery in her dominatrix persona — I was not happy with the background so I draped a red net behind her. I carry several pieces or remnants of material with me for just this reason. I love how the black outfit stands out from the red, the look on her face with her, with the whip draped over her shoulder quite elegantly. The other image — the curve of the whip, her face showing erotic pleasure from an instrument of pain. The final image is classic pinup with a black backdrop and stand, also from Kaeser. Leaving the strobe as a hard source as opposed to diffused created the beautiful highlight to her exquisite boots and the extreme contrast with her skin tones; black and red — quite inviting. I would love to hear from you, additional information is on my web site: www.JoeyHorrxr.com.

©2010 by Jose Cardenas.
Text edited by Sheta Kaey.

Alembic

(Alchemy) In alchemy, the top part of a still. Often used to refer to a complete still. An instrument used for distillation.

Archigenitor

(Gnostic) The “first begetter”. A Greek reference to Yaldabaoth.

Cenobite

(Ecclesiastic) A member of a religious order choosing to dwell within a convent, monastery or a community, as opposed to a hermit, who lives in solitude.

Evocation

(Magick, Religion) Literally, “calling out.” Evocation is the application of magick to cause the physical or astral guise of a spirit to appear. See Invocation.

Filtration

(Alchemy) A process of separation, in which material is passed through a sieve or screen designed to allow only pieces of a certain size to pass through. In alchemy, the procedure is illustrated by the sign of Sagittarius.

Gunas

(Yoga) Sanskrit The Gunas are the three basic principles in Ayurvedic medicine that represent the process through which the subtle becomes gross. They are defined as consciousness or essense (sattva), activity (rajas), and inactivity (tamas). These principles also correspond with the alchemic principles of Mercury, Sulfur and Salt.

Psychological Egoism

(Philosophy) The doctrine that a person actually pursues nothing but his own interests. Note carefully how it differs from Ethical Egoism.

Rationalism

(Philosophy) The doctrine that genuine knowledge is not established by sense-experience, or at least not by sense-experience alone, and so is wholly or at least to a significant extent A Priori. Contrast Empiricism.

Triangle

(Alchemy, magick, general usage) One of the most stable geometric designs. In alchemy, the triangle represents the three alchemical principles: Mercury, Sulfur and Salt. In magick, demons are invoked into a triangle.

Undine

(Alchemy) One of a class of fabled female water spirits. They have the advantage of receiving a human soul by intermarrying with a mortal.

©2010 by Gerald del Campo.
Edited by Sheta Kaey.