I DO HAVE A SEAM

May 25, 2017

I do have a seem
and you see it, there for you
to pull, a chrome zipper,
a hollow from belly to thigh,
large enough for your
puncture. Pull apart until
muscle, sinew and organ are
awake in your room. Woman,
with plump thumbs,
woman I’d fail for –
careful seamstress, you
stitch my selvage as it frays,
but do you know how
to be thread, spooled through
here in the center of my chest, or strings
interlocking throat to sternum,
or there is only a hole, barely
opening. Come soon,
my halves billow open, and
right there, pulsing
within reach, woman
with slender fingers –
hello, you needle in my sternum –
you know how ragged I’ve been,
and why I’ve always wanted
the sewing machine of your hands.

Jamaal May

Infidelities

May 24, 2017

Repetition of the sun climbing and a golden clementine.
Bend to a task, learn to unclothe a clementine.

He said, “Let me into your life so I might, in sweet
time, know you.” It begins: intimacy of a clementine.

Here I might stroll, then I might lounge, and dream.
There is meditation in contemplating a clementine.

My voice jittered, a near betrayal of my plan.
Could seduction lie in sections of a clementine?

With my own eyes I witnessed ice-chunks drifting
down the river. Thin membranes divide a clementine.

Around a piano tuned just right, the duo sang.
The refrain circled round a girl—darling Clementine.

Mainly a winter fruit, they disappear in spring.
Stay, Patricia says, and linger long, my lovely clementine.

Patricia Clark

A good weekend read

May 24, 2017

Art & Magic

May 24, 2017

The ritual space is the mindset, the cave of the heart and the way consciousness views all phenomena. Once we reset our way of viewing these things, the whole landscape shifts. Either nothing is sacred or it all is. This is the shift in perspective the Goddess wants to bring now to humanity, to reprogram our warped perspectives that have been instilled for aeons and separate mind from body, spirit from matter. The Goddess offers us an embodied spirituality, one where we can own and celebrate all our sensations as part of Her Divine palette, and begin to live own our bliss. It is our natural birthright and the ecstasy that flesh is heir to is our way of experiencing the Divine play of Goddesses and Gods. It is our way to touch the hem of paradise.

How these marvels got to be designated as shameful, sinful, and profane is a crime against nature and the ecstatic state of being. We have been trapped in a dense materiality by these precepts and robbed of our ability to touch the skies and live in a world of magic and unbridled potential. It’s time to reclaim our sovereignty and our right to divine resonance if we are to have a future in this Eden called earth. When I co-wrote and illustrated, with over 600 drawings, the Sexual Secrets, The Alchemy of Ecstasy in the late 1970s, it was with the intention of sharing an enlightened and liberated view of the field of eroticism and sexuality. I wanted to share my discovery and revelation of a well-established spiritual path, which was inclusive of all this rather than exclusive. It was such an amazing and freeing revelation for me, so I wanted to pass it on. My own inner intuitions now had context and community. I felt confirmed and connected and wanted others to know there was a path for them out of the imposed tunnels of guilt and shame. A shining path.

Penny Slinger
Interview with Zora Burden for The Wild Hunt

Forget Me Not
A curse full of regrets made with no regrets

Materials
• A poppet or representation of target
• A jar or container big enough to contain the poppet
• Rose petals
• Strips of paper
• A pen
• Candles

Preparation
Pre-make poppet (this is a curse poppet so please make accordingly). On each strip of paper (and there should be a large amount) write “Forget me not.”

Performance
• Have all of your supplies on your workspace.
• If you usually cast a circle, do so now.
• Light however many candles you want to. They’re mainly for dramatic effect.
• Kiss the poppet (sweetly, if you can manage).
• Now place it into the container. With each line you say, place a strip of the paper you wrote on into the container with it.

Forget me not
Forget me never.
You will regret this mistake
Now and forever.
Cross me once.
Cross me twice.
Now that you have,
You’ll see I’m not so nice.
I whisper to you nothing sweet.
I whisper to you nothing kind.
But you’ll always remember me.
I shan’t fade with time.
You had me once.
You had my favour.
You threw me away.
Now not even the gods can help this be over.
Forget me not.
Forget me never.
You’ll remember me
And regret forever.

• Once this is done, close and seal the container. I recommend doing something like blowing the buried poppet one last kiss before doing so. It will never be opened again unless you want to break the curse.
• If you cast a circle, close it now.
• Put the container somewhere hidden or throw it away. I do not recommend breaking this curse.

Source here

Hyacinth Girl

May 23, 2017

From her mouth flow apple seeds &
hyacinth blossoms. Her long legs bow
when she climbs, maniacal –

to the treetops. To us, she is so
much longer up there. We fear her
rough fall and we beg her to return.

And she slinks down to earth
from her treetop, past cups of sweet tea
made from hyacinth leaves. She stops –

pressing her palms into the cool earth.
Her long fingers dig down.
Fingers that once fashioned clouds

to discs, words to poems, and pointed
us toward heaven. Her hands are shovels
that dig her way past normal into

the earth. Beneath us, she cannot feel
her fingers. She cuts them off, mantles
them under a tree’s roots. Her lungs fill

with chestnuts and autumn. We follow
handprints she left behind, deep
depressions of palms into soil. We beg

her to return, call her name in earth-coloured
whispers. She calls back & with each breath
a hyacinth blooms beneath our feet.

Laura E. Davis

Want

May 23, 2017

I want to fall asleep with you,
and I could care less
whether it is in
layers upon layers
of clothing
or only our skin –
all I really want is to wake up
not knowing
where I end and you begin.

Beau Taplin

drown in honey

May 23, 2017

Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.

Nikos Kazantzakis
Report to Greco

This spell is not to be taken lightly. It is to be used when all other protection spells don’t seem to be working and you are afraid for your life or the lives of others. This spell is also for use against other witches that you feel may harm you. This can be cast at any time but if you would like to boost it you can do it during the Dark or New Moon, and on either a Tuesday or Saturday.

You Will Need:
• A picture of the person you are binding.
• A Black Candle
• Frankincense and Myrrh Incense
• Smudge Stick ( Sage or Sweetgrass)
• Dried Rosemary, Lavender, and Clove ( crushed during the ritual)
• Basic White or Black Thread.

Instructions:
Take the image of the person you intend to bind and begin wrapping the thread around it until everything but the persons face/eyes ( depends on if it is potrait or full body image you are using) are covered. Knot the thread in a way that you can dangle the image as if hung. As you are wrapping the thread around the image say these words.

I bind you now by heart and soul.
No harm shall come from one so cold.
Arms pinned down and voice restrained,
I take your ability to cause others pain.
May love fill your hollow empty days.
If not your magick and you shall part ways.

Repeat these words as you dangle the image over the smudge bundle. Let the smoke become its own bindings on the person. Crush the herbs and ready them for burning, imagine and empower them with protection as you crush them. As you put the image over the incense and the smoking herb mixture, imagine the smoke binding and cleansing the person of hate. All the while repeating the words as a chant. Once the smoke is out or you feel it is complete, hold the image over the flame and set it and the thread afire with the words.

Fire purify, fire bind.
Once all is in ash,
No more hate shall they find.

Once it is completely ash mix it with the herb and incense ash. Take the mixture outside and toss it over your left shoulder, or let it go in a river if you have access to running water as such.

Walk away without looking back.

Source here

malign female demons

May 23, 2017

The Descent of Inanna

The suppression and control of female sexuality is not a new phenomena. Some of our the earliest extant writings, texts from Mesopotamia going back to the third millennium BCE, such as Inanna and the Huluppu Tree and The Descent of Inanna, offer evidence that woman’s body was subject to extreme ambivalence, non-procreative sex in particular being regarded with suspicion and fear.

It is at this time we first discover the lilitu, malign female demons who controlled the ‘stormy (disease-bearing) winds’ and who flew like birds. They were defined by negative sexual characteristics: they are unmarried and thus not under the dominion of a male; they are seducers, actively seeking men to satisfy them; and they are child-killers. Not only do they solicit and engage in ‘unnatural’ sex, that is, non-procreative sex, the lilitu steal and kill children, emasculate men, and cause miscarriage and death in mothers. They are, whilst seemingly exiled to the wilderness, to outside, able to transgress and penetrate human habitations and domesticity. We see them leaning out of windows and doorways, the standard iconographic motif of the prostitute, and slipping into houses uninvited. They are the thieves and whores that prey on civilised and law-abiding people, and they are at the very heart of the city.

This same iconography is used for the goddess herself: Inanna-Ishtar. She stands at the window looking for a man in order to seduce him, love him and kill him. Inanna displayed herself provocatively in windows and doors, she initiates sexual contact and was called sahiratu, the one who roams about. In hymns she is described going from house to house and street to street, a phrasing later used to describe demons and repeated in the Song of Songs, which despite being attributed to Solomon is a cut and paste of these earlier hymns to the goddess.

The lilitu are the inspiration for Lilith, dislodged from the Huluppu tree and flown into Jewish consciousness as the archetype of insubordinate and dangerous female sexuality. In Jewish myth, Lilith was the first wife of Adam, who refused to lie beneath him and wanted to take the mother superior rather than the missionary position. This is the genealogy of the witch, whose family tree profoundly roots her in the conflicted dna of our earliest civilisations.

The disconnect from the shamanic consciousness of our ancestors was accomplished by building walled cities, stepped pyramids imitating the emergence of a hierarchical order and patrilineal organisation; the sacred mountain and cave now made of burned brick, the priestess who gives the king his right to rule now a state function rather than a wild woman, a shaman. The stories and myths of Mesopotamia are already ancient when they are pressed into clay tablets, and we can intuit layers of earlier shamanic material in them.

It is worth plunging into the myth of the descent of Inanna-Ishtar. A description of the initiation of goddess and priestess, a mystery play, and a coming of age drama of reaching sexual maturity. It can also be read as a shamanic descent and ordeal, in which Inanna is forced at each of the seven gates of the underworld to surrender one of the seven tokens of her earthly power with which she has prepared herself, as she is brought, bent low and naked, to the throne room of her sister Ereshkigal. Ereshkigal is the goddess of the underworld, the Great Below. She is, in one sense, the chthonic mind, pre-conscious and unillumined darkness, absolute hunger and appetite. A devourer. Inanna, from her domain in the Great Above, has heard her sister Ereshkigal – ostensibly grieving for her husband – though the description is clearly playing on her suffering menstrual pains, or being in the pangs of labour, or in heat. All these explanations I believe are plausible and intended.

At the seven concentric gates of the underworld, Inanna is compelled to give up all her worldly attributes of power and femininity. She is stripped for the final confrontation with her sister. Witchcraft and shamanic initiations are always an ordeal. The text reads:

Naked and bowed low, Inanna entered the throne room.
Ereshkigal rose from her throne.
Inanna started toward the throne.
The Annuna, the judges of the underworld, surrounded her.
They passed judgement against her.

Then Ereshkigal fastened on Inanna the eye of death.
Then spoke against her the word of wrath.
She uttered against her the cry of guilt.

She struck her.

Inanna was turned into a corpse,
A piece of rotting meat,
And was hung from a hook on the wall.

Inanna is hung up to season like meat in a butchers. The image of Inanna hung from a hook brings to mind suspension rituals, but in close analysis we become aware that this act of initiation is an inversion. When meat is hung it is from the hind legs, the feet, so that the blood can be drained from the throat. So here we have a chthonic sacrifice, and simultaneously an image of menstruation. One could also conjecture a connection to the head down position of a baby in the birth canal). A possible earlier version of the myth would have Inanna consumed (as sacrifice) by her sister and then birthed by her. This cannot be dismissed as primitive physiological (mis)understanding, similar acts of the ‘Mothers’ and female Seizers are detailed in the Tantras. See The Kiss of the Yogini by David Gordon White – a controversial work but one we highly recommend studying – for many interesting parallels and insights in this regard.

Inanna is rescued from the underworld by the intercession of another shaman, Enki, who sends two golems (a galatur and akurgarra) fashioned from spit and fingernail dirt. These comfort Ereshkigal in her pain, by repeating her cries, in the manner of professional mourners. We could even see them as dildos, as arousal and sex can be harnessed by women to alleviate menstrual cramps. It is worth reading The Wise Wound by Penelope Shuttle and Peter Redgrove for more insights. That work, and Redgrove’s Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense, should be on any witchcraft reading list.

To return to our narrative: soothed, Ereshkigal grants the galatur and kurgarra a wish and they ask for the corpse of Inanna which they bring back to life with the food and water of life. She returns to the earth with a retinue of demons who drag off her husband Tammuz in her stead. What, besides a life for a life and life for death, has been exchanged? In being stripped of all that identified her as a woman, a priestess and a queen, in this absolute self-effacement before her sister, Inanna gains self-knowledge. She has confronted the dark, unknown recesses of the world that lies outside her domain (life, light, love) and in this process of acknowledging the other, this sacrifice of herself, has won carnal knowledge from the darkness of Ereshkigal. Sexuality becomes not a blind force that controls you, but a power that can be exercised knowingly. In psychological terms we would call this integration: the goddess who descends is not the goddess who returns. Ereshkigal has gifted Inanna the raw power of her sexuality. As the story ends: All praise to Ereshkigal!

The self-conscious use of sexuality is traditionally the domain of the prostitute, and Inanna was the goddess of sex and of prostitutes, whose repertory of techniques included how to void or avoid pregnancy, the arts of evoking and invoking pleasure, and the arts of disguise, transformation and illusion. These are gained through uninhibited knowledge of the self. Though we do not wish to glamorise the life of the ancient or modern prostitute, she remains a symbol of independent female sexuality in a human history of carnal repression. Confidence, strength, awareness: these are rarely gifts we are born with, but are wrested from the dark mirror to the underworld.

Witchcraft, like the ordeal of Inanna, is a matter of carnal knowledge, it is a question of gnosis in and through the body. We use the mythic structure of the descent in our own work, returning to the Great Below every year in our rites at Samhain. Without the descent to the underworld, there can be no flight to the sabbat. Incubation, the dark, the cave, the deep dreaming mind, are where we discover and bring back power to transform both our world and our selves. Sexuality and creativity are inexorably linked, but to access these most potent and primordial depths we need to strip our civilised selves naked and emptied of words.

As we have seen, the demonic feminine of Lilith migrates into Judaism, as too does a guilty and demonised Eve. Inanna-Ishtar becomes Astarte who, with her consort Baal, is denounced in the Old Testament before St John gives a final twist to the tale, and with the trappings of the Roman Empire, names her after the old enemy, Babylon. Revelation, like that other hymn to the love goddess, the Song of Songs, carried the old religion into a new post pagan age. It has been misread and misinterpreted ever since, but remains one of the core myths upon which our modern world revolves.

Alkistis Dimech and Peter Grey
2010 Presentation: Raw Power: Witchcraft, Babalon and Female Sexuality