Friday, 10 May 2013

Pagan Blog Project: Jesters

Anafesto Rossi, baritone, as Rigoletto, 1911 / photographer May Moore, SydneyJesters have an interesting history, and there's more to them as a symbol than just wacky comedians, jugglers and alleviators of boredom in a world before iThings.

The Fool is nobody's fool.  The Jester's role was a complicated one.  As well as providing entertainment they could be storytellers and keepers of oral traditions.  They had licence to criticise the royalty they served through their humour.  It was the jester who pointed out the inconvenient truths in an era when others may have been too worried about their own title, land, or the status of their head vis a vis attachment to their body to speak out.  Sometimes the jester was in charge of imparting bad news - such as a military defeat - to the throne, while the rest of the court cowered from the monarchy's fury.

 If a jester shows up in the bottom of a cup, it can signify that the person being read for is also, in their own way, a teller of inconvenient truths.  They might be a journalist or whistleblower, an academic working with radical ideas or new research that will turn the accepted way things are done on their head.  It suggests that what you do or say may not be what those in power (which could mean anyone from the boss to the popular kids at school) want done or said.

The Jester can also be a warning to be aware of the politics and power plays going on around you.  The historical jester was able to get away with his criticism of his master because it was accurate and well observed, and couched in satire and wit.  Watch your footing - even if your shoes have bells on.

Image: Anafesto Rossi as Rigoletto, 1911, from the State Library of New South Wales collection on Flickr Commons.

Friday, 3 May 2013

Pagan Blog Project: In case of...

We plan for the worst.

We prepare for, obsess about and insure ourselves against fire

and flood
and earthquake
and accident.

But how often do we plan for the best?  How often do we prepare - not just idle daydreams, but actual usable plans of attack - for success?



For a job we love, not just tolerate?

Huisvrouw met schoonmaakattributen / A housewife surrounded by cleaning utensils
source
For having the world at our feet?
For being shoulder-deep in kittens?

How often are we so busy worrying about the future and making plans in case of failure, that we squander our opportunities because we don't have a plan in case of success?

Friday, 26 April 2013

Pagan Blog Project: Ice and Fire

I'm not much of a believer in complicated rituals requiring obscure ingredients and specialist tools.  Most of what I work with comes from the supermarket, the hardware shop or my own stash of craft makings and art supplies.  Sometimes the simplest tools are the most effective.  The freezer, for instance, or a box of matches.

Physical things are made of atoms, and atoms are always moving.  The hotter they get, the more energy they have and the more they move.  The colder they get, the less they move, until they theoretically come to a standstill at absolute zero (roughly -273 celcius, or -460 F).

I'm wheeling out the Chemistry 101 to explain the physics behind why burning or freezing things can be a helpful part of spellwork.

Ice mask, C.T. Madigan, between 1911-1914 / photograph by Frank HurleyFreezing something deprives it of energy and makes it dormant.  So if you want to rid yourself of a bad habit, hose down unwanted advances, or otherwise get something out of your life, it can help to write it on a piece of paper, or make up some little tchotchke to symbolise it, and freeze it into a block of ice.  You can just stick it in a container or bag of water and pop it straight in the freezer, or if you want to go to a bit more effort you can get it suspended perfectly in the centre of the block of ice: 

Fill the container to slightly less than half full, and freeze it.  Then, remove from the freezer and put your document or item in the centre, then add a tiny amount of water - not enough to let it float around, just enough to anchor it into position as it freezes.  For a slip of paper, it might only need a few drops.  Freeze again.  Once the second layer's frozen, fill the container (not to the brim, if you're using a lid - the ice will expand and crack it) and freeze a third time.

Disposing of your frozen friend down the track is another issue.  Once you're satisfied that it's over and no longer a threat, you can defrost it, tip the water down the sink or loo (not onto plants or into waterways, it may have some lingering dormant energy in it that's best not released into the wild) and dismantle your gewgaw (or rip up your paper) and throw it away.

Retiring a locomotive driver wheel, Shopton, Iowa. The tire is heated by means of gas until it can be slipped over the wheel. Contraction on cooling will hold it firmly in place. Santa Fe R.R.   (LOC) Burning something, on the other hand, douses it with so much energy it goes up in a puff of smoke and sends its atoms flying out in all directions.  So if you have something you'd like to send out into the ether - a prayer, a request for help, or a vow you'd like the universe to witness - burning your paper or tchotchke can be one way to do that.

When I'm burning things, I usually have a pair of tongs to hold the subject by, and candle to light it from.  Then, once the flame catches hold of one corner I drop it into a cauldron* with a layer of sand in the bottom, where it can burn itself out in peace.  I keep a bucket of sand in the corner of the room I use for most of my working (it makes a great incense and candle holder, and occasional zen garden) which could become an impromptu firefighting kit if it needed to.


*OK, it's an old heat-resistant ceramic pot that was once used to store dripping.  It works.

Images:  Top: Ice Mask from the State Library of New South Wales collection.  Bottom: Retiring a locomotive driver wheel, Shopton, Iowa, from the Library of Commons collection, both from Flickr Commons.

Friday, 19 April 2013

Pagan Blog Project: Horses

Helen Twelvetrees during filming of "Thoroughbred", Sydney, 1936 / Sam HoodThe horse, like the dog, is one of our oldest companions.  In a world long before bicycles, trains or cars they were a much faster means of getting about than our own feet.  They hauled loads for us, pulled our ploughs and carriages, and carried us faithfully into battle and forwards to explore new lands.

In a cup, a horse usually means action, progress and movement.  Like anything that appears in the leaves, you can glean a lot from looking at the symbol itself - is the horse stretched out, as if belting along at a full gallop?  Or is it standing still, head down, munching grass?  While those two are both horses, they mean very different things.  The former is more likely to signify movement and progress (unless it's heading backwards, in which case it might be a full-speed retreat!) while the latter could be a hint to stop, slow down, and take some time to consolidate the progress you've already made before taking off again.

Does your horse look whole and healthy?  Does it have the usual number of legs?  If it's come up a few short, it can mean delays or obstacles to your progress, while extra ones can grant extra speed.  A missing head suggests a lot of flailing around lacking a direction and goal, while multiple heads can be hint you're trying to go in too many directions at once.

As animals domesticated and put into service by earlier societies, they also have the same association with wealth and status as cattle and pigs.  In Celtic symbolism, they have a particular link with fertility, in terms of the health and continuation of the tribe.  In that sense, they can raise their long, solemn heads in matters relating to succession planning and carrying on the family name, business or traditions.

Image: Helen Twelvetrees during filming of Thoroughbred, Sydney, 1936, from the State Library of New South Wales collection.