A couple of thoughts
I will forego the name of the festival I attended, for I have issues with the organizers; but for those who wonder about pagan discord, there's a reason there's so little. While the quote of the day seemed to reflect on the current organizers' "attention to minute detail", the obsessiveness of OTO philosophy seemed rather sharply contrasted against the undisciplined and joyous magick of the various crafts. Pagans will, I might add, apparently take jobs in marketing: I encountered a group of attendees whose insignia included a play on words which, unfortunately, nullified the relationship 'twixt the Goddess and the Witch. Be true, not cute, and one will find plenty to amuse oneself aside from one's own wit, or lack thereof.
But the ceremonies, presented under the seeming authority of a priestess devoted to Crowleyan OTO ritual gave most of the rituals a church-like feeling. The attendees, determined to not let discordant authoritarianism stain their weekend together, pretty much ignored certain of these minute details and, presented with a choice of inclusive, positive energy or a hideous disruption of ceremony, the priestess thankfully chose the former. In fact, as far as I know, the only hideous disruption of ceremony I recall came from within the House with which I attended. To the other, being kicked out of such a ritual had a rippling effect on other attendees; I'm not sure they were prepared for the presence of armed guards in a sacred space. (Did I mention something about OTO-inspired authoritarianism?)
If I'm less forthcoming on the positive details, let me say that part of that is that I've chosen to keep them close until I know what they mean. To describe certain tangible sensations presently escapes me. Suffice to say that I did, in fact, encounter a very familiar feminine spirit, and for once her gravity was directed at me. Anyone who thinks I'm
not describing a psychological process is mistaken, for even the most Hidden Secrets, in order to be effective, must find application in the natural world. To my atheist friends, I might say, "Psychosis successful." The only problem I'm having is readjusting to the mundane: Work today was a nightmare. One of my bosses even went so far as to ask what was up; I'm quite confident she's learned not to ask such questions.
Some observations:
* The most well-behaved children appeared to be the least-formally disciplined; specifically, there was a sharp contrast when a parent spoke harshly, angrily, or sternly to a child: this method seemed the minority, and these children reacted poorly to authoritarianism. Admittedly, part of it was that parents generally only drew rules around the merchants and anyplace there was fire; I might also mention that even those who, like us, refrained from certain ceremonies due to the aforementioned ritual authoritarianism, did their kindliest best to prevent their children from interfering in the Circle. And it is worth noting as well that those parents who happened to be sitting out the mixed-hash Hexagram/Star Ruby(?!)/Spiral Dance taking place did not prevent their children from taking part, and even instructed their children on how to appropriately enter the Circle without the overseers noticing. (Yes, it can be done--imagine two drops of water coming slowly together.) But even among my immediate hosts, a parental approach
respectful to the child's right of self-determination dominated, and appeared most successful.
* A note on the aforementioned mixed-hash ritual: I am
not referring to mixing Lebanese and Kush hashishes; I refer to the colloquial sense similar to
mutt. First, I am unsure of whether I saw the Star Ruby or not; it looked familiar, and while I actually had that very ritual in a book in the tent, I did not happen to bring a copy with the actual holy invocations in English; my Greek character-recognition is a little weak, and while the names invoked are also inscribed on my most accessible Tarot deck, they are thereupon inscribed in Hebrew, and I would, strangely, recognize them in Hebrew better than Greek. Point being, I'm not entirely sure that was the middle portion. But the Ritual of the Hexagram I would recognize in
any language because, as a chap nearby noted:
I didn't come to this thing to pray to the Jehovan lot. My amusement was almost crushing when I witnessed the mixing of a formal Qabalistic banishing and invocation; a Crowleyan ritual fantasy (dancing sylphs, gnomes, and salamanders, which was incredibly cool in its own right, you've gotta admit); and a resolutely Wiccan Spiral Dance that demonstrated why you shouldn't crowd a Circle with 150 people. My greatest irony is that I'm of the opinion that Crowley disliked lower magicks such as the Craft; he was after big game. So the mixing of traditions seemed perversely American: meant to be inclusive but not quite accomplishing the goal. Philosophically, it seems that one cannot bind Wicca that way; likewise, it seems that Wiccan liberty is inappropriate in the higher magickal forums, which concentrate largely on devotion and authority and, frankly, minute detail. Nonetheless, everyone participating achieved some personal benefit by the feel of it, and it's not like the whole thing didn't appreciably lift the rest of our spirits, too. Perhaps if it weren't for the temple guards the evening before, I would skip the analysis altogether. In the end, a whole lot of people lent their spirits to joy for a time, and the effect, in literary terms at least, was magickal. Don't let me say it wasn't outstandingly cool.
* Have you ever been at a large gathering of seemingly diverse people and not actually argued with anyone because
there was nothing to argue about? Even the seemingly annoying sense of organizational authority was generally invisible. I can't quite describe how people dealt with it--or didn't, as such. I think everyone got along well because it was easier. And, to boot, certain social barriers were gone. Two or three times, I felt as if people far my senior and better educated in matters magickal spoke to me as if they felt they were
learning from me. Don't look at me, I can't explain it. Paradoxically, one of the wisest minds I came across was approximately five years old. Or else an extremely young-looking eighty.
Honestly, I'd forgotten what it was like to be among natural unity. But I'm pretty sure I needed a couple of days in the woods with these people. Besides, I got a reasonable tan.
Peace & Harmony,
Tiassa
