LILITH PUJA

(Recreational Sex Amongst Consenting Adults)

Blessed be Thy clawed feet, bound and fettered
With leaden chains as, dethroned,
Unveiled,stripped bare,
Thy lie in the dirt, oh! Queen of Zemargard!
Thy blind all-seeing eyes shredding bitter tears
Over Thy slain men, Thy defiled lions!
Since we have ceased to burn sweet incense
And pour libation unto your name,
Queen of heaven, by the sword we have been consumed,
By famine and plague oppressed...
May the astrologers, the sorcerers, the stargazers rise up
And save Thee from the power of the flame!

Blessed be Thy barren womb, host of unborn babes.
For he took vengeance, and swore
To withhold Thee congress,
Never again to meet Thee as a man,
To deny Thee his seed,
Never to pay the Whore!
Blessed be Thy Yoni, throbbing pomegranate,
raving, starving, burning ice,
Gapping lips of hell,
Oh! Mistress of wet dreams,
Virgin Harlot of holy defilement!

Blessed be thy breasts, divine yet unworshipped.
Thy sour milk, drip-fed nectar,
Resurrects the Legions of the destitutes.
Wanting, consumed, starved,
like an ox, you bellow, like a bear you growl,
Like a wolf you roam and kill!
Blessed be thy burnt lips,
Which once uttered the Name,
Now gagged with iron clamps!
Thy silent scream reverberates through the Aeons,
Screeching, like Tiamat, for Samael,
Thy passion, Thy Divine Consort,
Castrated, slain into oblivion...
Ah! The Dregs of the Wine!

Blessed be Thy bony bound hands
That command over all boners!
Thy Heart, slain by one hundred and one arrows,
Exhausted inexhaustible all-compassionate Chalice
To all the injustice of this world!
Blessed be Thy thorn-crowned brow,
Thy black blood, Thy smokey owl wings,
Terror of their nights, mantle of infinite love
Secretly enfolding
All outcasts, like a thief
At the heart of the night,
My Lady of Sorrow,
My Mistress of Storms,
Holy Ghost of the holocausts, the dungeons,the dusty famines,
In the castles of oppression, Thy scream echoes the wailing
Of those who have lost it all,
As Gaia quakes and ripples,
Raging at such defilement.

Blessed be Thy Shadow, terror of the false prophets,
Haunting graveyards and the killing fields,
Casting hateful delusions
Unto the children of Isaah
As they oppress, pilfer, torture and gloat!
For Thou art to be found where no heart may venture,
In the greatest horror holding all compassion!

Thou shalt never be defeated!
They may well lay atop of you, the Dust-Devils,
Tie you to some seedy bedhead,
Straddle you, rip you wide open
For a spot of recreational sex...
Laugh! Triumph!
Thy lidless eyes stare right through
The panting shadow of their lust
And beyond, to the Evening Star!
Babalon!

© Brigitte Ariel

October 2005

Seth at Homebase

Kensington in West London is the location of Homebase Home and Garden Centre. The February edition of Ancient Egypt magazine has a feature on its 1988 makeover which includes large scale carvings based on Egyptian mythology. The brightly painted columns are not in quite the correct colours, not sure if Homebase does that one, you have to entrance under a winged sun to find that out. But all the major gods are there, included Seth complete with a power drill - which seems strangely appropriate. Seems like another stopover in the London Seth pilgrimage, of which there are now several important sites throughout the capital.

The current issue has the second part of an article entitled 'Tales from the Crypt' - which is about London's Georgian Valhalla at Kensal Green

The Grammar Of Witchcraft II

David w. Parry M.A.

Copyrights © 09/2005

Chapter 1

The same-sex service was to be held at St. Breeders: a third irony. As a guest from out of town, Caliban had been given a highly detailed map and advised to get a cab. He was meant to be looking for the only Methodist Church feeling magnanimous enough to "officially" celebrate this type of union. For f**k sake! This made no sense to him at all, since the idea behind every type of marriage seemed rather similar. Change necessitates choice. No matter what sexual orientation a person had, getting a partner meant that everything in life would be different and doubled. It was an undeserved blessing as well as a crippling curse. In some mystical sense the couple become parts of a single uncoordinated whole, which is inevitably more than the sum of its individual parts. Years previously he had read that as a man and woman make love they become an angel. No doubt. But, gay lovers in particular bond closely on a subtle, physical level. From experience Caliban knew when two tough male bodies held each other down, they form a clenched demi-god: a man greater than Hercules could ever be on his own. As men they locked themselves into a four armed, four legged miracle of flesh. Three girls therefore actively evolve into a twelve-limbed-Love-Goddess.

His cabby had never heard of the Church, or at least said he hadn't, so Caliban kept reading the map despite his directional sense always being shit under pressure. Anxiously, he looked out of a dirty window admiring the unexpectedly leafy suburbs as well as the opulent colours of the brickwork.

"I think we turn left at the next crossroads."

"What was that you said, mate?"

"Left at the crossroads and then up the hill"

"Sorted."

"Cool".

Caliban hated saying "cool", along with the entire kitsch vocabulary surrounding emphatic expletives.

A tired old Crow with obsidian eyes suddenly flew across the road and hid somewhere above a parked Ford Fiesta. Just out of sight, feathers then frantically flapped with all the semblance and the seeming of an omen. Turning a corner, the cab drove more closely towards the sound. Caliban saw a younger bird standing above the prostrate body of its older rival, plucking at the formers defeated plumage: an extremely bad correspondence. Now every Witch knows there are times when signs and portents bubble up from the depths of existence. During the Glorious Revolution, we were painfully aware that some auguries could testify against us. Certainly, Black Shuck the Demon Dog could speak Gospel Truth when it suited him, although consensus held Norfolk cats of every colour would hold their tongues. Witches such as Agnes Waterhouse also claimed that consorting with Toads proved equally reliable. She noted these creatures would often become Familiar Imps or in other words, forbidden bestial lovers. Indeed, before her hanging, the pleasure she received from these "love-pygmies" had become almost legendary.

Caliban's familiar was a Monkey. His name was Mike. The Almanacs warn Witches against Monkeys, but they had been instantly attracted to each other. Mike was a huge muscular boy, six foot three inches tall, hazel-eyed and really hairy. He wore tight Khaki shorts to show off his butt, complimented by a white tank top. There was a heated chemistry between them from the beginning, despite the obvious fact that the Monkey was afraid of him. Like every other Witch, Caliban suckled one of these Imps. He fed him through a supernumerary nipple marking the dwarf's genetic superiority over heterosexuals. In the past, our enemies would search for hidden teats all over our bodies with their prying, sensual hands. They tended to claim these unnatural protuberances were completely insensitive to pain and incapable of bleeding, shortly before torturing us. Perhaps nothing really changes.

As Caliban sat in the back seat looking for local landmarks, he noticed the shadow of Matthew Hopkins and the shade of Charles Fort sitting opposite him, arguing about Oracles and Imps. From beneath his wide-rimmed hat, the lean and looming Witchfinder General was horrified by these happenings. He stroked his long grey nose, and he muttered beneath his thin breath:

"Phenomenology or Witchcraft, I ,Sir, see not the difference. You like these bizarre and monstrous events because you be a limb of Satan yourself, Master Fort".

Glowing with genial light, Forts' plump spirit shone with a greater luminosity than usual. He responded by saying: "Oh come, come, what Witchcraft? Creative Nature serenades us men at every moment. I have heard that in the forests of England, there have been times when stones were known to give good counsel and brooks have babbled with satirical comments. Chaucer must have heard this on his travels, as well as Shakespeare when he trod the boards. Unlike the philosophers, these poets would let the planet speak to them personally, refusing to lecture the world about its essential processes. Far too few thinking men have ever had the genuine courage, or imaginative insight, to follow this lyrical path." Hopkins tightened his grip on the cane he carried, wrinkling a heavy brow:

"Lyricism and laxity. I was the youngest member of the Puritan Commission and their rational instrument against the forces of exotic Romanticism. The intellectual freedom you extol is but licence to grasp the ungodly. What does Truth need to know of Omens or humour? Devil's work, Sir!"

Fort sagaciously stroked his moustache and crooned, "How can the mystery of life be without laughter? We should delight in the flowering of Creativity while rejecting any possible interpretation. Whose Truth? First-hand experience is more valuable than third-hand explanation. The word "unnatural" makes no sense. If something can happen in nature, it is then, natural".

Caliban could contain himself no longer and grumbled:

"Neither of you understand Witchcraft".

They both looked at him with surprise.

"Neither of you".

Before his unwelcome travelling companions could speak Caliban continued: "We worship the All-Seeing Eye of Mother Energy burning in the Messianic activities of Her Triangular Son, who constantly ascends back to His Mother. For us, He becomes Incarnational Flesh and phenomena tasting the knowledge that flesh alone knows. But He is still only Her son. She is Sovereign: the Absolute "I" observing Herself in created things. Historically our energic religion once communicated in the secret Mystery-cults of Eleusis, Corinth and blessed Samothrace. When these centres of learning were suppressed our wisdom was taught in the poetic colleges of Ireland and Wales".

"Can't hear you mate". The cabby looked confused

"What?"

"I couldn't make out your new directions".

"Oh, sorry, just talking to myself. Keep going".

"Sorted".

Both the Witchfinder and the Phenomenalist disappeared in a thunderclap with an air of indignation.

"Bloody hell, strange weather. Good job you got this cab"

Caliban didn't say anything. He felt quiet and thoughtful, remembering that during the persecution, we told the likes of Hopkins that our Craft offered a magical perspective we would defend with our lives because it burned with the immediacy of Her Being. As a peculiar Gnosis, our understanding all but flickered out in the public domain at the end of the seventeenth century. We were tired of the turbulence, turning instead to indirect communication and Hollywood.

On balance however, Fort was closest to our faith, since he guessed nature's soul sent tokens to its lovers in weird, wonderful, ways. Caliban recalled as a child seeing spectral balls of light in the night sky. They were crystal white in colour and seemed to be following him like expectant eyes overseeing his journeys. One Lammas-tide, he silently challenged one of these spheres to prove it was objective. Within moments, he was answered as the globe streaked ahead of him, leaving a brilliant trail behind it. A courting couple kissing in nearby trees shrieked with surprise as the Vision Splendid vanished. Caliban felt excited and frustrated. Her ways were indeed very hard to fathom.

"Here we are mate". The cab stopped at the entrance to an imposing grey stone building.

"I've only got a tenner".

"Sorted, mate".

"Thanks".

Caliban wondered how many more times that guy would say "sorted" in the next few hours. He got out and walked up to the Church.

(. . . continued next time)

Helrunar III

Helrunar: a manual of rune magick
- 3rd enlarged edition ISBN 1869928903, £19.99 (including postage) 450pp, crown octavo, 200 illustrations

If you have been following the 'debate' rumbling in various publications concerning Jan's theories concerning the reconstruction of the Seething/Seidr technique - then this greatly expanded new edition has a revised chapter on Seidr that addressses some of these issues.

Preface to the new edition
'When I went to school, my history teacher told us about the old Germani. In her opinion, the Taunus mountains were populated by a bunch of brawny brawlers who wore horned helmets and small pieces of pelt. They lived in hilltop settlements which were fortified by ringwalls. Barely able to manage agriculture, they had to rely on hunting to fill their stomachs. They lived in shabby huts with mud-plastered walls and when the Romans came, they fought the invaders with crude swords, pointy sticks and by hurling rocks at them...

Nowadays, the ringwalls of the Taunus are known as the work of La Tène Celts, who lived on the heights in well organised cities. For this new edition much of the text has been rewritten and updated. A large section on the bronze ages, the Celts, Germani and the later Vikings added. The theme of Wodan and Helja has been elaborated with more detail on pagan Scandinavia. The chapter on magical rune inscriptions has been extended, on Seiðr/seething trances rewritten, the bibliography updated and twelve pages of new illustrations added.'

The runes are a pan-European magical language. Its roots lie in the ancient pagan beliefs of our ancestors, who built many thousands of stones circles, long barrows and dolmens throughout ancient Europe. These same symbols and techniques were used by the pagan Celts and Germans. This book is a complete manual of magick based upon arcane symbolism and secret techniques.

Contents:
Meaning /Urda /Origins /Futhorc /Magical inscriptions / Memorial stones /Fascism / Titles / Cosmology / Nature / Qabala / Vision / Werdandi / Rune stance / Breathing/ Vowel song / Problems / Tune in / Health? / Divination / Alignments / Sigil sorcery / Seiðr and Seething / Energy /lda / Rune companion / Sources

Jan Fries lives in Frankfurt near the Taunus Mountains. He is a musician, artist and magician.

‘...eminently practical and certainly breaks new ground.’ - Ronald Hutton (author Pagan Religions of the Ancient British Isles)
Recommended by The Cauldron
’a very meaty read...’ PJ in Gippeswic

Omphalos (Bath alternative moot) Talks

All talks held at Batheaston Scout Hall, School Lane, Northend, Batheaston 7.30 til 9.00 p.m
Take the Bath turning from the M4 (jct 18) and follow A46 to Bath. At the Bath roundabout take the first left onto the A4 to Batheaston. This becomes Batheaston High St, look for a sharp left up Brow Hill. Continue for about 1/4 of a mile, until you find School Lane. Park at the top and walk down past the Gothic looking school - the Scout Hall is the large modern building straight ahead, although the entrance is up and around to the left. It's easy to find - map on request

Saturday 10th December: "Santeria: A Magical Perspective"
Odebitola is a practical Qabalistic Adept with nearly 30 years experience who is also a priest in the Cuban religion of Lukumi. Tonight he will look at the Cuban Yoruba religion of Santeria from a magician's perspective, concentrating on the role of divination, dead, the role of the Orisha and the iwin, the stages in initiation and the grade structure and the differences between the practices of Nigeria, Miami and New York. He will also tell us why he dislikes Santeria!

KABBALAH - An Experiential Workshop (London 11 December)

Tom Bland is offering an afternoon workshop on the mystical tradition of the Kabbalah. In the workshop, the group will explore four essential symbols of the tradition, emphasising the psychological and spiritual value of the concepts. The symbols are:

God

Creation

Tree of Life

Primal Human

The workshop is experiential in this sense that we will be opening out the symbols through group exercises, dialogue, and relating the symbols to our own sense of the divine.

Tom is an independent researcher specialising in the Kabbalah. He leads a study group on the subject in Chelsea, London. He has training in humanistic and transpersonal facilitation.

The workshop will take place at the Jung Club Library in Chelsea, London.

On Sunday 11th December 2005, from 2 until 6 pm.

The fee is £20.

To book a place on the workshop, email Tom at inward@...

The Real Rocketman - Jack Parson (reviews news)
reviews by Mogg Charlotte

Strange Angel: The Otherworldly life of Rocket Scientist John Whiteside Parson by George Pendle, Harcourt 2005, $25

Sex and Rockets. The Occult World of Jack Parsons by John Carter, Introduction by Robert Anton Wilson, Feral House 2005 (reissue).

I read in a recent review of the life of Austin Spare that becoming a cult figure, is, 'a mixed blessing which threatens to overshadow his unique talents.' It is often the case that visionary individuals with unusual biography, are for a long time only remembered by fellow enthusiasts, who with unparalleled grace, are often happy to stand aside when the mainstream media finally get up to speed.

Another example is the life of Jack Parsons, well known to occultists as one time head of a highly productive occult lodge in 1930s Hollywood - amongst whose luminaries were Wilfred Smith, Ron Hubbard, Jane Wolf and Majorie Cameron, to name but a few. The story of how the house was brought tumbling down by the machinations of a geriatric Crowley are told in Martin Starr's Unknown God (2005). George Pendle is of the opinion that for Jack Parsons, magick was only a sideline, his real passion the then infant science of rocketry. Difficult as it is to imagine, rocket science was once the domain of science fiction buffs and amateurs, space flight itself being dismissed as physically impossible by leading academics of the day!

Pendle's biography of JP is therefore also a potted early history of rocketry and the American space programme. Tis also another counter example to those intellectual historians who argue magick and science have not been bedfellows since the age of Isaac Newton. This is a highly entertaining book, that goes into just enough technological and management detail for the non scientist such as myself to make what might seem an unlikely tale of scientific progress really come to life. Parsons emerges as a complex character, whom despite being born with a silver spoon firmly in mouth, managed to avoid formal education and through empirical methods, to become one of the founders of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Unfortunately he was 'swindled' out of his shares by what would nowadays I'm sure be termed 'insider trading.' On the brink of a lucrative sale to a major industrialist, he was persuaded to sell up, 'as there was no future in this line of research'! The real reason being that the new owners wanted to purge the company of its maverick founders. It was long after Parson's death before his colleague and eminence grise Frank Malina, argued for some acknowledgement of JPs pivotal role in rocket research - hence the minor honour of the eponymous crater on the dark side of the moon.

The author manages to shine some new light on many of the well know incidents in JPs life that have taken on a folkloric gloss. He writes at length about his relationship with founder of Scientology L Ron Hubbard and his entry into the bohemian community of Thelemites in Pasadena. JPs first wife Helen had already transferred her affections to the 'cult's' then head, Wilfred Smith. JP struck up an another 'open relationship with Helen's younger sister Betty, who was then to fell under the charismatic charms of Hubbard. Despite the presence of the 'green eyed monster', JP invested pretty much all his severance pay from JPL in a dodgy business venture with the Hubbards. It all ends in mutual recriminations and litigation.

The author falls into the view that JP's greatest interest in magick 'see-saws' with low points in his scientific career. At the time of his mysterious death he was reconciled with his third wife, the hypnotic Marjorie Cameron (Candy), the result, so he thought, of a magical invocation to gain himself a new 'scarlet woman' ( magical partner to you or I). By then Parsons was engaged in a new commercial enterprise manufacturing explosive special effects for the movie industry. It was whilst completing a rush order before holidaying with 'Candy' that JPs cavalier attitude to explosives finally caught up with him. His body torn apart by the blast, he died a little while later, followed soon after by his mother's suicide.

I found Pendle's science writing more convincing, and indeed entertaining, than the analysis of JPs magical work - which is perhaps not unexpected for a book coming from a mainstream academic press! There is little in here that is not better treated in other books on magical history, such as Martin Starr's masterful Unknown God. I quibble with the book's lack of a decent bibliography, making it quite tricky to really follow his sources or indeed see the influence of earlier books on the same topic. In my opinion it is extremely churlish of mainstream authors to cherry pick a story from the occult world but not even leave the fig leaf of a citation in the bibliography. The book has far fewer illustrations than others I have seen. Furthermore, I thought Pendle completely missed the significance of JPs resignation from the OTO and subsequent writings on witchcraft as the next new thing. Who could know that another fellow initiate of the OTO would meet Parsons and thereafter leave fallow his OTO charter, following the admonitions to start a witchcraft cult in UK That was Gerald Gardner and the rest is history, although not one American writers are fond of acknowledging. But all in all this is a very informative and entertaining read. A good book, highly recommended - Mogg Morgan

I've had this book on my 'to read' list for some years now, so being asked to review Feral House's new edition of Sex and Rockets, The Occult World of Jack Parsons, a book which seemingly contained all the elements that press my buttons, (Sex! Magick! Science Fiction! Occult gossip! AND Socio/Political Commentary of America! ) was like Christmas and birthdays combined.

An initial superficial perusal of the book provided instant gratification.

Sci-fi cheesecake chick posing provocatively in front of a rocket, super-imposed over characters of the Enochian alphabet made for an ultra cool book cover.

The necessary appendices were there also, which in my personal checklist gives a near automatic degree of credibility and there was also a good-sized section of photographs which is always a good thing when one needs a break from reading text in order to ruminate over their contents.

There was, however, no biography given of the author and contact with the publishers revealed that 'John Carter' was a pseudonym of someone whose governmental job doesn't allow for out of office occult interests…thus the need for a degree of confidentiality. I found this an intriguing aside; especially in view of the fact that Carter's writing treads that fine line of intellectual and practical understanding of the Occult world without showing whether it was a spiritual path that was his own or just skilled researching abilities.

That said there was an occasional wry reference to Aleister Crowley, mention of Parsons perhaps using his Thelemic beliefs as a crutch in times of personal stress and perceptions that didn't necessarily agree with mainstream occult orientated thinking that could be seen as giving a subtle indication of Carters personal predilections.

Robert Anton Wilson's introduction is fast, fun and near pop art subversive in style (a direct contrast to John Carter's more formal presentation). His writing moves rapidly from subject to subject covering what he considers relevant to understanding the life and times of Jack /John/ Marvel Parsons and giving a series of viewpoints that complement nicely with those of John Carters in the main body of the book (though not necessarily agreeing on some points admittedly, such as which is the chapter in 'The Book of Lies (Falsely so Called)' where Crowley purportedly revealed the secret of the 9th degree of the OTO seem to provoke some difference of opinion!).

The main body of the book looks at the separate personas of Jack Parsons that Robert Anton Wilson has already introduced to us; the man, the magician and the scientist and the aspects of these that one would expect to be covered in a reasonably comprehensive biography of Jack Parsons.

The scientific innovations, correspondance with Crowley, involvement with L.Ron Hubbard, and leadership of the Agape Lodge of the OTO are all examined as well as details of Parsons Babalon workings. All these components are in many ways information anyone with an interest in this field would have come across prior to reading this book.

However there is more thorough and in depth analysis given and there are some details that I personally had never encountered before.

The chapters which focus on Parsons scientific discoveries with his invention of solid Rocket Fuel and innovations in the field of Jet Propulsion, as well as the section which gives an 'Introduction to Enochian Magic' whilst dealing with hugely different topics could perhaps be seen as being rather technical, however in my opinion this in depth analysis enhances the book and it remains accessible and highly readable; which for someone as generally technically disinterested as myself is quite an impressive achievement.

The use of Parsons autobiographical essay 'Analysis of The Master of The Temple' provided fascinating personal insights that Carter weaves into the book skilfully, and the afterward of this edition gives an interesting take on the origins of the concept of Parson's Black Pilgrimage.

Perhaps the greatest part of my enjoyment and appreciation of this book was derived from its looking closely at Jack Parsons personal interpretation and application of Thelemic Principles and the changes this created within his life.

The mention of a bizarre black box being found after Parsons death, which contained films of Parsons, his mother and the mother's dog having sex, if true, casts an interesting and perhaps tragic light on the above.

On one hand you could applaud Parsons commitment to breaking the conditioning that bind and constrict, on the other (especially bearing in mind that Jack Parsons mother killed herself within hours of her sons death…and the dog was also killed on the same day) one could see his attempts at doing this as being literal to the point of instability and near fundamentalism.

There was no judgement conveyed in this book, and no over emphasis on the nature of Jack Parsons's death or over exploration of conspiracy theories beyond what was necessary in the name of thorough research.

There was however information given beyond the standard available, and a well-researched and unbiased insight into the multi faceted life of Jack/John/Marvel Parsons, which makes this, book a highly readable classic. - Charlotte

on FRIDAY DECEMBER 16 at 8.00 in the Gielgud Studio Theatre at
RADA, Malet Street, London WC1

£7.00

On Friday December 16 at 8.00 in the Gielgud Studio Theatre at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art , Mystery Theatre of the Aether presents Travesty Theatre¹s production of Babalon.

Paul Green¹s play, originally written for radio, explores the enigmatic life and mysterious death of Jack Parsons (1914-52), pioneering American rocket scientist, disciple of the magus Aleister Crowley, and passionate devotee of Lady Babalon, the Scarlet Woman of the New Aeon. Alison Rockbrand¹s highly stylised production reinforces the resonance of the text with soundscape and visual projections to create unique moments of ritual theatre. There are also elements of dark farce and tragedy as Parsons' apocalyptic vision is subverted by hostile forces.

Paul Green¹s plays include: The Dream Laboratory, The Aleph (CBC Radio Canada); Ritual of the Stifling Air (BBC Radio 3); Powerplay, (Capital Radio); The Mouthpiece (Resonance FM); Terminal Poet (New Theatre Works)

Alison Rockbrand founded Travesty Theatre and the Dead Dolls Cabaret in Montreal. Her productions include the collective creation Mumbo Jumbo: King Leopold's Opus and a rendition of Macbeth including stylised dance gestures based upon the Kathakali dance tradition in India. In February 2006 she is directing Stuart Draper¹s Departure Lounge in the Prompt Corner at the South London Theatre Company.

Tickets for Babalon can now be reserved via the RADA Box Office on 020 7908 4800.

00.Subscription details

To unsubscribe send email to: Mandrake-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com
To subscribe send email to: Mandrake-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
or visit http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mandrake To email the list owner mandrake-owner@yahoogroups.com

Other lists: Naths, AMOOKOS and East/West Tantrism:
wyrdglow-108-request@... (you may need to resubscribe as a computer crash recently wiped the database)
tankhem: tankhem-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
OxfordPaganCircle-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Groups

Bath Omphalos (Bath alternative moot) Meetings on the second Sunday of the month. Contact omphalospaganmoot@.... There is also an e-group, address: http://uk.groups.yahoo.com/group/omphalospaganmoot/

Conferences

5th Annual Witchcraft Seminar 2005 (review)

Last year it was 'Faulty Towers' this time 'Little Chef'. The Witchcraft Seminar brought to you in this, its fifth year, (from Jerry Cottle's Wookey Hole.) Even without the glittering cast of speakers, to be able to perform a Hekate fire ritual in the caves, was in itself a bit of a breakthrough. The new owners, well known circus impresarios, with brands such as The Circus of Horrors (soon to be seen at Witchfest), are keen to open the place up and indeed develop it as the spooky/wookey theme park.

First up was Cassandra Eason, her topic, the power of nature, may not have been rocket science (for that you need Jack Parsons), but she was a good sport, warming the audience with a homely style. She finished with an invitation for members of the audience to charge her crystal ball!

Things really begin to loosen up when cunning and mild man of the woods 'Jack Daw' treated us to an urbane journey through the ins and outs of traditional witchcraft - question: 'does a spell return on the sender'; answer: 'only if you regret it'.

More musick to end that days formal session. Evocative lirics drifting our way, glimpsed through the door, as a 'Robert Plant' lookalike, Damn the Bard, strutted his stuff on the mandolin. The musick followed us into the cave. Mesmorised by the cave's resonance, I sang and chanted - only pausing to wind my horn, when as Nemty, the ferryman, I summoned those hardy souls to the invocation of Hekate.

That nite the ritual - 'nuff said - see the pictures, then fish chip supper, and a New Orleans blues band (Hollow Bones) - well Glastonbury actually - but really good - especially the PVC clad gogo dancers. Some were less than impressed by the missmatch between the Legba veve and the Ghede cabaret - others said that it was the spirit that mattered - and there was plenty of that.

I had to drag myself away from the breakfast table gossip just in time to see my old friend, Chaoist and now born ag'in runester Ian Read - looking as dapper as ever - he apologised to me before laying into one of our published theories on Seidr and Seething. His highly engaging talk was on Galdr - (spell casting) - although he admited Seething (Seidr) was a dynamite technique - although some of the 'old guard' have still to bite the bullet, swallow their pride and admit, despite what some supposed 'academics' say, that Jan Fries is right about it afterall. It's a recurring theme these last few years - kind of special pleading some feel they need to make before the altar of academe. Goes like this - 'RH might not agree with this, but I'm going to say it anyway.'

And now the end is near - and to round off, is Cornish wise woman Cassandra Latham. I'd never heard her before and although she might not make it to the cover of the latest Witches and Witchcraft (come to think of it neither would I) - what she said would knock most of those teen witches into the top hat she happened to be wearing. She certainly won me over.

All in all, a fantastic weekend. And that even without that ritual - but there again - you had to be there. Well done to Adrian and Ann (www.witchcraftseminar.com) for another roaring success. Next year it's Waterloo - I mean The Wellington in Boscastle - be there - or else I'll review your event! - mogg