Thoughts on Animism

Photo by Jack Wolf

I got a question the other day about animism...especially how we view animism in the Thornish ways. I thought I would share that discussion here.

When I look at animism, I'm basically using the definition here from Dictionary.com:

animism (noun)

1.the belief that natural objects, natural phenomena, and the universe itself possess souls.

Here's my take on animism. Everything has a spirit. You can use the word soul but I don't...I guess because the word "soul" has too many Abrahamic connotations for me. So everything has a spirit within, natural or manufactured. It just does. They are all a part of the Great Essence, the Great Mystery...which Thornish people like to explain as the "operating system" of the universe.

Animism is a concept I didn't really have explained to me until later in life. It's just something that if you are sensitive, you know. It's why some people (like me) talk to everything around them. Trees, rocks, cars, computers, the kitchen stove, animals...you name it.

Yes, it goes against what we are taught. Welcome to the Unlearning.

Kids have a special connection to the Otherworlds, before they are told that they don't and it's hard to try to preserve that and fight against the propaganda from the mundane world. The next generation can be so much better than we are, if we work at it...because they don't have to do all that backtracking and unlearning to get back to where we started.

As for whether the Great Mystery gave everything a spirit...I don't get too hung up on who created who or that whole chicken and the egg thing. I think the Great Essence or Great Mystery is so far beyond our understanding that we are kinda chasing our nonexistent tails trying to figure it out. I know what I know. I know the spirit is in all things because I see it...hear it...feel it. Some people can't feel it anymore--or don't want to--and I don't spend too much time trying to convince those kind of folks that it's there. If they go out in the woods for a day and a night, open themselves up, and see what happens...they might be surprised.

Does it have to be alive to have a spirit ? No. But if it's dead (here in this world) its spirit may not be here in this dimension, this realm of the multiverse. We're basically all spirits riding around in a physical body conveyance of some kind...be it a person, an animal, or a tree suit. Your body dies in this 'verse and your spirit often goes off to your ancestors or somewhere else. Or hangs around and bugs your family still here. 

Does this makes you feel insignificant? Like you are not really the top of the food chain? Or the dominant life form on this world? Good! It's supposed to! That is why Thornish people often do a Hollowing...to remind themselves of their tiny place in a web of spirits and creatures in the multiverse...and the vast number of them are far more advanced than we are.

Should you ask permission then, if you are interacting with these other spirits? It's a polite thing to do before walking in the woods...crossing a river...picking up a stone to move it...gathering flowers. Sometimes it's not so much "Can I?" but just an honoring of the spirits there. Showing respect.

I leave offerings all the time, especially when I am in the green spaces. Sometimes the only offering you have to leave are your words, your intent, your respect. The spirits understand. Believe me, if you start leaving offerings or even speaking the words (aloud or in your head) you will feel the response of the spirits around you. They might be surprised at first and angry because most people don't bother. But you will develop, over time, a relationship with the spirits around you and they will start to recognize you and welcome you (as long as you don't make promises you can't keep.)

My standard "sacred mix" for offerings is a small ziploc bag I always carry with me. Usually it is a mix of birdseed, nuts, peanuts, trail mix, sage, mugwort, tobacco, dried flowers...it changes with whatever I have on hand at the time and the season. In the spring I like to add wildflower seeds. Depending on where you are going you might supplement it with tiny rocks, crystals, copper pennies, alcohol...you get a feel for what the spirits around you like after a while. Added to this is your intent, your honor, your respect when you leave it. If I'm in a crowdy place I will usually just send up a mental or whispered offering but in more secluded places I'll leave a handful of sacred mix and some words.

The point here is not to take the spirits around us for granted. It's to acknowledge that you know your place in the multiverse is tiny but that you can and should live in Balance with everything around you. And once you begin to acknowledge and honor all those other spirits...it opens up the worlds around you in ways many have never even imagined.

Harrownight Thoughts

Copyright 2016 Jack Wolf

The Rekindling has begun.

On October 31st 1958 six men, all members of the Black Talon Society, stood beside a fire in northern British Columbia, Canada. Here they laid the framework for what would become known as the Thornish pagan tradition. They celebrated the creation of the first Thornish lodge, called the Raven Lodge after the tribal name of one of its founders. The older lodges of the Black Talon Society were fading away, their members choosing to step back into the secrecy of the woods from whence they came.

Raven chose to take his lodge forward, selectively recruiting new members, sharing the knowledge of the Thornwood, forging human weapons to work for the sacred Balance. Many strong Masters were made during this golden age of the Thornwood, the ones whose names are passed down with their teachings, names still honored around Thornish fires.

But the members of the Raven Lodge knew that this golden age would not last. They had seen that the Thornish tradition would begin to fade from sight, carried by only a few remaining Thornsmen and Thornswomen. They also foresaw times ahead that would find many people returning to their pagan roots, world-changing times. They saw a world that would need those who are willing to work to return Balance to the world.

The Thornish Masters that remained sensed the changing of the winds and the approach of the coming storm. Meeting in Council, as they had not done in many years, they decided to create a new lodge and step forward as they had never done before and share some of their teachings.

Photo by Jack Wolf

On October 31st 2016, Harrownight, Thornish Masters marked the Rekindling of the Thornish tradition.

I made many offerings that night. Standing by the sea, in the glow of the fire, I spoke with my ancestors, both of blood and of the Thornwood. I called to those who will join us at the Harrownight fire in years to come.

We spent many hours talking of the future of the Thornish tradition and the storms that even now rock the foundations of the outer world as we know it.

Swords and spears are forged with heat and hammering. Shar--as Thornish initiates are called--are forged by trials and ordeals and tribal bonds. Challenging times, rough times--these tap into the deep vein of Bloodfire and bring forth those who are strong, who see through the Lies, who welcome the chance to restore Balance.

We are Shar. We were forged for times like these. And now we begin to build new tribal fires from the embers of the old.

Cover design by Jack Wolf & Mandrake of Oxford

If you would like to learn more about the Thornish pagan tradition, this blog and Jack's blog https://thornwoodpress.wordpress.com/ are a good place to start. Jack's new book The Thornish Path is available from Mandrake of Oxford  or amazon.com and many other booksellers.

Be The One You Needed

They say
that you should become
the person that you needed
as a child.

And so I try to think
who would that person be?

She would be someone who was
quiet and gentle
a good listener
who did not judge
who knew what it felt like
to be strange
to see things
to know things
to be misunderstood
and ridiculed
someone who understands.
Who knows.
Who weaves
who sees through the walls that I built
who draws me out
knowing that I want to talk about it
even though I say I don't.
Someone who understands fear
desperate fear
worry
and anxiety
someone who has hidden
for far too long
afraid
and yet

has pushed past the fear
broken down the walls
gained the strength
and the courage
to step forward
and own it all
ALL
every
last
tricky dirty secret
someone who has shone a light
into every dark corner
and swept all the cobwebs up
to knit a comforter
to wrap around
the next generatiom
of weird and wonderful
scared and tired
those who are afraid
to close their eyes at night
and equally loathe
to open them again in the morning
onto a world
that does not understand
or accept them.

Someone who can teach
all those things that have gone
unlearned
for generations.
Someone who speaks
to the wind and the water
the stones and the trees
the spirits and the creatures
who sings to the moon
and dances with the unknown
wild and primal
where she used to be caged
strong
where she used to be weak
bold
where she used to be quiet
who draws things forth
from the otherworlds
and translates them into this one.

Someone who
makes
crafts
cooks
talks with her hands
and her art
as well as her
words
and finally
someone who is not afraid
to stand up
to push back
to protect those she loves
guardian
and goddes
dreamwalker
sage
spider
and
hawk
scrythe and seer
dancer and weaver
death and rebirth
like the Dark Mother
THIS is who I needed
SHE is who I need to be
who I will be
who I am
becoming

© 2016 Cassandra Wolf

 

Magical Living in a Mundane World

Like most people, I spend most of my day mired in the mundane world. I work at a corporate-type job, where I spend several hours a day hunched in front of a computer, working with lots of people I have little in common with, people whose beliefs and interests are totally alien to me. I am expected to dress in a uniform that is unappealing to me, and this means I spend a generous chunk of my not-so-generous salary on clothes that I loathe so that I am "appropriately dressed" for work. I spend hours a week commuting to and from this job. More hours a week are spent in worry over job issues and money issues due to my not-quite-adequate salary for this way-overpriced area of the country I live in.

Photo by Cassandra Wolf

In short, I spend a great deal of my time and energy on mundane things, and not nearly enough time and energy on appreciating and exploring the magical world around me. Out of exhaustion or apathy, I let the magical world slip away and spend what little free time I have on mind-numbing activities that are designed to keep herd folk quietly entertained.

I am not a herdling nor do I want to live like one. I want to stretch my senses, and touch the magical world that surrounds me, and then I want to reach beyond, into the otherworlds. I want to anchor myself so firmly in the magical world that my mundane activities cease to dominate my life.

I want to pursue Magical Living in a Mundane World.

It will not be an easy process, and I expect it will be challenging. I'm also pretty sure that there will be failures along the way, which will hopefully become learning experiences to guide me along the way...lanterns to light the path.

Photo via Flickr - Creative Commons license

I want to pursue this lightly, thoughtfully, playfully. I want this to become like a game, a game against the system. A game to see how much magical living I can draw out of a mundane day.

For too many years I tried to bury my magical self and conform to the mundane world around me. Now I would like to try to see how much of my magical self I can bring into the mundane world.

I plan to begin this experiment formally at the Thornish holiday of Harrownight (31st October - 1st November), which mark the founding of the Thornish traditions and the beginning of the new year for Thornish pagans. I would like to share this journey with you through blogs and updates. I'll try to post journal prompts, experiments, and fun things to try along the way.

I invite you to join me, either within your own traditions or by following along with the Thornish way. Try it for a day, or a week, and see how it works for you. 

A Voice From the Thornwood

Photo Credit: A Thorny Issue by hair-flick via flickr

I have become a bit obsessed by this book I am editing at the moment. It was discovered, in a very rough form, in a series of notebooks left behind in the 1990's by a Thornish tribal sister of mine. In her own words, Corva relates how she came to be a Thornish pagan and an initiated member of the Black Talon Society.

Corva's words are powerful and honest and I believe they will speak to many people, as they speak to me. Today I would like to share an excerpt from the beginning of the book, where Corva speaks of meeting an old woman, whose words set Corva on her path.

A Voice from the Thornwood  will be available in print this fall from Thornwod Press.


… I stopped at a café for a much-needed cup of coffee. In those days there were still a lot of places which allowed smoking inside. I was trying to quit that habit and I decided to sit outside beneath an awning and have my drink in the refreshing September air.

“It sounds like someone pounding their fists on thick glass, doesn’t it?” came a voice from nearby.

Surprised, I turned to see an old woman sitting at a nearby table. She was quite elderly and appeared to be of First Nations heritage. I estimated she was probably well into her seventies though her long, grey hair still had a substantial amount of midnight black in it, despite the encroaching gray.

She sat there, all bundled up in her grey and black wool jacket and smiled at me as though we had known each other for many, many years.

I looked around, thinking perhaps she was speaking to someone else. “Excuse me?” was all I could think to say.

There was a very powerful aura about this elderly lady. I could feel it almost immediately once she began speaking to me. Her voice was soft and warm and somewhat deeper than one might expect from an old lady. Her presence was very calming and did not trigger the mind-your-own-business reflex I was gradually developing.

“I have been where you are, child,” she said kindly. “You have a lot of troubles in your life and they are running you down a dead end road. I can see it written all over you because I was down that road too, years ago.”

Was I that obvious? I began to feel very embarrassed. If one old lady, a stranger, could see my problems like that, what did those closer to me see?

“The true woman-spirit is still in there, you see,” the old lady continued. “I can see her in you as well. She is the spark inside you, the reason you are not dead yet. She has been trying to tell you that she wants to come out and help you. That’s where that thumping sound comes from, sweetie, that sound of fists pounding on glass. It’s the glass of this bad medicine world.”

I felt the hair running up the back of my neck standing on edge as a chill ran down my spine. How had she known about the thumping sound?

This old woman was the kind of person I wish I had known when I was a little girl. I had never known my grandparents and there were many times when I wished I had a grandmother or grandfather to tell me stories or simply to comfort me as a child. I felt tears welling yet again in my eyes as I looked pleadingly at this elderly lady, wishing she was my grandmother.

“How…how can I get well again?” I asked quietly, my voice half a sob.

The elderly lady got up and came over to where I was sitting. She set her purse down on the table and sat down next to me, placing her arm around me.

I lost it and for the second time that day I fell into a storm of grief. I cried and cried and cried, right there on that old lady’s shoulder.

Eventually, as I ran out of tears and calmed myself down, the lady offered me a handkerchief to dry my eyes. I gratefully accepted and returned it to her after a moment.

 “Now, you asked me how you can get better again,” she said at last. “Well, I’ll tell you that the longer you stay in this place the more bad medicine will accumulate in your spirit, dear. The very best thing for you to do is to go away from here and heal yourself up.”

“I have no one,” I said. “My family is gone and I have nowhere to go except here.”

The old lady looked at me very intensely for a few minutes, as if she was trying to figure something out about me or perhaps trying to make a decision. Her gaze was quite focused in that brief time and for a very small moment I began to be afraid. I felt as if perhaps this lady was far more than she appeared and that maybe behind the gentle grandmotherly surface there was something powerful and predatory.

“Has anyone ever taught you about totems or about medicine animals?” she asked at last.

I had heard something about this kind of thing years ago. I knew that in some indigenous societies the people were guided by powerful animal spirits who they looked to for help and guidance. I nodded in response to the lady’s seemingly unusual question and related what I knew.

She nodded. “Raven watches over you. It is pretty obvious when you know what to look for in a person.”

“Raven?”

“Yes, Raven. He is a trickster of sorts but also a very powerful teacher of many things,” she replied with a wistful half-smile on her face. “He is very noble and has brought a great many good things to the world. You are lucky to have someone like that still watching over you. There are times when these watchers, these spirit people, get sick of the things we do to ourselves and leave us. When that happens a lot of the time we just give up and die.”

“I didn’t die,” I said, thinking about the possibilities, the what-ifs in my life.

“No, you didn’t die. Not yet anyways,” she replied. “But if you want to heal you need to leave this city and all these hollow people behind. It’s no good for you and if you aren’t careful you will just fall back into the hole. That warrior woman wants to come out and help you, so let her do that. She’s the one who you were supposed to become, not this shadow person I see sitting next to me.”

“I am a shadow person.” I sighed. I knew her description was accurate. I was a faded remnant of what I had hoped to become.

“I can still see you though, and there is hope in that,” the old lady said with a gentle smile. “The only way you can get better is to go let that warrior woman out and let her guide you on the road.”

The lady reached into her bag, not the purse that she had placed on the table but a somewhat larger embroidered bag she had slung on her shoulder. From that bag she produced the most amazing long, glossy black feather. On the quill of the feather there were three gorgeous golden colored beads that sparkled in the light despite the gloomy grey of the day.

She reverently reached over and placed the feather in my hand and told me it was a gift and it would be a special charm to guide me on the road.

“You need to get out, sweetie,” she said after she handed over the feather and watched me marveling over it. “Just like I got out of the place I was in all those years ago. You need to get out and go on the road. Find your young womanhood again, find your special place in the sun and the moon and, even more importantly, go find yourself a true family.”

“A true family?”

“Do you know what a place-marker is?”

“Like a marker in a book? A bookmark?”

“Something along those lines, yes,” she replied. “I mean you no disrespect when I say that your parents were probably of that sort. They were here to act as your keepers until you were old enough to go out on your own. But other than that they did not really nurture you or ally themselves with you. They didn’t stand with you when your natural instincts and dreams became known.”

I felt myself becoming angry at the old lady. My parents were dead. Who was she who had never even known them to be saying such things about them?

But then, seconds after the anger, the cold realization, powerful and deep in my stomach, told me that this person had seen the truth and was not afraid to tell me what she saw.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetie,” she said consolingly. “My parents were the same. They had all the spirit knocked out of them and didn’t even know how to do anything more than be my keepers when I was young.”

“Why?” I asked, meaning, Why had they been like that, acting only as place-holders and staying at arms’ length, keeping me from following my heart?

“Because we are in the midst of a great war, sweetheart,” she replied. “This is a war which has been going on for centuries and it is invisible to all but the truly awakened. On one side there is a great evil that wants to destroy everything in the world and all life along with it. On the other hand there are the ones who want to protect the sacred Earth and all of her children. A big part of the evil is the way that people have been indoctrinated over the centuries so that they believe nothing is wrong…and with each passing generation they become less and less spirited. In the end most are simply tame cattle.”

“And me…and people like me? What are we?”

“Lights in the darkness, dear,” she said. “And the enemies of the earth don’t like people like you very much, I am afraid to say. Just as they don’t like creatures like me. So people like us need to go and find our own families, people who will nurture our gifts and dreams…and the special powers we each have.”

Claim your Power

Dark fish of fear
Nibbles at my toes
I do not want to be swallowed alive anymore.
I want to rise from the pool
Clutching the sword of my power
And claim it for myself.

Birthing Change in the World [Free Verse Version]

The world is pregnant with change

          swollen

          heavy-bellied with change

Deep into labor

         panting

pushing

nail-digging labor

But the labor is stalled

The change-baby stuck a-birthing

The world needs a midwife

          many midwives

          idea-midwives

          change-midwives

To ease the world into the best position

          to bring forth change

You can be a midwife

          unafraid to get your hands deep in the process

          manipulate the pressing-down head of change

You can be a doula

          a helper

          a holder

          in a sisterhood of change

Cradle the Earth gently

          hold her trembling legs

          encourage her

          You can do this!

The most difficult stage is right before birth

          the terrorists

          the crazy candidates

          the suicide bombings

Are all just contractions

          waves pushing positive change forward

          waves must be ridden

                             tamed

                             survived

          so they can propel the change-baby forward

At last change will crown

          the most painful stage of all

The midwives right in the thick of it

          hands covered in blood

          sticky with birth-fluid

          catching the change-idea as it bursts forth

          making sure it is still breathing

          making sure it survived

its long difficult passage

into existence

          ready to resuscitate it

                   breathe more life into its lungs

                   caress it briskly

                   use their hands to restart its heart.

Then the change-baby

          can take its first crying breath in this world

Then the change-midwife

          can place the change-idea

          back on the breast of Mother Earth

          handing it back

          to the millions of souls who birthed it

          now they can nourish it

          bring it into existence in their own lives

And everyone smiles

          laughs in delight

          cries a little bit

                   or a lot

          never forgetting the labor they went through

          to hold this change they have birthed.

Be a midwife of change

          bringing new ideas and change into the world

Be a doula

          encouraging and helping others

          through the throes of change

Be willing

          to bloody your hands

          and rend your heart and soul

          to bring forth the change

          the world desperately needs

to create.