A Voice from the Thornwood publication date

Artwork copyright Jack Wolf 2018

Great news! A Voice from the Thornwood: The Parting Words of a Shar Master will be published by Mandrake of Oxford early next year. Jack and I are very excited to finally see this book in print and share our tribal sister Corva’s story with you. Will keep you updated on the progress!

Here's another excerpt...


Agnes leaned forward. ‘Have you been told anything about the traditions that people like me follow?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I was simply told that you might have a thing or two to teach me.’ I grinned. ‘In fact, after seeing your house, I thought you might be some kind of witch.’

Agnes laughed. ‘I get that quite a bit but I am not what would be considered a witch. I do take such things as a compliment because I hold ‘true witches’ in great respect. So no, I am not a witch, though there are a few old christian ladies who give me a wide berth when they see me in town.’ She laughed. ‘I am something you probably have never heard of before.’

‘What’s that?’ I asked, imagining that she was going to say she was part of some herbalists’ or organic farmers’ collective.

Agnes’ face went slightly more serious. ‘I’m Thornish,’ she replied.

‘You are right,’ I said. ‘I have heard of Scottish and even Cornish, but never Thornish.’

When I look back, it was in that moment I recognized I had been brought to a kind of gateway that I hadn’t even known was there in the first place. It seems to me now that for a long time I had been guided, whether by my own destiny or by outside forces – likely a combination of both – to the point where I met Russell and later, the others.

‘Thornish people are pagan folks who walk in a very special way. We are what could be described as earth warriors or even forest mages, I guess. Some have suggested that tribal mystics might apply too. None of these descriptions really nails it though because we have never fit into the mold that the mainstream tries to force everyone into.’

I remember staring at Agnes and I must have had a blank look on my face as I tried to make heads or tails of what she had just said. That trademark soft grin she so habitually wore crept back onto her face even though I could tell she was trying to remain serious. After a few more seconds she gave in and the grin spread.

‘You should see your face right now,’ she said. ‘You really have no idea of what I’m talking about, do you?’

‘No one told me anything,’ I said.

’Well, there is only one reason I can think of that you came over here to see me, Carolyn, and that’s so I can help you on the next leg of your journey…even if right at this moment you look like you just swallowed a rock.’

‘Actually, I feel like someone just handed me a treasure map,’ I replied as coolly as I could.

Inside my belly I felt a creeping warmth that flowed from my core and joined the tingly feeling of déjà vu that had been climbing up my back and into my head. It wasn’t just the mead, it was something a lot deeper and a lot more instinctive. It was as if something clicked inside of me and just felt …right.

‘Alright then,’ Agnes said at last, filling our glasses up once again. ‘If it’s something you want to do, you can stay with me and if you want, I will teach you a few things.’

‘I would really like that,’ I replied.
 

On Being a Lore-Path

“You ask where it has all come from; that I have contributed so much. But you need to understand that I am simply a path along which lore travels. It has been my honor to be thus. It is the privilege of all Shar to be such a lore-path and you too will discover this in yourself. The lore comes to us because we have been chosen to bring it into the world. Each of us will add to this sacred circle as we serve the balance. Each of us will also understand the true nature of the sacred as we walk in this way.”

~Thornish Master Raven

"In books and in the movies you hear about the hero who comes to town, does his thing, and then leaves, never looking back. I never really believed in that dramatic kind of thing and thought I might peek back in just to see if anything had changed…or just to be a rebel.

I certainly didn’t think of myself as a hero and I certainly had had no great adventure in the place I was leaving. All I really saw drifting in my wake were the ghosts of my parents and the dreams they once had for me. But ghosts can go anywhere as long as you keep them in your heart with a good helping of loving memory.

As for the rest…I didn’t look back."

 - Shaara Corva
A Voice from the Thornwood by Cassandra & Jack Wolf

The Hollowing

In Thornish tradition there is an exercise performed by those new to the ideas of our form of pagan beliefs. For years this has been referred to as a Hollowing, or as going into the hollows. What this entails is that a person goes out into a natural setting where they are unlikely to be disturbed or distracted and once there they spend a period of time in meditation upon their place in the world and on the true nature of the state which our world is in. This may sound like a simple thing but to those who have performed this act of deep introspection the results can be quite profound.

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.

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.”

Remember....

Forbidden Sorcery by Gabriele Negri (flickr) Creative Commons License

Remember

          who you once were

Wild

          not domesticated and living in boxes

Free

          not bound by chains of debt and obligation

Independent

          not serving so many others you have lost yourself

Strong

          not beaten down by life

Aware

          not mind-dulled by a constant stream of useless information

Primal

          in touch with the world around you

Tribal

          not living alone

          not feeling alone

          not fighting the world alone

Listen

          as the wind whispers in your ear

Hear

          the voices of your ancestors singing in your blood

Fight

          against those who will enslave you

Resist

          those who try to divide isolate you

Know

          that there is more to life than this

Find

          the ones who will stand at your back

Seek

          the primal knowledge that was once known by all

Answer

          the call of the Thornwood.