Magic as a Way of Life

I hear some of my witchy friends deploring the fact that they don't actually do much any more to express their spirituality. No elaborate rituals, no particular observances.... I'm the same. 

For us magic is synonymous with our personal spiritual paths, so it can seem like a terrible failure of integrity if we're not actually doing any.

I tell my friends, 'You've probably integrated it into your life in ways you don't even notice any more.' 

I'm now more sure than ever that this is true. I've recently realised how very much it's the case with me. I realised it by contrast with the many people for whom it is not true because magic is no part of their lives. 

Some poetic experiences brought it home – some poems overtly about living a magical and other-worldly life as a matter of course – which my non-magical friends read as being metaphorical or about dreams or wishful thinking. I know this from comments people leave at my poetry blog on those particular poems. It's as if they can't quite hear what I'm really saying; it's too far out of their interpretation of the world.

That's no fault of their own – and in any case, they are there primarily to appreciate the poem and to comment on the poetics. But it interests me very much as witch rather than poet.

Working with Light

There's the poem I mentioned in my previous post here (this poem) which turned into instructions for working with light – real energy work with real results. I think only one commenter got it. Others were very appreciative, but more with the sense (nay, assumption) that it was a nice idea and that's all – something, perhaps, that could make me feel better, an imaginary remedy against imaginary evils. 

I link to my poems on facebook. My friends there include people I know in 'real life', some of whom are highly spiritual themselves in ways that include the esoteric, so there it was sometimes received as saying what it was indeed saying. One friend said she would immediately start teaching her very young grand-daughter how to use light in that way. Good! When I share these handy hints for free, it's nice to know someone finds them useful. How wonderful if all young children could be so taught.

Apart from that, the whole experience reminded me how often I myself use light energy in the ways I described in the poem. Often, I don't even think about it; when a situation comes up where it could be useful, I just do it. After all, it doesn't need any physical tools or great preparation, only intention and visualisation. 

At other times, such as in situations where healing is needed, I might be more deliberate in choosing to use this method, as I have a number of healing tools at my disposal. It can be a case of deciding which, or which combination, best suits the particular need in the particular circumstances. But anyway, it's a thing I do quite often, without perceiving it as a special magical practice, though it actually is.

Everyday Magic

The next poem is called Understand That This Is A Dream, so it's perhaps not surprising that some readers thought I was describing an actual dream, or a series of them. I was in fact writing to the idea that 'life is but a dream' (as it says in the old children's round, 'Row, row, row your boat...'). 

I took my title from an Allen Ginsberg poem, which might have made it clear – if everyone knew that poem, but of course not everyone does. (These days, no-one can know all the poems there are, even by famous poets.)

What my poem does is describe the events of the day on which I wrote it, some of them very mundane indeed and the rest quite commonplace for me, e.g. being 'inspired to wear / around my neck a silver dragon'. This one (not real silver so much as silver in colour):

Nearly all my jewellery carries energy, either by virtue of holding a particular crystal or by being in the shape of a symbol with power (e.g. a pentacle or a triquetra). I do get intuitive feelings as to which piece to wear on a particular day. Often I tune in on purpose when getting dressed for the day, but sometimes one piece or another will 'call' to me even before I tune in. I take such a call to be guidance as to what I need that day. (It might be protection, or extra insight, or the ability to communicate clearly and be heard ... whatever the particular crystal or symbol is empowered for.) 

This is such second nature to me, I forget that most people probably don't do it – just as I forget that it is one of the ways in which magic is incorporated into my everyday life. 

I forget too that many people (probably most) would think it sheer nonsense to believe that crystals etc, could have any power whatsoever. Others might credit it to the placebo effect, where the belief itself has results (giving the person extra confidence, for instance) which can show up in actual experiences. Some might, like me, realise that crystals have their own specific chemical compositions, and further suppose they can cause specific effects. Others would say the second part of that sentence is pseudo-science.

The point is, I take it for granted and it's an everyday part of my life. Most readers of the poem seemed to regard it as part of a dream – and not in the sense that life itself is a dream. (I would have thought that utterances such as, 'I seem to exist, along with a world / that feels real, firm to the touch' might have been a clue. But I guess I wasn't spelling it right out.)

Other things in the poem – such as 9 being a magical number, or a friend who wanted 'a jar with a red-checked lid' being given one almost immediately by 'someone who didn't know this' – are also commonplace to me.  

Spirit Visitations

People were kind and sympathetic about my poem, I Scarcely Realised, describing the turning point from when I longed for my late cat Selene to visit me in spirit, to the moment when I realised she already did – in her own way, which was always, even when she was alive, to use telepathy and plant images and ideas into my mind.

Then I went on to describe how, having finally understood that and thereby removed a block, I was able to feel it physically when she came and settled on my legs when I lay down, just as she used to in life. 

Some readers appeared to get it; others seemed to suppose it was wishful thinking or deliberate fantasy or something. (Hard to know what they were thinking; I am so far removed from a world where such manifestations as I describe can't be 'real'.)

So, in conclusion

1) I was surprised by the 'non-believer' response to these poems – and how general it was, even though there were some exceptions. Even people of a very spiritual orientation seem to prefer to think that the spirit world cannot be perceived by the senses in this dimension.

2) In showing me how different my own viewpoint is from the general one, I was able to see how much magic and the unseen are integrated into my life, not a separate thing tagged on or overlaid, or trotted out on special occasions, but just natural and normal and always there – as much there as the components of the physical world and all the behaviours which serve me well in the physical. In fact I don't generally distinguish them.

3) I do like the practice of ritual etc, too, and participate when more formal group ceremonies are on offer. I even sometimes create them for my own solitary practice. But I have also learned they are not absolutely essential and I am not necessarily failing at witchcraft if I don't do them.

4) What applies to me must surely apply to my witchy friends too. They are probably magical all the time, and don't need to beat themselves up for not doing more formal stuff. 

I think we're all simply living it.


Note: Light image is credited as Public Domain. 
The photo of the dragon pendant is mine Copyright © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2019 and must not be re-used without my written permission.

URBAN SHAMAN by Serge Kahili King

Book review

This is one of my favourite books. It was one of the first books on magic I ever read (nearly 20 years ago) and remains, in my opinion, one of the best. It's on shamanism and I'm a witch, but I'm a pretty eclectic witch. In any case I think this book, while staying within a tradition, also transcends it. 

It's not dogmatic, and it IS practical. If you try the exercises, they will work. In practical terms magic is about shifting energy, in any context. King shares a number of techniques, and discusses the sorts of situations in which you might want to use them. Not everyone will want to do everything, e.g. I am trained in various healing modalities and have no need to add huna healing to my repertoire. It's still interesting to read his description of it. 

He also discusses the theory and beliefs behind these practices. His shamanism is a loving variety, and the seven principles on which it is founded are attractive and make a lot of sense to me. 

I also find the book very readable and engaging. 

I recently sent a copy to a 15-year-old grand-daughter who is developing an interest in magic. It's benign, easy to understand, and it works — what better introduction? 

Good Quote On Nature Magic

Too good not to share!

"A Witch, a Wiccan, or a Pagan is not usually a high formal magician. We do magic because it comes to us naturally and because it is a part of our creative nature. We do not study formal magic strenuously. We study nature and the magic of the elements, the wee Beings sometimes called Devas, and all creatures high and low of the earth and sky that we are surrounded by. Instead of studying formal high magic we study nature magic that comes naturally to all Priests and Priestesses. If you can align your energy with the elements, the earth, the old Gods, the Goddess and the movement of the oneness of All then you can do powerful magic with simple intention."

— Healing Magick: A Primer of Clairvoyant Healing for Wiccans, by Lady Levanah Shell Bdolak

The Magician

In 1981 I ran poetry workshops in Pentridge Prison, Melbourne, on behalf of the Poets Union, at the request of prisoner poets. We put together an anthology, with editorial decisions shared among all participants. One prisoner in the workshop was transferred to Geelong Prison. This was before emails; the only way I could get his input without delay was to go and see him. There were poetry workshops in Geelong Prison too. I contacted the guy running them and got permission from him and the Prison to attend one.

Afterwards I had time to spare before my train back to Melbourne. I went into a café near the station and there, sitting at a table, was an old neighbour I hadn't seen for nine years. Reg and his wife had lived a few doors down from Bill and me when we all had young children. Norma and I used to babysit for each other, and we used to attend each other's barbecues and parties. Then we all moved and lost touch.

Still shaking off the prison atmosphere, I hesitated, then went over and said hello. He invited me to sit down. He was there a few days for work, but it turned out he now lived quite close to Bill and me again. He and Norma had divorced and she'd remarried. 

The business he'd had went broke. His partner, in charge of the finances, had been raking off investors' money. He eventually absconded, leaving Reg to face fraud charges. No-one believed he hadn't been in on it, though he was fighting poverty by then. He defended himself because he couldn't afford a lawyer, and succeeded in getting all but one charge dropped. For that one, he did 15 months in gaol. He was determined to clear his name of that too, but meanwhile he needed to try and earn a living. It was hard to get work at his age, after a gap that was difficult to explain. He finally landed a sales rep job. Norma stuck by him while he was inside, but the stress contributed to the breakdown of their marriage soon after he got out.

He confided that his life had undergone huge changes since then. He'd been studying Hermetic magic in some books he'd come across, and began practising it in a big way. He told me that as a child he'd been clairvoyant, but later put it aside to concentrate on things like work and family — and also because people either ridiculed it or got scared of it. I was fascinated of course. (At that time my own psychic abilities were still suppressed, for similar reasons.) I told him what I was doing in Geelong, and asked if he'd picked up anything about that. He said, 'I could tell that you'd come from somewhere very sad.' 

Apart from mentioning the encounter to Bill that night as a matter of interest, I thought no more about it. Then he dropped in at our place one day when, he said, he was passing, and we made him a cuppa and had a bit of a catch up.

He was unemployed. The sales rep job hadn't worked out. For the next few years he kept landing similar jobs and losing them again. In his sixties by then, he was dyeing his hair and lying about his age. 

He took to dropping round a lot. He was lonely. If Bill was home, they talked about blokey stuff. That was before Bill's great awakening; he was still sceptical about anything extrasensory. But if it was just me, Reg spoke freely about his occult interests. We had long conversations over coffee at my kitchen table. He taught me a lot about metaphysical matters. It just seemed that we were yarning. It was only later that I realised what an education he gave me.

Then I began having strange experiences — dreams which seemed significant, unexplained sounds and smells, and a spooky sense of unseen people being present. It started happening quite suddenly, and a lot. And I had a clairvoyant visiting me! One day, unable to keep it to myself any longer, I blurted out, 'Reg, who came to see me last night?' 

He reached across the table and said, 'Give us your hand.' He closed his eyes and started telling me what he was getting, until I realised he was describing my dear Nana, who died when I was four. 'What does she want?' I asked. He shut his eyes again with a questioning look on his face, then said, 'Just saying hello.'

Over the next weeks he was able to identify other nightly visitors as people in my life who had died; my stepfather, for instance. He had no way of knowing anything about these people, but described them so accurately that I had no trouble recognising them — even demonstrating my stepfather's funny walk.  

I didn't understand why I was getting all these visitations from dead people, but Reg said that when he dropped in the first time, his guides had told him to come and see me. He thought the Powers That Be must want me to become aware of other realities for some reason, but he didn't know what the reason could be. Then one of the poets in prison, whom I'd grown very close to, committed suicide. I thought the guys I met were so nice, they couldn't have done anything serious. But he was serving a long sentence and he'd just been told it would not be reduced. He was 24.

I was only his tutor. I found out, like most people, by opening the newspaper one Saturday morning as I sat down with my coffee. Not only grief but shock. But by then I had plenty of indication that the soul does live on after death. I simply couldn't doubt it. Now all the stuff that had been happening made sense. The tragic waste of a life would have been even more devastating if I'd believed there was only this life. I felt the Universe was looking after me by giving me so much evidence otherwise, protecting me from complete despair. It was then that I acquired the concept of a benevolent Universe that would always take care of me.

As for magic, I once witnessed Reg call down fire by an effort of will. There was a document I wanted to burn, but it was on thick card and wouldn't catch alight. Reg took it from me, held it over the sink, and exerted visible effort. His face screwed up and his shoulder muscles tightened. Suddenly the thing burst into flame, he dropped it into the sink and it burned fast. I was standing right next to him; there was no trickery. 

He tried to help us through some financial difficulties. 'Get Bill to take out a Tattslotto ticket with these numbers,' he  said. But Bill, sceptical, and agreeing only to humour me, got sidetracked and didn't put the ticket on. When the winning numbers were announced, he was so cross with himself that he swore and kicked his desk, which was the nearest object. Reg was disgusted. 'Do you know what it takes for the Guys Upstairs to orchestrate something like that?' he asked me. He never repeated the attempt.

He predicted that Azaria Chamberlain's matinee jacket would be found and her parents cleared of murder, years before it happened. And he told me I would study some kind of Oriental discipline that would change my life. He couldn't quite get the name of it, but said he could see the letters e and i, and another that might be h or k. I know now: Reiki. And he saw me moving to a tropical climate: lots of palm trees. I’ve been in the sub-tropics two decades now, and every house I’ve lived in here has had palms. Reg didn't live long enough to see any of these predictions come true.

He used to put his hands on our old dog, claiming that she wasn't well and he was healing her. We didn't see any symptoms, but I now believe he prolonged her life many months. It was only after he died that she succumbed to a blood disease which the vet said she'd apparently had a long time, which usually proved fatal in a much shorter period.  

Reg died of cancer in 1984. He was ready to go. Despite the magic, his last years were sad, with the loss of family life, working life and much of his self-respect. He never fulfilled his ambition to clear his name of the charge on which he was convicted. 

When I do psychic readings, it feels natural to hold the client's hand and shut my eyes, as Reg did. And it was he who communicated with Bill after death, somehow causing Bill to become a psychic and a healer overnight, as if passing on his own gifts as a goodbye present.

I write about him elsewhere as 'Ridge', the magical name he gave himself for that aspect of his life.

What's a Witch, These Days?

I read my last SnakyPoet blog post, about Wendy Rule’s recent concert, to the writers’ group.

‘What do you mean by the word ”witch” in a contemporary context?’ asked one. She wasn’t being smart; she genuinely wanted to know.

(I forget how little awareness of Paganism there is in the general community. When I mentioned to a friend — one who identifies with witchcraft, moreover — that I was going to a ‘Pagans in the Pub’ meeting, she hooted with laughter at the name, as if this were a clever joke that I had just invented instead of a well known way of getting together which goes on all over the country. But I dare say it’s not so well known if you've never subscribed to any publication listing the regular meetings.)

It was quite hard to explain contemporary witchcraft to someone for whom concepts that I take for granted were new.  She wasn’t septical and had no axe to grind; evidently she had just been unaware of Neo-Paganism, even as a word. That was the first word I tossed off, thinking to give a quick answer, but it led to more questions. I found myself getting into the whole thing about witch versus Wiccan: how one can be a witch without being Wiccan, but not the other way about; that Wicca is the religion of witchcraft, but not every witch subscribes to it — for instance, there are Christian witches. (I didn’t mention it at the time, but I happen to know both Buddhist and Hare Krishna witches; I dare say the same applies in other religions.)

We got into magic and what that is, after I answered a question as to what I mean when I say specifically that I’m a witch: why that particular term? I answered that I cast spells and participate in magical rituals. I explained magic as shifting energy to bring about a result in the everyday world. (I don’t think I expressed it as clearly as that, but it’s where we got to after I floundered around a bit.)

My questioner had spent time in Aboriginal communities and was aware of skills those people had which the white population, for the most part, lost long ago — telepathy, for instance. She wanted to know whether that was the sort of thing I meant. Was it the same as being psychic? And, having heard of the group spell casting at Wendy’s concert, she asked, ‘So does casting a spell mean getting together in a group and allowing the music to put you in a certain frame of mind?’ (Or words to that effect; I didn’t take notes.) She spoke of the way music can change one’s mood; was that what I meant by magic? If I didn’t mean these kinds of things, then how did I differentiate?

I ended up asserting that, whereas telepathy etc. are gifts which some people have more than others, witchcraft is something you DO. And it can be done either in circle or solitary. ‘Spells,’ I said, ‘Are active prayers. It’s like the way a Christian might pray alone at home, or might go to church and join in prayer with other people.’ That was understood.

I explained that there are all kinds of Pagans, as there are different denominations of Christians. (There are different kinds of Wiccans, for that matter, but the conversation didn’t get that far.) The question of Satan was left rather inconclusive. I trotted out the usual Wiccan line, ‘The devil is an invention of Christians’ but one of the group pointed out that there are Satanists who call themselves Pagans. I know this is so, but know little about them. I have the impression, however, that modern Satanism is about self-determination rather than evil deeds, and suspect that its adherents don’t worship the Christian devil — but I’m only guessing. (A quick Google reveals various, very different  ways of being Satanist.)

And then I told my story, in outline:

That I was a psychic child who was told it was her vivid imagination, and got the message that it wasn’t true and you’d better not think so or you must be mad. So I shut down hard for many years.

That eventually things happened which I couldn’t explain away. I struggled with them a long time, trying to find the rational explanation and eventually gave up and accepted the ‘irrational’, i.e. that these experiences were real. Upon which, the floodgates opened.

That in the course of time I explored Druidry, Shamanism, Ceremonial Magick, but had a resistance to witchcraft — until one day I realised that of course I was a witch, had always been one (a recognition based on things I did as a child). It was a homecoming.

That nevertheless I think scepticism is healthy. There’s a lot of bunkum out there. After my floodgates opened, I used to joke, ‘Now I believe anything‘ — but I didn’t really. One of the writers asked, ‘How do you decide what to believe?’  I answered that I believe what I personally experience, and which I can’t explain away by ‘rational’ means. I told them my personal slogan of which I’m rather proud: ‘Magic is science for which we haven’t yet found the scientific explanation.’

For my story in more detail, click on the 'About this crone' tab above.