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Letters
How did the dragon break the Sabbath?
He preyed on weak knights.
I.C.
Alpine, CA
I like this. —SR
Here is Don Kraig's response to questions about "Where are the Gods and
Goddesses?" in R&Q no. 2. —SR
[In this article,] I had been responding to a person who had claimed that the gods,
like emotions, were totally within us. If we are going to come from a Hindu perspective, .
. . then we must look at emotions as being part of Maya—the illusion of reality that
is our everyday world. In this sense I was responding to the idea that the gods were part
of Maya and not part of the greater reality that is beyond our normal mode of thinking and
reacting which is so heavily influenced by Maya. Of course, the goal of Samadhi should not
be union with the divine, and I say so much in my book,
Modern Magick. Those gods are part of the greater universe, not just our Maya-laden
idea of what they might be. —DK
What's the deal with this "Nascian Wicca" thing?
In the last issue of the Rose & Quill, Jason explained that Nascian Wicca was his
own "tradition" borrowed from a variety of others, or `channeled.' As editor, I
was ambivalent about it. At first I was a little apprehensive because it was, by its
nature, a tradition that no one had ever heard of or used. Also, some aspects of it did
not match my own aesthetics.
After giving it some thought, I've decided I like it. Nascian Wicca provides a
framework to help give perspective to the various aspects of the solitary rituals in each
issue. When you understand what each symbol and act means, it is easier to decide how (and
why) to alter them to fit your desires. It doesn't matter that there are some things I
don't like—there always are. Now I have a better idea of what I want to do to
"fix" them for my use.
It doesn't matter that Nascian Wicca is `one of a kind.' There is no single standard
for Wicca, which is ideal (and unavoidable) for such an individualistic religion. There is
virtually a separate religion for each practitioner. Each Wiccan can choose whichever
tradition most pleases him. Exposure to a variety offers the best chance to find the best
tradition.
The act of pulling a tradition out of the air irritated me at first. But it seems that
nearly everyone has been doing that. These days, there seem to be enough people debunking
ancient traditions to call them all into question. Why not be honest and just invent a
tradition?
Nevertheless, I was reticent to abandon even a pretense to ancient roots. I still cling
to a desire for "ancient" traditions. I believe this is because I seek the
historical/traditional/mythic foundation which forms a stable society's framework, and
which our society painfully lacks. I want a nature religion, and invoking "ancient
stuff" makes it seem like I'm getting the cultural roots to go with it—a
foundation that integrates, upholds and validates my religion. But we do not live in a
nature society. Any attempt to recreate one is artificial, no matter how accurate and
comprehensive, no matter how close it is to our culture's precursors.
The Society for Creative Anachronisms (S.C.A.) is the group at all the Renaissance
Fairs that recreates the Middle Ages through costume, acting and rattan "swords"
wrapped in duct tape. They do not try to create the real Middle Ages (any volunteers for
Plague victims?), but rather the Middle Ages that should have been—a Middle Ages with
velcro and indoor toilets. There are some that anally insist upon the accuracy of mindless
details. Similarly, there are some Wiccans who demand that their rites adhere slavishly to
"ancient" formats. Most Wiccans, however, are quite willing to mix and match and
make-up. They are like the S.C.A. in that they recreate the nature religions. But why
recreate? A Wiccan might recall with fondness a past life in the good old days of
matrilineal Goddess worship, but that is not our present situation. Why go to all the
trouble to recreate, when you could create with much less trouble?
History is a collective fantasy. The thing that distinguishes it from myth is that
history borrows more heavily from our present experience. (Since we have no suits of full
plate armor that seem anywhere near 1500 years old, we conclude that representations of
King Arthur in full plate are not historical. Since we have battlefield debris and huge
piles of written records, we conclude that there was, indeed, a U.S. Civil War.) But just
because we expect history to comply with the evidence, does not mean that the conclusions
within that framework are not a fantasy. We find a bunch of ancient woman-shaped
figurines. From these we conclude the existance of a pan-European fertility cult. This is
a fantasy. It makes sense, it is even compelling, but we do not know that it's true.
Similarly, some imagine that Napoleon may have had bladder cancer. But we really can't
know any of this.
Who cares? Why does it have to be "real?" Whether it is right or not,
history's only real influence is the same as that of myth—inspiring actions and
choices, giving insight, entertaining. But we understandably have a great deal more
respect for history. This is appropriate in the right context—one would rely on
historical more than mythic records when designing new earthquake resistant buildings in
San Francisco. But in creating a religion or a new mythic system, historical accuracy is
less important that fantasy.
When the bothers Grimm recorded folk tales, they took them from an ancient oral
tradition. They turned them from a mythic archive to a historical anthropological one.
Folk tales are an expression of the subconscious of the people. Their dream imagery
represents the deep psychological changes of maturation. They evolved over the generations
through the conscious and subconscious choices of each teller. Once recorded, they are no
longer an expression of the people, but a record of this expression at that time. There is
still much we can learn from folk tales, but as we become more separated by differences in
culture and time, they speak to us less.
A historical recreation is fascinating, but it speaks to the intellect. Any
similarities will speak to the heart, but not like it spoke to the hearts of the people of
that age. A translation will never capture the flavor of the original. It is the modern
creations that will speak most to the modern heart. There is nothing wrong with borrowing,
that choice is part of the creative act. For instance, there is nothing wrong with the
version of the opera Carmen set in the Spanish Civil War. It is, in essence, a new play.
It is more accessible and thus speaks to us more. It is when one feels compelled to use a
certain name or god or tool or act that creativity ends. The creation is frozen in time
and you are stuck with the baggage of any outdated in inappropriate parts. There are many
good reasons to borrow from history, but none to slavishly adhere to it. That should be a
relief to those who recognize this as an impossible goal.
Whether or not we know it, we are creating new religions. This is scary, but if we
recognize it, we can do a better job and have fewer pointless arguments (or at least we
will enjoy them more). To realize that you are creating your religion is a dramatic act of
empowerment that separates one from the Old Age. To achieve this, it is helpful to see
that others are doing this, thus helping to legitimize this "heretical" act.
Also, to see a variety of attempts helps one to decide how to design one's own version.
There are no instructions on designing a religion because it is an intuitive act. It will
evolve within you, just as it evolves within society. Here we build the foundation for the
New Age, unburdened by the failings of the Old, but graced by its successes. —SR
The Kaballah on page 9 of the last issue is wrong! Oops! I blew that one big time! Very
sorry! The numbers of the left and right Sephiroth are reversed. —SR
Here's how it should look:
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