Reflections on the Salubrious Effects of Ritual
My ritual is done, and an interesting experience. I’m not going to write about the happening specifically, for it was and is too personal. But I will state some general observations that arose from having done this first magickal ritual.
Magickal Workings Cannot Be Rushed
First, I thought that this was a very simple, elegant spell. Even so, it actually took many hours to do–4 or 5 hours, with all the preliminaries and with all the impromptu touches and unexpected feelings that arose that I had to figure out what to do with.
The Reality of the Ritual Itself Changed Me
In fact, at one point I considered whether I needed to stop and not do the spell. And that leads to my second observation: Despite all the planning, careful preliminaries, careful setup, careful waiting for the right insight stage, and so forth–still the experience of working a spell proper happens in this moment. Therefore, despite the strength of concentration and intention, or perhaps because of them, some previously unseen stuff can show up. In this case, it did. So what I was confident was a straightforward desire and good, dragged up some gruesome corpses from the depth, and this occurrence transformed my intent.
Three of Swords Reversed, Revisited
Not that I ended up abandoning the spell, but I did suddenly understand what that Three of Swords reversed was about. I had direct understanding of a certain past, direct understanding of a new future, and direct feeling into loss, grief, love, bewilderment, and feelings of desertion. Something is being severed, and I have to decide whether to shrivel up around lost hope of awakening, or whether to go forward on my own.
This Path Is My Own
I’m a fan of ritual. It clarifies relative truth. If you seek to bypass, it will throw those avoidances up in your face if you are lucky, earnest, and concentrated. Rather than transform reality, the reality of the spell transformed me, and perhaps that is the point of it all.
Eclectic Jenny Is the Pathless Path
Which brings me to my last observation: I’m not of a mind to take on an established tradition. I don’t want to have to learn to say some stupid words in a language other than my own. I don’t want to identify as a pagan, a witch, or a Wiccan. I don’t want to fit into some mold or path. I want to research, borrow eclectically, and put together my own arrangements and words. I want them to be my own language, culture, and feeling for beauty–what goes where intuitively. This also feels very personal, and I’m not at all a private or secretive person–much too much the opposite, really. However, my instinct at this point is to keep these workings very much to myself and by myself. To keep it real, not artificial, not philosophical, but grounded in me, my culture, my intuition, my head, my body, my heart, my beauty.