I’m grooving on Frater Acher’s recent post on closing down his current temple work and releasing it into the earth (thanks, Simon, for linking to it). It reminds me of something quite important that I don’t often see discussed in the current lovefest around necromancy. While there has been a good bit of talk about cultivating your ancestors, it doesn’t seem to have blossomed into a full ancestral reverence. More often than not, that care for the ancestors is put in quite practical terms like “having your ancestors happy means you can call on them more readily for help” or “if your ancestors are unhappy, they can interfere with what you want.”
This will be a short post, but I want to follow the last post with a brief observation about how i have experienced dreams. I have carried potent dreams around with me for years and years, an image or phrase from them clinging and needling at me, until I find a path to express the dream through ritual work, to manifest it and pass through it.
Once I find the working that passes through and realizes the dream? Well, the dream ceases to be active for me. It serves more as a memento.
Contemplation can be difficult to describe but it is arguably one of the most essential tools available to us for deepening our connection to the spiritual worlds. Because of its importance, I want to see what I can say about it. Getting at it will entail an admixture of the via positiva and the via negativa, so please bear with me.
[A Story? Perhaps.]
So, okay, the triplicate order post describes a lynchpin of my personal work. If that sounds odd, well here things are going to get even more odd. The work with these spirits qua spirits began amorphously with a series of signs and rites, but has proceeded with increasing clarity to outline a network of potencies that seem entangled with my personal fate and destiny. As the work has unfolded, I can trace hints of it backward, through my early dabbling with magic and into my childhood. I can see it strange fictions I wrote, though inchoately and in odd formations.
There are times when I am writing about spiritual work in public, like here, or in private, in my journals, that I am troubled by what value it has. It seems like there is so much work that goes into the discussion and some of it is so peculiar, that it cannot have any real purpose outside of occupying my thoughts. The speculations about the coil of life, or the giants, or the daemons, can all sound very abstract, especially after the fact. They do have a practical value, of course, in directing my thoughts and actions during spiritual work and in laying the groundwork for talking to others about it, but it seems like that practical value does not quite merit the effort of contemplation that goes into them.