Okay, so I have a few things that I keep thinking about or which are being put forward for me to think about, things that will probably make their way into posts of their own, but right now I want to see what I can do to just get them out of my head and put them in front of my face, see what other connections might arise thereby. Notebooking, so caveat lector.
If you divide a geomantic sign into upper and lower halves, you are confronted with a cosmological division between celestial (fire and air) and terrestrial (water and earth) each with their stimulating (fire and water) and generative (air and earth) elements. The division occurs cross-culturally, but my go-to model for that tends to be more like Lopez-Austin’s Mesoamerican model than anything else. Looking at Amissio and Acquisitio as a pair in this light reveals intriguing properties about the forces that gather around these signs.
This take is more cosmological than homespun than the last.
Okay, so I promised you some critical throat-clearing, right? Maybe I should say threatened rather than promised? Whatever the case, this is the first (and maybe last) exercise to that point. This is going to run a little long.
This plays against the notebook post about the great mother. I don’t want to conflate the ancient Mediterranean with the more contemporary Polynesian societies, but I think between the two we can glimpse the lineaments of a human potentiality that isn’t reducible to these specific cultural moments. I want to type it out and see where it goes. Notebooking, so don’t put too much weight on this. Similarly, try not to read this romantically, as a utopic form of social life. It isn’t; but it is another form that might inform our future.
Damn, can I rave about this little game for a moment? The way in which it inverts the tropes of a lot of magical literature gracefully, unargumentatively, with sincerity?
That the first spell is about purification and finding a sense of beauty. That the whole game is a delightful testament to Venus-Netzach, to Puella and Amissio.
Seriously, read it (linked at the top of the post). It is only 5 loosely formatted pages.
Notice the lack of hierarchy, beginning with the instruction to avoid the magic shop and its snooty ingredients. Even in teaching, the teacher enters the student’s space as a guest, the student is instructed to practice on their own so that the magic is theirs and not under a teacher’s command. Don’t show off as teacher, trust the student to find their way. The play of truth, trust, secrecy, play, and becoming delights.
The instruction to listen to the work itself, to the ingredients and the space, to find yourself, as a teenage witch girl, within the working. Consider, too, the way in which the apparatus can be changed to dramatic effect–be a teenage witch boy, be an old wizard. Compare this with the Picatrix/Gayat Al-Hakim and its games of dress-up.
Damn. How wonderful the way it throws light upon the force of Venus in so many spiritual operations. When you become that other thing, put on the clothes, you are on Venutian soil. Don’t underestimate that. At all. Venus will make a fool of you. Venus honored crowns foolishness with truth, though.
“That something is a fiction doesn’t make it any less real.”—Teen Witch
This may be the best bit of chaos magic I’ve seen in a bit. That it doesn’t call itself magic is even better.
This is a clever, clever little key.