A Sorcerous Conception of the Divine: The Weird in Bog, Heath, and Moon


A Sorcerous Conception of the Divine:
The Weird in Bog, Heath, and Moon



Wholeness in mind and flesh
Is a river in the body
A forest in the head
The sky in the fingers
A green dark land in the eye.
The Weird is the life spirit
The force of men and women
The lair of beasts
The flare of the day-star
The glare of the wheat moon.
A hidden company tracks us;
Majesty rises unseen;
Many earths on earth there be,
Many skies in the sky above thee.

Many impassioned people tell how all others need to become resolved to their "God"- but the Weird, the primal origin-force, everywhere apparent, everywhere necessary, dawning everywhere without obstruction, is the true "God" of the wise- the only "God" they need to establish themselves in wisdom and lasting peace. It is this same force that the ancient spirits worshipped of old as "Gods" draw their divinity from. It is the reason for all things coming to pass, and the completion of all things.

I make no attempt to describe it in material terms; I prefer only to speak of its processes- those things it appears to do. I experience it in terms of cycles and processes, not in matter and material. No matter is inert; to see a willow tree feasting on the riverside, with small fish darting to and fro in the shallows and toads splashing into the water is to see a massive tapestry of processes, of powers in motion.

Our own lives and all lives are this way- we are verbs, not nouns. The world is a verb, a doing thing, because that power upon which our minds and our experience of the world relies is a verb, a great doing, a great vibrancy that appears quite dark at times. For all the "doingness" of the world, it also never seems to change, in essence- all appearance of motion is the experience of something that is perpetually still.

Like with so many things, what appears in reflection is the opposite of what is there- and thus, the two halves come together- one does not destroy the other; seeming motion is still seeming motion, and stillness remains stillness. But the wise understand. They no longer accept “outward things” and apparent motions as simply that, full stop; they know the deeper truth of them, but they also do not deny outward things and motions in favor of some “stillness that is apart from all things.”

The Weird, the primal power that is source and sustainer of all (peering as it does from the timeless eyes of the great serpent in the land) lays down no scriptures save the necessity that rules all lives. It does not sit as a white-bearded man in judicial proceedings against souls; the ancestral powers of families and the spirits of the world who guard the natural places and lives of beings are the judges of human beings for their virtues and misdeeds, though even they lack the power to sanction for eternity. They merely respond to the needs of the integrity of the moment.

One cannot tear the branches from a grove's sacred tree without summoning the spiritual guardians of that place, as Janet learned through Tam Lin's appearance. At that moment of her violation, necessity urged that guardian to maintain the integrity of the place to which he was bound, so he went to meet the violator with a countering force. It is the Weird that compels us forward on fateful paths, in what we experience as “this life” and during what we experience as the state “after death.”

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When our deaths are upon us, a crucial moment has arrived- the cost for how we have lived, the swirling impact of our lives must be paid, though the payment is not a great singular "coin" dropped into the hands of a waiting judge, but a process, a new path that must be followed in execution of the debt. It is a path determined by the forces one has gathered to oneself in life, and those forces one has helped and healed, as well as those one has spurned and injured; it is a path determined by emotion and passion and the fund of personal peace and virtue as well as those guilty memories and anxieties that are carried along in each mind.

This simple perspective yields the only basis for true moral action: our paths through our everlasting existence are made easier and oriented to the highest truth through words and deeds that minimize harm and maximize the possibility and occasions of wise, harmonious interactions for ourselves and for others. Because all powers are intertwined, and no person ever walks alone through the forest of many living powers that exist, our deeds affect others just as theirs affect us.

Our benevolent regard for others- and our benevolent acts- are (unavoidably) both aids to them and to ourselves, and further to all things. It is never a personal good that is the ultimate basis or primary motivation for the real “morality of the wise”, but the good of all life. Fortunately for us, “we” are included in “all life”, and thus it is that “the land and I are one”- as my people and I are one, so speaks the sacred grail king.

All of the Weird’s great appearances are parts of us, even those fateful visions and powers that seem to be far from our control and which seemingly victimize us- thus, the wise bear suffering caused by these seeming “lashes of fate” without losing their equanimity or benevolent regard for all things.

Part of the greatest spiritual and moral maturity relies on accepting the “tears of the world” as one’s own- and something mysterious and ineffable is revealed about the Weird in this very way: the greatest capacity for joy and peace is reserved for those who demonstrate the greatest capacity for enduring suffering wisely. The wisest may suffer the most, but knowing their own perpetual nature, they have no fear and they have free access to boundless depths of joy and wholeness of vision. They alone can feel true love or benevolent regard for all beings as though those beings were their own beloved children.

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We may think of “death” in these terms: as a time of truth and knowledge- a mental re-living of all that has gone before, and a revelation of what the path ahead may be- but in reality, every moment of transition (and each moment can be understood as a transition) is every bit as crucial as the death moment. For you live in this moment now, and you will die in no other place than the moment that you will then be experiencing as “now”.

When one realizes the perpetual nature of the self and the unbroken fullness of that concept called “the moment”- there is only one true “moment”- one realizes that life and death are only ideas, only limited perspectives. After this point, we can remain free of life and death, consigning them to where they truly belong- as further tricks of perception- or we can re-enter the stream of limited perspectives (or be driven back to that position by long-established force of habit) and at least strive to see causality in a wiser, more “inter-locked” way: we can perceive that every “present moment” is an awareness-point wherein many forces seemingly negotiate for the shape of future moments; that every moment is a moment in which the fateful resonance of "the past" collides with the realities of the present- a bubbling cauldron of heat and fluid whose steam will form into the solid shapes of the future.

A wiser belief in causality- such as the one presented in the bubbling cauldron example- is still a good perceptual distance from the ultimate truth of perpetuity. Perpetual being, is, in my way of knowledge, the only reality; thus, when our wisdom or bravery become strong enough, we can (with a good measure of fateful luck) shatter our ordinary conceptions- breaking the cauldron, as it were- to see what promise truly lies on the other side of "perpetuity". There was no distant "creation" for all things; the true substance of everything has always existed in some fashion, for if "nothing" was all that existed once, how could "something" have suddenly occurred?

Nothing comes from nothing. Things are perpetual. We- the minds that could not have arisen out of non-minds- are perpetual. Moments didn’t arise as some strange “units” of mysterious “time-material” out of “non-moments”; what we are crudely calling “time” (and envisioning as a march of many discrete moments) is a perpetual “space” wherein experience is possible, a “great openness” without beginning or ending.

We- these relentlessly searching minds, constantly redefined in relationship to bodies and situations- are perpetual. The wholeness of things was and is always here; only definitions and conceptions have been changing. Within our current outlay of perceptions, it is unavoidable that we consider our "beginning" in concrete enough terms to develop mythologies of origins. Within our current outlay of perceptions, it is easy to see how even myths of “time” can arise, and with them, myths of life and death.

The truth is more powerful- the Perpetually Weaving Weird is Mother and Foreparent to us all, Her many twisting and interacting powers responsible for who and what we feel and think that we are, but there was no "first arising" of our minds out of a nothingness. The Weird powers are eternal mothers, and we eternal offspring. The constant rain and flood of experiences is eternal.

Lacking a true "past", "present" or "future"- for they are labels of limitation- our experience of "judgment after death" and "negotiation of forces" and of what appear to be "fateful forces" influencing us in one manner or another is really a matter of what level of awareness we have achieved. It is our constant and ongoing study of ourselves and our experiences that is truly happening, not a courthouse drama. We express what we experience in conceptual terms, draping everything in words and splintered perceptions.

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Why is the mind, bereft of broad and true awareness, constantly being shoved here and there by these forces and concepts? Without true awareness, the mind surrenders to what it believes real. Are there "real" things? Naturally there are. But the mystery of the mind and these "things" is such that they are entwined without possibility of division or separation, except in perception. Thus, how the mind conceives and believes has everything to do with the appearance of paths through “life” and “afterlife”, and the laws that seem to rule them. Albert Einstein once remarked "It is quite wrong to try founding a theory on observable magnitudes alone. In reality, the very opposite happens: it is the theory which decides what we can observe."

Sir James Frazier eloquently described the sheer power of belief when he said "The danger, however, is not less real because it is imaginary; imagination acts upon man as really as does gravitation, and may kill him as certainly as a dose of prussic acid." Naturally, he was correct- imagination and “imaginal” things are not any “less real” than anything else. In the wholeness of things, imagination is a sacred power and indeed, it is the shaper of the human world- not a forlorn waste of day-dreaming time.

Men and women are all fatefully similar in many ways, and thus, there arises a natural consensus on many features of our common experience that we may collectively elevate to the level of a "universal law" or a truth. We are also fatefully similar in that we are all subject to the deceits and delusions of many forces that prevent us from being free in perception of the truth, and it takes an extraordinary person to shake free.

If metaphysical “laws” are relative- though no less concrete in our limited experience of them- then it is important to state that only one Law truly exists: that law that states all things are perpetual and belonging to the wholeness, and thus sacred and eternal. The nightmares and fantasies that we create, in our spells of illusion and delusion, are outcomes that are ephemeral at best, but necessary in another way, for the Weird is always seemingly hungry for what appears to be expression and experience. We must not imagine that our dreams and ideas are separate from the wholeness; they too, are part of it.

Thus, every frog in every bog, every deer lifting its head under every tree, and every man or woman sealed in love's embrace is something powerful, a magic from the oldest of things. They are all expressions of Weird, all of them following a path of hidden laws and all of them products of a sorcery that even the most cunning witch could not match. This is why love is powerful enough to repel the spells of witches and devils, and the glamour of faeries- this is why knowledge and love cannot be simply created as playthings or by cheap tricks. They are parts of a greater power and a greater unfolding.

Can sorcery itself be a conception of the divine? Sorcery is a process, an unfolding of power, a verb. The Weird's magic is what we see, not the Weird, though paradoxically we also "see" it without fail. Stillness and motion/process cannot be separated; the primordial sorcery never "happened" and yet it is there, happening. We can perform sorcery, and by so doing, engage the primal Weird. On the other hand, we are always engaged by it. Becoming conscious of this participatory fact is what makes "sorcery" in the human sense really possible. And “sorcery” in this way- as a vision of our inter-relatedness within a web of power-processes- can certainly be a route to a conscious experience of a divine reality.

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Now we walk on the Land, by the waterside, under the glaring sun or the changeful moon, and we walk in experience of the Weird, the sacred vastness, the boundless deep. There are spirits among us, with us, and an experience of "seen" and "unseen". We are also spirits, though spirits who have learned to be mortal through the combinations of many fateful powers. And this brings us to the concept of Fate. Long has the world's days and nights been troubled by arguments between the "free will" believers and the fatalists; long have people misunderstood what the entwining of powers really means.

An ancient wise man was asked to explain Fate, once. He said that Fate was an endless succession of intertwined events, each influencing the others. The man that had asked him said that he didn't believe this; he said he believed in "cause and effect". The wise man pointed out that nearby, a man was being led away to be hanged for murder- and what, he asked, was the cause? Was it the silver coin that was given to the man, with which he bought the dagger he stabbed his victim with? Was it the fact that he was seen committing the crime? Or was it that no one stopped him?

This single conversation fully reveals and sums up what "Fate" is. And endless apparent succession of intertwined events, each influencing the others. This is what life is, a great tapestry of countless endless powers and events, each influencing all the others. No single force- including "free will" or a "choice" can be given the final and total responsibility or credit for "why" certain things happen, or why people end up where they end up. Even "choices" are themselves influenced by countless forces.

The Weird must be thought of as a binding power- the Binding Weird. We are all bound by many strands of power, many events, many processes. This is the truth of providence, the multifaceted origin of all things that we experience. The lay of the land, the color of the grasses, the slope of hills, the courses of rivers, the destines of nations, the personalities of people, the paths birds take through the air- all of them show the influence of countless forces. This is the same situation of life that humans and all other beings find themselves in, even the Oldest of spiritual powers, those free of the limitations of mortality. Being free of mortal illusions does not free one from the Binding Weird's power; it merely means that one no longer suffers the dark fate- what mortals call the suffering of ignorance and death.

Some people search for a "God" in the Weird, but this is forlorn. It is no God. It is far more sublime than that. A “God” is an actor within a system which is the Weird, not unlike a person or a beast. But the ultimate perceptual origin of all life is, indeed, in the intertwined forces that the Weird's magical power weaves; thus the Weird fulfills, for those who believe in it, a similar role that “God” in mainstream religions fills.

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This brings us to the threshold of an interesting exploration. The “God” of the mainstream is a very conscious being, with infinite memory, will, and volition. Is the Weird “self-aware”? Is it conscious like we are, or on some “higher” level? Is it possessed of some great awareness, always aware of all other things within it? To answer these questions, it is best for us to look within our own natures, though by so doing, one looks within the world and the Weird, also.

We are conscious and aware- and, as the wise say, "nothing comes from nothing". If the powers of life were unconscious, unaware powers, how did their combinations become aware and conscious? If "nothing" really existed, no "thing" could have arisen from it- nothing comes from nothing; if non-consciousness was all that existed, consciousness could not have arisen.

So the aware nature of our minds and beings is itself caused by other awareness. We can take this as far "back" as the Weird, if we like. My only concern is that people who do this exercise do not fool themselves into imagining that the Weird has some “mind” that we can easily grasp or understand- if it does, indeed, have some “intelligence” that can be described as a singular “mind”, it would be beyond us to grasp fully, if at all, due to the sheer magnitude of Weird’s power. We must instead focus on our own minds and natures, and on the realities of interaction- and through those things find peace- instead of living in fruitless speculation about some “over-mind” that may or may not have motivations like unto our own, but which can never be known fully.

As a combination of countless forces coalesced to give rise to mankind and all things, we can consider the Weird the mother (or father) of all things- though the iconography of the Old Path- born in the most ancient of mythologies- looks to the wholeness as mother, not father. The word "mother" is used owing to the apparent generative power of the potencies of nature, their ability to create from within themselves and of themselves, and to sustain. Wholeness- the wholeness of powers, all in the present moment, is the mother of everything.

The sorcerous conception of the divine is hereby complete: nothing needs to be done to reach the "divine power" nor the divine powers, in the shape of spirits or other powers. All are here; all is complete. No special path leads to the true source of powers; all paths are within it, though not all paths lead to bright ends for human beings. Discrimination and wisdom are not equally shared on all paths, even though the Weird is forever present.

It is enough to live a simple life on the land, on the heath, by the waters, under the light of day and the light of night. Those who tamper with the minds of others to taint them with guilt and fear are not speaking for anything except their own foolishness- the true primal originating force is not some strange angry being, waiting to punish or forgive. A calmness and rightness permeates nature and also fills human nature- a basic sanity that we can reach and reclaim for it was ours from our birth, and it was ours before our birth.

We are beings of the Weird- we are humans, we are perpetual of the faery-world; we are cutters of grain, husbandmen and women of beasts, shapers of metal, parents and lovers, fools and sages, all belonging to the Land, the golden sun and the bone-white moon. We know that the sorcerous nature of reality is full of a natural and primordial trickery, tied to our perceptions; For everything that is seen, nine things are unseen. Nothing is as it appears, and yet- nothing is really fully otherwise.

I have walked under the darkest shade of trees on moonless nights, and heard countless night-birds making their own choir, and every time I have walked through that dark magic, I have known the Weird. For some, there are just trees and birds, and the dangers of the night. For me, there is great power, there is witchery there. For me, there is heaven and hell, together- a world of wonder and a world of deep, inward-turning mystery, full of power and fear.

For me, wherever I go, I know my natural and eternal environment, and I know it as part of me and me of it. Beyond whatever we think, there is a darkly glimmering mystery far beyond reason and sanity, but full of the wholeness of beauty. It perpetually sustains and bestows all things with their own nature and being- perfectly, fully and without need for further elaboration or rectification. This is the sorcerous conception of deity.

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This Essay is Copyright © 2008 by Robin Artisson. All Rights Reserved.