The Vernal Equinox, Attis and Nawroz

The festival we now know as Easter was given its name by an ancient Northern European festival at the Vernal Equinox. Eostre was the Anglo-Saxon Goddess of the Dawn, a giver of life and fertility. Essentially an agricultural goddess, she caused plants to flourish and animals to multiply. The rabbit or hare was one of her symbols, which is how the Easter Bunny became part of modern Easter celebrations.
As contemporary Easter now falls on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the Vernal Equinox, it will occur in a few weeks.

The Vernal Equinox, however, remains important to many religions and cultures, from contemporary pagans who consider it one of the 8 Great Sabbats or Festivals in the Wheel of the Year to Iranians who celebrate it as 'Nawroz'.

In all traditions, an equinox is a time of great magic. Day and night are equal at the point of the Vernal Equinox. Like the working of the old Germanic rune of 'Dagaz' which is shaped like a butterfly or the double-ax, it is a time of balance. In many ancient cultures, the Vernal Equinox marked the New Year.
Primitive cultures were well aware of the cyclical nature of life and the changes in season. The Wheel is an ancient symbol of Life with set periods based on the movement of the Sun and Moon and other heavenly bodies. In many civilisations, it was water in the form of rain or the flooding of a river like the Nile that brought life back to the earth but these events occurred seasonally, and this was noted. The influence of the Moon on the tides was noted as well.

For ancient people, the Equinox represented a moment when life itself trembled in the balance, and many rituals that developed did so as an attempt to aid the forces of life and rebirth. In Northern climates, March is a capricious month. There can be temperatures high enough to cause plants to awaken from their winter slumbers, followed by a severe snowstorm. For agrarian cultures, this would be a month fraught with danger and risks. Seeds must be planted, and seedlings must be nurtured, but without artificial heat and light, much would depend on the goodwill of Nature.
To the Greeks, Spring was a time of the 'anoixis' or 'The Opening' and therefore a fitting beginning to the Year. In many ancient civilisations, the year began when the Sun moved into the House of the Ram.

One of the most popular and widely celebrated Festivals in ancient times was the Festival of Attis. The festival of Attis, son of the Great Mother Cybele was celebrated in Spring, and his rebirth was considered to occur at the time of the Equinox. Originally a Phrygian god, his cult spread throughout the Roman empire. In Rome each Spring, an evergreen pine would be cut down and adorned with violets, the flower that sprang from the blood of Attis. The death of Attis would be followed first by mourning and then by rejoicing when the god was resurrected.

Attis was a man or god who castrated himself and this act and its effects were central to his cult. His priests and worshippers often performed the same operation on themselves in an orgiastic culmination of the festival during Spring. Priests were known for their 'effeminate' appearance, with long flowing locks and flowing robes. The clashing of cymbals and wild dances characterised the rites of Attis. Ritual scourging and slashing as well as the rite of emasculation was common. Men both young and old would sacrifice their manhood at the Spring festival.

Although the main centre of the cult was at Pessinus, it was brought to Rome in 204 BC when the black stone of Cybele was instated in the Temple of Victory on Palatine Hill. At the Vernal Equinox, a pine tree symbolising Attis was carried into the temple and decorated with violets, a flower believed to have sprung from the blood of the god. A figure of Attis then was hanged or bound to the tree.

Roman sources describe the festival as follows:

On the 22nd day of March, a pine was chosen in the woods and cut, then borne back to the temple of Cybele by a guild of Tree-bearers. The trunk of the tree was swathed in woolen bands like a corpse and decorated with violets. The effigy of Attis was tied then to the middle of the tree.

On the second day, trumpets were blown. (Noise often characterises New Year celebrations. It either is an attempt to frighten off evil spirits or to 'wake the dead'.)

The third day, the 24th of March, was known as the 'Day of Blood'. The Archgallus or highest of the Galli priests would draw blood from his arms as an offering first. The followers of the god then would gash themselves with knives and potsherds so that a rain of blood fell upon the altar and sacred tree. The most devout would make the sacrifice of their manhood, and the severed parts were thrown onto the altar. Later, these sacrifices would be buried either in the earth or in underground chambers sacred to the goddess.

The effigy of the god was laid in the tomb then and the worshippers mourned his death.

In the same way in which worshippers abstained from any food prepared from grains ground in a mill during the mourning period for Tammuz, the devoted abstained from bread during these rites.

When night fell on the 24th, however, the mourning was transformed into great joy. A light was kindled in the darkness and the tomb was opened. The god Attis had risen from the dead. The priest whispered the message of salvation and eternal life into the ears of the worshippers, touching their lips with sacred balm.

The 25th of March, deemed the Vernal Equinox according to the old Roman calendar, was a festival of Joy, celebrating the resurrection of the god. During the Festival of Hilaria, universal licence prevailed. People were expected to dress in masquerade and the lowest of the low could present himself as an emperor or god on this day. This is similar to the later medieval festival honouring the 'Lord of Misrule'.

The 26th was a day of rest and on the last day of the Festival, the 27th of March, the statue of the Great Goddess was taken to the river in a waggon drawn by oxen. The high priest, robed in purple, washed the image of the Goddess, the waggon and all other sacred objects in the flowing waters, then decorated all with fresh flowers of Spring.

As the god himself died and was restored to life, it was believed that initiates who made the ultimate sacrifice of their manhood achieved immortality through their action.

When Christianity swept through the Empire, the festival of Attis was supplanted by Easter.

For years, I puzzled over this cult and marveled at its incredible and widespread popularity. It is not uncommon to find the idea of the 'androgynous being' as particularly sacred in ancient religions. In Native American tribes, there was an accepted role for a man who dressed as a woman and indeed lived as a woman in order to gain spiritual power. Many ancient gods were depicted as being both man and woman, with the power to create life from their own beings.

On one hand, the 'unmanned' Attis could represent the same sort of life in perfect balance as the Equinox itself. Neither male nor female, the god Attis is a symbol of a being stripped of gender in a sense. As the pine tree was denuded of its branches and in fact, as the May Poles in Europe later often were stripped of their branches before being set in the centre of the village, it is through this act that immorality is achieved. The Asherah poles of ancient Canaan were trees that had been ritually stripped of their branches.

I now believe that the truth is far simpler. The cult of Attis has its foundation in the ancient 'hierogamos' or sacred marriage. In ancient Sumer, the king would participate in a sacred marriage with the High Priestess in the role of the Goddess on her sacred throne/bed. In doing so, he would bring fertility and good fortune to the earth. He was the subordinate in this relationship for he was no more than the shepherd of the flock in the role of Dumuzi. He guarded the land and its creatures for the Goddess.

Dumuzi was a shepherd who played the pipes. Attis was portrayed as a shepherd who played the pipes. In early times, it is possible that the High Priest would assume the role of Attis in the same way as the High Priestess once assumed the role of the Great Goddess. He would be hanged and torn apart on a pine or fir tree like Marsyas.
In the ritual of Attis wherein men castrated themselves, they were in effect performing the sacred marriage once and for all, burying their manhood in the Earth to be united with the Goddess eternally. This is why the ritual would be perceived as the promise of eternal life and eternal bliss. Rather than being a cruel sacrifice, it would be elevate the status of the individual, making him the partner of the Goddess who ruled all.

However much we might like to believe that magic and power can be 'tamed' by 'civilising' influences, the fact of the matter is that true power is rather frightening and sometimes brutal. Neither Death nor Life are always gentle.

If we can grasp the spiritual significance of the sacrifice of Attis, we can go beyond the ostensible horror of the act. In fact, throughout history, there have been cults of emasculation. A famous cult existed in the Soviet Union in the 19th century. Emasculation was not a matter of 'gender-consciousness' or
wish-fulfillment but rather of ultimate dedication to the Goddess. Unlike contemporary examples of men who opt for the knife in order to 'become women' for sexual reasons, the ancient mystery religions were more concerned with other realms than with sexual gratification in this world.

Beyond that, of course, blood is a powerful substance and blood coupled with pain endured in a noble cause always have presented an irresistible attraction for the masses.

Mel Gibson in depicting Christ's torments graphically in 'The Passion' was condemned by many, but interestingly enough, the film inspired millions of Christians, prompting them to revitalise their faith. Flesh and blood is fragile, and life is transient at best. In a film about Vercingetorix entitled 'Druids', a character declares that: 'The greater the magic, the greater the sacrifice.' This axiom is an elementary one both in religion and magic.

The secret rites of Attis were very similar to those of the god Mithras. In fact, they originally may have been the same god, as Mithras often is portrayed wearing a Phrygian cap. Mithras almost surpassed Christ at one point in his popularity.

In rites shared by Attis and Mithras, ritual fasting was followed by a baptism in blood. After the fast, the novice would be given 'communion' by eating from a drum and drinking from a cymbal. The devotee, crowned in gold, would descend into a pit, the entrance to which was covered with a grate fashioned of wood. A bull wearing wreaths and garlands of flowers, with forehead decorated with gold leaf would be driven onto the grating, then stabbed with a consecrated spear. The blood would pour onto the novice. When he emerged from this bath of blood, those who awaited him would receive him as one reborn to eternal life. After this, he would restrict himself to milk like a newborn child for a period. This ceremony took place at the Vernal Equinox during the great Festival of Attis.

Originally, most agrarian communities made blood sacrifices at times of sowing and planting. In many civilisations, it was a human sacrifice. Like the Aztecs, who created a temporary god each year, worshipped and adored him for a few days, then killed him, cut him into pieces and consumed his flesh, this sort of ritual always was part of the history of humanity.

In Christianity, the 'body and blood of Christ' is consumed in the ritual of 'Holy Communion.' Whether or not one believes in the doctrine of transubstantiation, wherein the bread and wine actually becomes flesh and blood, the ritual commemorates a fundamental human rite of sacrifice and a means by which human partakes of and therefore becomes one with a God.

As late as the 19th century, people in some parts of the world continued to practice ritual human sacrifice and to sow human flesh with the seed into the earth in order to make it fruitful.

For some reason, contemporary society, while reveling in 'virtual' depictions of violence and death, is disgusted and appalled by the concept of human sacrifice. There is a question that comes to mind, however. Considering the fact that each one of us is doomed to die at some point, would it not be better to die as a god?

Those who accepted the role of sacrifice actually became one with the God or Goddess. In some cases, this sacrifice was made by the King himself. The ancient connection between Ruler and land was strong. A good king was believed to bring prosperity and fertility to his land and people. A king who was evil or cursed would cause sterility and ill-fortune.

'The Golden Bough' is filled with examples of rulers who were allowed a specific period of kingship, after which they were sacrificed and another king chosen or appointed. It has been suggested that the Archigallus of the cult of Attis originally became Attis and was hanged from the Tree in the Temple. Only later was a figure substituted for a real human being, and the outpourings of blood from the worshippers splattered onto the statue would allow the statue to acquire the essence of a human sacrifice.

Contemporary pagans for the most part celebrate the Eostre Sabbat simply as a celebration of the renewal of life. The old connection with sacrifice has disappeared. Although the act of leaping through or over a fire was part of early Spring rituals throughout Europe, it is Beltane that now is considered the real fire festival and huge bonfires are lit on the first of May.

Holi, a Hindu Spring Festival has many similaries with Nawroz. The bonfire is lit on the eve of the Festival. The Festival itself is a festival of colour, but it is preceded by an ancient Fire ritual. The 'sacrifice' in Holi is an interesting one. The tale involves a conflict between good and evil, with the ultimate triumph of the 'good' boy who emerges from the fire unscathed and the defeat of the 'evil' woman who, although she supposedly had the power to protect herself from being burned, failed to do so and was consumed. This, however, is a 'gloss' on a far more ancient ritual.

The ancients believed that Fire was sacred. Fire, like water, is an element that purifies. It creates smoke, a creature of air that rises to heaven itself. The ashes it creates could be considered the transformed essence of the object consumed by flame. Furthermore, the most ancient form of light to dispel darkness is fire. Before electricity, humanity used fire in order to prolong the period of light after the setting of the sun. Fire was a source of warmth as well as a means by which food could be cooked.

Another 'magical' property of fire is its ability to shape metal. When human beings discovered how to work with metal, they were able to create tools and weapons far more powerful than anything previously available. The Bronze Age was born from fire. We tend to forget the vital importance that fire played in the lives of our ancestors.

In many ancient myths throughout the world, there is a common tale of the Goddess who takes a young boy destined to become ruler into her care. Usually she disguises herself as a nursemaid and convinces the mother to allow her to care for the child. Each night, she places the child inside a fire. One night, the mother witnesses this and snatches the boy from the fire, believing that she has saved her child from an awful fate.

The Goddess then reveals herself and declares that she was making the boy immortal but that, having been interrupted, he will be vulnerable in one specific spot. (This is the source of what now is known as Achilles' heel.) It is the fate ultimately of the ruler in each of these old myths to be killed when an enemy discovers his weakness.

Fire therefore was considered to possess the power to make a being immortal. There are many tales of individuals who walked into a fire only to emerge triumphant from it. Human beings can walk upon hot coals and flames without being burned and there are those who know the trick of swallowing flames. Even now, fire has its allure.

The old Iranian religion of Zoroaster was a Fire religion and Nawroz is based upon this. There actually is an old tale to explain the Festival, although it probably was created after the fact as is often the case with respect to ancient rituals.
Over 2500 years ago, there was a king named Dhahak or Zuhad. He ruled with an iron fist and each day two young boys were sacrificed and their brains fed to the twin serpents that grew from each of his shoulders. (The Serpent God is an ancient character found throughout the world.)

As one might expect, a hero emerged to liberate the people from this monster. He was a blacksmith named Kawa. With the hammer and sickle forged in his smithy, he overthrew the tyrant. Bonfires were lit on every hilltop and rooftop to celebrate this event. This was the beginning of 'Nawroz', the festival of a 'new day'.

The eve of the last Wednesday of the year, known by Iranians as 'Red Wednesday' is the night on which bonfires are made and lit. Every one is supposed to leap over the fire, exclaiming, 'Give me your redness and take away my yellow.' This expression probably refers to the pallour of winter and the healthy ruddy complexion of summer.
The ashes of the bonfire are gathered carefully after the fire is allowed to die down naturally. They then are taken out to the fields and buried in the fields. This practice can be found in old rituals of Spring throughout the world. The ashes are a symbol of the death of winter, but they will bring fertility to the fields.
When the individual who buried the ashes returns to the house and knocks upon the door.

'Who is it?' he is challenged.
'It is I.'
'From whence do you come?'
'From a wedding.'
'What do you bring?'
'Happiness and mirth.'

The door then is opened, and the messenger of the New Year, who has warded off the evil eye and all ill-fortune is allowed to enter.

The Fire Festival is known as 'Charshanbe souri'.

There is another element of the Charshanbe Souri that is reminiscent of the old Roman Festival of Hilaria. Children and even adults often dress in disguise and visit the homes of neighbours, carrying empty metal bowls and spoons. The clashing of the spoons against the bowls alerts the owner of the house who opens the door and places a treat in each bowl. Usually those who are in disguise do not speak, remaining anonymous throughout the ritual.

In the old Festival of Attis, there were similar practices, wherein individuals dressed in costume and went from house to house. Noisemaking in processions is part of most New Year celebrations. The noise drives away evil spirits.

An interesting and rather beautiful custom of Nawroz is the Sofreh, a display that is placed on a large cloth in the centre of the main room of the house. This usually is created a few days before Nawroz and consists of items with great significance.
The items that are included in the Sofreh are as follows:

Candles are placed on the cloth, one for each child in the household. Often an egg accompanies each candle.

A holy book is placed there. For Muslims, it would be the Holy Qur'an. For others, it might be the Avesta, the Bible or a book of poems by Hafez.

The Haftsin: This consists of seven items whose names begin with the letter Sin. The items usually are set on a tray together and can be:
Sib (apple), Sumac, Sir (Garlic), Samanu (wheat pudding), Senjed (jujube fruit), Sohan (a sweet made with honey and nuts), Siyahdane (sesame seeds), Serke (vinegar), Sangak (bread baked on a bed of rocks).
Sometimes, inedible items are substituted, including:
Sekke (coins), Spand (wild rue), Sabzeh (wheat or lentil sprouts).
Originally the seven 'Sin' represented Ahura Mazda and the six Amesha Spentas who help regulate order or 'deen' in this world.

Other items on the sofreh are:
An upright mirror with a hard-boiled egg in the centre.
A bowl of water with an orange and a leaf from a rose bush floating in it.
Live goldfish in a bowl.
Barley, wheat or lentil sprouts growing since early March decorated with a red ribbon and with an orange in the centre.

The sprouting plants probably are the most interesting aspect of this festival as they can be traced back to the plants of Adonis that women grew in small dishes in honour of the god. In parts of Eastern Europe, women still grow wild rue in similar fashion in Spring. The culminating ritual of Nawroz is the same as that of Adonis, as a matter of fact, and can be seen in similar rituals throughout old Europe.

The 'sa'at i tahvil' is the moment when the old year ends and the new year begins. At this point, the entire household must gather round the Sofreh, wearing their new clothes, holding a coin in their hand. Their attention is fixed on the egg in the centre of the mirror. At the moment when the new year begins, the egg will roll on the mirror and the orange will turn over in the bowl of water. Cannons are fired to salute the New Year (wherever there are cannon).

Nawroz celebrations last for thirteen days. On the thirteenth day, the sabzeh is taken to a body of running water and thrown into it, precisely as the plants of Adonis were thrown in the water in the distant past.

Fortunetelling is a huge part of Nawroz and there are many rituals and old traditions relating to fortune. Girls will conceal themselves on street corners to overhear conversations of strangers. The first utterance of the stranger will be taken as an omen. This is known as 'falgush'. Another ritual is 'gereh gushai' whereby a person will tie a knot in his/her clothing and ask the first person crossing his/her path to untie it. This is supposed to bring resolution to any problem the person may have.

Many people refer to the book on the Sofreh as a means of fortune-telling by opening it randomly at any page and pointing to a line without reading it first. The line thus designated will contain a prediction for the coming year.

Nawroz is an occasion for gift-giving. People often give 'eydi' or Eid gifts, and even promotions in a job may be delayed until the New Year as being more auspicious if given then. Rather like an Easter egg hunt, there is a traditional game that is played with coins. The coins are hidden beneath the edges of carpets in a house and members of the family then search for them. Special coins or crisp new banknotes often form eydi, given ordinarily by the head of any household to family and visitors.

Nawroz is the last contemporary celebration of a New Year in our Calendar. In some ancient cultures, the New Year was celebrated on 1 November after the last harvest and the last slaughter of animals before the Winter. I do not think there is any culture now that celebrates the New Year at the end of Autumn, although in the Islamic lunar calendar, the first day of Muharram will fall on a different day each year and a different month every few years. New Year for Muslims therefore can be celebrated in Spring, Summer, Autumn or Winter. This was an attempt by Prophet Muhammad to distance people from the old seasonal rhythm of life and to set a pure relationship with God in its place. Although Islamic daily prayer or salah follows the rhythm of the sun and in fact, in many ways Islam is very much attuned to Nature and natural forces and elements, the Calendar is not.

Although contemporary society professes to be 'beyond' any need to propitiate the fates and our natural rhythms are obscured by artificial light and heat, people continue to look for 'closure' in their lives and to celebrate new beginnings. New Year celebrations are as popular now as ever, even if their original purposes sometimes have been forgotten.

The Reality of Dreams

One cannot discuss reality or realities without discussing dreams. In Islam, dreams are divided into three different categories. There are 'Ru'yaa', good or 'true' visions that bring glad tidings from Allah, 'Hulum', bad dreams bringing discouragement or sorrow, believed to be from Shaitan and finally dreams that are from the 'ramblings of the self' and include those dreams that are a curious mixture of recent occurrences, aspirations and fears. The third category is the most common, and is the work of our unconscious/subconscious, churning out films on a daily basis in the factory of our psyche and offering them to our conscious mind during slumber.

Of dreams from the first category, it is said that: 'Those of you with the truest dreams will be those who are most truthful in speech.' This was related in a hadith by Salih Muslim.

It is not surprising that it is considered to be a grave sin if one fabricates a dream and relates it to others in order to attempt to influence them. After all, if 'ru'yaa' are from Allah, then a false claim as to a dream of this kind would amount to an attempt to put false words into the mouth of God.

Most religions and traditions recognise these different categories even if they are not clearly delineated. After all, there are 'seers' or psychics in every culture who are able to dream/see the future, uncover secrets and see that which is hidden. One need not sleep in order to dream.

As for the dreams from 'Shaitan', these would be the dreams that falsely predict death or misfortune. Whether or not one wishes to believe that an actual entity is responsible for these, almost every one probably has experienced at least one dream of this sort in his/her lifetime.

In many cultures, dreaming was a religious exercise and often performed in a temple or other location dedicated to a deity or otherwise considered sacred. Dream 'incubation' was an effort to open the soul to divine messages or inspiration while sleeping in a sacred precinct. No doubt, rituals of preparation, including cleansing and purification, facilitated the process. By removing oneself from the distractions of ordinary life, one would be prepared to enter another realm or at least touch that other reality in a dream state.

In ancient Egypt, there was a 'Master of Secrets' who interpreted dreams that occurred during incubation. The ancient Greeks had similar rites, and pilgrimages were undertaken to temples where incubation was likely to achieve success. The Aesculapius at Epidaurus was a popular destination.

In many cultures throughout the world, a priest/priestess or shaman performed this duty as well as translating or otherwise communicating messages from other realms.

Oracles in ancient times were trained to 'dream' and to have waking visions in order to discover the answers to questions or otherwise communicate with the gods. The oracle at Delphi is one of the most famous of these ancient ambassadors from one realm to another. Shamans in Siberia actually climbed a 'ladder to heaven' in the form of a special birch tree and built a platform at its top in order to 'dream' and travel to other realms from a place situated between heaven and earth. It is dreams experienced during sleep rather than waking visions, however, that are the subject of this post.

In the 2nd century, Artemidorus wrote five books in which he collected dream interpretations from various sources and creates a system of classification. Rather than recognising three divisions, he divided dreams into two categories: Enhypria and Oneiroi. Enhypria is the category for dreams that are based on anxiety or represent a 'petition' or supplication with respect to a situation in real life. Oneiroi are the dreams that predict the future and Artemidorus recognised two different types of prophetic dream. 'Theorematic dreams' are prophecies that are straightforward depictions of the future. Allegorical dreams are those that 'hint in the manner of a riddle'.

Incubation is a practice embraced by devotees of many different religions, including Christianity. Even in the early 20th century, this tradition still was practiced in the Mediterranean. It has a valid foundation, actually, for any one who believes that the creation of a sacred space facilitates any spiritual connection or experience. Whether or not an actual visitation by another entity will occur is irrelevant. If a dream results in a cure or inspired response to any question, then the incubation has been successful. Perhaps some of these cures are nothing more than the power of 'mind over matter' but the power of dreams and prophecy goes far beyond that in some cases.

A philosopher named Heraclitus in the 5th century declared that dreams were the creation of a person's own mind or psyche and Aristotle supported this theory in his work, 'Parva Naturalia'. Although Aristotle, in his zeal to propound natural principles argued that prophetic dreams were seldom more than mere coincidence and that successful dream interpretation was nothing more than a skill based on psychology and the ability to make inferences drawn from facts, he admitted that all dreams could not be explained in this fashion. His observation that many dreams appeared to be based on recollection of the day's events and that dreams often reflected an individual's state of health were astute, however, setting the stage for modern psychology.

It would be a mistake, however, to dismiss dreams as nothing more than creations of the mind. I believe that one should be open to the belief that dreams can be a conduit through which communication from other realms can occur and even a means by which participation in existence in other realms can take place.

This brings one to the question: Does one simply remember the past in dreams or can one actually revisit the past? Can one live an alternate reality in a dream or is it simply a form of entertainment?

In my own experience of dreams, I have been able to visit the same places again and again and establish long-term relationships with individuals never met in this reality. Often cities that I know in reality will be mirrored in my dreams, but there are differences that are found, not in a single dream, but in dream after dream, year after year. From early childhood, my dream 'London' and my dream 'Paris' have differed from the Paris and London of reality and yet the same streets, buildings, houses and inhabitants have endured through decades of dreaming. Nepal in my dreams is not the same Nepal in which I lived as a young girl, but it is a detailed land that I revisit again and again. People in these places experience dramas through the years that are recalled and have effects in dreams that occur afterwards. In other words, these dream places appear to have their own histories and timelines.

I would not argue that they are 'real' in any objective sense, but I would not dismiss that possibility either.
Moreover, this sort of dream defies 'interpretation' in any symbolic sense, as it is another life that has too many details and too huge a landscape to be reduced to any symbol or even emotional connection. I experience victories as well as defeats, pleasure as well as pain, loss as well as new friendships in these dreams.

That is not to say that I do not experience the classical 'symbolic' dreams for which books like the 'Oneirocriticon' and 'Royal Book of Dreams' were written. Every one experiences dreams of this sort, but I do tend to agree with those who would argue for personal symbolism in lieu of universal meanings. If there is any common symbolic meaning to objects appearing in dreams, it would be derived from a common cultural heritage or religion.

Alfred Maury's assertion that all dreams have their catalyst in external stimuli would support the theory that symbolism found in dreams would have to be interpreted according to a subjective individual lexicon. This would not negate the interpretations made by skilled 'dream interpreters'. For example, when individuals made a pilgrimage to a specific location in order to undergo incubation, the symbols in their dreams would be interpreted according to the religion or tradition of that temple or sacred precinct. I would disagree with Maury in his inability to accept the idea that some dreams may be the work of 'divine' or otherwise 'beyond this reality' forces but most dreams we experience do support his thesis.

Freud's fixation on the sexual component as a basis for everything has been discredited, but Jung's work on dreams and mythology embraces a number of different disciplines, allowing us the possibility of using dreams as a means by which we can understand ourselves better as well as influencing our own potential and actions.

Whether or not dreams represent 'facts', they are a 'fact of life' and one that has enriched my life immensely. There is a danger in dreaming as well, especially if our dreams are far more seductive and entertaining than our 'real' life. I know that there was a time in my own life, during adolescence, when I could not wait to fall asleep at night, because every dream was a fantastic adventure. At that period, writing was another means by which I could create a reality that was far less painful and far more fulfilling than the one in which I was forced to 'live'. I would not like to fall into that error again, but I would like to be inspired again to create a vision and reality through words that outlasts the night!

N.B. As I am an academic at heart who trusts only primary sources, I have added a new section on Dreams to this journal that gives links to many ancient works that deal with dreams and dream interpretations.

Happy Twelfth Night!

,The tale of the three Magi who gazed into the heavens and discovered a 'new star', following that star for hundreds of miles to a cave to pay homage to the Divine Child is a powerful one. For children, the idea that the Three Kings re-enact this amazing journey each Yuletide season in order to visit every home, leaving chocolates, money, oranges and/or other gifts in their shoes makes Twelfth Night the occasion of another magical visitation. (Many leave carrots for the camels as well as a dish of water for them, recognising their incredible labours on this night.)

Father Christmas, the Three Kings and the Tooth Fairy are among the most beloved magical 'visitors' in a child's life. Those who 'outgrow' these symbols of magic may pride themselves on their maturity but I rather pity them. As I told a child who related the mockery of her classmates to me, 'Well, if they don't believe in Santa Claus, I very much doubt he will fill THEIR stockings again!' Like the land of 'make-believe', we are required to suspend our own disbelief in order to pass through the gates, and without our contributions to the landscape, that land will be barren and uninhabited.

I prefer to populate the landscape of my universe with as many magical creatures as possible. This brings me to the age-old subject of Faith.

Spiritual belief is as much a matter of Faith as logic. Without both, the spiritual landscape will be rather barren. We are as much creatures of logic as of faith. This is why we are compelled to base some of our religious or spiritual beliefs on logic and/or science. On the other hand, Faith is something that transcends logic and operates outside its limits. That is why we are called upon to make a 'leap of Faith' where spiritual matters are concerned. That leap need not be over a treacherous chasm or abyss, but the nature of the space over which we leap is not relevant to the destination. We must have the courage to make that leap if we wish to reach the other side.

In Northern mythology, the Rainbow Bridge Bifrost represents the 'leap of Faith'. Many traditions include a bridge of this nature, as thin and sharp as a 'knife's edge', but a bridge that will bring the traveler to the other side at last, provided he/she has the courage and determination to keep walking. Look down if you will, but do not be paralysed or utterly undone by the sight. Most people are advised to keep their eyes (and spirits) firmly directed to the goal. Perhaps it is only the greatest prophets and seers who are able to witness all that lies in the dimension between heaven and earth, or between this reality and the other.

As for that other reality, we cannot live perpetually in that place, but must be disciplined enough to live in this reality as well, committing ourselves sufficiently to it to provide for our needs and the needs of others. The most 'balanced' human being, I believe, is the one who can spend time both in this realm and the other, whether or not that other realm is named 'Imagination', 'Creativity', 'Religion' or 'the Path to Heaven'. Our spiritual energy is derived from that other realm, but the energy must be channeled into THIS life and this reality. Otherwise, its purpose is lost.

For a Muslim, the time spent on the prayer rug is time spent in that other realm. 'Qurbatan ilallah' or 'nearness to God' is the term that reflects this 'sacred space/time'. A Catholic or Buddhist may use a string of beads as a 'ladder to Heaven' and Muslims actually use a tasbih ('a reminder' in the form of a string of beads) in the same fashion. The idea of the prayer rug, however, appeals to me immensely.

The pagan creates a sacred circle, often with candles and symbols in each of the four quarters. The prayer rug or musalah achieves the same result. When salat (prayer) ends, the rug is folded or rolled up and put away, for it is a sacred space and thus should not be used as an ordinary carpet or rug would be used.

Even some one who does not practice Islam must be enraptured by the sight of an exquisite silk rug with the pattern of the Tree of Life in a mihrab (sacred arch). This ancient pattern embodies many universal symbols dealing with the relationship between Heaven and Earth, God and Human. The Tree is the ladder that joins Heaven and Earth. Branches of the Tree represent different aspects of existence or different stages of enlightenment, depending on the tradition one follows. In some traditions (including Christianity), the Tree of Life and Death is the symbol of the Sacrificed God, and that which unites Life and Death in the form of Rebirth. The Vine that must be cut in order to live again is an ancient Dionysian symbol, among others.

The mihrab or arch is the signpost that directs the worshipper to Makkah. In every mosque, the mihrab faces Makkah. Makkah is the ultimate sacred space for the Muslim and is the destination of the ultimate earthly pilgrimage.

I believe that the mihrab is far more than an indication of 'qibla' or direction of prayer. It is the window through which the soul can catch a glimpse of the Divine.

It is interesting to note that ancient myths of Canaan speak of the abode of Gods as a dwelling with windows that must be opened in order to allow rain and sustenance to reach humanity. One of the ancient tales about Ba'al or the 'Lord' relates to his fear of windows. In his first house, he refused to build any windows, for fear that his rival Mot ('Death') would enter through the window to kidnap his wives and daughters! By denying that potential access to his rival, however, he denied himself any connection with Earth and his own worshippers. The Earth could not survive without life-giving rain. Ba'al was forced to allow windows to be added to his dwelling, else he would perish in a prison of his own making.

There is a spiritual lesson here for every one.

Incidentally, neither Ba'al nor Mot were the Supreme Deity. El had power over both, and El referred to both Ba'al and Mot as 'His Beloved'. Titles given to both were 'the Beloved of El'. Death, therefore, was not perceived as a monster until later, when the myths began to reflect the beliefs of invaders who did not accept that Sky and Earth should be twin parts of a whole, but who sought to claim precedence for Life over Death and created the image of a 'Sky God' who would subjugate all other powers and be forever in the ascendant.

This contradicts reality, of course. In the original myths, Mot and Ba'al were equal in power and would fight one another for supremacy in ritual fashion. When vanquished, Mot would be 'winnowed' like the grain and would become bread for humanity. When victorious, Ba'al would be forced to visit the Underworld or womb of the Earth, to spend a season there before emerging again on the shoulders of the Sun. In this mythology, the Sun was female, by the way. This vision of a strong, powerful female who carries the corpse of the male upon her shoulders reminds one of the tales of the Northern valkyrie Brunnhilde. Shapash, the Sun, in fact, by bringing the body of Ba'al from the Underworld, acted as Saviour, and enabled his rebirth.

I see that my ramblings have brought me quite a distance from Twelfth Night to the ancient tale of Ba'al! That is the prerogative of a blog writer, however. There is no regulation or literary convention that forces me to remain 'on target'. If no one else reads this entry, at least I have had the enjoyment of revisiting old myths and traditions... I hope that some one else might find them as interesting as I do, but if not, I make no apologies. After all, is not 'writer satisfaction' not part of the purpose of a blog?

I am going to return to the traditions of Twelfth Night, however, as today marks the Festival of the Epiphany, at least for the Western Church.

Another old tradition of Twelfth Night is a Cake with a bean hidden in it. The person who finds the Bean becomes 'King/Queen of the Bean' and chooses a consort blindfolded. All persons of the opposite gender form a circle and begin to dance round the blindfolded monarch who reaches out to one when inspired to do so, thereby allowing 'Chance' to preside where the sacred marriage is concerned.

In some traditions, the King/Queen of the Bean will sit upon a throne and give commands to all his/her subjects. Often these commands involve the performance of an absurd act. In other traditions, the King/Queen is given a special gift... In most traditions, the primary duty of the King or Queen is to give the next Twelfth Night party.

In our home, Twelfth Night was the occasion of the 'Children's Party'. It was the only time when we were allowed to invite other children to our house for a celebration. I have to confess that my sister and I never invited any other girls to the house, because we made the Twelfth Night party into a formal 'Dinner Dance' affair and invited only boys in order to give ourselves a good and constant selection of dancing partners. Each boy was required to dress formally and bring flowers or a 'corsage'. Looking back on this, I am rather amazed that any boy would attend! The fact that they came to our party every year is even more amazing. I doubt they ever danced on any other occasion but we taught them ballroom dances and forced them to partner us until midnight. I can remember that I wore out a new pair of dancing slippers in a single evening,
and the dancing was relentless.

(How many boys actually enjoy dancing? Few, I suspect. Our friends probably enjoyed the 'King of the Bean' antics more than the dance programme.)

I do not know what our friends really thought of these evenings or if they remember them half as fondly as I do. I did speak to them years later about our Twelfth Night parties and they claimed they had enjoyed them but that may have been nothing more than courtesy or kindness on their part. I know their favourite festival with us was our annual Harvest Moon festival when we paraded through the quiet village streets with lanterns and chanting, much to the bewilderment of the old people who dominated the community. The best year, one friend declared, was the year that a candle set a lantern aflame, and we had to improvise quickly and pretend that a bonfire was a scheduled part of the ritual. Were we eccentric adolescents or were we juvenile delinquents? Being 'gifted' unfortunately made us immune to many of the judgements that would have been rendered otherwise by society. I obviously was not much of a 'follower' even then but I hope I require a much higher standard of behaviour from myself now. (People often tell me I am far too sentimental about the past, and it probably is true. On the other hand, I believe that we have the power to fashion our own book of memories, and when doing so, why should we not remember the best and discard the rest?)

Despite the dictatorial mandates of our Twelfth Night celebrations, I do believe they were kinder than some of the ancient year-end rituals. An old English custom required the slaying of a wren by the men or boys of the village. The wren then was displayed on a pole and carols were sung:

'We hunted the wren for Robin the Bobbin,
We hunted the wren for Jack of the Can,
We hunted the wren for Robin the Bobbin,
We hunted the wren for every one.'

This sacrifice of the wren or the sacrifice of a boar or pig represented the ancient sacrifice of the King or even of the God. The wren once was considered the 'King of the Birds' and represented the God who ruled over half the year. With its sacrifice, Spring and Summer could return.

This mirrors the ancient Canaanite sacrifice of Mot, who was harvested, beaten, and then made into bread to be eaten. As well as being the Ruler of the Underworld, he was the God of the Grain.

These are but a few of my Twelfth Night memories and musings. I come to the end of this Yuletide season with a sense that it passed too quickly. With some horror, I have seen shelves groaning with chocolates for St. Valentine's Day and Valentine cards in the local supermarkets since New Year's Day. Although I love festivals and holidays, surely there is no harm in enjoying and being satisfied with a few days of ordinary time. As with the contrast between darkness and light, a festival is defined mainly by its contrast with ordinary days. Let us at least have a decent interval in which we can put away the Yuletide decorations, spending a moment with each, remembering the year when it was given or first added to the collection or to be reminded of the giver before we begin to think about St. Valentine's Day!

I would like to end on a positive note, with an ancient prayer:

'As Above, so Below,
As the Universe, the Soul,
As Without, so Within,
To You, O Blessed and Gracious One/Ones,
I consecrate Body, Mind and Spirit,
Now and Forever, Blessed Be.'

Fairly universal in its application, I think.

If I were in London, I think I would spend the day visiting the treasures of Sutton Hoo. I am a firm believer in the power of heritage, and that ancient ship burial is a powerful relic. Combining both pagan and Christian traditions, cremation with inhumation, it brings the powers of earth and sky together, as well as the best of ancient Anglo-Saxon art (and riches). It is a treasure trove for all the senses. It was Sutton Hoo that set my spirit aflame as a child, and gave me a profound and immediate connection with our past. (Never mind the time and spacial difference... I shall visit it as best I can in my imagination until I can return there in reality.)

The End of the Hajj

I have written so much about the Winter Solstice and nothing about the Hajj. This year, the Hajj occurred during the Yuletide season and concluded yesterday in Makkah. Throughout the world, Muslims are celebrating the blessings of this season, in the lunar month that is named for the Hajj. One of the last rituals is the sacrifice of a goat in commemoration of Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son. The Eid Al Adha or the Feast of the Sacrifice is one of the primary festivals in Islam. Allah did not require this ultimate sacrifice but the willingness of Ibrahim as well as the mercy of Allah is remembered in this rite. In mosques throughout the world, as Yves reminded me in his blog entry, Muslims join in spiritual solidarity with all those fortunate enough to have made the actual pilgrimage this year.

The various rituals involved in the Hajj are powerful and encompass almost every facet of spiritual power. Pilgrims to Makkah celebrated the solar New Year in the shadow of the Kaaba in this year's Hajj. People who have made the Hajj are transformed by it. To combine the two traditions, solar New Year with the performance of one of the Islamic Pillars of Faith must have been a truly extraordinary experience. Rather than attempting to fit the Eid al Adha into the solar New Year, why not be willing to celebrate both fully? Why does contemporary society feel that time spent on traditional holidays is time wasted? Why not have more days to celebrate? A holiday is a day on which one should count ones blessings. Instead, too many people are worried about the next job assignment or something equally transient. Even though the Eid al Adha is a three-day festival traditionally, practical matters often intervene in the lives of Muslims as much as they do in the lives of those practicing other faiths. (Incidentally, the Islamic New Year should begin in this solar month this year, on 20 January. The Islamic lunar Calendar depends on an actual sighting of the Crescent. There is an immediate and real connection with our universe in that, unlike a mere calculation based on numbers.)

Magic and Reality

For any one who studies or practices magic, all seasons are magical, as 'natural magic' seeks to comprehend and harness natural powers. The season of the Winter Solstice always has felt particularly magical to me, however, and the way that Christian traditions incorporate ancient pagan ones is for me a compelling reason to participate in all of these beautiful rituals.

Children fascinated with magic often think in terms of making things happen that are contrary to 'natural law' but I always believed that magic was a matter rather of tapping into natural law. There is an old magical analogy of life as a river. The magician or practitioner of magic simply learns how to divert the flow of the water.

By this means, it is possible to change the course of one's life or the course of events to some extent. To what extent it is possible to affect natural powers such as the wind and rain would depend on the skill of the practitioner. It is interesting to compare a modern meteorologist with an ancient witch. After all, they have discovered that clouds can be 'seeded' with rain, haven't they? I am not much of a scientist alas. I often wish I had found science more interesting as a child. It appeared dry and tedious, when in fact it deals with the very structure of our planet and our existence here.

Unfortunately, Christianity and Science presented themselves as adversaries to some extent in past centuries and this ridiculous emnity has poisoned the wells of knowledge in the West. The 'Age of Enlightenment' did not improve the relationship between Christianity and Science, seeking to disprove the existence of God and attempting to set Science as a Deity in His/Her stead, rather than acknowledging a binding relationship between them. Islam, on the other hand, declares that science is a matter of learning more about Allah. To love Allah is to try to understand all of Allah's creations. 'Nearness to God' is achieved with knowledge rather than ignorance.

I am not an advocate for any organised religion, but I do believe that a life without a spiritual foundation is an empty shell of an existence. Religions merely offer signposts and often these signposts misdirect, but at the heart of every great religion must be a desire to understand as much as possible about the 'other realm', that world that we cannot see and yet of which each one of us is aware to varying degrees.

Some perceive this 'other realm' as one which is above us somewhere in the heavens, where some see it as another layer of our own reality. I have had an awareness of layers of existence on more than one occasion, and this awareness was so vast and complex that my senses could not support it. It was akin to sensory 'overload'. I believe that my friend Fleming has experienced this as well.

Of course, there are those who might say that this sounds suspiciously like madness... In my opinion, the fundamental difference between a madman and a seer is that the seer has some control over his/her visions and always retains the power of return. The madman, on the other hand, cannot return to this reality at will.
I feared that as a child, actually. I longed to visit other realms but I feared that if I allowed myself to believe too strongly in any fantasy, I might find myself imprisoned in it.