Название: The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A–Z for the Entire Magical World
Автор: Judika Illes
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эзотерика
isbn: 9780007372034
isbn:
Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, a famous Irish prayer attributed to that snake-banishing saint, begs God’s protection against “incantations of false prophets, against the black laws of paganism, against spells of women, smiths and druids, against all knowledge that is forbidden the human soul.”
Although in Christian myth, Original Sin, triggered by the serpent’s temptation of Eve, is often understood to be sex, a close reading of the Bible reveals that what the snake really offers Eve is knowledge. In fact, wherever snakes and people exist together, snakes are associated with wisdom—and with witchcraft. In various subversive retellings of that biblical tale, ancient Gnostic as well as neo-Pagan, the snake is attempting to assist Eve, to be her ally, not to entrap her.
Looking through the witch’s eyes may offer a very different perspective than that which many modern people are accustomed. One sees a world of power and mystery, full of secrets, delights, and dangers to be uncovered. However it is not a black-and-white world; it is not a world with rigidly distinct boundaries but a transformative world, a world filled with possibility, not what is but what could be, a blending, fluid, shifting but rhythmically consistent landscape.
It is no accident that the heavenly body universally associated with witchcraft is the moon, whose shape changes continually, although her rhythm is constant
It is no accident that the element universally associated with witchcraft is water, whose tides are ruled by the moon; water appears, disappears, changes shape, shifts continually, but remains rhythmically constant
It is no accident that the human gender most associated with witchcraft is the female one: the female body, like lunar phases and ocean tides, changes continually, often to the despair of the individual woman herself, although the rhythms also possess consistency if we let ourselves feel them.
Although this may resonate in the souls of witches it doesn’t explain the allure witches hold for so many who do not identify themselves as witches. Why the almost universal fascination with witches? Maybe because they’re fun. Yes, there are tragedies associated with witchcraft (just look at this book’s section on the Burning Times), sorry days in the history of witchcraft, but those tragedies are not witchcraft’s defining factor. So many in both the general public and the magical community are attracted to witches precisely because they are fun, and in fact that’s a very serious point about witchcraft.
During a particularly dour era in Europe, between the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries, witches were consistently condemned for, among other things, having fun. Among the charges typically brought against witches was that instead of attending church and being solemn and serious, they were out partying, whether with each other, the devil, with fairies or the Wild Hunt. Among the crimes associated with witchcraft was having fun at a time when fun was suspect. What exactly were those witches accused of doing at their sabbats? Feasting, dancing, making love. So-called telltale signs of witchcraft are those stereotypes that automatically brand a woman as a witch: among the most common is loud, hearty laughter—the infamous witches’ cackle.
While others mortified their flesh, the witches applied sensual unguents. While others deprived themselves, the witches indulged. It’s not surprising that on Halloween, a night when repressions are set free, so many don the garb of the witch. In a time of repression, witches danced secretly in the forest. They were accused of flying away from their husbands and responsibilities to consort with the devil, portrayed by the witch-hunters as a being of tremendous, unflagging sexuality. The devil, at least as portrayed in trial transcripts, never gets tired and never demands that you do your housework.
Cards on the table. According to the tenets of French postmodernist literature, it is impossible for an author to remove themselves completely from the content of their work. In other words, no author is capable of writing a completely unbiased work and thus should address their personal beliefs and biases up front. This is probably particularly true when writing about a topic like witchcraft that inspires such passionate emotion. Therefore, I feel I should come clean about my own perceptions of witchcraft.
I confess: ever since I was old enough to toddle, I’ve dressed up as a witch on Halloween, never as anything else, even into adulthood. Even now, I own a “Morticia” dress. Once at a masquerade party a man who knew next to nothing about me commented how comfortable I seemed in that dress, my “costume.” It’s true: as a child, had I been this articulate, I would have said that Halloween was the only night of the year that I wasn’t dressing up.
I love witches and have done ever since I can remember. I craved fairy tales as a child: the witch resonated in my soul (my version of her anyway) and I identified with her instead of fearing her as I knew, even then, was the expected response.
What is it that I loved about the witch? These are hard things to articulate because, as the Jungians write, the witch-figure touches such deep primal emotions that an exploration of what attracts or repels us about witchcraft becomes an exploration of one’s deepest self. Certainly the magical aspect of witchcraft attracted me; I was simultaneously attracted to astrology, divination, and occult philosophy. But I also think that, as a child raised to be very “good,” “well-behaved,” and “obedient” the defiant quality inherent in witches was extremely attractive. Of course, the witch can afford to be defiant (at least in folk tales) because she has the power to back up her disobedience. As a child raised amid adults possessing many psychic wounds, a child raised to have a lot of fear, the witch’s lack of fear, her knowledge of secret defenses, her willingness to have fun and break rules, as well as her ability to instill fear in others resonated deeply within me, as I think it does for so many regardless of spiritual affiliation or belief in the existence of magic, although that resonance may inspire either devotion or revulsion depending upon the individual.
If you read studies of witchcraft, especially older or more academic ones, it’s clear that it never occurs to many authors that were the witch-hunts to resume they too might be accused, condemned by their very interest in the topic. However, it is not the victim with whom they identify, hence the focus on the Witch-hunters, judges, and general public. For a variety of reasons, I have never had any doubt as to which end of the stake I’d find myself on.
I identify with the witch, always. As a child, my least favorite fairy tales were the ones where the witch is made to appear irredeemably grotesque—Hansel and Gretel, for instance. Even then, I understood this as defamation and distortion and perceived that in some way it was directed toward me. Frankly the French postmodernists are right: I can no more write neutrally about witch-hunters than I could about Nazi genocide, white supremacists or serial killers. (Although, as the French postmodernists would point out, neither can anyone else, whether they realize it or not.)
That said, I also appreciate that many who perceive the witch as evil, corrupt, and devilish do so from sincerity and religious conviction, not from foolishness and superstition. Witchcraft touches enormous chords within the human soul and not all perceive these chords as positive. Denying the reactions, making fun of those who perceive the witch as dangerous, further denies the complexity of the witch.
As a child, I loved pretty much anything featuring a witch: Wendy Witch, Bewitched, Baba Yaga, Andrew Lang’s fairy tales. The only entertainment featuring a witch that I didn’t enjoy—positively dreaded when it appeared on TV annually—was the film version СКАЧАТЬ