Since my trip to the Smithy over 18 months ago, it seems Silence has wrapped itself around me.  As much as I wanted to write about the experience of that pilgrimage, the words wouldn’t come–so much so that when I tried to force myself with the artificial deadline of a scheduled essay, I then forgot about that deadline, and had an unfinished post be published as a result!

Sharing knowledge and experience is essential to regrowing polytheistic paths and perpetuating mystery traditions. But how much is too much?  I think in the age of instantaneous communication, we speed too readily towards the sharing of our most profound experiences.  The desire to turn UPG into PCPG (peer-corroborated personal gnosis) can lead down into a dark, dark rabbit warren of group-think and egregores.

Indeed, in my more trusting youth I shared things with online acquaintances that I should not have, dreams and visions I should have kept close and let incubate and inform my practice, things which ultimately were relevant to me and me alone.  Sharing them diluted their power and in some cases, even led to the hijacking of those experiences by an echo-chamber effect of well meaning, but ultimately erroneous co-religionists.  I craved external validation, as if that would somehow make my experiences more real, more acceptable.

It has quite literally taken years to sort out what was real and true, and to find my way back into a coherent practice.  Thank gods for the work of the Ovate grade and for the wonderful real-life Grove members, friends, and neighbors who helped keep me steady and grounded throughout the untangling process.  Community and acts of service are the touch-stones that keeps the cunning folk from sinking into delusion and madness.  Without them, we are lost.

The Four Powers of the Sphinx, sometimes called the Witch’s Pyramid, consist of the oft quoted “To Know, To Will, To Dare, To Shut the Fuck Up Keep Silence.”  I’ve stood at the edge of Silence for long enough now, I think.  Going forward, may I have the wisdom to know when to write, when to speak…and when to STFU.

Nearly a year ago, I made a pilgrimage to Wayland’s Smithy.  I really didn’t know what to expect.  In my mind, it’s a holy place.  Yes, I know it’s a Neolithic burial chamber.  I know it originally had nothing to do with the Anglo-Saxon fairy smith.  And yet, it now has his name.  His mythology began as an accrual over the stones, but now has seeped into the masonry of folk memory.

In the tomb, with growing horror I rifled through hoodie pockets, jacket pockets, sweater pockets and finally my Druid bug-out bag in search of some appropriate offering for the Smith. My shoulder brushed the passageway, and again echoes of hammer and iron and anvil floated across my mind.

Four dot, is what will make a square, a bed to build on, it’s all there.
—”Growing Up” by Peter Gabriel

As the story goes, once Three can into being from One and Two, all manner of Shining Beings were born. Some chose to roam the inky blackness between the stars, their skin mirroring the cool glossy darkness of the void. Others dove into the centers of suns, burning with the brightness of nuclear fire. Still others settled on spheres of cooling rock, playing endlessly in soupy atmospheres and liquid stone.

Some of the Shining Ones settled on this planet, our home. And as the organic beings divided, recombined, multiplied and evolved, so did their luminous cousins. Thus things continued until the the Shining Ones drew a Veil between themselves and the creatures of matter that dwelt on Terra. It was still possible to travel to the Undying Lands, but most only did so in their dreams.

This night honors spirits of all kinds, those who exist glittering at the edges of our vision. These are the spirits of our tribe, the gods large and small, named and unnamed; the spirits of place, of root, rock, and water; and our own ancestors who have chosen to dwell in those luminous halls after they passed from this life. Tonight we give thanks to all these beings, and hold our breaths in wonder and anticipation of what morning will bring.