JackTHorn's Drifting Life

Amethyst-eyed Dionysos, bare feet caked in mud, twigs in his long curls, is dancing between the evergreens. 

He toes the edge of the property, banging against the chain link fence in tune with a drum only he hears. His hot breath puffs out into smoke clouds, which pour through the ice laden fence. With red-stained fingers, he grips the chain like a dancer partner and then slips through the spaces. The cold of the cement slab surrounding the correctional facility shocks his feet momentarily, and still he dances. He abruptly slams into a door. How amusing! What is a locked door to the Mad God? Don’t they know he’s needed within? 

Uplifted on hazy wings of smoke, Dionysos dances down empty hallways and through the spaces of a cell’s bars. With a dirt caked under his fingernails, he blesses the occupants: a dozing alcoholic, and a boy made a man by heroin-white violence. 

He blesses their slumber, their feverish dreams, the madness that claws at them. That sort of music, Dionysos knows well.

He leaps down the lobby that stinks of body odor and fear, and unlocks the doors from within. 

Finally, release! — and he bursts through like a bull. But the wind whispers a different plan, and carries him southward, down the highway slick with ice, past the gas station, to a building hidden behind a long driveway. 

Vines of ivy choke the welcome sign, so that only the word “rehabilitation” shines through. The Twice-Born God knows intimately the chorus of “Hello, my name is—“. 

Clouds of cigarette smoke secretly expelled through bathroom windows follows him as he lovingly traces a finger along the brick. How many winters had he spent here! 

And then, a chilling breeze whispers to him again, and takes him up, up, up to the window of a woman asleep in her court-mandated bedroom. A rest well deserved, in his opinion.  

Dionysos slips through the spaces and blesses her forehead, slick with a feverish sheen. He blesses the pinpricks and flower-like scars, he blesses her yellow teeth, and then he spins from the bed, dropping leaves and crushed jasmine in his wake to bless the room next to this one. A woman sleeps on her side, dark hair obscuring her face. She is resting from a long dance once tirelessly performed in a role that no longer suited her. 

 The two women share nothing in common, save their feverish dreams, and the madness that claws at them. That music, Dionysos knows well. 

The Wine-Dark God twirls down locked stairwells and reception desks, past the art room and cafeteria. He dances out of the sliding doors and down the driveway, knowing soon he’ll return.

Another breeze chills his bones but this time he knows it’s coming and waltzes with it down the street. The furs adorning his shoulders slip and fall, and he laughs as he picks them up, a reddish hue to his cheeks.

He hops eagerly along the road and up the bus lane. The parking lot sits empty, save a small group of cars huddled together in a corner. He slips through the spaces in the blue doors and dances in the sanitized hallways; the lobby reeks of body odor and fear. The quiet is unnatural to him, usually brimming with romance and betrayal and boredom. 

The lockers sit silently as if sentinels to the moon; shiny but dented, they hide forgotten homework and rolling papers. Dionysos skips down to the auditorium, where music stops and starts over. 

Uncertain voices ring out in celebration of songs written decades ago, whose harmony and lyric still rings out into unripened minds. A boy who does not yet call himself a boy stands at the edge of the stage, drowned in light, his purple dress beautiful, if not a little ill-fitting. 

Dionysos moves slowly, transfixed, as this young boy hesitates to forget the same line again, his fear burning in his throat. Mistake! Mistake! Mistake! 

With a sudden wild look in his eyes, he captures a gulp of air. A courage all the boy’s own wells up inside his chest, and he bursts out with the right line, loud, certain, and unafraid. 

Dionysos laughs and wanders up the stage-left stairs to bless him; the boy would need to hold onto this strength for later. An anxiety swirls within him, a feverish dream, a madness that claws. That music, Dionysos knows well. 

If only for a moment, the Insatiable God finds himself satiated and dances on. He soon leaves the school, and the rehabilitation center and the correctional facility, to head for the trees. 

Amethyst-eyed Dionysos bows to the great pines before him, and begins his dance anew. There is no shame in it, no bashful queasiness; he is a daring dastardly scoundrel of a god, breathing the night air without inhibition. He knows his laughter and stomping dance will awaken the earth from her winter slumber. Dormancy will end.  

For those blessed by him too shall awaken, sleeping now for the time being. Winter will end. Spring will come. He dances for them, for the new growth struggling to break through the snow.  

we know biden isn't perfect. we know there's an obscene amount of work to do still. we know there are still children separated from their parents at the border. we know racism and sexism and transphobia and homophobia are still humongous issues that need immediate action to stop. we know the supreme court is fucked. we know mitch mcconnell is still alive. we know the electoral college still exists and that the police aren't defunded. we know COVID killed a quarter of Americans (and counting) and that we are still in a pandemic that won't be rectified in the USA because of the harmful rhetoric this administration set for half the country to believe not to wear a damn mask. voter suppression and police brutality and the housing market and homelessness and health insurance and student loans and animal abuse and global fucking warming. we know girl.... we been knew

you know what else?? this year was horrid. 2020 was a nightmare. and it has been 4 fucking years since it was remotely peaceful. WE ARE AWARE IT WASN'T PERFECT BEFORE.... BUT IT WASN'T NEARLY AS SUFFOCATING. so i am....... begging you guys to give us a fucking break. huge difference in appreciating what happened yesterday, and purposely not allowing any joy in a joyless year. enjoy this. enjoy the fact that he is leaving after being fucking terrified he could've stayed longer. that we had people rise up to stop him when we could. that although biden isn't a perfect politician and is none of our first choice, we are going to have a sincerely decent human back in charge. that we have a female PoC (for the first time!!!!) by his side. that we got so many people educated about politics in these last few hell years to KEEP IT GOING. WE ALL INTEND TO KEEP THIS GOING. celebrating this election outcome doesn't mean we are abandoning the fight or that we are naive enough to believe everything will be perfect now! it means we have one very substantial win in order to keep us motivated enough to not feel as hopeless as we did last week. this is what we mean when we say let people enjoy things! let this Irish grandpa get in the fucking white house. let's get to inauguration day when TRE45ON is helicoptered out. THEN you can start hounding us to "know" the work isn't done and there's no reason to celebrate.

but right now? there is.

This post is the fifth in a series of posts exploring and celebrating witch archetypes at the eight seasonal festivals.

Lammas is a festival celebrated on August 1. It is descended from the festival of Lughnasadh, an ancient Celtic festival of Pagan origin. Still celebrated by many Neo-Pagans, Lughnasadh is one of the four “fire festivals.” It is the celebration of the first fruits of summer and it has long had connections to both the grain and hay harvests. It is named after the ancient Celtic sky god, Lugh. The “-nasadh” of Lughnasadh means something like “an assembly”, so the phrase “Lughnasadh” can be taken to mean “the assembly of Lugh” (sometimes translated as “the games of Lugh”).

Lughnasadh is traditionally associated with summer fairs. In ancient times, the “assembly” would have been a great fair, with food and games and opportunities for trading and other financial exploits. This tradition has never died out. It is still common to see fairs throughout the British Isles and even the United States and Canada during this time. Traditionally, Lughnasadh would have lasted two weeks.

With the Christianization of Europe, Lughnasadh became Lammas, its new name meaning “Loaf Mass”. Lammas celebrates the grain harvest, which is honored by making loaves of bread from the freshly gathered wheat. These loaves of bread were blessed by priests during Lammas services. These blessed loaves could then be used for folk magic. Superstitious farmers would break the loaves into quarters and hide them in the corners of their houses or barns for protection.

One theme that is prevalent throughout these celebrations is that of sacrifice. The tale of Lughnasadh is one of tragic death. According to an old Irish legend, the goddess Tailtiu, the foster mother of Lugh, cleared the great forest of Breg with an axe to make the plains of Ireland. These plains became fertile farmland. She wanted to provide for her people. However, the work proved to be too great and when she finished clearing the forest, she died. In her honor, Lugh established a festival of funeral games, which would become Lughnasadh. The Paleo-Pagans who inhabited what is now Britain and Ireland would have honored this festival by lighting great bonfires and giving sacrifical offerings to the gods.

Lugh is associated with the sky, but he is also a god of sovereignity and battle. It was he who slayed the giant Balor and threw his eye into the heavens to create the Sun. Even in his sky “aspect”, he is still a god of skill and war. Ancient depictions of Lugh typically show him wearing a torc and holding a spear. The torc is a symbol of sovereignty - he is a god of kings and rulers - and he holds the spear - a tool of war. He is a god of skill; his wars are not the foolish all-destructive wars of modernity, but are the skilled battles of old. He is truly a god of warriors.

The grain of Lammas is a symbol of sacrifice. Consider the drinking song “John Barleycorn”, which personifies the grain as a man who is murdered and cut to pieces. The grain and all the other first fruits of the harvest season fall at Lammas. The year is in decline. According to legend, in ancient Ireland, an old or senile king , no longer useful as a ruler, would be sacrificed at Lughnasadh. Whether this is a historical truth is a matter of some debate, but this theme still maintains its power.

The Christianization of the festival links it with Christ’s suffering on the cross and also his associations with bread and grain. According to the Bible, it was he who died to cleanse mankind of its sins. He is often called a sacrifical lamb. It was prophesied that he would be born in Bethlehem - the House of Bread. It was he who made the fishes and loaves multiply. It was he who said to eat his flesh and drink his blood, and what is his flesh but bread transfigured?

Because sacrifice is a predominant theme in the Lughnasadh/Lammas holidays, let us discuss the witch as warrior. Despite some claims that witches cannot and should not do harm to others, the historical records say otherwise. There are multiple, notable accounts of witches using their craft to defend their homes and loved ones.

We could discuss warding, but that topic is oft-discussed I do not see a need to go more in-depth about it here. Let us discuss, instead, three specific historical examples of practitioners using the magical arts to protect themselves and others.

In this short space, it would be impossible to describe all the accomplishments of Welsh mathematician, astrologer, and occultist John Dee. A Renaissance man in every meaning of the word, Dee was the court magician for Queen Elizabeth I. It was Dee who helped plan expeditions to the New World. It was Dee himself who coined the term “British Empire”. So, when Phillip II of Spain attempted to invade England in 1588, it was said that John Dee took action. According to legend, Dee used his occult knowledge to cast a spell on the Spanish Armada. Of course, the Spanish Armada was scattered by great winds and did not invade England.

Less than 400 years later, it is said the witches of England helped to drive away the invading Nazi forces during the Second World War. According to Gerald Gardner, a great gathering of witches occurred in the New Forest on the eve of the Nazi invasion. These witches came from all over Britain to cast a spell on the Third Reich. The witches commanded the Nazi planes to not invade and many died in the process, or so the legend goes. Like the Spanish Armada, the Nazis did not invade Britain. Despite the raids, England never fell to the German forces. One does hope that the current generation of witches will follow their lead and use magic to strike back against tyranny.

In the 1960s, Italian historian Carlo Ginzburg published his work The Night Battles: Witchcraft and Agrarian Cults in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. In this highly influential work, Ginzburg examines reports of the Benandanti, a group of magical practitioners who lived in Northeastern Italy in the 16th and 17th Centuries. The phrase Benandanti means “the good walkers.” By their own reports, the Benandanti rose (“walked”) from their own bodies while they were sleeping and fought off dark forces. These dark forces were witches, called the Maladanti (“the bad walkers”).

According to the Benandanti, who testified before the Inquisition, they fought the witches at night with fennel sticks. They did this on certain Thursdays to protect their crops. The nighttime visions of the Benandanti have been tied to the Sabbat-visions of witches throughout Europe during the same time period. The testimonies of the Benandanti led Ginzburg to conclude that they were members of a sort of “fertility cult”. Ginzburg’s work was considered controversial upon its first publication and continues to spark debate.

Orphic Hymn to Hekate

To Hekatê Hekatê of the Path, I invoke Thee, Lovely Lady of the Triple Crossroads, Celestial, Chthonian, and Marine One, Lady of the Saffron Robe. Sepulchral One, celebrating the Bakchic Mysteries among the Souls of the Dead, Daughter of Persês, Lover of Solitude, rejoicing in deer.

Nocturnal One, Lady of the Dogs, invincible Queen. She of the Cry of the Beast, Ungirt One, having an irresistible Form. Bullherder, Keeper of the Keys of All the Universe, Mistress, Guide, Bride, Nurturer of Youths, Mountain Wanderer. I pray Thee, Maiden, to be present at our hallowed rites of initiation, Always bestowing Thy graciousness upon the Boukolos. Hekatês Einodian Hekatên, klêizô, Trihoditin Erannên, Ouranian, Chthonian, te kai Einalian, Krokopeplos. Tymbidian, Psychais Nekyôn meta bakcheuosan, Perseian, Philerêmon, agallomenên elaphoisi. Nykterian, Skylakitin, amaimaketon Basileian. Thêrobromon, Azôston, aprosmachon Eidos echousan. Tauropolon, Pantos Kosmou Klêidouchon, Anassan, Hêgemonên, Nymphên, Kourotrophon, Ouresiphoitin. Lissomenos, Kourên, teletais hosiaisi pareinai, Boukolôi eumeneousan aei kecharêoti thymôi.

I only got into Sandman last June.  I wish I had read it sooner but no one really described it well to me so I went in almost completely unawares.

The main character in Sandman is Morpheus AKA Dream of The Endless.   He is the living embodiment of dreams.  His usual appearance (as his form changes depending on who is looking upon him) has peculiar, bone-white, skin and completely-black eyes with tiny star-like pupils that flare when he’s using his powers.  He has wild black hair and is extremely thin.   

 His minion are entities of Dreams and Nightmares.  He seems to have a fondness for Halloween aesthetics from Jack-o-lanterns and Gothic castles to spooky old houses (like The House of Secrets and The House of Mystery), and ravens.   

Morpheus AKA Dream of The Endless is of a family of beings known as… well… The Endless.

The Endless are a family of anthropomorphic personifications.  That means they are living embodiments of certain concepts.  For example Morpheus / Dream’s older sister is Death.  She’s essentially the Grim Reaper.  

The family consists of Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and little Delirium (She used to be Delight but she went mad).  

Most of Sandman is the story of Morpheus and what happens to him.   The place to begin is Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes.  

  In this story Morpheus gets summoned and captured by early twentieth century occultists who had been trying to capture Death but got him by mistake.  He is kept locked in a windowless cellar in a glass cage for nearly a century. 

 When he finally escapes he gets his revenge on the son of his original captor and then seeks out his tools that were taken from him when he was captured.  These tools include his pouch of dream sand (he is the Sandman after all), his helm (a battle helmet, though he rarely if ever goes into battle, made from a skull and spine of Old Gods and resembles a gas mask), and his rubly dreamstone amulet, a conduit for his power (like a wizard’s wand).  

The first storyline is Morpheus reclaiming these lost artifacts.   At one point this leads him to Hell where he faces a demon who has gotten a hold of his helm.  The demon challenges him to a game of wits, creativity, and imagination as opposed to physical combat. 

Morpheus used to be something of an asshole but he undergoes considerable character growth through the course of the series and becomes more and more compassionate.

Often he finds himself simply trying to set right the wrongs of his own past.  For example Sandman: Season of Mists starts with Morpheus reluctantly (he’s very afraid) going back to Hell to rescue a soul he wrongfully left there centuries before only to find that Lucifer is quitting (basis for the plot of the Fox / Netflix TV series). 

 Lucifer leaves Morpheus the key to Hell and and now Morpheus must figure out what to do with it while The Dreaming (his realm) is bombarded with deities and beings of folklore who all want the key to Hell for themselves since it’s “Prime psychic real estate.”

The Sandman is strange.  It’s surreal and it’s beautiful.  Each volume of Sandman is drawn in a different art style.  There’s very little combat-style action or explosions though there is occasional horror and gore.  It’s more like a work of pure literature than any traditional idea of a comic book.     

The order Sandman should be read in is as follows:

1. The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes 2. The Sandman: The Doll’s House 3. The Sandman: Dream Country  4. The Sandman: Season of Mists 5. The Sandman: A Game of You 6. The Sandman: Fables and Reflections 7. The Sandman: Brief Lives 8. The Sandman: The Worlds’ End 9. The Sandman: The Kindly Ones 10. The Sandman: The Wake The Sandman: Dream Hunters The Sandman Endless Nights The Sandman Overture (a very beautiful prequel)

The Sandman can also be read in the Omnibus form (three volumes) or in the “Absolute editions” (There are six in all).  The Absolute editions are better than the omnibuses and physically easier to read (larger print) but they are more expensive.    

Lughnasadh is an ancient Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. It was observed in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man.

The story tells that the god Lugh begun this festival in order to commemorate his mother or foster-mother Tailtiu, who had died of exhaustion after clearing the plains of Ireland for agriculture. Tailtiu was a gooddess related to the Earth and she represented the dying vegetation that fed mankind.

The festival included sports contests, horse racings, music, storytelling, trading and many law-related issues, such as proclaming laws. 

From the 9th century to the 20th many things changed. What’s important is the celebration of two different gods and a new story: Crom Dubh - who generates the growth of the crops and guards this as his treasure - and Lugh - who must seize it for manking. The two competed for Eithne’s approval- she represented the grain. Lugh eventually wins the harvest.

Modern Lughnasadh in Wiccan Culture 🌙

Lughnasadh or Lamma is today celebrated by wiccans and it’s part of the three harvest festivals. 

Here are listed some ways to celebrate Lughnasadh.

Altar🕯

Decorate your altar and house with grains such as barley, oats and wheat. Fruits and veggies are well accepted too. Adorn it with summer flowers (marigolds, yarrows, peonies, daffodils etc). Light yellow, red, orange and brown candles. Adorn your wand with a golden ribbon.

This is the perfect period to gather and dry herbs, flowers, grains or seed that you will be using the following year. Make magickal oils with seasonal’s fresh herbs.

Kitchen🍴

Bake bread with olives and tomatoes

Bake bread using oat meal, corn meal and wheat.

Have a picnic in a corn or wheat field. Drink fruity red wine or cider and eat bread, cheese and olives.

Make a blackberries pie. If you want, draw on the crust an abundance sigil.

Spells✨

The perfect spell for this festival are spells related to connection, career, health, money and abundance.Make sun water and storm water with the violent storms that occur during summer.

Herbs 🌿

Goldenrod, peony, nasturtium, clover blossom, yarrow, heliotrope, boneset, vervain, Queen Anne’s lace, myrtle, rose, sunflower, poppy, milkweed, Irish moss, mushroom, wheat, corn, rye, oat, barley, rice, garlic, onion, basil, mint, aloe, acacia, meadowsweet, apple leaf, raspberry leaf, strawberry leaf, bilberry leaf, blueberry leaf, mugwort, hops, holly, comfrey, marigold, grape vine, ivy, hazelnut, blackthorn, elder, bee pollen.

Stones💎

Lughnasadh or Lughnasa (pronounced LOO-nah-sah) is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Historically, it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. In Modern Irish it is called Lúnasa. Traditionally it is held on 1 August, or about halfway between the summer solstice and autumn equinox. However, in recent centuries some of the celebrations shifted to the Sundays nearest this date. 

Lughnasadh is one of the four Gaelic seasonal festivals, along with Samhain, Imbolc and Beltane. It corresponds to other European harvest festivals. The festival itself is named after the god Lugh (Lú in modernn Irish)

In Old Irish, the name was Lugnasad. This is a combination of Lug (the god Lugh) and násad (an assembly), which is unstressed when used as a suffix. Later spellings include Luᵹ̇nasaḋ, Lughnasadh and Lughnasa.

Essential oils are highly concentrated natural oils, extracted from plants, flowers, roots, wood, bark, or seeds, and are widely known for their healing and purifying benefits. Because of their powerful antioxidant properties, essential oils have been used for thousands of years in a variety of different applications including soaps, perfumes, aromatherapy, skincare products, as well as medicinal purposes.

1. Lavender: This highly versatile oil is best used for its soothing properties. Lavender relaxes the mind and body, and helps aid in reducing inflammation.To reduce stress, try applying this oil to a small area of skin, or adding a few drops to a diffuser or pillow for a good nights sleep.

2. Peppermint: Just a whiff of this oil can provide you with a natural burst of energy and improve mental alertness. Peppermint oil can be used as massage oil, lotion, and mouthwash. It also helps alleviate symptoms of congestion and aids in digestion. Try adding a drop of peppermint oil to your herbal tea to help improve digestion.

3. Sandalwood: This exotic oil is long lasting and can help calm and focus the senses. Applying a few drops of sandalwood oil to your body lotion can help improve skin hydration and relieve tension.

4. Bergamot:  Bergamot is used to treat stress, anxiety, as well as a number of skin conditions like eczema. It’s important that this oil is diluted before applying to the skin, as it can potentially burn skin if applied in its pure form. Bergamot can also be used as incense or in a vaporizer.

5. Rosemary: Known for its rejuvenating effects, this oil can help relieve headaches, boost your memory, alleviate stress, and stimulate circulation in the scalp to treat dandruff and other scalp-related conditions. Try adding a few drops of rosemary oil to your shampoo for healthy, shiny hair.

6. Tea Tree:  One of the most popular and effective essential oils, tea tree oil is widely used to fight infections and boost the immune system. Tea tree oil’s healing benefits are immense and can be used to treat skin conditions, cuts and burns, dandruff, athlete’s foot, and blemishes among many others. Try dabbing a drop of this oil on skin to help heal blemishes or add a few drops to your shampoo to improve scalp health.

7. Chamomile: This oil has powerful calming benefits. It is also an effective mood booster. Chamomile can be used in steam or vapor therapy to help relieve stress.

8. Ylang -Ylang: This oil has calming properties and is beneficial for all skin types—especially oily, congested, or inflamed skin. Ylang-Ylang has a sweet flowery fragrance and can be found in a variety of different skin and hair products. Try blending a few drops into your lotion or add to your bath to help unwind after a long day.

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg Galdramaður festi meg festi meg Trøllabundin djúpt í míni sál í míni sál Í hjartanum logar brennandi bál brennandi bál

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg Galdramaður festi meg festi meg Trøllabundin inn í hjartarót í hjartarót Eyga mítt festist har ið galdramaður stóð

English translation:

Spellbound am I, am I The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me Spellbound deep in my soul, in my soul In my heart burns a smouldering fire, smouldering fire