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"If I sometimes use the verb “to be” in discussing certain parallels, it remains true that the map is never the territory, and that a sameness of meaning can never be traced even within a single myth, ritual, hymn, or tale, much less within two or more such texts. Narrative, the shared technique of all such cultural artifacts, deals precisely in ambiguity, unlike, for example, philosophical writing, which strives for unity of meaning or even ideological unity within a given text or series of texts. The comparative method used here depends instead on the ambiguity of symbols and the narratives within which they are embedded or inscribed. This strategy must be one of doubled or even palimpsestic complexes of meaning: a strategy of strategic drift, of multiple identities, partial overlappings, masks, family traits and other “soft” categories. If Eliade and others used the term “history of religions” to imply that one may derive a single story' from the multiplicity of faiths, the term “histories of religion” might be preferable; for although the spirit may be “one,” its stories are endlessly multiple (or even “fractal”) in their organic becoming. Soma itself serves as just such a soft category, since I am not attempting to identify it as one plant or another (despite a bias toward Wasson’s A. muscaria), but rather as a function (the transformative substance, fire/water) or narrative motif."

Ploughing the Clouds: The Search for Irish Soma by Peter Lamborn Wilson

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Blåtimen (The Blue Hour)

Østmarka, Oslo

Norway

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The animistic culture of the early modern village is also responsible for the fact that familiars were often envisioned in animal form. Like many of their 'humanoid' counterparts, animal familiars were often not remarkable in any way: neither exotic nor intimidating, they generally resembled small mammals, and less frequently, birds or insects, and were described with vivid realism. In order to gain some insight into how these envisioned animal familiars could have possessed the numen of a sacred beings we need to move more deeply into an understanding of how animals in general were experienced in early modern Britain. ... The lives of common people were so intertwined with those of their animals that, as one late seventeenth-century gentleman observed, they made 'very little difference between themselves and their beasts'. Animals were in many ways, as Keith Thomas notes, 'subsidiary members of the human community, bound by mutual self-interest to their owners, who were dependent on their fertility and wellbeing'. The common people would have been surrounded by the smell of animals, the noise of animals, the fur and the faeces of animals. But just as significantly, they would have been surrounded by the 'animal-ness' of animals; the eager curiosity of the dog, the lazy grace of the cat, the stealth and skill of the rat, the grumpy good nature of the oxen, the noisy assertiveness of the crow. The uninhibited nature of the animal, so true to itself, so unrestricted by societal values of good and bad, kind or unkind, appropriate and not appropriate - would have been intimately woven into an individual's impressions of 'what life was' and 'how one could be'. Given the ubiquity and value of the animal, it is not surprising that, in psychological terms, some of these impressions were used by the early modern popular psyche to craft envisioned familiars - and that these familiars were imbued with the numen of sacred beings and duly reverenced.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, pages 228-230

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…the visual forms assumed by these early modern familiars were wholly congruent with their origin. The representations of fairy and demon familiars found in early modern encounter-narratives reflect the animist culture of the rural village, as opposed to the theistic culture of the cloister or oak-panelled study.We have already seen how, among the common folk of this period, the assortment of spirits which came under the umbrella term of fairies - bizarre and sometimes ridiculous-looking as they were - possessed the numen of sacred beings, and as such were objects of devotion. In Wales fairies were held in an 'astonishing reverence' and people dared not 'name them without honour'; while in England, according to one late sixteenth-century commentator, 'The opinion of faeries and elfes is very old, and yet sticketh very religiously in the myndes of some.' That this devotion was not only reserved for the beautiful and/or noble fairy monarchy and other spirits who conformed in some way to stereotypical Christian notions about sacred beings, is suggested by contemporary descriptions of relationships with fairy familiars.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby

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…theatricals, deceptions and moral ambivalence lived quite comfortably alongside spiritual experience in elite magical traditions of the period. Theatrical English magician Alexander Hart, for example, was said to have 'sat like an alderman in his gown' when in consultation, while literate Scottish cunning man Thomas Weir (East Lothian, 1670) always wore a cloak, which was 'somewhat dark', and carried a staff which was 'carved with heads like those of satyrs'. Similarly, scholars frequently point out that elite practitioners could be morally ambivalent: while they could perform magic to heal the sick, find lost goods, identify criminals, predict the future, uncover treasure and ensure success in business and so on, they could also perform magic to gain control over the minds of others, create illusions, raise the dead and gain revenge on enemies. These ambivalent activities reflected ambivalent motivations. While magicians could adopt lives of prayer and piety, through which they made 'humble supplication that God should extend to them the privilege of a unique view of his mysteries' - they could simultaneously lust after power, sex and worldly wealth. Such contradictions can clearly be seen in the life of Thomas Weir. Throughout his life Weir was widely considered to be an exceptionally religious man, who feared God 'in a singular and eminent way; making profession of strickness in piety beyond others'. However, this piety did not protect Weir against charges of witchcraft, and in 1670 he was burnt at the stake on Edinburgh's Castle Hill, having confessed to adultery, incest and other 'flagittious and horrid sins' and after refusing to repent of his deeds or renounce the Devil. Unless, as Weir's prosecutors suggested, Weir's piety was an elaborate and long-standing hoax, we can only assume that his complexities of character were genuine.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 212

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The shaman's overt employment of theatricals and subterfuges have, in the past, led scholars to dismiss him a quack—an opportunistic trickster whose magical activities and reputation are founded on elaborate false­hoods. The reality, however, is more subtle. The shaman sees no contradiction between the employment of theatricality and deception and the genuine performance of effective magic; in other words, deception is seen as an integral part of an effective ritual, whether it is intended to help or to harm. That this can indeed be the case is supported by the fact that psychologists have observed that many of the shaman's subterfuges inspire a strong placebo response, in both clients and observers. Knud Rasmussen claimed that 'It is difficult indeed for the ordinary civilized mentality to appreciate the complexity of the native mind in its relations with the supernatural; a "wizard" may resort to the most transparent ' trickwork and yet be thoroughly in earnest.' The Alaskan Inuit shaman, Najagneq, 'frequently employed deceptions to protect himself from his neighbors by playing on their superstitions, and he was not afraid to admit that he had made an art of pulling their legs'. When he was asked, however, whether he really believed in any of the powers to which he pretended, he returned an unequivocal 'yes'. As a result of meeting shamans like Najagneq, Rasmussen drew up a model of shamanic thinking which effectively articulates the complexities and contradictions integral to the shamanic vocation. The model is comprised of four levels, listed here in ascending order: 4. The exploitative level, concerning those spooks and powers deliberately invented by the shaman to impress and intimidate the uninitiated. 3. The socio-historical level, concerning the 'mythological image of the shaman' created by his own theatricals and 'sleight of hand' illusionism. 2. The psychological level, concerning those 'personal guardians, helpers, and familiars who capture and bind the imagination'. Also associated with the acquisition of occult powers. Although coloured by cultural and personal elements, it can open up to the metaphysical level. 1. The metaphysical level, concerning profound transcultural and transpersonal realizations. Rasmussen claimed that shamans can operate on all four levels of shamanic thinking at the same time.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 208

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Anthropologists have shown that without recourse to the written word human cultures primarily express themselves through imagery, whether in the form of art, mythology or magical belief and ritual. This 'imaginal language' can be highly sophisticated and express complex ideas and states of mind, much of it being employed metaphorically and symbolically. The encounter-experiences of both cunning folk, witches and shamans are narrated in this imaginal language and this presents real problems for the scholar looking for evidence of mystical experience…The art historian, Ananda Coomaraswamy, has argued that the rise of rationalism and literacy has caused modern western man to gradually lose the ability to think in images, and that this 'imaginal illiteracy' prevents him from fully deciphering primitive visual mythology. 'To have lost the art of thinking in images', he claims 'is precisely to have lost the proper linguistic of metaphysics and to have descended to the verbal logic of "philosophy."' From this perspective, to have lost the art of thinking in images is synonymous with a reduction in the capacity to recognize descriptions of mystical states … The anthropologist, and indeed anyone raised in the modern western world, approaches primitive visual mythology much as they would a foreign language.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 204

The book referenced in this quote is: Coomaraswamy, Ananda (1977) Selected Papers: Traditional Art and Symbolism, ed. Roger Lipsey, New Jersey: Princeton University Press.

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In The Secret Commonwealth, Robert Kirk provides evidence of a different kind of link between the feeding habits of the fairies and the bloodlust of the demon familiar when he describes 'the damnable practise of Evil Angels, their sucking of blood and spirits out of Witches bodys (till they drein them, into a deformd and dry leanness) to feed their own Vehicles withal, leaving what wee call the Witches mark behind'. Kirk's claim that the familiar sucks 'blood and spirits' out of the witch is pertinent in the light of another passage in which he claims that fairies gained nourishment by piercing animals with elf-arrows and then sucking out 'the aereal and aethereal parts, the most spirituous matter for prolonging of Lyfe . . . leaving the Terrestriall behind [my italics]'. Although Kirk only mentions animals being consumed by fairies in this way, earlier in the same passage he claims that humans can also be 'pierced or wounded with those peoples weapon' and contemporary trial records sometimes contain references to humans having been 'elf-shot'. A later Scottish folk tale in which three of four men are reduced to 'bloodless bodies' because the malevolent banshee (a fairy woman) had 'sucked them dry' resonates with Kirk's descriptions of both demon familiar and fairy feeding habits. Despite the sensationalism of promising the soul, renouncing Christianity and sucking blood, the most common payment given to the English witch's animal familiar (often in conjunction with payment in blood) was ordinary food…The demon familiar did not usually, explicitly, verbally contract for this farm of payment, but it seems to have underpinned the witch/familiar relationship, being employed on a continuous basis rather than in exchange for a particular deed done. In many parts of early modern Britain fairies were fed in precisely the same way. Like the demon familiar they were partial to the odd animal sacrifice, but most commonly expected simple foodstuffs in return for their services and goodwill. Substances such as ale or milk were often poured on springs, trees and rocks etc. sacred to fairies, while bowls of bread, milk or water and suchlike were left in the kitchen overnight for both domestic hobmen and visiting trooping fairies.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby

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For some magical practitioners the relationship with the familiar involved travelling with them to, or meeting them in, a different place. The witch, notoriously, journeyed to the sabbath (these experiences being predominantly recorded in Scottish witch trials), while the cunning woman journeyed to fairyland or, as it was called in the period, 'elfhame' (literally 'elf-home'). A few magical practitioners claimed that they first met their familiars in fairyland, or at the sabbath; however, a greater number claimed that their journey to these places had been initiated by the familiar's invitation.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 84

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Most people today would consider themselves to have little or no knowledge about early modern familiars. In reality, however, the basic dynamics of the relationship between a cunning woman or witch, and her spirit ally, is easily recognizable to all of us, being encapsulated in narrative themes running through traditional folk tales and myths from throughout the world. Classics such as Rumpelstiltskin, Puss-in-Boots, the Frog Prince and so on, are representative.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 59

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…cunning folk frequently described their familiars as either being fairies, or being connected to the fairies through serving the fairy king or queen or having access to/living in fairyland. Although it was not uncommon for cunning folk to define their familiar spirits in a variety of other ways, calling them, for instance, 'angels', 'saints', 'sprites', 'imps', or 'spirits of the dead' and so on, there is enough correlation between popular conceptions of these types of spirit and the heterogenous group of folk spirits defined as fairies to justify the usage of the term 'fairy familiar' here. The familiar spirit used by the witch, on the other hand, will be defined as a 'demon familiar'. Although the term 'demon' was used to describe many different kinds of spirits in the period, including fairies, it shall be used here in the sense that it points to a spirit which, unlike the fairy, was more commonly associated with purely malevolent acts.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 57

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Favorite little detail of The Magician nobody ever mentions: his belt is a little ouroboros.

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Historians have long recognized that magical beliefs and practices of pre-Christian origin survived into the early modern period, however in recent decades there has been a growing acknowledgement that these beliefs were more pervasive and influential than previously thought. One scholar has gone so far as to claim, for example, that 'pre-Reformation European peasants were virtually pagan, that they held animist beliefs in a spirit world which had to be appeased in order to maintain their crops and livestock, that these beliefs were overlaid in varying degrees by Christian notions which were to a large extent adapted to·'animism.' There is no doubt that allegiance to nature spirits and pagan deities masqueraded behind the worship of the saints; that ancient traditions of ancestor worship lay at the core of the cult of the dead and that the most sacred events in the Christian calendar, such as Christmas and Easter, were superimposed over already-existing pre-Christian religious festivals. The same was true of many annual agricultural rituals, such as those performed on Plough Monday or during Rogation Week, and the seasonal fire rituals performed on holy days such as St john or St Peter's Eve. More light-hearted pursuits such as Church Ales, May games, Hocktide sports, morris dancing, mumming, dancing with hobby horses and celebrations involving the Lords of Misrule or the Summer Lords and Ladies and so on, possessed an even thinner veneer of Christianity.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic, by Emma Wilby, page 14

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American Crow on the fence by my house

Photo by me, taken on FujiFilm X-T30 II

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" . . . The problem is that they’ve come to take the concept origin as an exclusive category of the 'real,' thus unconsciously replicating the error of some of the less-intelligent nineteenth-century mythologists (including at times even Frazer, Bachofen and the Grimms), who believed they had discovered literal and exclusive origins (everything is 'solar,' or 'vegetative,' or 'matriarchal'). In other words, modern empiricists agree with the nineteenth-century amateurs that origin is an exclusive category—only they claim that it cannot be known.

Ancient mythologists would never be guilty of such naivete. They would probably list all the origin myths or variants, without worrying about logical exclusions. The variants describe precisely the field of potential meaning—the multivalency of the myth, its layered and folded structure, its complexity: Some say . . . but others maintain... I have heard....' The Rg Veda already abounds in such variants, which, to linear thinking, appear as so many contradictions or textual corruptions. As Henry Corbin pointed out in the Shiite context, the Ta’wil or hermeneutic exegesis or 'taking or tracing a thing back to its source' or origin, cannot be reduced to the operation and deployment of rational or exclusive or absolute categories. Ultimately, all origins are 'divine' and hence ambiguous. Inner sense may violate outward expression, at least on the level of ordinary consciousness. The sacred contradicts itself; indeed, this is very nearly a definition of the sacred.

I have found it fruitful to “believe” in any origin (or complex of contradictory origins) precisely in the manner of the ancient mythographists—as meaning. To 'believe' (to participate existentially) in this way is a non-exclusionary process—each origin is to be taken both literally and as a code that can be (partially) cracked, but also as a drifting point, an area of divine ambiguity. The palimpsest of all origins defines the structure of my explorations. Even science is welcome at this feast, so long as it can renounce its monopoly of interpretation (or refusal to interpret), its flaccid totalitarianism, its absurd paradigmatic hierarchies, its pathetic triumphalism, and its lack of playfulness. 'Who really knows?' says the Rg Veda ( 10. 129.6). The origin is a subject (or object) not for false reverence but for true reverie."

Ploughing the Clouds: The Search for Irish Soma by Peter Lamborn Wilson

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This intriguing 1st Century CE marble statue, discovered in Villa Ludovisi, Rome, depicts a child playing with a mask. The craftsmanship reveals a playful and humorous side of ancient Roman art, capturing a moment of innocence and joy.