greymalkinsilvermane

[greymalkinsilvermane]

The Dangers of Magickal Thinking in the Martial Arts

Here is an article I must keep in mind. It details the fallacious belief martial artists often fall into, that they are capable of generating and using some magickal energy to defend themselves. The author, Jeff Westfall, heaps disdain upon the idea, and those who allow themselves to indulge in such delusion.

He is hardly alone in this perspective. A friend of mine who studied with Jesse Glover for over a decade prior to his death, says that Jesse held the same opinions on the matter.

An excellent recent example of this error can be found on YouTube.com: https://youtu.be/d-KX99T5r3A

Westfall insists that any claim of such “magickal” abilities must meet the burden of proof demanded by scientific rigor. This is also not an original idea; Isaac Bonewits, thaumaturge and founder of Ár nDraíocht Féin, a modern Druidic order, suggested the same thing in his book, ““Real Magic”. To my knowledge, though, he never actually established an experimental from amework to prove or disprove the magick within which he lived his life.

I happen to believe in ki; I’ve felt it, used it. I believe it is related to - if it isn’t actually the same as - the energy used in magickal operations.

I have developed the theory that magick and science are actually disparate technological systems, operating in similar, often overlapping domains, but governed by different laws and limitations. Proof of magick’s capabilities will not come through the scientific method, but through an experimental framework relevant to itself.

Nevertheless, I have to be careful not to delude myself as I work toward creating a magickal martial system. I will need to surround myself with people - mentors, teachers, friends and ultimately, students - who will not cater to my ego, and will not feed me bullshit, or tolerate it from me.

Important safety tip.

https://violentmetaphors.com/2014/02/23/the-dangers-of-magical-thinking-in-the-martial-arts/

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Onward

One of my major goals for this blog and this year is to write, publish and publicize the book I have in progress, detailing why and how to safely include elements of risk and menace in public ritual. However, that’s not all this blog is about. It’s also about my personal journey. I’m pursuing five major paths, which I eventually need to integrate into one. The first two are the easiest to connect, I think: Magic, and Magick. Performance magic and thaumaturgy. Once these two were one and the same; it was only after the publication in 1584 of “The Discoverie of Witchcraft,” by Reginald Scot, was any such distinction made. It was only during the Enlightenment that magic and science became divided; up until then, both were incorporated in "natural philosophy," and alchemy. Even today, the disciplines overlap significantly. I think magick (and magic) will incorporate into my martial path pretty well. Every major martial system, if you look into its history deeply enough, once had magical practices as part of its practice. I'm just reintroducing an element that has been lost or, more likely, excised in the name of "reason" and commodification. A new path for me to pursue is actually two practices which tend to overlap: Neurolinguistic Programming and Ericksonian hypnosis. Together, these grant a person powerful insight into and influence over the minds of others. I believe that they will be an excellent, even indispensable element of a magickal defensive combat system. Perhaps the least easily incorporated path, at least in any direct manner, is writing. This blog, my book, and any future writings on the system I'm developing will, I suppose, help to record and codify it, inasmuch as that is possible. So, as the title of this entry says: Onward!

[greymalkinsilvermane]

More Magick from Lughnasadh Weekend

Having focussed on safety for the past two posts, I nevertheless feel the need to share with you another bit of amazing - though distressing - bit of magick which occurred within that ritual, after John Barleycorn (aka Lugh) was slain.

When the god was cut down, I hit the ground, desperately trying not to gasp from the exertion of the fight my body had been through. I was supposed to be dead, after all. Once Sword Circle had delivered the coup de grace, they covered my body with a semi-transparent sheet. The ritual attendees then filed past my byre, before being led off to the main ritual circle, singing the ballad of John Barleycorn.

After the last person had filed past and was safely on their way, I leapt up and hoofed it into a nearby building, while Sword Circle cleared away my byre and replaced it with an identical one bearing an effigy of Lugh (which looked suspiciously like me), and covered that with the same sheet. This was then hefted by the warriors of Sword, and carried into the ritual circle, where it was placed upon a prepared pyre.

In hiding, I was doing my level best to keep the deep connection I had had with Lugh from re-establishing itself, since the main ritual consisted of immolating his body.

During the ritual, Sword, Song and Spell Circles all worked to raise energy, building toward the climax when the pyre would be lit. By this point, the sun was setting, and the late-afternoon shadows has merged into twilight. Everyone could still see, but night was closing in fast.

Sword Circle’s part of the ritual consisted of more choreography, more ritualized, like a dance rather than combat - but still with the same sharpened weapons. Again, we had rehearsed this all exhaustively, and I was confident that everyone could perform their part safely in my absence.

That evening, after the ritual was over, the members of Sean Ciall convened in the room in which I had been sequestered, for a post-ritual grounding and debrief. After everyone had been there for a little while, it became apparent that we were still waiting for two members of Sword Circle. These two happened to be dating, so their was some good-natured speculation as to what might be holding them up, and some grumbling from those who wanted to get the post-rit gathering over with, so they could go join in the revelry we could hear outside.

Eventually, the couple showed up, and we all grounded, then the post mortem (pun absolutely intended) began. It was then that we learned why these two had been slow to join us.

“I cut off his thumb,” the female partner told us.

“WHAT?!” we all yelped.

“Yep,” the male partner affirmed, holding up the digit in question, flexing it. It was obviously whole and uninjured.

But deep in the ritual, as the two of them confronted each other in the course of the ritual dance, they traded blows, and as she swung her sword at him, both of them felt her blade slip past the guard of his sword and bite into his thumb, severing it. The ritual had them, though, and they continued on, completing the choreogrphy as they had rehearsed. It was only after the ritual that they discovered that his hand was intact.

It was very reminiscent of my own experience with Lugh’s spear. Among our number were some very experienced, knowledgeable magicians and ritualists who had practiced in several traditions, but none of us knew what to make of it.

In the years since, I have formulated several theories, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for sure. What I can say, without any doubt, is that there was some seriously powerful magick going on that weekend.

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Another Word About Safety

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again (and again and again): As with stage combat and stunts, when planning and performing staged combat or other forms of menace in public ritual, your first and last consideration and constant watchword must be SAFETY.

Safety for you.

Safety for your fellow performers/presenters.

Safety for everyone attending the ritual.

There’s a very distinction between simulated danger and actual danger. In ritual, you must strive to create a sense of danger, while simultaneously ensuring everyone’s safety.

When crafting the ritual and choreographing the menace you plan to incorporate into it, you must always, always, always keep safety in mind. If at any point along the way you feel uncertain that you can ensure the safety of everyone at the ritual - even if the uncertainty arises moments before the ritual - then you must either modify the problematic element, or remove it entirely.

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Safety, safety, safety.

From my last post, you might get the impression that I’m some kind of daredevil or adrenaline junkie. What kind of maniac would allow a bunch of people to swing sharpened swords at him, while he was naked? (One who is part of a group of like-minded maniacs, apparently...)

The truth is, I’m a trained and experienced stage-combatant, stuntman. and fight choreographer and coordinator. I have worked professionally on stage and in film as both a stage combatant and an actor, and as part of a fire-stunt safety team. I have choreographed combat sequences for theatrical productions and ritual presentations and, I’m proud to say, I’ve never had a performer suffer an injury in any of them.

In creating and performing combat sequences for stage or ritual, the first, last, and constant consideration must be: Safety. Take into consideration anything which might effect the performance, try to anticipate anything which could go wrong, and either make changes to eliminate the potential problem, or have contingencies in place to address it.

Know the space in which you will be performing, and if it is an outdoor performance, know the terrain very well. Be aware of any obstacles which may present a problem - and consider how you might work them into your choreography.

Know your performers’ capabilities and their limitations, and build your choreography to use them to best effect. Some performers move or learn choreography better than others; it can sometimes be a challenge to craft combat sequences which uses everyone to best effect.

Know the director’s expectations, and how your sequence is meant to fit within the show or ritual presentation as a whole. Does it further a narrative? Is it meant to increase tension or resolve an issue, to raise energy or release it? How is the sequence meant to end? What is its intended outcome? Is the choreography meant to travel, i.e, are the presenters meant to start in one spot, and finish in another? If so, know the precise spot in which your choreography’s last move must occur, and build from there.

And rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. Rehearsal will point up problems in the choreography, or limitations in your presenters’ abilities, and will give you the opportunity to make adjustments and iron out issues, so that nothing unexpected crops up during the actual performance.

Knowledge=Safety

Preparation=Safety

Rehearsal = Safety

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Death of a Harvest God

The main ritual of the weekend was a blood sacrifice.As the main ritual began, the God, Lugh, in his guise as John Barleycorn, sacrificial god of the harvest, who had been honored all that weekend, was led into a circle of armed warriors, members of Sean Ciall’s Sword Circle. Now, as one, they attacked and he defended himself with his mighty spear.

The combat was choreographed, of course, its conclusion foregone; the god must die, that we all might live. I had choreographed the fight myself, and we had rehearsed it exhaustively. Even more than any other stage-combat performance, this one had to be flawless; Sean Ciall is a skyclad tradition, so we were fighting in the nude – and using sharpened steel weapons.

(That’s the point where I lose even the most daring of my peers in the stage-combat/stunt community. “You’re nuts,” they say. Probably, but I had worked long and hard with this team, I knew their capabilities and limitations, and I had crafted the choreography around them. After long hours of rehearsal, I was confident we were performing as safely as any stunt-team with whom I’d ever worked. Of course, as in any stunt or stage-combat situation, mistakes might happen, and injuries might occur. The stakes were just a bit higher in this performance.)

I had been carrying the god all weekend long. I had spent a full lunar cycle before the festival preparing and practicing to Invoke Lugh, with whom I had a natural rapport (he’s my patron deity), and my Invocation was solid. He understood his role in this festival as the sacrificial god, and magician that he is, he accepted it – but being a warrior, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Happily, that’s just what we had in mind.

The ritual combat took place just before sunset, so that the next portion of the ritual would take place as the day transitioned into night. But the fight occurred in full daylight.

  It went beautifully. The choreography flowed just as I’d intended, and the Sword Circle all performed their choreography well. But about midway through, something strange began to happen. As I watched through the god’s eyes, the world around us began to dim; though we could see just fine, night seemed to be closing in around us.

Near the end of the fight, Lugh’s next-to-last opponent delivered a downward cut to the god’s head, which he deflected with a rising parry. As the weapons met, Lugh and I felt the haft of the god’s spear crack from the impact. This was doubly odd since that haft was new - a re-purposed bo staff replacing the other I had used during dress rehearsals - and solid oak. Also, since safety is everything in stage and ritual combat, we had trained not to strike full force (though we “sold” it as though we were).

Before I had time to fully process this, of course, Lugh had moved on to his final opponent. The god was on the offensive, his first move a horizontal strike to the man’s left side, which was blocked with a strong outward parry. Again, Lugh honored the “ritual” nature of the combat, the actual force of the blow being directed past his opponent, rather than at him. The parry was well executed.

The spearhead snapped off, spinning off into the darkness, leaving Lugh holding a jaggedly tipped shaft.

Suddenly my consciousness surged forward, struggling with the god’s control. Every stage-combat instinct screamed at me to stop. This isn’t safe! But Lugh was determined to complete his role in the ritual, and there was only one more move; an outward block of a cut coming in low to his left leg. My hesitation almost ruined the whole illusion of the fight; Lugh was fractionally late in delivering that final parry. Nevertheless, despite the broken-off haft in his hand, he succeeded in blocking the cut.

One of the presenters slashed at Lugh’s rear leg, and he fell, losing his grip on the broken spear. The sacrificial god was cut down…

…and I hit the ground, gasping. As the Sword Circle gathered around me, I tried to get my breathing under control. As one, they lifted their swords, and drove them point-first into the ground around me, symbolically delivering the coup de grace.

The god was dead.

***

After the main ritual was over, all of Sean Ciall gathered to decompress and discuss how things had gone.

I asked about the broken spear. Being “dead,” I hadn’t been part of the clean-up team. Where was the spear? I wanted to examine the pieces.

I was met with dumbfounded silence. “What?”

“The spear broke,” I exclaimed. How could they have missed it? I was just glad the flying tip apparently hadn’t hit anyone; surely by now someone would have mentioned it, if it had.

The Spell Circle leader spoke up. “The spear’s fine. I put it away myself.”

It was my turn to be dumbfounded. “What? I felt it crack, I saw it break!”

She shook her head. “It’s not broken. You can go look for yourself.”

She was right. Aside from some incidental dings acquired during the performance, the spear’s haft was whole and unbroken.

Years later, it was pointed out to me that of course the spear had to break, for the god to die. Duh.

That ritual was one of the most potent magickal experiences I have ever been part of.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I DO NOT RECOMMEND RITUAL COMBAT, CLOTHED OR OTHERWISE, WITH SHARP WEAPONS, OR NAKED LIVE-STEEL RITUAL COMBAT, EVEN WITH UN-SHARPENED WEAPONS. EITHER IS INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS, AND IT WOULD BE TOO EASY FOR SOMEONE TO BE HURT OR EVEN KILLED.

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Recovering

After Kelsie was transported off-site to the hospital, the members of Sean Ciall gathered to decide our course of action. Should we shut the festival down, cancel the rest of the weekend, and send the participants home? Or should we continue on, try to salvage the weekend, and do our best to give everyone a positive experience?

As I remember it, the decision to continue was unanimous. Kelsie would want us to continue, we felt, and to do so would honor her. (She later told us the same thing.)

We decided to add a healing circle to that evening’s schedule, to help those who had been traumatized by what had happened, while simultaneously raising and transmitting energy to facilitate a swift recovery for Kelsie. This proved an excellent decision, and after that circle, the festival continued with renewed energy.

The last day of the festival, one of the community Elders present approached us. This particular festival drew a good-sized crowd, maybe a couple hundred participants, representing an eclectic cross-section of the Pagan community of the Puget Sound area and beyond. This Elder, a respected local practitioner, told us that he had been talking with other Elders present, and all of them were somewhat amazed that the festival had continued, much less successfully, after what had happened to Kelsie during the opening circle.

“I’ve attended events all over North America,” he told us, “with established groups. If that had happened at one of those, even at a long-standing annual event, I have no doubt everything would have collapsed, the event would have been canceled, and everyone would have fled for home. It’s possible the event might never recover, might never happen again, after someting like that. But you guys kept going. That’s pretty amazing.”

[greymalkinsilvermane]

Born out of tragedy

I have a goal: To write and publish a book about how to safely and effectively present elements of risk and menace in public ritual. That goal arose from experiences I have had during the past 25 years or so that I’ve been attending and participating in public rituals throughout the Pagan community of the Puget Sound. I have seen choices made in public ritual presentations which were ill-advised and even dangerous, sometimes with tragic results. I understand that sometimes an element of risk or menace is useful to create the desired intensity and focus in a ritual, to better raise and direct the magick - but it needs to be done in a manner which keeps the participants safe, especially in public ritual. With a background in various martial arts and experience in theater and stage combat, as well as extensive experience presenting large public ritual (including choreographing ritual combat for several different groups in and around the Sound), I feel that I am uniquely qualified to provide some useful guidance in this arena.

First, though, let me tell you about the event which first set me on this path: the most catastrophic public ritual in which I ever took part:

In the July of 2005, I was involved in an amazing weekend of public ritual, in which several instances of truly powerful magick occurred, and during which I personally experienced a deeply magickal event. But that weekend began with disaster.

At the time, owing to my background in stunts and theater as well as presenting large public ritual, I was the leader of the Sword Circle of the Cascadian Sean Ciall tradition of witchcraft. For that weekend, I was also High Priest, and for most of the festival I would be Invoking Lugh Samildanach, the Celtic God of Many Skills. For the purposes of the festival’s harvest theme, Lugh had been conflated with the Sacrificial King, a.k.a. John Barleycorn.

During the festival’s opening ritual, anyone interested in carrying the god was invited to prove themselves by passing three challenges, one for each of the Circles of Sean Ciall. The combat challenge was a brief duel I had choreographed with wooden swords. The Song Circle challenge was, if I remember correctly, a riddle. The Spell Circle challenge was to call flame from water.

I, of course, challenged. The combat went well, but just as I struck aside my opponent’s last “attack,” and pointed the tip of my bokken at his throat, we all heard the whump of a small explosion. A moment later, someone began to scream; quietly at first, but quickly scaling upward.

“It burns. It burns! I’m burning! I’M BURNING!”

The magic trick of the Spell challenge was created through an exothermic reaction; a powder was placed into the chalice into which I was supposed to pour some water, which would trigger the reaction. My entrance into the ritual circle had been the cue for one of the Spell Circle presenters, a woman named Kelsie, to pour the powder into the chalice. The magician who had provided the powder was supposedly knowledgeable, and things had gone well enough in practice.

But today, things had gone horribly wrong. That July weekend was the hottest on record, and the retreat where the festival was being held bordered on an extensive wetlands.The air around the site that evening was quite humid, so the reaction occurred too early, and a ball of fire erupted out of the chalice. Katie had been bent over the cup, so her face, neck and upper chest were bathed in flame and burning powder, which seared its way into her flesh.

All hell broke loose. The ritual collapsed as people freaked out. I, sad to say, was deeply into the ritual headspace, and was slow to respond. Thankfully, another presenter had the presence of mind to scoop Kelsie up and carry her, running full tilt, to the outdoor showers a couple hundred feet away. The two of them stayed there until the ambulance arrived.

This debacle could have been prevented, had I paid enough attention. I wasn’t the ritual director, but nevertheless as High Priest, and given my background, I should have seen the possibility of what could go wrong, and taken steps to prevent it.

The person who had provided the pyrotechnical powder had claimed a level of expertise I later discovered wasn’t accurate. A story was related to me of a time when he nearly set himself on fire, thanks to a leaky container in his backpack. But despite having spent time as a member of a fire-stunt safety team, I never thought to verify his credentials and simply trusted his word.

We had fire suppression ready, but it had been prepped to control the fire if it somehow spilled, and spread. We never anticipated the small explosion which actually happened. That, too, I should have taken steps to prevent. Relying on our pyrotechnician, who told us he had only so much of the expensive powder, we had only used a small amount of powder in a test, and not during our dress rehearsal. This was a breach of every rule of stage safety, and Kelsie paid the price for our negligence.

Kelsie survived with mostly second-degree burns, though in places they verged into third-degree. Her recovery was both medically remarkable, and an object lesson in the dangers of even benevolent magick - but that’s a story for another time.

Next time I’ll relate how we kept the festival going, and the incredible magick that occurred later that weekend.