Etymology: Our Pagan World

Etymology: Our Pagan World

Author: Willow Grove

Most of the Pagan community has read many articles regarding the “borrowing” of certain holidays and yearly traditions by modern society. We have heard that the December 25th birthday of Jesus was taken from Mithras, and we know that Easter was originally Eostar or Ostara, a spring fertility festival. Groundhog’s Day falls on Imbolc, and both holidays involve an animal predicting the coming spring.

Even our modern secular traditions of grilling out and shooting off fireworks could be linked to the ancient fire festivals held in summer. It is our natural human tendency to give thanks for the harvest in the fall, be it with Thanksgiving turkey or Lammas bread. But is that it? Do our Pagan roots extend only to the days we celebrate?

To Pagans, it may seem that we live in a world that is not accepting of our religion, and in many cases seems to be at odds with our beliefs. Certain groups in society denounce the pagan origins of celebrating Halloween, and may even go so far as to ban their children from dying Easter eggs. While that is of course their right to make that choice, the Pagan influences on every day life go a bit deeper than most people realize. This is especially obvious when looking at the origin of some of our common words.

Few people realize that in their every day speech, they may use words of Pagan origin and not even know it. Take this simple sentence for example: “This morning I woke up after a night of insomnia and had a bowl of cereal.” There are two words in this sentence that have Pagan origin. If you had a bowl of cereal this morning, thank the Goddess! “Cereal” comes from Ceres, Roman counterpart of Demeter, Goddess of agriculture, harvest and grains. “Insomnia” comes from Somnus, the Roman counterpart of Hypnos, god of sleep.

Pagan etymology includes our calendar. Take for example the days of the week. The connections between Sunday and the sun, between Monday and the moon, and between Saturn and Saturday are the more obvious references. But what about the etymology of the other days? A lesser-known fact is that every one of the seven days of the week has a name firmly rooted in Paganism.

The Germanic god of war was Tiu, whose name became part of Tuesday. Wednesday is a modification of Woden’s Day, being named for the Anglo-Saxon god of the wild hunt. Norse god Thor is the basis of the name Thursday, and Friday is named for the Norse mother goddess Frigg, wife of Odin. When looking further, we can see that the names of the months also have Pagan etymology. The Roman god Janus was ruler of gateways and new beginnings; hence we celebrate the New Year by honoring him through the name of January. In ancient Rome, a festival of purification and cleansing was called Februs.

Since it was held at this time every year, the month was given the name February. March comes from the Roman god of war, Mars. April was derived from the Roman word for “open”, because the spring flowers did just that in this month. June is appropriately the most common month for weddings given that its name comes from Juno, goddess of marriage. The remaining months have names that stem from Latin, mostly based on numbers such as “octo”, but it is easy to see that our calendar as we know it in modern times is most certainly influenced by our Pagan past.

So we can see that our language has some Pagan influence, but what about our government? So many in our society claim that America was formed on Christian values and ideas. If that is so, where are the monuments in Washington depicting Jesus Christ? The simple fact is that there are none. There are however, several examples of Pagan influence to be found.

Take for instance the U.S. Capital Building itself. Prominently displayed to the right of the main entrance, you will find a statue of Mars, Roman god of agriculture and war. The Great Hall of the Justice Department Building is home to a statue of the Spirit of Justice, based on the goddess of Justice herself, Justitia. (Here we also find another word in our language with pagan origins: justice.)

Even in the military we can see the presence of the ancient divine. The Army’s Medal of Honor features the Roman goddess of wisdom and martial prowess, Minerva. However, the largest and most obvious example of Pagan influence in our capital has to be the Washington Monument, which is, without a doubt, an Egyptian Obelisk.

Even in the realm of corporate America there is an influence of our Pagan past. Look closely at the glossy magazine ads and the slick television commercials and you may find the touch of a goddess. Disposable razors blades for women are named for the Goddess of Beauty, none other than Venus. Cars are named Saturn, Taurus, Equinox, and Solstice.

Do a search on the internet for Osiris and you will find not only much information about the Egyptian god, but also a line of skateboarding shoes, an IT company, and a medical research company all named for him. In fact, one of the most successful and well-known brand names of our time is named after a Pagan deity. Modern society may think of athletic shoes when they hear her name, but the ancient Greeks knew her as Nike, Goddess of Victory.

The influence of ancient Paganism is found in every culture throughout the farthest reaches of the world, even right here in the United States. When we as Pagans acknowledge and embrace this cultural heritage, it is sure to bring us a deepened sense of belonging in a world that often struggles with our acceptance. While it is easy for us to feel a little disconnected from modern society, looking back on the past and the influence the ancient deities have had on our everyday, mundane lives can indeed strengthen our connection to them, to each other, and to the world we live in.

Daily Feng Shui Tip for Jan. 9th

On ‘Play God Day’ I thought we’d take a look at the deity that the month of January is named after. January is actually derived from the ancient name of the Roman god Janus, who is touted to have presided over the dawning of every new year. He was often revered as the ‘God of Gateways’ or ‘God of Doorways.’ He is also known as the ‘Lord of Beginnings.’ The image of Janus is often symbolized by a face that looks both backwards and forward at the same time, perhaps a reminder that this is a good time to reflect on events of the previous year. And you don’t have to be reminded that any past reflection should only be in addition to recognizing the clean slate of opportunity that waits immediately ahead. So this would be a great day to make some lucky little upgrades to your front doorway. Remember that the front door calls in the subtle energies that enter your house and therefore has an impact on your opportunities and income. So be sure that this particular door is in good condition! If possible, paint the front door red to auger in fortune and luck, or green to grow health, happiness and prosperity. If you can’t do that, at least give it a good cleaning. No need for the God of Doorways to come knocking when a little elbow grease and a fresh coat of paint will bring you a year of blessings!

By Ellen Whitehurst for Astrology.com

Winter Solstice Celebrations Around The World – Brumalia

Brumalia

(Roman Kingdom)

Influenced by the Ancient Greek Lenaia festival, Brumalia was an ancient Roman solstice festival honoring Bacchus, generally held for a month and ending December 25. The festival included drinking and merriment. The name is derived from the Latin word bruma, meaning “shortest day” or “winter solstice”. The festivities almost always occurred on the night of December 24.

~Magickal Graphics~

Santa’s Many Faces: Shaman, Sailor, Saint

Holly, Jolly Old Elf, Other Traditions Show Solstice’s Mongrel Past

by Kathie Dawn

Pagan celebration of Winter Solstice is a tradition with its roots in the ancient past, twining from hunter-gatherer cultures through the Old Religion of Europe, influenced by the rise of Christianity from the Middle East. A look at some of the history can help you design your personal Solstice traditions.

Santa the Shaman

For tens of thousands of years, we humans have celebrated the seasons, the lunar and solar cycles and other natural events. While our bodies are not as strictly regulated as animals’ regarding mating, migration or hibernation, we are deeply affected by our circadian rhythms, the lunar pull and our hormones, which interact with the sun. According to Jeremy Rifkin in Time Wars, “Chronobiology provides a rich new conceptual framework for rethinking the notion of relationships in nature. In the temporal scheme of things, life, earth and universe are viewed as partners in a tightly synchronized dance in which all of the separate movements pulse in unison to create a single organic whole.”

Our ancient ancestors felt this connection without benefit of scientific explanations. Following their hearts and beliefs, they played their part in that dance. “Our holiday celebrations evolve in a cycle. We even refer to it as ‘The Wheel of the Year,'” notes Richard Heinberg in Celebrate the Solstice. “Being aware of the different cycles in life, and understanding our place in them, were a part of our development as humans.” In this cycle, in northern regions, Winter Solstice is often seen as the ending of the old year and the beginning of a new year.

In the early European cultures, a shaman of the Herne/Pan god led Winter Solstice rituals, initiated the new year, rewarded the good, punished the bad, officiated at sacrifices and headed fertility rites, according to Tony van Renterghem in his book When Santa Was A Shaman. This Herne/Pan god went by many names, always portrayed as dark, furry or wearing animal skins, with antlers or horns and – up to the seventeenth century – with an erect penis. Van Renterghem asserts “these (Herne/Pan) shamans sang, danced, jumped over fires in sexually symbolic fertility rites, some involving the besom, the broom-like phallic rod.”

Shamanic traditions survived into historic times. Leaders and kings who wanted to see themselves as divine priest-kings – such as Moses and Alexander the Great – were depicted with shamanic horns. Shamanic horns on Moses shows an overlapping of pagan and Judeo-Christian beliefs that also appears in celebrations at Solstice.

Santa as a Christian and a Sailor

“(Christmas) was a seeming Christian answer to the pagan festival Natalis Solis Invicti, which carried with it the flavour of merrymaking of the Roman Saturnalia,” Vivian Green writes in A New History of Christianity.

Christianity grew up with paganism, specifically Roman paganism. The Roman Empire ruled the land where the cult of Christianity was formed. The beliefs of this new religion were radically different from most pagans’, and many people assumed the group would quickly die, as do many fads. But within 300 years, the cult was considered an unlicensed religion within the Empire. While the Romans had a long history of assimilating the gods of the conquered peoples into their own religion as a way of easing the transition, this was not easily accomplished with Christianity. There were a couple attempts to wipe out the religion, but the Christians maintained their foothold in the Empire by appealing to the lower classes and the illiterate.

Constantine called the Nicean Council of 325 after he reunited the faltering Empire. Having converted to Christianity, he wanted to bring unity and a single leadership to the faith. The emperor was openly hostile to pagans. Peter Partner, in Two Thousand Years-The First Millennium: The Birth of Christianity to the Crusades, tells us that “although pagan beliefs were not in themselves made illegal, many of the institutions that supported pagan worship were in effect proscribed.” A semblance of the Old Religion was allowed to continue, but only lip service was paid to religious tolerance.

As Christianity marched on, entire tribes were converted. Charlemagne instituted a “baptize them or kill them” campaign against the “barbarians” on his borders. The conversion of Germanic peoples to Christianity changed the texture of the Roman Christian church.

Gregory of Tours’ History of the Franks, circa 590, and Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, circa 720, both expressed anxiousness about the wealth and privilege the church received as rulers and great magnates were converted. The church had to absorb these rulers’ values and culture, with the end result that “Christianity had been successfully assimilated by a warrior nobility,” according to John McManners in The Oxford History of Christianity. This was a “nobility which had no intention of abandoning its culture or seriously changing its way of life, but which was willing to throw its traditions, customs, tastes and loyalties into the articulation of a new faith.”

The mass conversion “did not sweep away pagan culture in a few moments,” writes McManners. “We are reminded every year by the feasts of Christmas, the Winter Solstice celebration of the northerners for which the nativity of Christ is a cheeky Christian misnomer, and of the New Year, in Roman usage the great pagan feast of Lupercalia. In Rome the ancient fertility rites of Carnomania were still celebrated annually in the presence of the pope, as late as the eleventh century.”

Pagan customs persisted within the heart of Christianity, and both faiths coexisted at the outer borders of the new religion’s territory. While many people assume Christmas celebrations have a dark, distant pagan origin, it would be more accurate to say the two grew up together.

As Charlemagne began his conversion process, the legend of St. Nicholas was born. He was said to have been the Bishop of Myra in Lycia, now Turkey. According to “The Origin of Santa Claus” at http://www.religioustolerance.org, “He is alleged to have attended the first council of Nicea; however, his name does not appear on lists of attending bishops.” http://Www.religioustolerance.org calls him a “Christianized version of various pagan sea gods – the Greek god, Poseidon, the Roman god, Neptune, and the Teutonic god, Hold Nickar.” Crichton dates St. Nicholas even earlier, claming he was imprisoned in 303, during the Roman emperor Diocletian’s effort to return the Empire to the worship of its old gods. Later, Constantine supposedly released him.

Nicholas was credited with many miracles, including aiding sailors at sea, providing dowries for young women who otherwise could not marry and using prayer to resurrect three little boys who had been killed and pickled in brine. He performed miracles even after his death on December 6, 342; a mysterious liquid dubbed the Manna of St. Nicholas was collected annually from his tomb and used to heal the faithful. The tales of St. Nicholas spread to Russia as Christianity converted the Eastern world. He became known as “Nikolai Chudovorits,” the Wonder Worker.

By the seventeenth century, the patron saint reached Siberia, where tribes of nomadic horsemen lived. These tribes lived in tents during the summer, but north of the Arctic Circle, they needed something sturdier during winter. Their timber huts became buried in snow, with the only way in or out being by ladder through the smoke holes in the roof. Their annual renewal ceremony, according to Crichton, took place with their shaman entering a trance and climbing on a symbolic journey through the smoke hole. Christian tradition overtaking the indigenous religion, Nikolai became a Super Shaman, acting as a “mystic go-between for the people and their new Christian God.” He would descend the smoke hole, another way of jumping over fire, to deliver gifts.

Nicholas traveled other directions as well, to reach the Normans, who as well as conquering England in the eleventh century engaged as traders and mercenaries in lands they did not control. They ruled the seas, and learned about St. Nicholas at Myra. As they had done with other saints elsewhere, the Normans accepted St. Nicholas into their belief system. Traveling with the Normans, St. Nicholas spread up the rivers and into the towns. A basilica was built in Bari, which became a great shrine to Nicholas. During the Crusades, countless people passed through Bari, making their obligatory stops at the shrines. From there, St. Nicholas traveled throughout the continent and beyond.

Dutch Santa and His Moorish Slave

In the fifteenth century, the Netherlands became a Spanish territory. Trade with the Indies and Americas made the Netherlands an important area. Spaniards filled the government and religious offices, and they brought St. Nicholas with them. To this day, the Dutch “Sinter Klaas” arrives by boat from Spain, dressed as a bishop with the tall hat and miter, riding a white horse. As was fashionable at the time during the Spanish Empire, Sinter Klaas had a Moorish slave who became known as “Zwarte Piet.”

In Crichton’s book, we find that “many of the customs surrounding Sinter Klaas are vestiges of an older, pre-Christian religion. Checking up on naughty children, riding a white horse, and leaving food out at night, can all be traced back to Woden or Odin.” In Finland, St. Nicholas “assumed human form, adopting the older name of ‘Joulupukki,’ which literally means Yule Goat, and again harks back to Odin and the Old Norse customs.”

In van Renterghem’s work, we see that the Herne/Pan side of St. Nicholas was further restored. In 1581, the Dutch declared independence from both the Roman Catholic pope and the Spanish monarchy. Zwarte Piet, Sinter Klaas’ dark servant, was returned to the fore as their shaman-god. When the Church tried to denounce Zwarte Piet as a devil, the Dutch retaliated by drawing him as a Spanish-looking devil, further aiding the Dutch cause. Children were encouraged to be good, or they would be carried off in Zwarte Piet’s bag to Spain.

As the legend of St. Nicholas grew, he often had helpers who were easily traced to pagan roots. According to WorldBook, examples of these helpers include Knecht Ruprecht in Germany, Pere Fouettard in parts of France and Hoesecker in Luxembourg.

The Protestant Reformation ended the religious observance of Christmas temporarily in some places, more permanently in others such as England. This sparked several inventions that seemed even more pagan-oriented than the newly outlawed Christmas. In Germany, the Protestants invented “Christkindl,” “a Christ child figure often played by a girl in a white robe with a veil and a star on her head – another legacy from the Roman Festivals,” from Crichton’s perspective. In Hungary, where Catholicism again replaced Protestantism, “the religious St. Nicholas, the secular Christkindl and the fur-clad Weihnachtsmann (Christmas Man) all exist side by side.”

In North America, the Puritans made it a punishable offense to celebrate Christmas. But when Dutch settlers sailed to Manhattan, the figurehead on the flagship was none other than Sinter Klaas. Gradually the name was changed to Santa Claus.

In England, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert helped re-invent Christmas, and Santa was reintroduced to England around this time. As a British gift-giver, Santa Claus had many rivals including CheapJack, The Lord of Misrule, Knecht Rupert and Father Christmas.

In the United States, Santa Claus was further refined in literature and illustration. In 1822, Clement Clark Moore wrote The Night Before Christmas. In 1863, Thomas Nast used childhood memories of a small fur-clad fellow to create images for Harper’s Magazine. In the 1930s, Santa hawked Coca-Cola, and in 1939, Robert L. May added Rudolph to the reindeer herd. By the 1960s, Santa had become quite commercial. During Vatican II, the Roman Catholic Church concluded that St. Nicholas had never been officially canonized, recognizing the probable source of his notoriety as being pagan gods and legends.

Many other modern Solstice traditions have such pagan origins. Mistletoe was sacred to the Greeks and Romans as well as to the Celts, who according to When Santa Was A Shaman, “called this mistletoe ‘Thunder-Besom’ (from the besom, or broom, an ancient sexual symbol of male and female organs)” – which besom dates back to the Herne/Pan shamans. “The Germanic tribes believed that all who passed under the mistletoe were kissed (blessed with sexual power) by Freya, their goddess of fertility.” The modern practice of a kiss beneath the mistletoe could still be seen as a minor fertility rite.

Whether performing in a pageant or dressing up as the jolly old elf for the kiddies, putting on Winter Solstice costumes also has ancient origins. Crichton notes that “in all primitive religions when a player dons a mask he is deemed no longer an ordinary man. For himself and those who take part in the ritual, he embodies the spirit he is impersonating.”

It should come as no surprise that we continue with rituals and practices that some believe are 10,000 years old. Children still play with toys from the 5000-year-old tale of Noah’s Ark. We still use the names of 2000-year-old Germanic and Greco-Roman pagan gods and festivals to identify the months and the days of the week. So too, we keep Santa in his many masks.

How Pagans Can Renew the World

Winter Solstice in northern climes is often a time of world renewal and the New Year. Theodor H. Gaster’s New Year: Its History, Customs, and Superstitions outlines the rites of nearly all ancient New Year and world renewal ceremonies as following the same four steps: mortification, purgation, invigoration and jubilation.

In mortification, whose root-word “mort” means death, it is easy to see death symbolized in how the life of the people and the land slowed down. Often during this time, no business was transacted. The king was either ritually or actually slain, depending on the custom. Sometimes this involved mock combat between Life and Death, or Old Year and New Year. His death paid for the evil of the past year.

Next, the community purged itself of all evil influences through fires, ringing of bells and cleansing with water. Life was then invigorated with positive steps that symbolized renewal. The people and the land were made fertile and productive again by a deliberate release of sexual energy. Then, in jubilant celebration, feasts and other merriment were enjoyed. Life had prevailed. Nature and the community would continue for another year.

Drawing on this outline and the superabundance of Solstice ideas and examples, today’s pagan can create a personal tradition. To gain a deeper connection between you and the cycle of Solstice, try adding something new. Visit a sacred site, or spend time with the land where you live. Visit a place where you can observe wild animals. Where possible, plant a tree, or some green plants indoors. Watch the sunrise and the sunset on Solstice Day, and feel a connection with your ancestors. Play the Super Shaman for your friends and family. Attach a note to each gift you give with something amusing about the person, and have everyone read the note aloud.

Food and drink can play a part. Adopt a certain dish to be made only at this special time of year. Or pass around a large chalice, reminiscent of the English Wassail bowl, pronouncing blessings or words of jest to the person who receives it from you.

However you do it, make the Solstice holiday a time of getting rid of that which weighed you down in the past and tying up the year’s loose ends. Find ways to symbolize the renewal that the New Year brings, and mark the time most joyously. Whether you celebrate alone, in a small close-knit group or as one of thousands, have a happy Solstice.

The Love Goddess for You

Cait Johnson

Back before Ann Landers or couples counselors, before the psychic hotline and the daily love horoscope, people prayed to their local love goddess for help with relationship matters. After all, everyone deserves to have a goddess they can talk to about love issues: it helps to know that you have a powerful deity in your corner, cheering you on, offering gentle advice in the form of your own intuition, a place to go where you can find some peace and serenity around the crazy-making stuff of love.

We all know about the Ancient Greek goddess Aphrodite (whose name gave us the word “aphrodisiac,” among other things) and Venus, her Roman counterpart, but what if you don’t identify with a Greek or Italian goddess? Which love goddess can you go to for help, healing, and advice?

Well, here are some love goddesses from Ireland, Mexico, South America, India, Africa, the Middle East, and more. We also include a listing of offerings that are traditional to give each one, here:

Africa: Oshun(amber, seashells, water)

Borneo: Fire Woman(candles)

China: Zhinu(stars, silver things)

Egypt: Isis(silver, amethyst, myrrh)

France: Isolt(anything white)

Germany: Minne(dried linden flowers, beer)

Haiti: Erzulie(peppercorns, anything blue)

India: Kamala(lotus, yellow things)

Ireland: Edain(crystals)

Japan: Kamuhata Hime(braided yarn)

Korea: Bai Mundan(white flowers)

Lithuania: Laima(wreaths)

Mexico: Chaska(fire, flowers)

Middle East: Asherah (lilies), Anaitis (cinnamon, green branches), Ishtar(stars, moons, doves)

Native American: Bear Woman(stone carvings)

Persia: Anahita(water, green branches)

Romanian Gypsy: Amari De(luminescent cloth, matches)

Teutonic: Iduna (apples)

The Sacred Household: Rites and Mysteries

The Sacred Household: Rites and Mysteries

Author: Ian Elliott

To Joseph Brazauskas, a true pagan

The Threshold

The sacred household in ancient and more recent indigenous cultures bears certain analogies to the human body. The front door is similar to the eyes, the hearth to the heart or solar plexus, and the central supporting pillar to the spine. Shrines or altars at these locations were guarded by spirits who were linked with internal spirits in each family resident, and the proper worship of the household guardians involved being on familiar terms with their inner analogues and tending their inner shrines.

This study of the sacred household uses the names of Roman household spirits, but it is based more broadly on a number of other cultures. We no longer live in Roman houses, so some latitude must be taken in locating household shrines; and we are not all of Roman descent, so some attention must be paid to the forms of piety practiced by our ancestors from other lands.

It is not enough to study household rites and set up modern versions of ancient shrines. Our early conditioning separates us from some pre-verbal modes of awareness, by teaching us to ignore certain readily available perceptions; these must be recovered if we are to properly install our internal shrines and so link them with those of the household. I have called practices that open up these perceptions ‘mysteries, ’ because having been forgotten they have become secret things.

The Roman god of the threshold was Janus, who has two faces, one looking outside and the other inside the home, as well as forward and backward in time. To enter a house, as H.J. Rose pointed out in Religion in Greece and Rome, is to begin something, and so household piety always began by honoring Janus at the threshold. His annual festival was on January 9th, and offerings at his shrine were made on the Calends (the day after the dark moon of the lunar calendar) , as well at the beginning of any endeavor, such as a journey; also on one’s birthday.

The Romans, even after they came under Greek influence, were by preference an aniconic people; that is, they preferred worship without images. Perhaps this was because they focused on the link between the inner and outer shrines and found external images a distraction. I keep my own threshold shrine simple, hanging a god-face about a foot and a half above a small offering shelf, the shelf set next to the front door a little above eye-level. On the shelf is a candle, a stick incense holder, toy-sized dishes for water and salted grain.

Upon crossing the threshold one always steps over it, never on it, and one should touch the doorpost as an acknowledgement of the threshold guardian and to receive his numen. We can tentatively define numen as liberating and empowering energy that is unknown or at least unfamiliar.

My prayer when offering to Janus is the same as the one I used when setting up his shrine:

Honor and thanks to you, O Janus,
for guarding the threshold of my home.
May only harmonious beings enter here,
and may the discordant depart!
Please accept these offerings of salted grain, water, light and scent,
Open this week [month, journey, etc.] for me on blessings,
and teach me to look out and in at once as you do,
so I may guard the threshold of my inner home;
for I, too, am a threshold guardian.

The god-face for Janus looks straight in, as I prefer to imagine his head imbedded in the wall, with his outer face guarding the outside of my doorway.

The Inner Threshold

This ability to look out and in at the same time holds the clue to Janus’ mysteries, to the pre-verbal mode of perception that will give us the ability to look in the same manner, outward and inward simultaneously. To do this we must ‘stand in the doorway, ’ and Douglas Harding provided the best description of this in his important little book On Having No Head. Harding was hiking in the Himalayas and one morning he suddenly saw the world differently:

“…I stopped thinking…Past and future dropped away. There existed only the Now, that present moment and all that was given in it. To look was enough. And what I found was khaki trouserlegs terminating downwards in a pair of brown shoes, khaki sleeves terminating sideways in a pair of pink hands, and a khaki shirtfront terminating upwards in – absolutely nothing whatever! Certainly not in a head.”

This nothing, however, was filled with everything: mountains, sky, valleys below, extending to the horizon. Harding felt light and liberated. He had ceased to ignore the sensations of his own headlessness, ending a habit acquired in infancy when told that ‘the baby in the mirror’ was merely his own reflection. In addition to his headlessness, he was now attending to the limits of his perceptual field. Consequently, he wasn’t tracking on this or that object, as we spend so much of our time doing, using our eyes as searchlights for our impulses and desires. Instead, he was looking at his whole visual field at once, and the lightness he felt resulted from dropping the burden of his eyes from incessant tracking, and of his mind from incessant thinking.

Indigenous peoples are aware of the difference between these two ways of looking at the world. When the psychologist C. G. Jung visited an Indian pueblo in the American Southwest years ago, he had a conversation with the local chief, Ochwiay Biano (his name means Mountain Lake) .

“The white man’s eyes are always restless, ” the chief told Jung. “He is always looking for something. We think he is mad.”
Jung asked him why they thought that.
“He says that he thinks with his head.”
“Why of course, ” answered Jung. “What do you think with?”
“We think here, ” he answered, indicating his chest.

There are two potential errors in assessing what Ochwiay Biano said. One is to take his words sentimentally, as if he were merely speaking of ‘heartfelt thinking.’ The other error would be to dismiss his words as expressions of a primitive, pre-scientific physiology. The Pueblo chief would not have been troubled to learn that Western science has determined through experiments that we think with our brains. This would have seemed to him irrelevant to what he was talking about, namely the sensation of where the thinker seems to be located in the body. We feel we are located in our heads because of certain muscular tensions around the eyes from tracking, and in our foreheads from ‘knitting our brows, ’ and performing other social cues indicative of taking thought. But these external muscular contractions, though spatially closer to the brain, are nevertheless external to it and involve muscles on the outside of the head. The feeling we get from them of being ‘in our heads, ’ therefore, is no more scientific than the feeling the Pueblo chief evidently got of being in his chest.

When we look at our headlessness, our chests come into view as the closest part of the body that is completely visible; and when mental talk quiets down as a result of tracking being replaced by restful awareness of the whole available visual field, words are employed only as and when necessary for external communication. The rest of the time one simply looks, listens and understands, and this quieter form of awareness allows feelings to come to the fore since they are no longer drowned out by incessant mental chatter. For these reasons, Ochwiay Biano felt that he thought in his chest, or solar plexus.

The Hearth

The ancients associated this part of the body, including the heart, with the hearth, and regarded it as the seat of memory. The hearth was the center of the home as well as the place of contact with ancestors. It was the place where the family gathered and traded experiences of the day, recalling in the process the words and deeds of the past. Without memory there is no family, even if the people living together are all related, as we know now that the hearth has been replaced by the television or computer as the central focus of the house, especially if meals are taken individually in the living room.

In the old days, the hearth gave heat and light to the home and was also where food was cooked. Nowadays some are fortunate enough to own a house with a fireplace, but they usually have a stove as well, so that the functions of the ancient hearth have become divided, and it is difficult to decide where to place the hearth shrine.

I have no fireplace where I live now, so my hearth shrine is near my stove. My stove is electric, but I keep a large candle in the shrine and light that, together with stick incense, when I want to awaken the hearth guardian. Additionally, I keep there somewhat larger versions of the offering dishes described above for the threshold shrine.

The hearth guardian is both a goddess and the hearth fire itself. In ancient Latium she was called Vesta. She accepts offerings for herself and also passes on some of them to the ancestors, godlings and blessed immortals. Because I cannot maintain a perpetual flame, I have a picture of her in my shrine, and close to her picture is a statuette of my family lar. The lar familiaris is an ithyphallic youth pouring wine from a wineskin into a chalice. He symbolizes the vigor and luck of my family line, and as such forms a link back to the ancestors, and onward to posterity. If I want to honor and pray to another deity, I can conveniently place his or her statue in the shrine for the occasion. This saves on shrines.

At the shrine or close by are photos of my parents and maternal grandmother. These are the ancestors who were my caregivers when I was small, and with whom I still share a bond of love. The Romans and other ancient peoples represented their ancestors by small clay figurines on the altar, as seen in some recent films.

When my offerings are laid out, I light the candle saying “Honor to fire, honor to Vesta, honor to the hearth.” Then I light the incense. Then I pray: “Holy Lady, please accept these offerings of salted grain and pure water, light and scent for thine own dear self, and pass on some to the lares and penates, the di manes, daimones and blessed gods, thanking them for their good regard for me and my family, and asking for a continuance of their favor.” To this basic prayer I add anything special for other deities.

While the fire is lit in the shrine, I call on my ancestors and talk to them. I let them know how things are going in the family with me, my sons and grandson, our concerns, blessings, problems and plans, just as I would if they were still in the flesh. If any of them has appeared recently in a dream, I thank him or her for the visit.

At the close of the rite, I bid farewell to ancestors and deities and extinguish the candle, letting the incense burn down. I say the opening prayer in reverse order, ending with “Honor to the hearth, honor to Vesta, honor to fire.” In Roman houses the hearth shrine was decorated with fresh flowers and offerings made at least three times in the lunar month: on the Calends, that is, the day after the dark moon; on the Nones, the ninth day before the full moon; and on the Ides or full moon itself. In Caesar’s solar calendar the Ides was regularized as the fifteenth of each month, which would place the Nones on the seventh.

The Inner Hearth

When we practice ‘standing in the doorway, ’ we naturally do not do so all the time, and this provides us with a contrast between the two modes of experience, so that we begin noticing things that were formerly invisible to us because they were constant. Some of these things are external to our minds, such as shadows and clouds, and some are internal. One of the internal things is the synopsis or background summary we take to experience, the mental account we refer to offhand when answering the common question “How is it going?” The synopsis is more readily observed in dreams, because it is different for each dream-story or sequence, whereas in waking life it is ongoing and only changes gradually except in moments of crisis.

When we enter a dream-story we generally enter in the middle of it, provided with a ready-made background that tells us where we are and what we are supposed to be doing. We are provided with dream-memories, sometimes selected from previous dreams (as in recurring dreams) , and unless we become aware we are dreaming, we do not question it or the actions of other dream-figures.

Similarly, in waking life we are generally absorbed by the problems and affairs of the moment, as supplied by an ongoing mental summary or synopsis. From this we derive our sense of who we are in the present and what we need to do. The synopsis is based on a selection of memories, and these change gradually unless we are in the throes of a crisis, in which case we need to revise our orientation, sometimes on the basis of earlier memories, in order to cope with the situation. At times our synopsis can become so obsessive that we throw it over in a breakdown and temporarily become disoriented.

Standing in the doorway provides a milder sort of disorientation, as the contrast between it and our usual awareness brings the operation of the synopsis to the forefront of attention. Then, as in the onset of lucid dreaming (when we suddenly realize we are dreaming) , we become free to question who we are supposed to be and what we are supposed to be doing in the present moment. The process of interpreting present experience in terms of our usual selection of memories is suspended, and earlier memories are able to surface, bringing with them earlier feelings of ourselves and of life, derived from past synopses. This is a familiar experience when we go on a trip, especially if we visit old neighborhoods we haven’t seen in many years, and perhaps explains why we like to take such trips after surmounting a difficult crisis.

Vesta’s power to call up the ancestors from old memories works in a similar way, and when our focus of awareness has moved to the chest or solar plexus, continual standing in the doorway can help her to perform the same feat for us at our inner hearth, especially if we augment our headless attention with another pre-verbal mode of awareness involving sound.

The first stage is to listen to all the sounds around us, without dividing them into ‘background’ and ‘foreground’. This comes about naturally once our visual attention rests on the limits of the visual field instead of tracking on this or that object. It is easy for the attention to waver, however, so the focus on sounds must be augmented by mentally copying sounds just heard.

Small children learn to speak by mentally copying sounds, and there is reason to believe that animals do something similar. Mentally copying sounds and associating them with specific situations would seem to have been a major part of humanity’s pre-verbal thought processes.

Once we learn to speak, and to speak to ourselves, mental mimicry of sounds is relegated to a minor role and generally limited to copying sounds for which we have words. When we begin ‘thinking with the chest, ’ like Ochwiay Biano, our minds become quieter and we become aware of feelings and images for which we have no words, not because they are ineffable, but simply because no words have yet been assigned to those experiences. Consider smells, for instance. We have many words for colors and quite a few for sounds, but our olfactory vocabulary is very limited. If a dog could be taught to speak, he would find himself at a loss to describe the many odors in his daily experience. If he invented words for the many different odors, we would find it hard to understand him, lacking referents because we are purblind in our noses.

In the same way, this particular sound I have just heard has no precise word describing it. We can say, ‘that is the sound of a car engine, ’ as we say ‘that is a tree, ’ and ignore sensory detail in either case. Our everyday minds can deal with such thumbnail descriptions without having to disturb the selection of memories forming a background to our moment-to-moment synopsis. But if we mentally repeat the precise sound of that car that just went by, our memory background is rendered more porous, as it would become in a crisis, so that feelings and images from past memories are able to emerge.

I tried mentally echoing sounds just heard as an experiment in 1972, while walking along a busy street in Encanto, California. I was also keeping my sunglass frames in view, an earlier version of ‘standing in the doorway’. I did this for an hour or more, and recorded the results in a journal:

“The result of this double exercise was three full days, not counting sleep, in silent awareness of total sensation…At one point the feeling of lightness became like a breeze flowing through my body from back to front. Everything seemed to take on a bluish tinge…By the third day, the breeze had risen to a light wind and was blowing through my memories. My personal history, the sense of who I am, was being shuffled like a deck of cards…By the end of the third day the wind set me down somewhere else in myself; that is, my store of familiar memories was completely revised and my feeling of myself permanently changed from that point on.”

After this experience, my dead grandmother began visiting me regularly in my dreams. I noticed that in many of these dreams I appeared to be younger, and to feel as I did when she was still alive, but my understanding was linked to the present. It was common to realize at the time that I was dreaming, if not at first then as the dream progressed, for I would remember that she had died. These earlier feelings of myself, and of my grandmother when she was alive, enhanced a feeling of harmony with her and allowed us to converse in close intimacy. However, as I had no unresolved issues with her, there was nothing specific to work through. I usually asked her how she was, and she said fine, but she felt tired a lot, and this probably came from memories of her as she was towards the end of her life.

My practices of the threshold and hearth continued over the next several years, and long after my father died I did have some serious issues to work through with him. This took about three years to get through, during which time I was periodically out of work (I was doing contract programming and moving around a lot) . In both dream and waking I agreed with my father to resolve certain problems for good with him in exchange for obtaining help in finding employment. On each of three occasions, I received job offers within twenty-four hours of these conversations. Skeptics may make of this what they will; but taking the view that I was in contact with the spirits of my ancestors, it makes sense that they would find it easier to relate to me after I had recovered earlier feelings of myself and of them, which I had when, they were still alive.

The Pillar

Before chimneys came into general use in the Renaissance, the old-style hearth was usually located centrally under the smoke-hole in the roof, and the central supporting pillar or pillars were set close to it. The main pillar in pagan times corresponded to the World Pillar, round which the heavens appear to revolve and which links the Underworld, Middle-Earth, and the heavenly realms of the cosmos together. It also corresponds to the human spine, and the subtle passage therein known to yogis as the sushumna. An upright person has a straight spine and thus a direct link to the vigor of the ancestors. He or she can stand before the ancestors unashamed, with a record of honorable conduct.

In the old Roman religion, every man was born with a guiding spirit called his genius, and every woman a similar spirit called her juno. These were inner spirits, with a meaning originally connected in some way with sexual vigor, but later they became mixed with the Greek notion of a personal daimon who guided one through life. The connection of the genius with sleep and dream is suggested by the lectus genialis, located in the atrium just opposite the entrance-door. Rose conjectures that in the days of one-room houses it probably served as the marriage bed, hence its sexual significance; but in later times it persisted as a sacred furnishing that was reserved for the genius of the paterfamilias and never used by the house’s human occupants. Presumably the lady of the house had a similar place in the women’s quarters dedicated to her juno.

While we must do without a pillar in modern houses, we can set aside a special area in the home for meditation, and include a shrine to a personal guiding deity, giving external form to our indwelling genius or juno in the shape of an image if we prefer. A staff can be set up in a nearby corner to represent the pillar, perhaps with alternate red and white bands spiraling clockwise around it from the top to the bottom, like a Maypole. The main thing, of course, is to sit there with an erect spine, the seat being raised by one or two cushions.

If you offer to your patron or patroness (or directly to the genius or juno) as at the other shrines, ask for guidance or wisdom in both dreams and waking life. It is also good to do this before going to sleep. If you remember your dreams on awakening, take a few moments to ponder them and try to determine what the deity was saying to you. Even seemingly trivial dreams often contain a message if we take the time to examine them.

The Inner Pillar

As the World Pillar is the link between the realms of our cosmos and thus with the ancestors, so the inner pillar is our own personal link with them through memory. As we have seen, memory contains more than the record of events: Vesta at our inner hearth can recall past versions of ourselves, our feelings and impressions, our viewpoints, joys and fears, all the way back to birth, as well as that strange kind of nostalgia, with phantom images, associated with the distant past which we call far memory. Like the rings on a tree-trunk, these vital memories represent different stages of our growth-journey from the realm of the ancestors, and each is vitally available to the present moment.

It will come as no surprise, then, to learn that each man’s genius and each woman’s juno resides in the inner pillar of memory and has the job of guiding, not just our present selves, but each of these versions of ourselves, guiding all of them together. Thus, as Vesta calls back our previous selves and integrates them with our current self, the genius or juno shows us the path linking them, the plan our life has been following, and the living form of our self through time, of which our current self is the growing tip. For whereas the ancestors are concerned to help that growing tip, our current selves, with advice and vigor, our indwelling genius and juno are concerned with the growth of the whole plant, clear down to the roots. The journey down the inner pillar of memory, taken by the silent, inward-looking self, is not like a train-journey, which leaves behind each station as it travels to the next one. It is rather a projection of awareness from the present back through the past, uniting with the whole trunk of memory as it goes. As such, it is a preparation for the fuller integration that will take place in the Underworld after the death of the body.

In the Underworld the integrated soul will undergo further integration with its selves from previous lives. Thus, the answer to the question, “What age shall I be on the Other Side?” is “All ages to which you have attained.” This is expressed beautifully in the Lakota (Sioux) myth of Falling Star. It seems long ago there were two sisters who wished to marry stars when they grew up. Then, when they were about to go to bed, two men appeared outside the flap of their tepee:

“They were men, but they were not like other men, for they made the light they lived in, and there was no shadow where they stood. This light was soft and kind, and when the two men smiled, it spread about the sisters so that they were not afraid at all. Then they saw that one man was young and one was very old. The younger one was taller than any man the girls had ever seen; but the older one was even taller. I think he stood above the other like a tree, and the light which he made was that much brighter. He was old, old; but he was young too. I think he was older than the other because he had been young so much longer.”

Journeys down the inner pillar can take place in lucid dreams or in waking moments when inner silence begins to deepen on its own, spontaneously. The latter experience feels like being in an old elevator that has suddenly slipped its cable a little. There is a feeling of being lowered into deeper silence. Present sensations continue, but new senses open up, or perhaps feelings, for which we have no descriptions. These seem to be showing through the current landscape, if we are outside, that is. Time undergoes subtle changes as well, with the mind taking in more rapid details occurring, as it were, between successive instants of time. This continues until one has had enough and decides to re-surface into the everyday present.

Standing in the doorway and mentally echoing sounds just heard help to set up lucid dreaming. Additionally, after closing your eyes at night, instead of becoming immersed in thoughts, watch your phosphenes, the lights and shapes created by the pressure of the eyelids on the optic nerve. As we fall asleep, dream images will naturally become superimposed on our phosphenes; but if we fall asleep while watching instead of thinking, we shall watch the images in our dreams afterwards and be less caught up in the words of the dream-synopsis. When dream images become superimposed on phosphenes, it is like a door opening, and when it is fully open we are asleep and immersed in a dream. If we have watched our phosphenes change into dream-images, it is only a step further to realizing we are in a dream, when the journey down the inner pillar can commence.

Footnotes:
Bibliography

BERNSTEIN, Frances, Classical Living, San Francisco, Harper Collins, 2000.
ELIADE, Mircea, Shamanism; Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, New Jersey,
Princeton University Press, 1964.
HARDING, Douglas, On Having No Head, London and New York, Arkana , 1986.
JUNG, C. G., Memories, Dreams, Reflections, New York, Vintage Books, 1963.
NEIHARDT, John G., When the Tree Flowered, New York, Pocket Books, 1974.
OVID, Fasti, transl. by A. J. Boyle and R. D. Woodard, New York, Penguin Books,
2000.
ROSE, H. J., Religion in Greece and Rome, New York, Harper and Rowe, 1959.

Your Horoscope Helpers

posted by Annie B. Bond

Adapted from Astroshamanism, Book 2, by Franco Santoro (Findhorn Press, 2003).

Every sun sign has spirit-helpers that include ancient gods and goddesses, mythic figures from many different cultures–including Celtic, Hindu, and Ancient Greek–angels, saints, and much more.

Find out who your horoscope helpers are, so you can begin a more conscious relationship with them. This is rich, fascinating, and very helpful information!

Aries, March 21-April 19: Khamael, Samuel (angels); Huitzilopochtli (Aztrec); Nergal (Babylonian); Belacadros, Brigantia, Cernunnus, Cocideus, Morrigan, Teutates (Celtic); St. Barbara, St. Peter (Christian); Amun, Khnum, Neith (Egyptian); Laran (Etruscan); Ares, Achilles, Amazons, Athena, Dione, Jason, Hercules, Nike, Phrixus and Helle (greek); Indrea, Agni, Durga (Hindu); Odin, Tyr, Wodan (Nordic); Mars, Pallas, Minerva, Bellona (Roman); Emperor, Tower (Tarot).

Taurus, April 20-May 21: Anaele (Angel); Coatlicue (Aztec); Aine (Celtic); St. Simon (Christian); Bastet, Geb (Egyptian); Aphrodite, Ariadne, Astarte, Daedalus, Dionysus, Europa, Hephaestus, Minotaur, Theseus (Greek); Brahma, Ganesh, Kubera, Lakshmi, Uma (Hindu); Freya (Nordic); Venus, Mithra, Vulcan (Roman); Ki (Sumerian); Hierophant, Empress (Tarot).

Gemini, May 22-June 20: Raphael, Ongkanon (Angels); Nabu (Babylonian); St. Christopher, St. Nicholas, St. Anthony of Pauda (Christian); Anubis, Thoth (Egyptian); Turms (Etruscan); Hermes, Castor and Pollux, Meti (Greek); Sarasvati, Hanuman (Hindu); Mercury, Apollo, Romulus and Remus (Roman); Magician, Lovers (Tarot).

Cancer, June 21-July 22: Gabriel (Angel); Sin (Babylonian); Arianrhod, Ceridwen (Celtic); Mary, St. Andrew (Christian); Kwan Yin, Shing-Moo (China); Isis, Khonsu, Thoth (Egyptian); Losna (Etruscan); Artemis, Atlante, Astarte, Hecate, Selena (Greek); Parvati, Soma, Subhadra, Tara, Kali (Hindu); Susa-No-O (Japan); Itzamna (Maya); Freyr, Hurukan, Mani, Nanna (Nordic); Lebhana-Leukothea (Persian); Diana, Lucina, Ops (Roman); Nanna (Sumerian); High Priestess, Chariot (Tarot).

Leo, July 23- Aug 22: Michael (Angel); Quetzalcoatl, Tonatiuh, Huitzilopochtli (Aztec); Shamash (Babylonian); Belanus, Lugh (Celtic); Jesus, St. Jerome. St. Mark (Christian); Ammon, Aton, Helius, Mendes, Osiris, Ra, Sekhmet (Egyptian); Cautha (Etruscan); Asclepios, Apollo, Dianus, Dionysus, Helios, Heracles, Hyperion, Teia (Greek); Balarama, Indrea, Pushan, Savitri, Surya, Vishnu, Varuna, Brahma (Hindu); Inti (Inca); Amaterasu (Japan); Itzamna (Maya); Thor (Nordic); Mithras, Zoroaster (Persian); Apollo, Hercules, Jupiter, Aesculapius, Sol (Roman); Strength, Sun (Tarot).

Virgo, Aug 23-Sept 22: Raphael (Angel); Nidaba (Babylonian); St, Anthony of Egypt, Virgin Mary (Christian); Asclepios, Hermes, Astraea, Demeter, Hestia, Chiron (Greek); Ganga (Hindu); Mercury, Ceres, Vesta, Aesculapius (Roman); Hermit (Tarot).

Libra, Sept 23-Oct 22: Anaele, Lucipher (Angels); Quetzalcoatl (Aztec); Ishtar (Babylonian); St. Mary Magdalen (Christian); Isis, Maat (Egyptian); Turan (Etruscan); Aphrodite, Hera, Athena, Adonis, Themis (Greek); Krishna, Shakti, Lakshmi (Hindu); Freya (Nordic); Venus, Juno, Pallas, Vulcan (Roman); Justice (Tarot).

Scorpio, Oct 23-Nov 21: Azrael (Angel); Mitlontecutli, Mictlancihuatl, Tezcatlipoca, Tlazolteotl (Aztec); Ereshkigal (Babyonian); Don, Epona, Gwydion (Celtic); St. Thomas, St. Martin (Christian); Anubis, Hosiris, Selket (Egyptian); Alpanu, Matus (Etruscan); Hades, Hecate, Persephone, Orion, Orpheus (Greek); Shiva, Kali, Kama, Bali, Yama (Hindu); Yima (Persian); Pluto, Mars, Vulcan (Roman); Death, Judgement (Tarot).

Sagittarius, Nov 22-Dec 21: Sachiel (Angel); Marduk (Babylonian); Bussumarus, Dagda (Celtic); St. James, St. Sebastian (Christia); Tina (Etruscan); Zeus, Chiron, Ixion, Themis, Artemis (Greek); Ganesha, Indra (Hindu); Thor, Donar (Nordic); Jupiter, Fortuna, Diana (Roman); Wheel of Fortune, Temperance (Tarot).

Capricorn, Dec 22-Jan 19: Kassiel (Angel); Ninurta (Babylonian); St. Matthew (Christian); Consentes, Min (Egyptian); Cronus, Medusa, Pan, Amalthea, Atlas, Rhea (Greek); Kali, Shiva (Hindu); Saturn, Janus, Vesta (Roman); World (Tarot).

Aquarius, Jan 20-Feb 18: Uriel (Angel); Taddheus, St. Francis of Assisi, St. John the Baptist (Christian); Horus, Nut (Egyptian); Uranus, Deucalion, Hebe, Ganymede, Hephaestus (Greek); Varuna (Hindu); Itzamma (Maya); Dionysus, Juno (Roman); Fool, Star (Tarot).

Pisces, Feb 19-March 20: Asariel (Angel); Bridget, Rhiannon (Celtic); Kwan Yin, Nu Kwa (China); Matthias, Jonah, St. Brendan the Navigator, St. Joseph of Cupertino (Christian); Isis, Bes (Egyptian); Nethuns (Etruscan); Poseidon, Atagartis, Cassiopeia (Greek); Varuna (Hindu); Susanowo (Japanese); Aesgir, Njord (Nordic); Neptune, Cosus, Dionysus (Roman); Ea (Sumerian); Hanged Man, Moon (Tarot).

The Sacred Household: Rites and Mysteries

The Sacred Household: Rites and Mysteries

Author: Ian Elliott
To Joseph Brazauskas, a true pagan