Dirt and Bones

Necromancy and the Giamos influence

I’ve done a bit of writing lately on the cosmic principle of giamos and its influence on the world around us, namely its association with the Otherworld, winter, and death. I’ve also been having discussions with some people I know in person about my “spiritual makeup:” just what it is that has influenced me to do what I do, and think how I think, in spiritual terms.

Upon reflection, the giamos energy’s influence on my life is enormous. I grew up surrounded by graveyards and cemeteries, out here in the rural Midwestern countryside. The land itself feels like a corpse, dead yet full of life, sustaining itself, growing out of the decay.

(And before I go on, let me say that this ties into one of the founding themes of this blog: the American dead. This is a land soaking in the influence of giamos, of Saturn, of everything that goes along with it: the Western World, associated by proxy with the Otherworld and the Unseen by virtue of being western in the Gaulish directional paradigm, is regardless a place of death and rebirth. One only has to look so far back as our modern history: we have built our nation on the lifeless bodies of natives, subjugated peoples, the harvested and unsustainably predated land, the extinct species and cultures. The Deep South is plagued by stories of hauntings, White Women, the surreal and unseen; New England has seen battles and wars, witch hunts and prejudices; the West Coast was initially an ideal, to ’49ers, to opportunists, to those who followed the Oregon Trail, who faced death at every turn. We must love death, for we trail it wherever we go.)

I also found death in my daily life. The familial Major Depressive Disorder wreaks havoc on those who have it, and we suppress our innate, terrifying closeness to death-by-suicide with medications and therapy. Still, it leaves its mark on those who have it, a mark that makes death seem all the closer for escaping it.

My perpetual closeness to giamos energy has predisposed me to some things, less others. In the Otherworld, in Dumnos, Cernunnos resides as King–I peripherally call him the King in Sleep. Cernunnos, who was the first God I really knew, laid hands on, so to speak, opened the door to every other crazy thing I did on the ongoing road of polytheism, from spirit work to necromancy, and everything in between. Cernunnos is a king of the dead, and when I am in contact with him, necromancy and its workings come that much easier to me.

On reflection, I actually found that this is true of all Saturnian/giamos influences. In times where life circumstances have pushed me closer to my MDD, I have invariably found it easier to communicate with spirits and the dead. In the winter, particularly on either side of winter (the liminal sides, before and after the deep ice, which incidentally I associate with Cernunnos), the spirit work comes easier. When I am more deeply oriented toward Dumnos, the spirit work always comes easier.

This leads, also, to the unfortunate implication that my best spirit work comes when I go off of my medication… which is a dangerous path to walk, and not something I’ll be speaking about right this moment.

I’ve had a concept of this alignment for a while, but it’s a difficult thing to express without sounding like you’re somehow “better than.” I described it as “death energy” for a while, though that isn’t all it is, of course. When I attempted to explain how to use it, I tried to explain “attunement:” how some people are more predisposed for certain types of works than others. Obviously, in this light, it sounds like a hoax or a New Age fad, but what I didn’t understand then and have neglected to mention is that this “attunement” comes at the cost of other things.

See, being close to Dumnos, the Otherworld, on the samos-to-giamos line graph means that I’m further than usual from Albios, the Heavens. Functionally, that means that I have trouble grasping related concepts, or relating to those gods. I don’t know very well how to miss something I’ve never had, but I do know that the imbalance doesn’t help the MDD. If samos is positive energy, light, and life, then that’s something that’s just that tiny bit harder to grasp for me.

When I deal with Belenos, I always have a moment of perfect wholeness that I can only imagine comes with exposure to holy samos at a divine level of intensity: hope, finely-tuned potential, loving kinship.

The benefits of being more toward Dumnos, such as they are, shouldn’t be overlooked given that one has them, though. Like I said, I find spirit work easier than it’s supposedly supposed to be, as well as various psychic feats like astral movement. And I would not trade my easy relationship with Cernunnos and the dead for anything: it’s led me to grow as a person on a whole other level beyond what I could have.

Likely, that’s to be treasured: if I cannot regularly experience the divine ecstasy of Belenos, I will gladly take the gentle acceptance of Cernunnos as my prize, and be all the happier for it. This, after all, is where I belong.

Openers of the Way

Cernunnos, open the way.
Open the way, God, open the way.
Between life and death, God, open the way.
Of human and divine, God, open the way.

Human religions love deities that go between: liminal gods. The Gauls have Cernunnos, such that he is documented, who lies between civilization and the wilds, life and death, past and present, physical and spiritual. (more…)

Patriotism and the American Gods

Recent discussion in the CP discussion group regarding the American gods and the documentation I put together a while back got me thinking about patriotism, and helped me find the words I needed to discuss it.

Short story short, I love my country. Adore it, even. But when I discuss “my country,” I generally mean just that–my country, not my nation. I love the people of the country (for the most part), and I most especially love the country itself, the land and water and the genii loci. The American spirits are important to me. I’m born American and have never set foot beyond United States soil. I’ve discussed this before, how intrinsically linked my identity is with the land I grew up on and called home my whole life up until about this time last year.

In short, by its strictest definition, I’m a patriot.

Definition:

pa·tri·ot
noun
a person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.
In recent years, with the advent of more publically vocal social justice work, “patriot” is a bad word, and for good reason. Patriot usually indicates nationalism, and nationalism has rarely brought anything good to fruition. Nationalism is responsible for some of the worst human atrocities in human memory. Nationalism, insofar as it indicates blindly following the whims of the nation and the mob mentality, is not a good thing.
So how can I justify patriotism in any sense?
Part of my loyalty to my homeland–and this is a very important part–is the dedication to improve its nation. To work to correct injustices. The concept of “government,” Big Government, cumbersome and slow creature that it is, has become an oppressive force, particularly to younger people such as myself. Again, that’s for good reason. Young people, from college students to the homeless, have an incredibly difficult time affecting even local legislation in any significant way. No twenty-something is going to get voted into office.
But what we forget is that, burdensome though it might be, corrupted though it is, the government is our government. On its most fundamental and ideal level, it’s a democracy.
This brings me to the American pantheon, and who they are, and what they do. And, particularly, why are American gods, potentially patrons of manifest destiny and Native slaughter and Confederate slavery, even worthy of our attention or praise?
The United States has absolutely done some horrible things. But not its gods.
Now, there’s room for discrepancy here. On a personal note, I have some distaste for Uncle Sam for this reason. Uncle Sam is, at the root, a personification of the United States itself, the nation, the government. He’s a recent personification, so no, he wasn’t there for many of the older crimes that this nation has committed, but he was created within that context, and that shouldn’t be overlooked. In short… I don’t like him. Most offerings I might do for Uncle Sam would be either A) in the context of voting and governmental participation, or B) atropopaic.
I don’t want Uncle Sam’s attention. I think that Uncle Sam, “I Want You!” Uncle Sam, warfaring Uncle Sam whose personifications repeatedly attack and defeat the personifications of other countries, does not have my best interests as an individual at heart, and I think that Uncle Sam likely favors congressmen and similar persons, not a young college student like myself.
But Lady Liberty is… a different matter.
Where Uncle Sam is government, nationalism, industrialism, war, the Lady is more rooted in ideals. Uncle Sam likely looks at me as a potential burden or asset to the State, but the Lady likely looks at me as a citizen–a Citizen, a free and equal member of a union that protects and aids its people. The Lady has my best interests at heart because that is what the Lady is.
The imagery of Lady Liberty is incredibly complex, in comparison to most of the new American gods, likely because she was initially designed to be a permutation of Roman goddess Libertas. (For those wondering, no, I don’t think they’re the same goddess whatsoever. The statue wasn’t designed or forged with religious purposes in mind; it was designed, using traditional imagery, for the United States, with symbolism emblematic of the US.)
The Lady is meant to stand over the harbor, where once immigrants passed through Ellis Island in pursuit of the American Dream. She carries a torch to guide the way and holds a tabula ansata to follow the word of the law. On her ankle there is a broken chain, evoking the image of freedom.
On that note, the Lady is heavily symbolized to be against slavery and oppression. The broken chain, yes, as well as, for example, the pileus she wears–the pileus is a type of circlet or diadem given to emancipated slaves in ancient Rome (a powerful enough symbol for it to be argued over, as Confederates disapproved of this imagery, seeing it as an abolitionist symbol). The Lady has also been called “Mother of Exiles,” caretaker of those with nowhere else to go. The torch, which is traditionally a beacon to immigrants, plays into this symbolism, representing (as torches tend to do) enlightenment.
So. Long rant, right? Anyway, my point is this.
Where Uncle Sam, being constructed by and for the government, is therefore inspired and enlivened by that same government, Lady Liberty was born of an ideal. That ideal is freedom, peace, protection of the weak, enlightenment, equality! There’s a poem inscribed on the statue’s base called “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus:
“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.”Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

A far cry from Uncle Sam’s sad reality, right? “The New Colossus” calls for an abandonment of grandeur and classist bureaucracy and so many other things that plague our government to this day. But even so, Lady Liberty is an ideal, an impossible ideal, the embodiment of the American Dream. “Mother of Exiles.”
In a way, I see Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty being constantly at odds. Uncle Sam is a creature of aggression, destructive industrialism, cruel efficiency at the cost of the individual, and Big Government, where Lady Liberty calls for peace, freedom, hope, the equal valuation of every citizen, every member, on her soil.
This is, in its own way, how I justify my pride in my country. I am not proud of what we are, what we’ve done, the crimes we as a nation have committed, including ongoing ones–wars, nuclear destruction, aggressive nationalism, and so forth. But I am proud of the ideal: I am proud to work for a better future, something closer to what was imagined when everyone had the idea of the American Dream in their heads.
So let’s return to that definition, shall we?
pa·tri·ot
noun
a person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.
In my mind, in my prerogative, this definition fits, but it’s not perfect, and it could easily be mistaken for nationalism–and I am by no means a nationalist. There’s no word for what I feel in regard to this, no word closer than “patriot,” but if I could reword the definition to apply to me in particular, it would be thus:
pa·tri·ot
noun
a person who vigorously supports what their country could be and is prepared to defend it (through vote, protest, and similar actions) against enemies such as those who seek to inhibit freedom or oppress, or detractors.
In my eyes, it’s often nationalists, and “patriots” with their own agenda, who are some of these “enemies.” And detractors are vital–if anything, I’m a detractor. But I believe that criticism must be made. I love my friends, and I love their work, but if I don’t point out the flaws and mistakes, how will they improve and learn?
(I don’t understand how anyone could look around, could see the obvious injustices and the rampant corruption, and think, “yes, I want to preserve this.” There are parts to be preserved, the land and the people and the ideal and the groundwork, but why would you not want to do your best to move forward and improve the nation you claim to support?)
Perhaps I’m just shooting fire out of my own ass. (I made that phrase up on accident right now and I’m keeping it.) But state and government, faith and religion, are intertwined as genii loci are intertwined with their lands and families, or as the dead are tied to the living. Not the same, but incapable of being unaffected by the other.
The Lady Liberty is an inspiring figure to me because she’s a protectorate of the “small people,” like me and my family. She knows the struggle of day-to-day life and she resents it. I don’t think she could possibly approve of the current state of affairs.
So, in short? When I petition Uncle Sam, it’s to stay away and stay quiet. When I petition Lady Liberty, it’s for justice, or freedom, or for the health of the land and its spirits and people. Or, frequently, to fix or change something Uncle Sam himself has done, or to influence Uncle Sam to be just and progressive. To wave the torch of enlightenment in his face and remind him of what he’s supposed to stand for. And in the same way, both politically and religiously within the context of the American pantheon, we have that same duty.

Detroit, What Was and Will Be

I am a Detroiter. I have lived there for a measly six months of my whole life, every other month previously spent in the countryside seven to eight hours away depending on the route. I’m not even in Detroit now, but my old home, the place where I was so entangled with the land for so many years that I feared leaving it at all. But now I think it had to be. (more…)

Personal Mythology: Dirt and Servitors

I’ve been talking a lot lately about “personal mythology:” the symbols that we, as humans, develop, as individuals, over time using psychological conditioning to link to magical forces. Again, for some people it really might be as simple as “green means money,” “pink means love,” but the more I self-analyze the more I learn about the ways in which I diverge from the “general” associations. The problem is that a lot of the time, these realizations come as unexpected surprises. That’s great when it happens, but wouldn’t it be great to simply instantly know your own psychological cues? (more…)

Ancestral Manifesto

I’m not sure where, precisely, this new movement began: this sudden emphasis on necromancy, the contact with my ancestors, the renewed spiritual drive and craving, the strange focus I feel in this area. But I think the boulder started rolling when my family started dying, and after a couple mourning periods, one right after the other, they began to leave impressions on me that couldn’t be shrugged off so easily. (more…)