Mars & Pluto / Occultism & Magic/ Purposeful Change

imagesNatal combinations of Mars (personal will) and Pluto (raw power) make them a force with which to be reckoned. Individuals with this natal combination function (consciously or not) with such an intensity of purpose that they are able to (consciously or not) transisition their desire into reality.

Because Mars acts in conjunction with Pluto’s evolutionary drive for transformation, it’s little wonder these two are the co-rulers of Scorpio – and –  as anyone with first- hand experience of Scorpio knows, these waters run deep.

It’s also little wonder that – throughout the centuries – a large number of well-known ceremonial magicians, witches, and occultists have Mars/Pluto aspects in their charts – for example:

 Aleister Crowley  (Golden Dawn) – Pluto (23 Taurus) TRINE Mars (22 Capricorn)

Israel Regardie  (Golden Dawn) – Pluto (23 Gemini) TRINE Mars (21 Aquarius)

Carlos Castaneda (shaman) – Pluto (13 Cancer) TRINE Mars (28 Scorpio)

Starhawk (Wiccan) – Pluto (17 Leo) SEXTILE Mars (18 Gemini)

Zsuzsanna Budapest (Wiccan) – Pluto (22 Virgo) SQUARE Mars (16 Sagitarrius)

William Yeats (Golden Dawn/poet) – Pluto (13 Taurus) SQUARE Mars (12 Leo)

William Westoctt (Golden Dawn) –  Pluto (24 Gemini) TRINE Mars (21 Aquarius)

Robert Fludd (occultist) – Pluto (26 Pisces) TRINE Mars (28 Scorpio)

Emanuel Swedenborg (alchemist) – Pluto (22 Cancer) SQUARE Mars (21 Aries)

William Blake (occultist/poet) – Pluto ( 20 Sagittarius) TRINE Mars ( 20 Leo)

So does that mean that if you’ve got Mars/Pluto aspects in your natal chart you will be an occultist?

Of course not.

But what it does mean is that – for better or worse – you have a tremendous power for bringing about purposeful change.

 

Is your heart still in what you’re doing?

8-StrengthWith a serious stellium (Sun, Moon, Pluto, Mercury, and Venus) in Capricorn (not to mention the last hours of a waning moon) at 0:00 AM 1 January 2014 (GMT), the prevailing energy of the entire of calendar 2014 for everyone will be one of Strength.

CAPRICORN = ambition, concentration, determination, authoritarian

STRENGTH = courage, commitment, enjoyable acceptance of life

Without renewed passion, this year you will not be able to continue in your chosen direction. You will have difficulty enduring the challenges and could be forced to drop back and regroup.

Because the Strength card relates to Leo, this year your experience a ‘lust’ for creativity and self-expression. Like the sap rising in spring, life-force surges through your veins. Hopefully you will direct this passion into meaningful projects and not waste it or worse – allow it to convert into a destructive force.

StrengthIn ritual magic, this is akin to raising a ‘cone of power’, which when released must be directed toward a specific purpose else it wreaks havoc.

During the whole of 2014 you’re called to look carefully at what you’re doing because quite honestly, you will be ‘playing with fire’. Like fire, your emotions can be a great civilising force or a source of destruction. The key to getting this right is to embrace what you feel to be ugly or beastly in yourself, because in a year of Strength, is only through acceptance that you build character.

You will be challenged to persevere through difficult situations perhaps in career, health, or family. You will be challenged to balance your needs with those of the people you love. You will be challenged to stick with it no matter now rough the going gets because this is the only way to discover what it is that you really want.

Strength

The following enchantment may help:

Light a red candle representing your carnal or animal nature. Take a white candle (representing your higher ‘self’) of equal size and touch it to the burning flame. By mixing the red and white waxes together, the pink power of love will manifest. Let the two candles burn down together and repeat the following:

“With the loving strength of my Higher Self, I will make an ally of my instinctual nature”

Keep a piece of pink wax with you in a sealed envelope to help you remember your pledge.

Tarot ‘Year Card’ for 2014

In keeping with a neat trick garnered from Mary K Greer in her excellent book, Tarot Constellations, Patterns of Personal Destiny, I have now calculated my personal ‘Year Card’ for 2014.

This is a technique used to gain insight into the energies, opportunities, and events in store for me in the coming The Chariotyear.

Here’s how to do it:

Add the month of your birth (I am September – so I use 9) to the day of your birth (I was born on the 27th) to the current year (2014) as follows:

9+27+2014 = 2050

Reduce the result to the highest number under 23:

2+0+5+0 = 7

The result corresponds to the number of the Major Arcana representing my personal coming year.

7 = The Chariot

The Chariot Year focuses on my goals (to be a succesful novelist), so it’s time to harness my writerly energies to move forward.  Since I’ve recently finished writing a fantastic new novel (The Curve of Capricorn), I will continue my push for finding a good agent who will help me get to publication and beyond. Because the number 7 signifies initiation, this is a year for me to master my abilities especially in regards to handling difficult situations, often with conflicting aspects (I suspect marketing/selling a novel will be a good deal harder than it ought).

I will need to work on self-control and self discipline. If I give free range my instincts and emotion (represented by the sphinxes): they may tear me apart. This could be experienced as something of breakdown (losing my temper or worse) or an accident (hopefully not literally actined out in my car/chariot).

OK – I promise to be good!images-1

The moons on the shoulders of the charioteer signal a need to champion a cause. I love astrology so much, that won’t be a problem and I sincerely believe that the (Capricornian) themes (including abuse of power, ruthless ambition, rabid materialism) I’ve explored in The Curve of Capricorn are of huge importance not only to my fellow Americans, but to the world at large.

I must be assertive in establishing my identity (as a novelist) in the world while at the same time avoiding running roughshod everyone else.

Because the Chariot is a card of triumph, success and good health, I suspect 2014 will be a good year for me as long as I keep firm grasp on the reins.

In order to ensure I do this, I will use the following enchantment daily for the entire year:

Relax. Close eyes. See strong, white light surrounding me, making my body appear radiant with energy and physical health. I feel myself strengthened both within and without. I visualise myself accomplishing my goal, thanking my supporters, and accepting all and any adulation that may be due. I know that my willpower and determination will  lead me to victory.

Today is a Nine of Cups Day – be careful you might get what you want?

With the Sun in Taurus (hedonist) and Moon in Scorpio (healer) –combining in a big, fat, full moon at 3:36 GMT – today is Nine of Cups day.

The Nine of Cups is an enigmatic energy.  Although it looks pleasant enough, there’s more here than meets the eye.  If you can come to grips with this, then you’ll do well with this energy. If not, forewarned is forearmed.

You see a man with his feet planted far apart, cross armed, sitting in front of a tall table stacked with nine full cups. He wears a red hat with a red plume and red socks – red – the colour of blood  – red – the colour of passion and desire.  The man is smug and why shouldn’t he? The Nine of Cups reminds us to enjoy the good things in life.

But sadly, he’s alone. Is there no one with whom he wishes to share his bounty?  And why is the blue tablecloth so long? Is something hidden behind it?

When dealing with this energy you must remember that Kabbalistically, the Nine of Cups falls under the influence of the sefirah, Yesod, which is associated with the Moon and the watery flux and reflux of the unconscious.

Yet as Dion Fortune reminds us in The Mystical Qabalah, Yesod also represents the foundation of the universe, established by great strength such as found in the Nine of Wands.

Fluid foundations?  How could this be?

Fortune reminds us that if one likens the kingdom of earth to a great ship, Yesod would be the engine room.  Because it partakes both in the nature of mind and matter, Yesod is the all-important energy with which one works all magic designed to take effect in our physical world.

Desire – underlying as it does all magical work – comes as much from your unconscious as from your conscious – indeed – perhaps even more so.

Therefore the trick to dealing with today’s energy is to carefully examine – and re-examine – that which you desire and why – before reaching out for it.   For as with the man in the Nine of Cups – it is your unconscious – hidden from view behind the blue tablecloth – that drives your truth – red hat and red socks notwithstanding.

Literary Criticism / passage from Winterson’s ‘The Passion’ – how did I do?

The following is an extract from Jeanette Winterson’s novel, The Passion.

After this, is my literary critique (close reading) of the passage.  It was written for a course.

How did I do?

…………………………

The surface of the canal had the look of polished jet.  I took off my boots slowly, pulling the laces loose and easing them free.  Enfolded between each toe were my own moons.  Pale and opaque.  Unused.  I had often played with them but I never thought they might be real.  My mother wouldn’t even tell me if the rumours were real and I have no boating cousins.  My brothers are gone away.

Could I walk on that water?

Could I?

I faltered at the slippery steps leading into the dark.  It was November, after all.  I might die if I fell in.  I tried balancing my foot on the surface and it dropped beneath into the cold nothingness.

Could a woman love a woman for more than a night?

I stepped out and in the morning they say a beggar was running round the Rialto talking about a young man who’d walked across the canal like it was solid.

I’m telling you stories.  Trust me.

 

When we met again I had borrowed an officer’s uniform.  Or more precisely, stolen it.

This is what happened.

At the Casino, well after midnight, a solider had approached me and suggested an unusual wager.  If I could beat him at billiards he would make me a present of his purse.  He held it up before me.  It was round and nicely padded and there must be some of my father’s blood in me because I have never been able to resist a purse.

And if I lost?  I was to make him a present of my purse.  There was no mistaking his meaning. 

We played, cheered on by a dozen bored gamblers and, to my surprise, the solider played well.  After a few hours at the Casino nobody plays anything well.

I lost.

We went to his room and he was a man who like his women face down, arms outstretched like the crucified Christ.  He was able and easy and soon fell asleep.   He was also about my height.  I left him his shirt and boots and took the rest.

 

She greeted me like an old friend and asked me straight away about the uniform.

‘You’re not a solider.’

‘It’s fancy dress.’

I began to feel like Sarpi, that Venetian priest and diplomat, who said he never told a lie but didn’t tell the truth to everyone.  Many times that evening as we ate and drank and played dice I prepared to explain.  But my tongue thickened and my heart arose up in self-defence.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………..

 

This engaging passage is from Winterson’s postmodern, metafictional, magical realism novel, The Passion. [1]  In it, our heroine (Villanelle)[2] uses her romance with the married ‘Queen of Spades’ to investigate the discourse of (lesbian) passion through the motif of games of chance.[3]  That the reference to a deck of playing cards is the only clue to the identity of the object of Villanelle’s passion is significant.  In ancient myths, to know one’s name was to hold power over her.

Names are power.

Words are power.

Who controls this power?

Not you.

Not Villanelle.

Not me.

According to Christopher Butler, the most important postmodern ethical concern is the relationship between discourse and power (Postmodernism – A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, p.44).  Through the discourse of power we are normalised – made ‘uniform’ – by inviolable truths thrust at us by advertisers, and political and religious leaders.  (Butler, 50). By pushing back at the boundaries between ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’, Winterson asks us to challenge the discourse of power.   To do this, we must suspend our most cherished beliefs and what better way to do that than through ‘fiction?’

According to the Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, magical realism is a kind of modern fiction in which ’fabulous and fantastical events are included in a narrative that otherwise maintains the reliable tone of objective realistic report.’ Magical realism urges the reader to set aside her usual assumptions and see her world through new eyes.  Magical realism turns away from science and empiricism and returns to folklore and mysticism in order to undermine the establishment’s established ‘truth’.  Only in this way can we hope to explore different ‘truths’ about our world and how we live in it.

 

‘Could a woman love a woman for more than a night?’

 

According to the Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, metafiction is a ‘fiction about fiction’, which ‘openly comments on its own fictional status.’  The technique is purposefully jarring so as to refocus the reader’s attention from the story to the process of storytelling.  The technique, especially in conjunction with the first person narrative, is often used for self-reflection.  First person narrative always raises issues as to narrator reliability.  In the same way that we listen to a friend relating a story, we are aware that it is filtered through her perceptions and prejudices.

This is wholly appropriate for our friend, Villanelle.  For even as she searches for meaning, she reminds us that – in the end, it might all be fiction.

I’m telling you stories.  Trust me.’

As friends, we do trust her.  Equally, forewarned is forearmed.  Why the exhortation if all were as it would seem to be?  The heightened tension forces us, as Winterson doubtless desires, to pay even closer attention to the text.

 

‘Could a woman love a woman for more than a night?’

For readers to creatively address this question, Winterson must craft an atmosphere in which such things appear possible.  This she does par excellence.  Through imagery, we slip into the soft, slow, dreamy world of nighttime where, from personal experience, we know the borderlands of reality are blurred.

In the first paragraph, we discover that the surface of the ‘canal’ has the look of ‘polished jet’; we begin to relax with the onomatopoeia – polished – the ‘shhh’ of our mother encouraging us to stop fussing and fall asleep.   We sink further into the reverie as Villanelle takes her boots off ‘slowly’, pulls the laces ‘loose’, and eases them ‘free’.  We are invited to ‘play’ with her as she examines her own ‘moons’ (webbed feet) – ‘pale and opaque’ – ‘moons’ that even she is not certain are ‘real’.  The invoked lunar world is akin to the unconscious – a fascinating – yet dangerous place – in which intuition and feeling take precedence over rationality and thought.  Here, anything can happen.  Here, things really do go bump in the dark.

“Could I walk on that water?”  With this example of intertextuality, we are launched into the metaphysical, miraculous world of faith.  With this example of intertextuality, our spiritual selves are challenged to rise above the negativity of the material world to be fully realised in the bosom of God. By referencing the Bible (Matthew 14:22-33), Winterson cleverly triggers brand awareness.  God is a powerful spin-doctor.

Names are power.

Words are power.

Who controls this power?

Not you.

Not Villanelle.

Not me.

The powerful truth is that, without faith, there is no redemption.  Be not afraid.  Yet doubt not, we are not safe.  Without faith, we could still ‘falter’ at the ‘slippery steps leading into the dark’ and ‘die’ in the ‘cold nothingness’.  But if like Villanelle, we have faith to ‘step out’ of our normalised selves, we too, might walk ‘across the canal like it was solid.’  And this canal is not just any canal, but one at the Rialto in Venice.  It is entirely in keeping with the metaficitional technique for our story to be set in such a carnivalesque atmosphere.  It is entirely in keeping with magical realism to utilise hybridity.  By introducing a ‘real’ place into the magical (fictional) world – we are yet again reminded that there might be multiple planes of reality.

 

‘Could a woman love a woman for more than a night?’

 

In the next paragraph, Winterson introduces another dimension of the discourse of (lesbian) passion – gender politics.  Here, we find yet another metafictional reminder that as readers, we stand between the narrator and the story she relates.  ‘This is what happened.’ Do we believe?  Should we believe?  After all, if Villanelle were not trustworthy, then why would she take us into her confidence and explain that actually, she had not ‘borrowed’ the soldier’s uniform, but ‘stolen’ it?   Yet it is ‘well after midnight’ at the ‘Casino’.  Here, anything can happen.  Here, things really do go bump in the dark.

In this sequence, Winterson uses variations of the word ‘play’ three times in quick succession.  Repetition hammers home her theme that to achieve insight, we must enter into the spirit of play.  Such an invocation is a common feature in postmodern fiction.   Are we, as readers, willing to take a chance and ‘play’?  After all, it is an ‘unusual’ wager.

Or is it?  If we (women) win, we get a man’s ‘nicely padded purse’ (money and all that it offers).  If we lose, we forfeit our ‘purse’ – our female sexuality – our passion – our selves.  With this example of metonymy, we are confronted with the quid-pro-quo aspect of gender politics.  Oddly, although this association might be unpleasant, it makes sense if we take the time to consider it.  After all, even though most of us would not consider ourselves prostitutes, we realise that there is some element of bargain in our own gender politics.

Could the price of ‘playing’ ever be too high?

‘I lost.’

‘Face down’ and ‘arms outstretched’ – Villanelle is used by the solider ‘like the crucified Christ.’ Such imagery reminds us of the price both men and women pay for redemption from the ‘original sin’ (reputably) committed by a woman.  However, if we (women) are clever, we still might turn this around.  Villanelle does. Because the ‘officer’ (who is no gentlemen) was ‘about (her) height’, our heroine is able to steal his ‘uniform’ and, in effect, change places with him.

Donning uniforms make us ‘uniform’, normalised.  I am told that English schoolchildren wear uniforms for just this purpose.  Further, uniforms endow us, for better or worse, with the stereotyped qualities of those who usually wear them.  We’re in the army now.  Soldiers wear ‘uniforms’.  Soldiers are men.  In the ‘uniform’ world, women love men not women.

 

‘Could a woman love a woman for more than a night?’

 

When her ladylove suggests that despite her uniform, Villanelle is not a ‘soldier’, she replies that ‘it’s fancy dress’.  This conjures images of a masked ball, during which we have an opportunity to dress up and play at being something other than ourselves.  Being other than ourselves allows for self-reflection.  First person narrative always raises issues as to narrator reliability.  In the same way that we listen to ourselves relating a story, we are aware our stories are filtered through our perceptions and prejudices.  This is wholly appropriate for us.  For even as we search for meaning, we remind ourselves that – in the end, it might all be fiction.

‘I began to feel like Sarpi,’ says Villanelle.  ‘That Venetian priest and diplomat, who said he never told a lie but didn’t tell the truth to everyone.’  With this example of hybridity, we are yanked back from the brink.  Google Sarpi.  He is not fiction.  Villanelle’s statement is also a paradox.  Oddly, it makes sense if we take the time to consider it.  After all, even though most of us would not consider ourselves liars, we realize that we do not always tell the truth.

Many times during the evening of eating, drinking, and playing ‘dice’, Villanelle is ‘prepared to explain’ but her ‘tongue thickened’ and her ‘heart rose up in self-defence.’  Who among us have not had a similar response when faced with the possibility of losing that for which we have a passion?  Might we be more like Villanelle than we’d like to believe and if we are, where does that leave us in regards to whom we’ve believed ourselves to be?

‘Could a woman love a woman for more than one night?’

 

Winterson’s emphasis on play as well as her playful writing style seems to suggest that not only will we will never have an answer, but also we ought not to care.  As with all postmodern works, the question posed by the author is never the same as that answered by the reader.  Each of us has her own reality and – as the saying goes – fact is stranger than fiction.

Names are power.

Words are power.

Who controls this power?

Not you.

Not Villanelle.

Not me.

‘I’m telling you stories.  Trust me.’

­­­­­­­­­


[1] Winterson has chosen to write this novel in the Romantic Tradition that, according to the Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, relates ‘improbable adventures of idealized characters in some remote or enchanted setting’. Her choice supports the purpose of postmodern literature, which means to examine the impact of words on our lives. According to Peter Otto (“Literary Theory,” An Oxford Companion to the Romantic Age – British Culture 1776-1832, ed. Ian McCalman, Oxford University Press (1999), pp. 378-385), romance is intended to focus a reader’s ‘response to objects’ in such a way as to allow him to better ‘examine (his) passion.’  This is precisely the effect Winterson intends to achieve.

[2] In my chosen portion of text, Villanelle’s name is never disclosed.  However it is interesting to note that the poetic form, villanelle, is often used to express passion. The sledgehammer effect produced the two rhyming lines (aba) is potent and obsessive. Although Winterson does not utilize the villanelle form in my selected passage, her style is similarly repetitive and obsessive and I suspect that the name chosen for her heroine is no coincidence.

[3] While this section of the novel deals with lesbian – non-uniform – passion, other sections deal with other manifestations of passion.

Disreputable behaviour is nothing new …. or is it?

I’m amazed at the way everyone’s carrying on about the phone hacking scandal and such.  Are they really so naïve as not to realise that disreputable behaviour is nothing new?

But then while digging deeper into the characters for my new memoir (Astro-Sex and Lies), my own naivety was painfully highlighted.

Cor was a great friend of mine – even if – sadly – we have now lost touch.  Actually, he was much more than that.  He was the counsellor and ‘trainer’ who taught me the ‘white-magic’ ways to self-empowerment.   Over the years, I’ve spent many hours working with him.

I always knew about his black magic past.  He’d been upfront.   Cor had been born into a group of real-life wizards in the wilds of the Belgian Ardennes.  They did things to people that would make Harry Potter’s toes curl.  But Cor had ‘reformed’ after waking up in the woods with 3rd degree burns over most of his body.  Apparently, his wizard opponents had left him for dead.  He sent out an anguished cry for help on the astral plane and got it – in the form of a lovely woman, Nelly, who was a nurse.  She helped him get back on his feet in more ways than one.

But the last time I saw him, there’d been developments.  Cor was no longer a young man and health issues had put an end to his counselling practice.  Not having saved enough for retirement, he was now ‘pyramid-selling’ natural health products.  I couldn’t help thinking that he’d returned to his ‘old ways’.  Looking at his natal chart again, I realised for the first time (if you can believe it), that he shared many ‘power’ aspects with Alistair Crowley.

I was forced to face the ‘concerns’ I’d always had about Cor.  While calling him a great friend, I’d secretly suspected he was a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’.  While on one level I was quite prepared to believe that he was a thoroughly honourable man (he was very kind to me when my chips were down), on another level my survival instinct had warned me to keep my distance.   For example, I never spent time with him unless Nelly was around.

Now who’s the naïve one who refuses to realise disreputable behaviour is nothing new?  At least it isn’t when it’s in your own back yard.

Making Magic with the full moon in Taurus

With the full moon in Taurus tomorrow (17 May at 11:10 GMT), this is a very powerful time for working magic.

To get the most out of this energy, you should ensure that your intent is in perfect harmony with it.  To accomplish this, requires an acute understanding of the nature of Taurean energy both at the spiritual and material levels.

In the northern world, when the Sun is in Aries, a fresh outpouring of the life force becomes apparent.  But when it passes through the sign of Taurus, the manifestation of the newly arisen life in matter is complete.   This is why in ancient times, Taurus represented man’s physical body in which the enshrined spirit must live.

The element Earth was always symbolised by a perfect cube, a form ready for building into a temple.

While this is certainly true on the material plane, it is even more so on the inner planes.  In giving service to others on the outer plane, soul is unconsciously building and perfecting the temple of it’s own being.    This requires clearing away unwanted corners and carbuncles and moulding and shaping until like the perfect cube, the essence of your being fits into the appointed place in the great temple of the universe.

Your body is your most immediate temple.  So with this full moon, work on making it well and happy.  In turn, this will unleash a healing energy with which you can shape more spiritual concerns.

Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

The Dangers of Magical Practice – Ego Gratification vs. the Divine

As transiting Neptune slides into Pisces, many will become more interested in the occult.   If you decide to dabble in anything more strenuous than practical household magic, it’s worth keeping in mind one point that just might save your life.

In his excellent book, The Philosophy of Magic, Arthur Versluis reminds us that in both Eastern and Western traditions, Magic has always been worked for the grace of God – not for ego-gratification.

Sadly these days, however, the situation is quite the reverse.

“As a result, one can see today a situation arising which involves the greatest possible danger to those who misguidedly become involved with ‘pseudo-traditional mysticism’ or ‘neoshamanism’, not recognizing that these are, for reasons we will discuss later, but ‘inverted’ images of the traditional, be it Buddhism, Islamic or Christian, and can well lead to the psyche becoming irremediably lost in the labyrinthine confusion of the ‘second world’.”

At the foundation of Western magic, lays a Platonic universe consisting of three inter-connected spheres.  According to the Corpus Hermeticum, after being created in the image of the highest sphere – The Divine – man descended through the starry heavens to the planet of illusion – the moon – whence he landed with a resounding thud.  It was there while gazing in a pool of water, that man fell in love with his own reflection thus binding himself like a slave in chains, to the lowest sphere – the material world.

Since then, man has worked through magic to transcend his ego (which through an illusion of immortal permanence in a constantly changing mortal world, keeps him firmly earth-bound) and ascend back up through the spheres to be reunited with the Divine.

According to Versluis, in correct magical practice, the magus transcends to the higher spheres when his ego is subsumed by celestial realities.

However most modern magical practices work in reverse – keeping the ego firmly in charge.  As Versluis points out, the dangers of this are significant and real.

“…(i)f the visualization is of the Divine, enclosed within tradition, then one ‘ascends’ and radiates beneficence.  But if the visualization is, inversely, governed by ego, outside tradition – then one ‘descends’ and is overwhelmed, destroyed by the infernal and malignant.”

As an example, he cites the experience of the Belgian spiritualist Alexandra David-Neel who during a ritual in Tibet created a small round-faced monk who was greeted by others as quite real.   The monk, a product of David Neel’s own mind, eventually became so independent she could no longer control him and it was with great difficulty that he was dissolved.

“This story carries within it the implicit danger of ritual visualization, for the ritual changes the very nature of one’s relationship with the celestial world.”

Some years ago while innocently dabbling in Wicca (with what I believed was proper supervision),  I myself had a similar experience that made me physically ill for many months.

The lesson to be learned here is to take great care when following any ‘spiritual path’.  Without proper grounding and years of trainingwithin that tradition – you might just find yourself getting more than you bargained for – dumped head first into the proverbial deep end unable to swim.