Musings on Ritual Work

As is appropriate after making such major life changes as I have recently, especially moving to a new home in a new landscape* with a vastly different climate, I have been reevaluating pretty much everything I am doing religiously, from the smallest devotional acts to festivals to trance and oracular work and more. I have also become, if it’s possible, even more solitary in my life and in my practices. Therefore the only considerations I have to make regarding rituals is what my gods and spirits want, what’s magically effective, how to incorporate the sacred landscape and wights respectfully, and what suits me personally. So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my evolving ritual style.

On the one hand, for me ritual is very much an art, perhaps in fact my primary art form when it comes down to it. Not just because it incorporates so many aesthetic considerations, but also because it is a communication – though instead of communicating my feelings to other people at a distance with a painting or song, I am communicating to/with the divine in a very direct and immediate way – actually, it is more like a theatrical production in that way, happening “live” as it were…and one that invites “audience participation” at that. I suppose this is particularly apt considering I am a devotee of a god whose ancient rites evolved into theatre in the first place.

And yet, at the same time, my approach has become increasingly pared down over time. The preparation in many ways is far more elaborate and extensive than the actual performance. Like a play has rehearsals, memorizing lines, painting sets, making costumes, finding props, so my rituals involve days, weeks or even months of planning. But not because I’m doing High Ceremony here, but because every single part of it must be rich in symbolism, with spiritually potent words and actions, and aesthetics pleasing to the spirits involved (some of which is very much NOT what you would find on Instagram, I hasten to add).

If there is wine, the image or name on the label must be meaningful. If there is incense, it must be selected with care or even made from scratch for that purpose, using significant woods and resins (I hope in time to personally make even more of my tools and offerings, which allows me to get very specific about the origin of the materials, the process of putting them together, etc.). Songs and prayers must be remembered, practiced, found, or written. The timing, whether by lunar calendar or other reckoning, must be considered carefully. The location of the rite must be chosen with regard to beauty, functionality, privacy, presence and receptiveness of the landwights, type of ecosystem favored by the gods involved, and whether it’s conducive to the work being done (and sometimes this involves a bit of a trek to get there, which also must be planned). All must be a reflection of the relationships both locally and those I bring with me, and of what’s going on in the spiritual currents of the world, the seasons, etc. When in doubt on a detail, there is divination, looking for omens, and (for new things especially) often a lot of research.

This results in rites that are long in preparation but often relatively short in execution. At least for the core part. But it also leaves a lot of room for connection, dialogue, and improvisation. Over time, repetition builds the bones of a ritual, and all the little choices made each time provide a decorative skin, but the heart, to me, is in the moment, the part that changes each time, that very personal level of interaction that happens when the veil is successfully lifted and you feel Them respond, and go from there. Of course, this works well for me because I specialize in trance states and oracular work and so there’s always a strong possibility of such direct two-way communication. But even when that doesn’t happen, I enjoy being in that space created by ritual, and linger there as long as possible.

When I was first starting out, doing almost all my rituals with a small group but also much less frequently, we would put on relatively theatrical productions (easier with many people to take on various roles, of course) and then quickly learned to leave room at the end for possible ecstatic states. Eventually, that latter time grew longer and longer and became the focus of our efforts. In a way, I’m just continuing that pattern now, except the ritual itself has become a sort of deceptively simple shorthand, with the weight of years of practice behind it. Because now when I make an offering it is usually the 10th or possibly 100th time I have done that exact same thing for the exact same reason (or at least, marked the occasion on some similar way), and so nothing I am doing stands alone but instead is accompanied by all the previous instances and variations. Whether I use the same song I’ve been singing on that holy day for 20 years, or whether I start a new tradition this time, I hear the echoes overlaying the present, and I feel that the gods do too.

I will also say that, the more I do this, the more I think that it is equally true that (a) all of these ritual elements and actions and symbolism are incredibly meaningful and important and actually do affect things – not just in our psychology (although that’s an important factor one can’t ignore) but in the reality of how things work on the spiritual plane where it intersects with the material world – and that repetition builds power, and that there are times when you have to exert discipline or make sacrifices to do things the way they should be done even when it’s very difficult but ALSO (b) sometimes you can discard a hell of a lot of that and still do good Work, just as solid and connected as when you have all the right trappings. Like everything, it’s a matter of discernment – when are the times you have to do it a certain way no matter what, and when are the times that the details are more flexible, especially if there are extenuating circumstances. It’s also a matter of accumulating enough skill and mojo that it can carry you through the times when you don’t have everything you’d ideally want in order to do the Work in front of you.

I have nearly passed out doing oracles in a tiny smoke-filled room during a heat wave, fasting and sick and barely coherent, after a day’s worth of devotional and meditative preparation. And I have done equally good sessions (as far as results go) that were pared down to the bare essentials, that were in a different location or at a different time of day, that accommodated some external situation that made it difficult to do the same rituals I usually rely on. That doesn’t mean this can always be done – I have sometimes erred in my assessment of the appropriate response to challenges. Sometimes I pushed myself unnecessarily and even counterproductively. Sometimes I gave myself too much slack and things fizzled. It’s an ongoing learning experience. Another opportunity for discernment. But I think the reality is far more complex than just Do This Thing Always.

Anyway, just some thoughts I’ve been turning over as I work on things. Yesterday was the first day of the new year and I discovered at the last minute that several of my long-standing practices on that day were no longer applicable – I am still grappling, for instance, with how my understanding of and relationship to Hermes has shifted now that I no longer live in an urban environment – and additionally I was given a new directive the night before via divination that involved several hours of devotional altered state work with Dionysos first thing in the morning, which completely changed the course of the day for me. As well as a call I could not ignore to visit a particular holy place nearby. Which of these things will be repeated next New Year, I cannot say yet. It is a little unnerving at times to let go of rituals with so much accumulated emotional resonance for me, but I remind myself that the core of my divine relationships and the Work I do has remained, at some level, constant throughout the decades. I just need to translate the script and update the set design for the new stage I find myself on.

* By the way, note the new header of this blog, which I’ve changed from photos of my environs in Oregon to those here in Maine. All of these were taken within five miles of my home.

~ by Dver on January 2, 2023.