In my family we do magic sometimes. Tarot for clarity in decision-making. Sacrifices to local spirits when we need assistance making a change. (Spirits seem more approachable than gods.) Sometimes I call our dog the spirit of our house, because he has a brave, bullish personality that is different from any of the rest of us (but has qualities we need).
All of this is made up, of course — explicitly made up, by us. We’re children fumbling for explanations of adult things. I don’t have any particular tradition that tells me that there is a “house spirit” or a “city spirit” to pray to. We used to live in a house with trees and bushes in the front yard that attracted so many bees they HUMMED. I would go out sometimes and stand in front of the biggest tree and listen to the bees and feel… something. But I don’t have a tradition to tell me what.
(I should say — I have never once gotten the impression from any sort of modern “pagan” that they know, either. I always get the sense that they, too, are making it up as they go. I think religion, which literally means connection, can’t be separated from a cultural and physical environment. What worked a Viking village will not work for me. Or at least, it will not work the same. Though I freely admit there are still glimpses of power, as in your ring.)
It’s not real. It’s made up of little fragments of paganism and Catholicism and half-digested readings in anthropology and probably Star Trek and Clan of the Cave Bear, too. Still… it’s not a bad thing to do. There’s something about treating the world as though it’s alive, full of little bits of spirit and power that I am in relationship with, that puts me deeply at peace. That makes me feel respect and humility and connection, instead of anxiety and alienation and a desire to control.
It is all made up, on the fly, with no deep background to support it. I wish it were otherwise.
This was such a beautiful, thought-provoking, and compassionate essay, Sarah. I was particularly struck by the idea that it is quite audacious of us to think a god would stoop to muddle around in our petty affairs. And yet we think that way all the time. (In my version, which comes straight from yoga classes, it’s sending good wishes into the universe, but same-same.)
I can be superstitious, and I have found that I’m most superstitious when I have the least power. On the day my son was waiting to hear whether he had gotten into his top-choice university, I went to the school library and organized all the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Warriors, and Rick Riordan books. This was a big job! Those shelves are always a disaster. But I thought maybe if I took on this useful but thankless task, then karma would reward my son with an offer of admission. And when my daughter was waiting to hear whether she got early admission to her top-choice college, I visited the hippotherapy center next to her school on my way to pick her up, to see if my favorite pony, whom I call Emo Pony because of his dejected appearance, was there. Emo Pony is my good-luck charm. He wasn’t in the corral, but then as I turned into the school parking lot he and his rider crossed in front of my car. Whoo hoo! Luck! I thought.
Did these stratagems “work”? Yes and no. Yes, because my kids both did find out shortly after my superstitious activity that they did indeed get into their top choices. But of course no, because superstition is pretend, and organizing those shelves and looking at Emo Pony have no bearing on admissions decisions, obviously. At least those library shelves were organized for a couple of days before they reverted to their usual chaos.
Magic, tarot, witchcraft, and--let’s go ahead and be controversial--religion all give us a sense of control when we feel powerless. It is fascinating to me how intractable that human need is, and how many forms we’ve developed for meeting that need.
1. "A few years ago, I looked around and realized that I was becoming one of the only women I knew who didn’t publicly identify as a witch." That is a great sentence. Great.
2. Have you read "The Secret History" by D Tartt? It's excellent! It speaks to a lot of what you're writing about here. I'd recommend it (go in knowing as little about it as you can).
Every time I read your thoughts I get a very earthy, witchy feeling. But there’s nothing disingenuous about courting those feelings even if you don’t literally believe them the way more ancient or ancestral people did. You’re believing in beauty. That’s magic.
There’s something interesting about spirituality to me as a musician.
People imbue the desires and emotions they seek to express into things. Rituals, talismans, song and dance. People seek comfort in the self and in others when they are lacking or lost. People want meaning.
With music, you can do this. Music is dialectical. With music, you can manipulate the physical and the metaphysical. You can create meaning in-itself and express it, you can share with others what you wish to say spiritually.
We create within ourselves our devotion and reverence, because it is our will to power. Gods are just the ideology of humanity.
I used to think exactly the same thing - that it is all story-telling, made-up, and passed on to explain the unexplainable, make sense of nonsense, and give we, the powerless, something outside of ourselves to point at when life isn't what we want it to be.
Then I started reading about quantum mechanics. Not so much the mathy bits, but the thought experiments and basic underlying concepts. The Dancing Wu Li Masters - that stuff. And I got a master's degree in Liberal Studies ("Would you like fries with that?"), where I learned that no matter what field of study you chose (at least before the turn of this most recent century), there was only so close you could get to anything absolute. Physical things reduce to quantum bits about which we can only say so much despite the evidence that they continue to depend on each other in measurable ways. History is discussion of original sources that were created by humans and survived, but there is no way to "know" "objective" truth. Looking far enough into space equals looking back in time and that alone boggles my mind. Where is the art? Is it in the object, the artist's intention, my experience of the art, or all or some or none of the above?
At the very least, it's all slippery. So I surround myself with things that delight me and try every day to make choices that increase the odds that I'll be able to make calm and loving choices tomorrow.
Everything is temporary. Everything touches everything else eventually. Either everything matters or nothing does. Either everything is a miracle or nothing is.
Yeah. I wish I believed in such things.
In my family we do magic sometimes. Tarot for clarity in decision-making. Sacrifices to local spirits when we need assistance making a change. (Spirits seem more approachable than gods.) Sometimes I call our dog the spirit of our house, because he has a brave, bullish personality that is different from any of the rest of us (but has qualities we need).
All of this is made up, of course — explicitly made up, by us. We’re children fumbling for explanations of adult things. I don’t have any particular tradition that tells me that there is a “house spirit” or a “city spirit” to pray to. We used to live in a house with trees and bushes in the front yard that attracted so many bees they HUMMED. I would go out sometimes and stand in front of the biggest tree and listen to the bees and feel… something. But I don’t have a tradition to tell me what.
(I should say — I have never once gotten the impression from any sort of modern “pagan” that they know, either. I always get the sense that they, too, are making it up as they go. I think religion, which literally means connection, can’t be separated from a cultural and physical environment. What worked a Viking village will not work for me. Or at least, it will not work the same. Though I freely admit there are still glimpses of power, as in your ring.)
It’s not real. It’s made up of little fragments of paganism and Catholicism and half-digested readings in anthropology and probably Star Trek and Clan of the Cave Bear, too. Still… it’s not a bad thing to do. There’s something about treating the world as though it’s alive, full of little bits of spirit and power that I am in relationship with, that puts me deeply at peace. That makes me feel respect and humility and connection, instead of anxiety and alienation and a desire to control.
It is all made up, on the fly, with no deep background to support it. I wish it were otherwise.
This was such a beautiful, thought-provoking, and compassionate essay, Sarah. I was particularly struck by the idea that it is quite audacious of us to think a god would stoop to muddle around in our petty affairs. And yet we think that way all the time. (In my version, which comes straight from yoga classes, it’s sending good wishes into the universe, but same-same.)
I can be superstitious, and I have found that I’m most superstitious when I have the least power. On the day my son was waiting to hear whether he had gotten into his top-choice university, I went to the school library and organized all the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Warriors, and Rick Riordan books. This was a big job! Those shelves are always a disaster. But I thought maybe if I took on this useful but thankless task, then karma would reward my son with an offer of admission. And when my daughter was waiting to hear whether she got early admission to her top-choice college, I visited the hippotherapy center next to her school on my way to pick her up, to see if my favorite pony, whom I call Emo Pony because of his dejected appearance, was there. Emo Pony is my good-luck charm. He wasn’t in the corral, but then as I turned into the school parking lot he and his rider crossed in front of my car. Whoo hoo! Luck! I thought.
Did these stratagems “work”? Yes and no. Yes, because my kids both did find out shortly after my superstitious activity that they did indeed get into their top choices. But of course no, because superstition is pretend, and organizing those shelves and looking at Emo Pony have no bearing on admissions decisions, obviously. At least those library shelves were organized for a couple of days before they reverted to their usual chaos.
Magic, tarot, witchcraft, and--let’s go ahead and be controversial--religion all give us a sense of control when we feel powerless. It is fascinating to me how intractable that human need is, and how many forms we’ve developed for meeting that need.
1. "A few years ago, I looked around and realized that I was becoming one of the only women I knew who didn’t publicly identify as a witch." That is a great sentence. Great.
2. Have you read "The Secret History" by D Tartt? It's excellent! It speaks to a lot of what you're writing about here. I'd recommend it (go in knowing as little about it as you can).
I needed this today. This is enchanting and grounded.
Every time I read your thoughts I get a very earthy, witchy feeling. But there’s nothing disingenuous about courting those feelings even if you don’t literally believe them the way more ancient or ancestral people did. You’re believing in beauty. That’s magic.
There’s something interesting about spirituality to me as a musician.
People imbue the desires and emotions they seek to express into things. Rituals, talismans, song and dance. People seek comfort in the self and in others when they are lacking or lost. People want meaning.
With music, you can do this. Music is dialectical. With music, you can manipulate the physical and the metaphysical. You can create meaning in-itself and express it, you can share with others what you wish to say spiritually.
We create within ourselves our devotion and reverence, because it is our will to power. Gods are just the ideology of humanity.
I used to think exactly the same thing - that it is all story-telling, made-up, and passed on to explain the unexplainable, make sense of nonsense, and give we, the powerless, something outside of ourselves to point at when life isn't what we want it to be.
Then I started reading about quantum mechanics. Not so much the mathy bits, but the thought experiments and basic underlying concepts. The Dancing Wu Li Masters - that stuff. And I got a master's degree in Liberal Studies ("Would you like fries with that?"), where I learned that no matter what field of study you chose (at least before the turn of this most recent century), there was only so close you could get to anything absolute. Physical things reduce to quantum bits about which we can only say so much despite the evidence that they continue to depend on each other in measurable ways. History is discussion of original sources that were created by humans and survived, but there is no way to "know" "objective" truth. Looking far enough into space equals looking back in time and that alone boggles my mind. Where is the art? Is it in the object, the artist's intention, my experience of the art, or all or some or none of the above?
At the very least, it's all slippery. So I surround myself with things that delight me and try every day to make choices that increase the odds that I'll be able to make calm and loving choices tomorrow.
Everything is temporary. Everything touches everything else eventually. Either everything matters or nothing does. Either everything is a miracle or nothing is.
Is it because I'm a dude or because I live in Texas that this read like a fascinating and wonderfully written dispatch from another planet?
Will you settle for daemons, Sarah?