Dark of the Moon

On Saturday night there was a discussion over at Eschaton concerning Neopagan doctrine and I've been thinking that I did a poor job of explaining myself (Olaf and NTodd did quite well, however). I'd like to try and be a bit more clear.

I'd noted that there was a dark moon and suggested that it was a good time for anyone who wanted to banish something to work on that. Another commenter pointed out that one side of the Moon is always dark and wondered why Neopagans would continue to behave in an Earth-centric manner, as if unaware of what we now know to be true about the Moon. That led to a question about Neopagan doctrine and I had to content myself by (1) stopping my hysterical laughter at the very idea of such a thing and (2) trying to explain that there's really no such thing as Neopagan doctrine. The old saying is true: get three Pagans in a room and you'll have at least five opinions and maybe two or three "witch wars" (which, as a witch, I'll just say is an unfair term, because you truly haven't seen a witch war until you've seen ceremonial magicians go at one another, but, whatever. Some of my best friends are ceremonial magicians). I said that, rather than believing in doctrine, Wiccans, at least (Thelamites and Hermetics are different, I believe, as are some Druids), tend to do what works. I was reminded of that today while reading the following story by Jeff Wilson:

"I once heard a story that summed up the difference between the Path of Sages and the Path of Pure Land. Long ago, a rural village in Japan decided to build a temple and invite a Buddhist monk to come and minister to them. There were two applicants who seemed qualified, so the village decided to put them to a test in order to determine which one would be their new spiritual leader.

In the middle of the village two gigantic iron pots were set up and a fire was lit under each one, bringing the water inside to a boil. Then the two applicants were asked what they would do with the pots to prove their worthiness. The first monk was an advanced Zen meditator. Without batting an eye, he calmly climbed into the first pot, which reached up to his neck. Unaffected by the boiling water, the monk meditated for hours. The villagers were amazed and impressed: —here was a monk who truly had amazing powers.

The second applicant was a Shin priest. He didn't have impressive robes like the Zen monk, and he didn'’t even shave his head. Everyone wondered how he could possibly do better than the first man, especially since while the Zen monk had been quietly preparing himself for his intense meditation, the Shin priest had just been chatting casually with the villagers, asking about their families and how the harvest was going. But when his turn came, the Shin priest gave a big smile and walked up to the second boiling pot. "Quick!"” he called out. "“Bring me some vegetables and salt!"” Puzzled, the villagers gave him what he requested. Whistling to himself, the Shin priest chopped up the veggies and threw them in the pot with the salt. After a while he called out, "“Soup's ready!"” He served the whole village supper from the big pot, and talked with them late into the night about their hopes and fears, offering advice and telling them to take comfort in Amida's never-abandoning compassion. In the morning, the villagers thanked the Zen monk for coming and asked the Shin priest to stay and minister to their village.

Here we see an important difference between Shin and other types of Buddhism. The self-powered Zen monk was a very impressive meditator, and doubtless he knew the Sutras well and faithfully followed the precepts. With his powers he could maintain mental clarity in any situation, and he probably generated lots of merit that could be dedicated to the deceased members of the village.

The Shin priest, on the other hand, had no special powers. Instead, his approach was to meet ordinary people where they were and see what their everyday needs were. He demonstrated the principle of compassion by feeding everyone and bringing the community together to share and support each other. He didn'’t need to accumulate merit because he knew that he and the other villagers would all be embraced by Amida and be born in the Pure Land just as they were. In the end, this was a Buddhist teaching which didn't separate the good and the skilled from the rest of the community. I'm grateful that today we still have Shin priests whose concern is not just their own nirvana, but the liberation of everyone. "

But what about the deeper question? Why do banishing magic when the Moon appears dark from Earth? Well, the simple, and deeply correct answer, I think, is that we are ON Earth. Wiccans do Earth magic. The Moon powerfully influences the Earth and what happens on Earth. See, e.g., tides, bird migrations, human behavior.

Another answer is that this is how it's always been done. No, not in the typical sense of that expression, but in the sense that, by participating in what our ancestors and many others have done for centuries, we hope to tap into some of that power and to do more powerful magic, in part, at least, because we feel empowered when we remember our heritage.

And, yet another answer is that demanding an answer to how Wiccans can "ignore" things they know to be true (it's always five o'dark moon somewhere) hugely misses the point of magic. Most Wiccans, indeed most practitioners of magic, will tell you that magic works because there really is no duality. We're ALWAYS in every time and place and phase of the Moon. We're ALWAYS truly embodied and truly ensouled. We're ALWAYS hugely powerful and safe and frighteningly weak and threatened. As Starhawk and Hillary Valentine wrote, "We ourselves appear to be physical bodies, but we are, in fact, a swirl or standing wave in an energy patern that is connected to all creation."

Magic works because a part of us -- that part that Starhawk calls "Younger Self" and T. Thorn Coyle calls "Sticky Self" and Freud called "Id" -- responds more strongly to the map than it does to the landscape. The "symbols" are more important and vivid than the "reality" when doing magic. Someone once said that a witch's spell is a three-dimensional prayer, with the incense, robes, altar, and candles added for Younger Self's benefit. I'd agree, although the word "prayer" is problematic, as I seldom conceive of doing magic as a form of prayer. I do it because it works, just as I boot up my computer because it works, compost my waste because it works, put the key in my car's ignition because it works. Just as the monk made soup because that's what works; that's what feeds people and keeps them going.

See? That's three answers to one question. That's what's truly at the heart of Wicca and doing magic: Understanding that more than one thing can be true at the same time and being able to "change consciousness at will."

Finally, I'll just note that, on one level, any witch worth her broomstick can banish at any time of the month, although at the Dark Moon she/he may find it easier because of the symbolism, power, and pull of the Moon on us here on Earth. Similarly, any witch worth her cauldron and candles knows how to use whatever phase the Moon may be in to assist her magic. When the Moon's waning, I can see the cancer cells in my body being destroyed by my immune system. When the Moon's waxing, I can see my immune system getting stronger, my body becoming healthier, etc. I really can't think of a spell that can't be worked both ways, although maybe there are some.