I want to say how humbly grateful I am to each person who has been doing these weekly workings in the Magical Battle for America. I know that you’re already busy. I know that this work takes a lot more energy than may, at first, appear obvious. And I can feel each of you working with me as we do our best to resist the Trump Interregnum.
To recap, we’re very loosely basing our work on the work that Dion Fortune and her society did to protect the island of Albion during World War II. You can find our earlier workings here, here, here, here, here, and here.
This week, it has become even more obvious that America is actually, factually, literally under attack from a hostile foreign power: Vladimir Putin. Putin figured out a way to attack us from within. If he’d put poison into our public waterworks, it would have only been minimally more harmful that what he did: placing propaganda and lies into our news and social media and getting Americans, ourselves, to spread the poison. And, interestingly, as @catvalente noted on Twitter, when an enemy of America decided to destroy America from within, he went with pushing Republican talking points, memes, objectives, etc. Our own archetypes didn’t protect us.
So, very much like Dion Fortune and Londoners during World War II, we’re under attack. The bombs aren’t (yet) raining on Washington, D.C, but they’ve been exploding and shooting shrapnel ever since last Spring.
Ms. Fortune and her followers had an entire library of magical images to call upon in their defense of England. We’re a younger country and, so, one of our tasks has been to build up archetypal images of protective American magic.
We work under another disability that I don’t think gave Ms. Fortune much pause. Arthur may have killed his own son, betrayed the notion of chivalry, and driven his own wife to unfaithfulness, but Ms. Fortune had no trouble invoking the Arthurian legend to protect England. Yet, in our modern era, many of the figures upon whom we might call — George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison — owned slaves. Many endorsed manifest destiny. Many were sexists. Some embraced capitalism and ignored the environment. You get the idea. And we can find ourselves conflicted between wanting, for example, to call on George Washington for his courage and steadfast determination that America would NOT be a monarchy, even when he was offered the throne, and wanting nothing to do with his exploitation of slaves. We can want to call Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. for his defense of minorities and still acknowledge his sexism.
And, so this week, I’d like to ask you to join me in a working to cleanse our American archetypes. We need them clean so that we can call upon them and have them respond powerfully to our calls. Will you commit to this work with me? If you can’t, no worries. Maybe you can re-do one of our previous workings. But if you can work with me, please do.
Ground and center. Cast a circle.
As you move astrally to our American plain on the astral plane, you can feel gentle rain falling on your shoulders, your face, your hair. The sky above the prairie is a soft grey and everywhere you can hear the sound of raindrops plopping into tiny puddles, splashing off small rocks, making gentle music on your backpack, boots, cap.
The birds are silent, having gone home to their nests to shelter from the plop, plop, plop of rain upon the plain.
Despite the grey weather, you easily find your hillock, the one where you’ve been doing magic for weeks now. Perhaps you will sit there for this working, one with the rain, and the earth, and the prairie grass. Here, you can breathe the wet air, smell the wet grass, and watch the bison move across the distance, huddled together against the rainy wet. Here, you can feel yourself washed clean by the rain, can see the raindrops wash the prairie dust off each leaf of prairie grass, can even taste the clean rain on the tip of your tongue.
Or, perhaps you will duck down and settle into the small prairie sod house constructed near your hillock. There, you will be warm, and safe, and dry. You can breathe the woodsmoke burning in the center of the small sod house and drink hot tea from a clay cup warmed upon the stones beside the fire pit. You can wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and hear your own voice within the four walls of this small womb within the plain. Whatever songs you sing will reverberate within the womb of Mother Earth. You can feel the dark dirt beneath your buttocks and legs. You can sense that as you are below, so it is above.
Wherever you are, please reach both backwards and forwards into time and feel the rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain washing down on America. Go way back to the time when the prairies were covered in ocean and feel the rain slipping like love into the ocean. For centuries. See the rain coalesce into glaciers and see the glaciers clean the continent, scraping back and forth. For centuries Go forwards to a time when rain will fall upon your great, great, great, great, many-times great descendents. Send them a blessing. For centuries.
Stand under the prairie rain and ask it to clean away the stains of genocide against the First People, the stains of slavery, and of Jim Crow, and of the school to prison pipeline. Ask the drops that fall on your face, and that stick to your eyelashes, and that sparkle in your hair to dissolve the sexism in which the nation has been bathed. Take off your clothes, dance a dance with the thunderstorms, and ask the water to clean up America’s homophobia, xenophobia, religious intolerance. Ask the rain to flow away the capitalist desire to despoil everything, to cut down every tree, to tear down every mountain.
Find the one American archetype that most speaks to you, examine it in the magnifying glass of a drop of American rain, and see what most needs cleansing.
I adore Thomas Jefferson’s sense of design and commitment to education, but I hate his ownership of other humans, especially Sallyh Hemmings. I want to work with Teddy Roosevelt’s commitment to wilderness, but I hate his slaughter of anyone who wasn’t white and his sexism. I stand upon my right to call Columbia, but I reject those who saw her as a symbol of Manifest Destiny. Whom do you need to cleanse? Which American archetypes could you use if only they were washed clean of their miasma? Where can you direct the rain?
Stand up, either upon your rainy hillock or inside your warm sod house. See again the giant banners that form a pentagram across our nation. Are you drawn to one or another of them? Does Walden Pond call to you or does the Cowboy? You may want to offer incense, or to pour a blot, or to sprinkle sunflower seeds to one of the directions.
Slowly, come down from the hillock on the plains or your sod house and begin to walk back to your own landbase.
Open your eyes. Rub your arms and face. Notice the detail that you selected to call yourself back. Drink some water. Have something to eat if you like, maybe steaming soup from a bowl or hot bread with honey and butter.
You may want to repeat this working several times this week. You may want to journal about it. Are you inspired to make any art? If you’re willing, please share in comments what happened and how this working went.
Picture found here.