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clangenrising · 7 days

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Month 14 - Newleaf

“It’s almost time,” Fogkit muttered to herself. She enjoyed muttering, especially if there was no one there to listen. It made her feel like she was five steps ahead. And today, she was. She had spent all week making spells out of prey scraps and mud and moth wings and such in preparation for today.

Last night, Goldenstar had told her and Slatekit that they would be apprenticed at dawn. She had risen early to groom her fur and scatter feathers around the camp for good luck. Now she sat hunched in the dark, hidden in the grass near the nursery, waiting for dawn. The sky was starting to turn a soft, pretty pink.

A few cats were up and about, likely waiting just like she was. She watched as Floodpaw slank out of the apprentices’ den and arched his back in a long, lanky curve, and she brightened. She bolted for him and slipped underneath him to poke her head out between his forelegs so she could look up at him.

He jumped and said, “Yikes, kid! What are you doing up so early?”

“Um, I’m gonna be apprenticed,” Fogkit rolled her eyes. “Duh!” He rolled his eyes in return and sat down on top of her. She squealed in delight and thrashed wildly.

“Huh,” he said, “where did Fogkit go?”

“I’m here!” she screamed, kicking with all her might. He winced but stayed where he was.

“Fogkit?” he called. “Oh, Fogkit! Man, that’s a shame. She’s gonna miss her ceremony.”

“No!” she giggled. “No, I can’t!” She rolled onto her back as best she could and kicked hard with both legs. Floodpaw gave a grunt of pain and tumbled off of her immediately. She laughed and sprang on him where he lay curled in a pained ball.

“Take that!” she declared, swiping at his ears.

The apprentice simply wheezed, “Good kick…”

Fogkit laughed and sat down to smooth out her fur again. Floodpaw was so much fun. Sparrowpaw and Barleypaw poked their heads out of the den and Fogkit waved her tail at them with a chipper smile.

“Everything alright out here?” Sparrowpaw asked, raising a brow.

“Yep!” she purred.

“Mhm,” groaned Floodpaw.

Barleypaw laughed and sat down next to her brother to purr against his side. “She must have got you pretty good.”

“Only ‘cause he sat on me,” Fogkit said.

“Oh, then I guess he deserved it,” Sparrowpaw smirked.

“Go hug a badger,” grumbled Floodpaw, finally managing to uncurl his body.

“Fogkit!” Slatekit’s voice squeaked from across the camp. Fogkit turned to smile at her sister and waved her over. Slatekit hesitated but crossed the distance to huddle beside her.

“Hey!” Fogkit said, “You excited?”

“Mm,” Slatekit whimpered in lieu of an answer.

“You’ll do great,” Barleypaw said. “I was super nervous at my ceremony too but it’s really not that scary.” Slatekit whimpered again.

“It’s okay,” Fogkit said confidently. “I’ve been doing spells all week to make sure we get the best mentors.”

“Spells?” Sparrowpaw blinked in surprise.

“Yeah!” Fogkit brightened. “Mystique told us all about how wild cats do magic spells to help their friends and curse their enemies. She didn’t know how to do them but I figured it out, I think.”

“Is that so?” Barleypaw seemed apprehensive. Floodpaw laughed.

Slatekit nodded. “Yeah, she said that wild cats are magic. We’re wild cats, right?”

“That is what the city calls Clan cats, yes,” said Sparrowpaw, “but-”

“Yeah!” Fogkit said, eager to share with them. “Magic is easy, you just have to get the right stuff and then think really hard about what you want to happen and sometimes put the stuff in a special place or something! I can show you guys sometime.”

“I’m good,” snorted Floodpaw.

“Maybe…” Barleypaw laughed awkwardly. “We’ve got to train for our final assessments though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fogkit frowned. “You’re not gonna be in the apprentice den with us for very long…”

“Yeah,” said Sparrowpaw, “but you’ll be warriors before you know it. Time flies like that.”

Goldenstar’s voice rang out through the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stoneperch for a Clan meeting!”

“It’s happening!” squealed Fogkit, bouncing on her toes. Slatekit whined nervously.

“Come on, lets go sit closer,” Barleypaw said, wrapping her tail over Slatekit’s shoulders. The group of them moved in to join the other cats who trickled out of their dens and settled in a semicircle around the Stoneperch. Goldenstar sat atop the stone, her fur glowing under the creeping light of dawn. Fogkit kneaded the ground in anticipation.

“Today,” Goldenstar began, “we name two apprentices who have been waiting eagerly for this moment. Fogkit, Slatekit, you have reached the age of six moons and that means it’s time for you to start your training towards becoming warriors. From this day on, until you receive your warrior names, you will be known as Fogpaw and Slatepaw.” Everyone cheered, chorusing their new names. Slatepaw blushed and tried to stand up tall. Fogpaw didn’t stop looking at Goldenstar. She wasn’t going to be satisfied until she heard who her mentor would be.

“Slatepaw,” said Goldenstar, “for your mentor, I have chosen someone who has proven himself to be a kind and gentle mentor in the past. I entrust your training to Pantherhaze and hope that you will be able to rely on him when times are tough.”

Pantherhaze stepped out of the crowd, smiling softly. Slatepaw swallowed and stepped up to meet him. Fogpaw could see her trembling as they touched noses. He whispered something to her and she nodded. Fogpaw was happy with the pair. It seemed her spell had paid off.

“Fogpaw,” Goldenstar’s voice brought her back to attention. “Your mentor will be Scorchplume.” Fogpaw’s jaw fell open in surprise. She hadn’t realized that was an option. “Scorchplume, while this is your first apprentice, I am confident you will be able to teach Fogpaw how to excel at any pursuit she puts her mind to.”

Scorchplume swished her big, ginger tail up over her back and strode into the circle to meet Fogpaw. Fogpaw was frozen for a moment, unsure. Was this really what her magic had decided was the best mentor for her?

She glanced around at the other cats, the ones without apprentices. Branchbark, Aldertail, and Ospreymask all sat together near the edge. Ospreymask looked especially disappointed. Fogpaw realized that she wouldn’t want any of them to be her teacher. She looked back at Scorchplume who had raised her brows expectantly and tried to see through her expression to her aura. Scorchplume was bold and sharp and pretty. She was the only cat to have gone to the city and come back safely. Yes, Fogpaw decided, this was the perfect mentor for her.

Grinning, Fogpaw stepped up and presented her nose for Scorchplume to touch with her own. The warrior gave an amused humm and did so. The touch sent an electric shock through Fogpaw’s nose and she recoiled to rub at it with her paw. Scorchplume wrinkled her nose at the sensation. That had to mean something, right?

“We’re tied now,” she mumbled to Scorchplume, “you and me.”

“Really, now?” Scorch whispered back.

“With that, our meeting is concluded,” Goldenstar said. “Congratulations, Fogpaw and Slatepaw!” Another round of cheering went up for the both of them. Fogpaw looked around the circle and felt tears swelling within her. All of their will, all of their passion, was behind her now, driving her forward. She could almost feel StarClan’s presence on her back. I promise, Mama, she vowed, imagining spellwork being woven into every word, I’m going to become the best warrior there is. I’ll make you proud.

UPDATES: - Fogkit and Slatekit are made apprentices. Fogpaw is apprenticed to Scorchplume! Slatepaw is apprenticed to Pantherhaze!

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illustratus · 1 month

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Troy (2004)

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delphinidin4 · 3 months

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(Source: Allan Barton - The Antiquary)

#medieval #history #ceremonies #britain #love it

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ancientorigins · 10 months

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How did people accurately track time before the modern clock was invented? The builders of Teotihuacán in Mexico did so by turning the entire city into one big clock.

#Teotihuacán #Mexico #timekeeping #pyramids #clock #ceremonies #rituals #constellations #celestial #ancient #history #ancient origins

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earthjournalbyawildrose · 17 days

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solär eclïpse .:. @earthjournalbyawildrose

source

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basicallyanotherwitchesthing · 2 years

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June Johns - Black Magic Today - New English Library - 1971

#witches #altars #occult #vintage #occult babes #ceremonies #june johns #candles #black magic today #new english library #nel books #1971 #nel

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harvestheart · 1 year

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REUTERS/Raquel Cunha

An indigenous woman decorates the grave of her loved one with Cempasuchil Marigolds at a cemetery during the annual Day of the Dead celebration, in San Miguel Canoa, in Puebla state, November 1, 2022.

REUTERS/Quetzalli Nicte-Ha

2. A woman sits next to a grave during the Day of the Dead at a cemetery in the Purepecha indigenous community of Cucuchuchu, Michoacan state, Mexico November 2, 2022.

REUTERS/Raquel Cunha

Day of the Dead (Día de Muertos)

It is a beautiful holiday and ritual, honoring your ancestors.

#Dia de los Muertos #Day of the Dead #religion and spirituality #rituals #ceremonies #ancestors #Mexico #memorial #rememberance #offerings #CULTURE

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afrotumble · 2 months

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#mali #horses #ceremonies

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poligraf · 1 month

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« And We Bring The Light » by Nicholas Roerich

(from the Sancta series)

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iowacitypast · 1 year

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Ground-breaking ceremony for the Main Library, The University of Iowa, May 11, 1949

Creator: Kent, Frederick W.

https://digital.lib.uiowa.edu/islandora/object/ui%3Aictcs_15525

#Virgil Melvin Hancher #Bertha Maude Horack Shambaugh #Library Groundbreaking #Ceremonies #Automobiles #People #Crowds

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

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Samhain Ceremonials

[Guillaume Gris]

* * * *

“At Bealltainn, or May Day, every effort was made to scare away the fairies, who were particularly dreaded at this season. In the West Highlands charms were used to avert their influence. In the Isle of Man the gorse was set alight to keep them at a distance. In some parts of Ireland the house was sprinkled with holy water to ward off fairy influence. These are only a mere handful out of the large number of references available, but they seem to me to reveal an effort to avoid the attentions of discredited deities on occasions of festival once sacred to them. The gods duly return at the appointed season, but instead of being received with adoration, they are rebuffed by the descendants of their former worshippers, who have embraced a faith which regards them as demons. In like manner the fairies in Ireland were chased away from the midsummer bonfires by casting fire at them. At the first approach of summer, the fairy folk of Scotland were wont to hold a "Rade," or ceremonial ride on horseback, when they were liable to tread down the growing grain.”

― Lewis Spence, British Fairy Origins

“I feel the nights stretching away thousands long behind the days till they reach the darkness where all of me is ancestor.”

― Annie Finch, Spells: New and Selected Poems

#Samhain #ceremonies #Lewis Spence #Fairy #British Fairy Origins #Annie Finch #spells #poem #poetry #poems #Guillaume Gris #All Saints #All Souls

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clangenrising · 6 months

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Month 9 - Leaffall

Scrap still wasn’t used to eating animals with fur and feathers and everything. She wished that these Clan cats had kibbles or sausage or cheese. Luckily, Branchbark had taken her fishing that morning. She was terrible at it, but he wasn’t that bad and had managed to snag her a small river fish he called a dace which she had scarfed down so quickly she had nearly choked. If she weren’t so worried about upsetting her new hosts, she would have devoured the entire prey pile, fur and feathers be damned.

Now she sat on the edge of the little clearing, grooming her paws over and over and over again. Last night, Goldenstar had come to her and discussed the possibility of her joining the Clan, officially changing her name and becoming one of their ‘warriors’. She couldn’t imagine herself being a warrior, a fighter. She pictured Razor and his bruisers, or even Van Pelt and the other zealous Chaff, and her legs started to shake. But Goldenstar had assured her that being a Clan warrior was very different from that. If she wanted to, she wouldn’t be required to fight so long as she helped keep the prey flowing and the dens clean and that didn’t sound so bad. Goldenstar had even offered to change her name which was an exciting idea.

After a bit of thought, she had agreed, and Goldenstar had told her there would be an official ceremony the next day. Scrap was consumed by nerves. She couldn’t help but worry she would muck the whole thing up. What would the Clan cats do? Would they laugh at her? Would they beat her? Starve her? All three? Branchbark had assured her no harm would come to her but, any time she sat still, the thoughts began to overflow.

And so she sat, grooming her paws over and over and over again.

Nearby, she spied Branchbark’s friend, Oddstripe, grooming her- his kits similarly. It was still odd to Scrap, being so close to a pretender like that. Back home, Razor would have taken the cat’s massive ears or worse until she had renounced her foolishness. But here she was free- he was free to do as he pleased. Dammit! She had to remember! He, he, he, he, he. She was a he, or- curses! He was a he. Shaking her head, Scrap gave herself a few quick whacks over the head to try and drill it into her brain.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Oddstripe said, startling her.

“Sorry,” Scrap said quickly, pulling both her paws beneath her.

“Oh, It’s alright,” Oddstripe said, blushing. “I didn’t mean- I just meant it makes me sad to see you hurt yourself like that.”

“Yeah, you gotta be nice to yourself,” chirped the fluffiest of the kits.

“It didn’t really hurt,” Scrap laughed anxiously. To tell the truth, she liked the pain of it, it was satisfying in a way.

“Okay,” Oddstripe said gently, “As long as it doesn’t hurt.”

“Papa!” the girl of the litter whined, “My feathers aren’t right!” Oddstripe turned back to his kits and leaned down to help fix a series of cardinal feathers into the kit’s fur.

“Here,” he said, placing a few more licks over her shoulders to get the feathers to lie straight. “How’s that?”

“Better,” frowned the girl. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Look!” the blue boy whispered loudly, “Goldenstar’s coming out of her den! It’s time!”

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” hissed the other boy. Oddstripe chuckled and gave them a few more licks over the head. Scrap gave her own paws a few more licks, wincing slightly as her tongue pulled at the skin her previous grooming had made raw. She pulled her paws underneath her and curled her tail close around her, hoping to be as small as possible until she was called upon. Her eyes flitted across the camp to Goldenstar who was speaking softly with Scorch.

Scrap swallowed dryly. In the time they had shared the camp, Scorch had mostly avoided her, thank the folk, and had not been nearly as smooth and gregarious as she was used to. Still, it seemed she had once again found favor with the local leader. She wondered if Goldenstar had the same kind of fondness for her that Razor had. Given their tolerance for pretenders, there was a decent chance they didn’t mind that kind of behavior either. There had always been rumors Scorch went both ways so Scrap wouldn’t be surprised.

After exchanging a few words, Goldenstar bunched her powerful muscles and leapt onto the stone above her den. Scrap flinched as Scorch’s eyes fixed on her for a moment. Thankfully, they just as quickly moved away as Scorch turned and padded to the edge of the clearing and settled down.

On top of the stone, Goldenstar raised her tail and called out, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stoneperch for a Clan meeting!” Her voice cut clearly through the open air of the plains and soon all of the cats had emerged from their dens to listen. Scrap felt a strange prickle of unease when she realized how relaxed they all were. Some were excited, sure, but none were afraid. It was like she had stumbled into a garden meeting somehow and she felt intensely out of place. Unconsciously, she gave her tender paws a few more licks.

“Today,” Goldenstar said, smiling proudly, “We gather together to name three apprentices, the first since we survived the Red Gut plague and my first as Leader. I know we have all been looking forward to this. Naming new apprentices is a sign that our Clan is still strong and thriving and lets us look forward to the day three new warriors are welcomed into our ranks.” Looking down at the kits, who were fidgeting by their father, Goldenstar said, “Barleykit, Sparrowkit, Floodkit, would you please step forward?”

The two boys bounded eagerly into the middle of the clearing, staring up at Goldenstar with their tail tips curling excitedly. The girl paused nervously until Oddstripe gave her a gentle nudge forward and she scrambled to stand between her brothers.

Goldenstar purred, “The three of you have reached the age of six moons and today you will begin your training to become warriors. Sparrowkit, from this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Sparrowpaw.” The fluffy brown tom grinned and nodded, puffing up his chest with pride. Scrap watched the ceremony enthralled. What strange traditions these Clan cats had.

“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, and Scrap followed her gaze to a burly ginger tom with handsome cheeks and cardinal feathers in his tail. “You have proven yourself to be a dedicated and loyal warrior and I believe it is time for you to take another apprentice. You will mentor Sparrowpaw. I hope that you will teach him to focus his enthusiasm into a similar dedication to his Clan.” Russetfrond grunted with a nod and stood to join the apprentices in the middle of the circle of cats. He leaned down to touch noses with Sparrowpaw who beamed up at him, golden eyes sparkling.

The rest of the cats suddenly called out, “Sparrowpaw! Sparrowpaw!”, startling Scrap. She took a deep breath and held her ground, wishing there was something close by to hide under.

Once they had finished, Russetfrond murmured in his apprentice’s ear, “This way.” Laying his tail over Sparrowpaw’s back, he guided the young cat off to the side to sit and then the ceremony continued.

“Barleykit,” Goldenstar said, causing the kit in question to squeak and straighten herself. “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Barleypaw. Your mentor will need to be able to teach you a warrior’s skill and how to have confidence in it, and for that reason, I have chosen Yarrowshade to be your mentor.” The creamy ginger cat who had greeted Scrap at the border sat up excitedly, seemingly surprised by the news. “Yarrowshade, I expect you to look out for Barleypaw and help her grow into a brave and powerful warrior.”

“I won’t let you down,” Yarrowshade said, moving to touch noses with Barleypaw. Again, the cats began to cheer the young cat’s name until she and her new mentor moved off to the side - the opposite side, Scrap noted. The final kit of the litter squirmed in anticipation as he waited for Goldenstar to resume.

“Floodkit,” she said, “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Floodpaw. After some consideration and discussion with Nightfrost and your father, I have decided that I myself will be your mentor. I look forward to working with you to teach you the skills and mindset of a warrior.”

Floodpaw was stiff with excitement as Goldenstar leaped down to touch noses with him. The cats raised their voices again to chant his name. Goldenstar smiled, giving her new apprentice a playful cuff over the ear, and then leapt back up onto the Stoneperch. Scrap’s stomach flipped when she realized that she was next.

“In addition to these new apprentices,” said Goldenstar, “we are proud to name a new warrior. While Scrap has come to us for protection and would be welcome to stay regardless, she has expressed interest in taking a warrior name and learning to follow our code.” Scrap tried to lift her head proudly but she couldn’t manage to rise from her crouch and ended up feeling like a ridiculous turtle.

Goldenstar continued, “Now, the last time I inducted a cat into the Clan, I changed the words of the ceremony in order to make them more comfortable and I know that that upset many of you. It was never my intention to permanently change the oaths our warriors swear or to turn my back on StarClan and I apologize for giving you all that impression. I simply did not want to ask a cat to swear to something that they don’t fully understand, especially to the death. For that reason, I propose a Soft Oath that new cats can swear. The oath would allow them to take a name and participate in Clan duties until they feel comfortable swearing the True Oath that our warrior apprentices will swear. Are there any objections?”

Cats shifted, considering the thought. The big ginger tom, Russetfrond, opened his mouth and then closed it.

After another moment, he said, “No, I see the logic in that.”

“Agreed,” nodded Nightfrost, the big she-cat who seemed to be second in command. The rest of the cats all nodded or shrugged, except for the elderly Healer sitting near the edge of her den who sat silently, eyes closed.

“Good,” Goldenstar sighed in relief. “With that in mind, Scrap, could you please step forward?” Scrap flinched at the sound of her name, instinctively. Forcing herself to stand and step forward. The moment she left the safety of the crowd, her skin began to crawl. An overwhelming compulsion to clean her pelt began to tug on her brain. It felt like a fog was closing around her psyche and it took all of her effort to stare through it and focus on Goldenstar’s voice.

“Scrap,” said Goldenstar, “is it your wish to join RisingClan as a warrior, to learn our ways, and to serve your fellow warriors?”

Scrap had agreed to this last night, but somehow her throat wouldn’t move. Fighting against her own nerves, she managed to eke out a shaky, “Yes.”

“In return, the Clan will serve you in kind,” said Goldenstar. “Would you like to take a new name or keep the one you already have?”

“Um,” Scrap shifted. “A new one, please.” She had no attachment to her name. It had always been a point of mockery for her, or a term of derision. She honestly wondered what these strange cats would think to call her. Suddenly, she was struck by the fear that they would give her something even worse than scrap. Why hadn’t she considered that sooner? They had all been so kind, but that didn’t mean-

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you a warrior name. From this day forward, you will be known as Aldertail. Your resilience and bravery shine through and we welcome you as a member of RisingClan.”

The cats cheered her new name. “Aldertail! Aldertail!” The cries were slightly less enthusiastic than those given to the kits, which was to be expected, but they surprised her nonetheless. She looked around in awe. Goldenstar jumped down again and pressed her nose to Scrap- no, Aldertail’s forehead gently. Aldertail blinked up at her, unsure what to do.

“With that our meeting is concluded,” Goldenstar said to the crowd then, more softly, she added, “I hope you like the name. I tried to pick out a good one.”

“I’m sure it’s a good one, your excellence,” the new warrior said, bowing her head.

“No need to use titles,” Goldenstar reminded her, “we’re friends here.”

“Right!” winced Aldertail. “I’ll remember, I promise.”

“It’s fine, really,” Goldenstar said with a little laugh.

Floodpaw, who had been waiting nearby, finally decided to cut in. “Goldenstar, can we go do battle training or something?”

“Ah, yeah, sure, one second,” Goldenstar said, looking down at him. “Why don’t you go grab the others and we’ll talk about what we want to do on your first day.”

“Okay!” he nodded and sprinted off to the spot where Russetfrond was talking with Sparrowpaw.

“I have to go,” Goldenstar said, “but make yourself comfortable. Our home is yours now too.”

“Thank you,” Aldertail nodded. “I will.” With that, Goldenstar headed off, and the rest of the crowd dispersed as well. Branchbark and his friend, Ospreymask, approached.

“How are you feeling?” asked Branchbark.

“Good,” Aldertail said, feeling nauseated.

“Your name is so perfect!” chirped Ospreymask. “Your tail looks just like a catkin!”

“A what?” Aldertail asked.

“A catkin!” Ospreymask said, “They’re the flowers that hang from alder trees.”

“Oh,” she nodded in response. “That’s what the name means.”

“Have you never seen an alder tree before?” Ospreymask asked.

“We don’t get many trees in the city,” she said, shaking her head.

“We can show you one,” offered Branchbark. “They might not have a lot of catkins on them though.”

“S-sure,” Aldertail nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” he smiled. “Come on!”

The two Clan cats turned and led the way out of camp and Aldertail, turning her name over in her head like it was a toy, followed. She wasn’t sure she was happy, but she felt better than she had. Perhaps she could put the horrors she had seen behind her, out here in the open fields. Perhaps she could bury Scrap and start over. She liked the sound of that.

UPDATES:

Scrap joined RisingClan and took the name Aldertail. Floodkit, Sparrowkit, and Barleykit have been made apprentices! Floodpaw was apprenticed to Goldenstar Sparrowpaw was apprenticed to Russetfrond Barleypaw was apprenticed to Yarrowshade

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umbrae-sortilegium · 6 months

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The concept of spirit familiars in witchcraft has a rich and diverse history that spans various cultures and time periods. One of the earliest recorded instances can be traced back to ancient Egyptian practices, where animals were believed to possess spiritual significance and were associated with deities. Egyptians often kept animals like cats as companions, considering them to be protectors and sources of divine energy.

In medieval Europe, particularly during the witch trials of the 15th to 18th centuries, the idea of spirit familiars gained prominence. It was believed that witches formed pacts with supernatural entities, often taking the form of animals, to assist them in their magical endeavors. Cats, owls, and other creatures were frequently accused of being the physical manifestations of these spirits, leading to the persecution of both witches and their alleged familiars.

In some indigenous cultures, the use of spirit familiars has deep historical roots. Shamans and healers in various traditions have long believed in forging connections with animal spirits to gain insight, protection, and guidance in their spiritual practices. These familiars are seen as mediators between the spiritual and physical realms, aiding practitioners in navigating the mystical forces at play.

In contemporary witchcraft, the concept of spirit familiars has evolved. While some practitioners still work with animal spirits, others may view their familiar as an energy or symbolic representation rather than a tangible creature. The relationship between a witch and their familiar is often considered a sacred and reciprocal bond, where both parties contribute to the magical work and spiritual growth of the practitioner. Please join me/subscribe (yes, it's free) on my new website and please reblog. Always with much gratitute and honour. New articles, rituals and other delicious tidbits posted daily. https://www.umbrae-sortilegium.com/post/evocatio-spiritus-familiarem-summoning-your-spirit-familiar

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nicklloydnow · 8 months

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Illustration by @tsugacanadensis

“He smiled, his great teeth shone. He drank.

An event, a ceremony. The orchestration thereof. The overture carries certain marks of decisiveness. It includes the slaying of a large bear. The evening's progress will not appear strange or unusual even to those who question the rightness of the events so ordered.

A ceremony then. One could well argue that there are not categories of no ceremony but only ceremonies of greater or lesser degree and deferring to this argument we will say that this is a ceremony of a certain magnitude perhaps more commonly called a ritual. A ritual includes the letting of blood. Rituals which fail in this requirement are but mock rituals. Here every man knows the false at once. Never doubt it. That feeling in the breast that evokes a child's memory of loneliness such as when the others have gone and only the game is left with its solitary participant. A solitary game, without opponent. Where only the rules are at hazard. Dont look away. We are not speaking in mysteries. You of all men are no stranger to that feeling, the emptiness and the despair. It is that which we take arms against, is it not? Is not blood the tempering agent in the mortar which bonds? The judge leaned closer. What do you think death is, man? Of whom do we speak when we speak of a man who was and is not? Are these blind riddles, or are they not some part of every man's jurisdiction? What is death if not an agency? And whom does he intend toward? Look at me.

I dont like craziness.

Nor I. Nor I. Bear with me. Look at them now. Pick a man, any man. That man there. See him. That man hatless. You know his opinion of the world. You can read it in his face, in his stance. Yet his complaint that a man's life is no bargain masks the actual case with him. Which is that men will not do as he wishes them to. Have never done, never will do. That's the way of things with him and his life is so balked about by difficulty and become so altered of its intended architecture that he is little more than a walking hovel hardly fit to house the human spirit at all. Can he say, such a man, that there is no malign thing set against him? That there is no power and no force and no cause? What manner of heretic could doubt agency and claimant alike? Can he believe that the wreckage of his existence is unentailed? No liens, no creditors? That gods of vengeance and of compassion alike lie sleeping in their crypt and whether our cries are for an accounting or for the destruction of the ledgers altogether they must evoke only the same silence and that it is this silence which will prevail? To whom is he talking, man? Cant you see him?

The man was indeed muttering to himself and peering balefully about the room wherein it seemed there was no friend to him.

A man seeks his own destiny and no other, said the judge. Will or nill. Any man who could discover his own fate and elect therefore some opposite course could only come at last to that selfsame reckoning at the same appointed time, for each man's destiny is as large as the world he inhabits and contains within it all opposites as well. This desert upon which so many have been broken is vast and calls for largeness of heart but it is also ultimately empty. It is hard, it is barren. Its very nature is stone.

He poured the tumbler full. Drink up, he said. The world goes on. We have dancing nightly and this night is no exception. The straight and the winding way are one and now that you are here what do the years count since last we two met together? Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.”

#mccarthy #cormac mccarthy #blood meridian #fate #ceremonies #bear

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