If you’ve read any of Terry Pratchett’s Disc World series and have met Granny Weatherwax, you know what “headology” is. If you’ve never heard of that crafty ol’ witch, then you can pick up its meaning here. I just finished reading the Equal Rites piece of the series, thanks to a recommendation made to me by Annie, who used to blog and now just comments.
If you’ve read this blog before, you know how attuned I am to syncronicities, which are essential to the practice of headology. When my life finds itself at a confluence of synchronicities, I take notice. I’m taking notice because of the confluence of the following:
–former blogger Annie turns me on to Pratchett’s DiscWorld series and Granny Weatherwax just when my world begins to focus on my own oddly-shaped (lumbar spine) disc.
–just after I get back from my brother’s with one of his books that includes using earth-symbols to make talismans, one of the six women in my group calls me up and talks about wanting to a Solstice ritual and can I come up with one.
—Rage Boy sends out one of his emails prefacing the following with details of his escalating misfortunes:
…they are certainties barring miracles that I’ve now gone and said I don’t believe in. This puts me in an awkward position vis-a-vis the supernatural forces that might have bailed me out if only I’d been a little less cheeky all these years. Or perhaps they mightn’t have bothered in any case. After all, as Modern Psychology & Sticky Wicca inform us: it’s all our fault no matter what.
Well, despite my believing Shakespeare’s reminder about where the fault lies, and despite my irreverent non-belief (which is not nearly as irreverent as Mr. Locke’s), there are such things as unified strings and the power of intent and the forces of blogger headologies.
So, I’m doing my Crone thing (again) for Chris and inviting you all to join me on the night of the full moon, December 8 (which is also the Catholic feast of the Immaculate Conception), to post this image, this talisman, this mandala, this wish for a reversal of fortune for Rage Boy. Imbue it with your prayers, your most noble intentions, your good thoughts, and, where appropriate, your major magic.
And may we all blessed be.
P.S.
In addition to the five-pointed star and a representation of the Great Earth Mother, the image above includes
–a double dose of the Wheel of Law and a chrysanthemum, which are Chinese talismans for health, wealth, and happiness
–a conch, which Vishnu holds in his right hand as a symbol of the five elements; the conch also is symbolic of the awakening of the mind.
–a white lily, symbolic of the purity of the Immaculate Conception (and other legendary things as well)
–the alchemical symbol for Jupiter , which
is the thinking person’s Planet. As the guardian of the abstract mind, this Planet rules higher learning and bestows upon us a yen for exploring ideas, both intellectually and spiritually. Intellectually speaking, Jupiter assists us in formulating our ideology. In the more spiritual realm, Jupiter lords over religion and philosophy. A search for the answers is what Jupiter proposes, and if it means spanning the globe to find them, well, that’s probably why Jupiter also rules long-distance travel. In keeping with this theme, Jupiter compels us to assess our ethical and moral values. It also addresses our sense of optimism.
Luck and good fortune are often associated with Jupiter, and for good reason. This is a kind and benevolent Planet, one that wants us to grow and flourish. Jupiter may be judge and jury, but it’s mostly an honourable helpmate, seeing to it that we’re on the right path. While our success, accomplishments and prosperity are all within Jupiter’s realm, this largesse can, at times, deteriorate into laziness and sloth (Jupiter, at its worst, is associated with weight gain). More often than not, Jupiter will, however, guide us down the primrose path
–so, there, holding on to the arm of Jupiter, is our own Rage Boy.
Hang on, bubula, hang on.
P.P..S. (I stumble across more synchronicities.)
The alchemical sign for Jupiter is the same as the sign for Tin.
The Tin Man in OZ sees emptiness where his heart should be.
And ten years ago, I wrote this:
Tin Men and Fallen Angles
I am drawn to the dramas
of Tin Men and Fallen Angels,
the loose threads of their dreams
tangling too easily
with the thickets of my own.
Their gestures hint at faded grace.
Their eyes belie
the freedom of their stride.
Their touches fire the sun,
birthing shadows
fierce as flame.
I fly into those shadows
like a bat
out for blood.
© Elaine Frankonis 5/1993
