The Twelve Wild Swans

by Starhawk

  As human beings, we each contain the potential for the whole spectrum of human qualities, from amazing compassion to incredible cruelty. Character work is most enlightening when we allow it to reveal those depths. We can experience parts of ourselves we do not want to enact in our lives. “You yourself know when a character is too ‘hot’ for you to play,” Marnie says. “For instance, I may not have chosen to play Hel right after my mother died. You must be prepared to use parts of yourself you do not like, playing from your own unbridled jealousy and envy to be a successful stepsister to the pretty young maiden, for example. And to do this, you have to do deep personal work around your own negative emotions. If you do it well, your character may be hysterically funny in its naked hatred, and through this ripping open of energy the people in the ritual will really experience their own jealous emotions, bringing them into consciousness where they can be acknowledged and transformed.”

  Character work can also put us in touch with positive parts of ourselves that we want to nurture. Aspecting to the level of enhancement or inspiration lets us bring forth the depths of our wisdom, compassion, and love. We may even tap energies that go beyond the personal and bring through healing and knowledge from those great collective forces we call Gods.

  We all, always, have a direct connection to the Goddess. We never require another person to stand between us and the Gods, to mediate or be their messenger. When we explore character work and aspecting, we must be careful to do it in a way that empowers the group, not just one or two people who become the Goddess’s voice. When we receive information from someone in aspect, we need to question and evaluate it just as we would if it came in some ordinary manner. The message comes through a human channel and is colored and distorted by our own subjectivity. If we start taking the aspect’s word as law, if we start excusing our lapses of behavior with “The Goddess made me do it,” we can fall into a very dangerous sort of Pagan fundamentalism that contradicts our core values of equality and shared power.

  But, approached carefully and respectfully, aspecting can truly expand our awareness and understanding of the mysteries. After aspecting the Green Man, I became conscious of trees in a new way, aware of their awareness of me. A priestess in aspect may intuitively ask us just the right question to spur our growth or give us the challenge we need to move beyond a block.

  Beverly teaches an approach to aspecting that reminds us of the open flow of power and inspiration.

  Pass-the-Cloak Aspecting

  In sacred space, each person in the group meditates and writes out a question on a piece of paper. The questions are collected and placed in a bowl or a hat (Beverly has a wonderful foolscap that she uses). Participants should be warned that not all questions will necessarily be answered.

  Three Goddesses or aspects are chosen. Often we might work with the three Fates or the Norns. From our story, we might choose Rose, the Old Woman, and the Fata Morgana. Three cloaks are laid out, along with the hat full of questions and a stack of the Major Arcana cards of the Tarot. One by one, each cloak is held up, and the aspect is invoked into it. We might call the Old Woman, describe her qualities, hold out our hands to the cloak, and imagine those energies swirling and flowing and weaving themselves into the fabric.

  The group begins drumming as they move rhythmically in a circle around the cloaks. If possible, throughout the ritual, drummers and individuals move in and out of the dance as they circumambulate.

  When the energy base is strong, someone who is moved to do so steps forward and pulls a question out of the hat and reads it aloud.

  Participants listen to the question and to their own impulses. Three who are moved to do so come forward and take the cloaks. They spend a moment centering in the energy of the cloak/aspect, then pick a Tarot card and interpret it to speak to the question. It doesn’t matter whether or not they have any knowledge of the Tarot; the idea is to let the inspiration from the aspect speak. When they are done, they replace the cards, take off the cloaks, and rejoin the circle to continue holding the energy. Someone steps forward to pick another question, and the process is repeated until all questions are answered or until the energy of the group begins to flag.

  To end, the drums and chanting fade away. The aspects are thanked and devoked from the cloaks. Participants should give each other brushdowns and share food after the circle is opened.

  Bringing Someone Back

  As priestesses, we are responsible for bringing ourselves back from whatever state of consciousness we go into. But sometimes we do need a little help from our friends. At other times we may be called upon to help others. Whenever the energy base of a group is high, we can easily open further than we intend to. At a ritual or a Witchcamp, we are prepared for this possibility. One reason we work in teams is so that someone is always available for emergency tending. But in other situations, with high energy and no safeguards, people with lowered barriers may find themselves overtaken by energies and spirits, with no preparation and no framework of understanding. Rock concerts, demonstrations, even meetings and conferences can create such an energy base. Injury, pain, tension, and, of course, drugs and alcohol can all lower our barriers.

  When performing an emergency soul retrieval, the first and most important step is to ground yourself and anchor to your core state of being. Again, the more you have practiced, the more easily these tools will come to you when needed. Then call in your allies of spirit and flesh. Ask for help on both spiritual and practical levels.

  I next assess the person’s overall state, to try to determine whether intervention is truly needed or whether the condition may correct itself after sleep or after the dose wears off. If there is a physical condition involved, I call for the appropriate help. At other times, I may need to fend off crowds of eager helpers who surround the hapless subject. Anyone whose own level of fear, guilt, or distress is higher than the patient’s or who is draining energy rather than giving it should be asked to leave or sent on a helpful errand elsewhere.

  I start with the simplest interventions: calling the person’s name or whispering in her ear, breathing with her and encouraging deep breath from the belly, holding her hands or placing a hand on her abdomen to help her breathe. I might ask questions about where she is or what is happening, remembering that I am not her therapist and do not need to analyze or interpret her responses. I stay calm or, if I can’t feel truly calm, wrap myself in a calm glamour. I tell myself, “The Goddess won’t give me anything I truly can’t handle.” I have no objective evidence that this is true, and certainly history abounds with tragedies and atrocities beyond anyone’s ability to cope with. Still, it’s a comforting thing to believe in the moment.

  I try to engage the person’s senses. I generally carry bay leaves, one of my plant allies, and a good whiff of their pungent scent will often bring a person back into his body. Or I look for another herb, flower, or scented oil. I might offer food, although someone caught in trance is often reluctant to eat. In extreme cases, I might pour cold water on his third eye or crown chakra or bathe him in the nearest body of cold water. I also make myself available to hear whatever voice might be speaking through him.

  When the person starts to return, we often ask grounding questions. Wilow likes to ask, “What’s on top of your toilet tank back home?” or “How many different types of pasta do you have in your pantry?” Anything that causes the person to exercise memory and think about home will help her ground back into her identity.

  Melusine used to go smoke a cigarette with tranced-out campers; however, she has since stopped smoking and has had to develop other techniques. Some priestesses simply use a strong will and a bit of the glamour of a no-nonsense schoolteacher who speaks in the voice of true authority: “Now, you get back here right away! We’ll have no more of this!”

  When someone is having an actual psychotic episode or actively hallucinating, you may still be able to set clear boundaries, which are actually very helpful to someone in that state: “You have a choice: you
can stop screaming and be quiet and remain here with us, or you can keep on screaming and Maddie will take you outside.” It is generally not helpful to let someone suck up all the attention and energy of a ritual, and we should never allow someone to attack or injure another person or herself.

  We also find out what kind of support system the person in question has. Does he live with family or friends? Does she have a therapist, support group, or counselor she can turn to afterward? We might strongly recommend that she find someone, or we might even offer referrals.

  Finally, we make sure the person eats something, however reluctant he might be. We should be sure he gets safely home, whether this means walking him back to a cabin in the dark or driving her back to her apartment. Someone may need to stay with the person overnight. And we should make contact afterward to make sure the person is receiving support and whatever help is needed.

  Extreme cases such as these are rare. Should they occur, we can remember that all the magical tools we’ve developed are available to us. When we use them well, what appears at first to be a breakdown may actually become a powerful healing experience.

  Rose’s task nears completion. Through love, childbirth, and loss, in spite of lies, attacks, and projections, she has held to her healing task. The shirts are nearly done. But the spell is not yet over.

  SEVEN

  The Transformation

  Comments on the Story

  The citizens ready a pyre to burn the young queen alive. Rose cannot speak to defend herself but keeps sewing and sewing. As she is tied to the stake there is a rush of air, and her twelve swan brothers beat out the flames with their wings. She throws the shirts over them, and all are transformed into men. The Old Woman appears one last time, holding the unharmed babies. But Rose has not yet completed the last arm of the last shirt. Her brothers embrace her, but the youngest does so with one human arm and one swan’s wing.

  The culmination of an initiation is a symbolic death and rebirth. Rose, having faced down jealousy and survived both love and loss, now faces death. She must remain focused on her task in spite of fear, weaving even in the dungeon.

  As we gather power, we must also face our fears of being a Witch, our fears of death, our fears of the consequences of taking action. Like Rose, we must learn to stay focused not on the terrors of a hostile world, but on our creative vision. When we do, the gray hues of the dungeon cannot discolor our weaving.

  In some versions of this tale, Rose literally dies at the stake but is revived and brought back to life. The old Rose, the child, the seeker, the patient worker at an impossible task, is dead. A new Rose is born who has completed her work.

  When we complete an initiatory process, we are different. The power we’ve gathered, the wisdom we’ve gained, the courage and fortitude with which we’ve faced our challenges have changed us. We now know that we need never accept untruth, denial, or ill wishes or comply with wicked vows. We are capable of working magic, healing ourselves, restoring balance to the world around us. If we are unsure of how to begin, we are bold enough to strike out into the unknown, for we know how to seek guidance, meet help with generosity, and follow a path to its end.

  We’ve learned how to weave the structure that allows us to be carried away, and we are not afraid to take on a big task, a life-healing, world-renewing work. Nettles, silence, scorn, and jealousy cannot deter us, for we know how to focus, how to weave a vision even in the dark. Like Rose, we can die and be reborn, passing through the fire of transformation to create ourselves anew.

  Rose returns to life and regains all that she has lost. Her brothers, her lost children, and the love of her husband are restored. She returns to human life, and her human speech is restored as well. In her transformative work of weaving, she has redeemed not only her brothers, but herself.

  Our work for this section of the story is to face our final fears, to weave and sew in the dungeon, staying focused on our true task and grounded in our true self, no matter what our outer circumstances. Part of that work is also to celebrate even an imperfect transformation.

  The initiation is complete, although the task is not completely done, as the work of healing and transformation is never ultimately finished. One sleeve still remains to be finished; one brother is left with one swan’s wing. The others have been fully brought back into human community, but the youngest is still marked by the wild. Unable either to fly or to perform many human tasks, he is caught, half and half. His story might form another initiation tale: his shamanic task is to be the wild in the human world; his handicap may become a source of his power. But that is another story.

  The Elements Path

  Rose is almost finished making her shirts, and we are almost finished learning how to make magic. We have learned the basics of a spiritual practice based on nature. We have learned how to create sacred space and how to invoke the Goddess and the old Gods. We have begun to create a right relationship with the elements of air, fire, water, and earth and have practiced the magical techniques that correspond to each: breath and visualization, energy work, trance, and spellcrafting. We have investigated the skills and tools of the center. Now it is time to take what we have learned and find a way to celebrate.

  In Reclaiming, when a new group of students finishes the “Elements of Magic” class, they have practiced more or less the same skills that we have covered in the Elements Path. The elements class ends with a final ritual, planned and created by the students. If you have done all the exercises in the Elements Path, you are also ready to create your own ritual. Creating your own ritual is a rite of passage. Rose is not a powerless young girl anymore; she is a queen, a lover, a mother, and a mistress of magic. She has passed through the fire. And you are not a novice anymore; you have covered the basic skills of a magical training, and you have the skills you need to begin practicing.

  Creating Your Own Ritual

  If you are working with a group of friends, you will need to follow a few basic steps to plan your ritual. If you are working alone, you can adapt this process to develop your own personal ritual. The Outer Path of this book provides many more in-depth discussions, meditations, and skill-building exercises for those who may go on to public priestessing roles. But if you are working in a small group that has bonded by studying the elements of magic together, you can create your own ritual by following a few simple steps.

  In a group, begin by going around the circle, and let each person talk for a few minutes about what is going on in their lives and what their concerns are. After each person has spoken, allow some time for group discussion. Look for common themes in what people have said, things that could be drawn out as content for the ritual.

  Don’t forget to consider themes that go beyond the personal lives of your group. Is something big happening in the “weather” of your community? Do farmers need rain? Is there an exposé in your local paper about hunger in your town? Are you losing friends to AIDS? Breast cancer? Has your nation begun a war or a peace? What is the moon phase and the time of year? Has a story or dream captured your attention?

  Do you wish to symbolize your completion of the work of the Elements Path by stepping through a doorway? Into the center of the circle? By being crowned? Allow your creativity its full range. Then try to pick one or two vigorous, concrete images to build your ritual around. Rituals can bog down if they include too many elements or intentions.

  Next it is time to take responsibility for the roles in the ritual. Who will lead the grounding? The purification? Who will cast the circle? Do the invocations? It’s fun to do at least some of these parts as a group, with a song or dance or with wordless toning. What chants or songs do you want to use? Decide how you want to bring in the content you’ve chosen, with a meditation, or chant, or group spell, or in some other way. Discuss how the energy of the ritual might move, and agree to take responsibility together as it unfolds. A good ritual has just the right balance of common intent and spontaneity.

  Many rituals allow some quiet inner
time for visioning and seeking and then begin to raise energy, which can rise to a peak with a cone of power. But once a ritual begins, it takes on a life of its own, and the energy may develop in a different way than you imagined it would. Our rituals are a form of religion, a form of art, a form of medicine, and a form of love all at once. So it would be naive to think we are going to be able to plan and control everything that happens once the gods of devotion, creativity, healing, and erotic love are loose in the room and in our hearts! It’s often the surprising, or passionate, or funny turn of the energy in the ritual that holds the greatest teaching for us.

  Once the ritual’s energy has peaked and died down, it is time for a cooling-off period. Just as after a powerful and invigorating workout our bodies have to cool off and return to normal, so after a powerful ritual our souls need to do the same. And so we rest in the circle, share food and drink, talk a little informally about the ritual, and slowly begin to talk, joke, and gossip about other subjects. At some point we realize that the deity is beginning to withdraw and that the energy has shifted back toward the mundane.