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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in Horned God

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

Masks of the Piper | El prado del Sátiro

He the Horned, God of Witches, is known as the Merry Piper: who among us has not danced to his piping?

His the Primal Sound, the song of creation.

(To the silent Breath of Life, the Pipes give Voice.)

Come, let me speak a Mystery in your ear.

His pipes are female.

Think of Pan and Syrinx, the nymph who became the pipes. Think of Krishna's flute, herself a goddess incarnate.

The Voice of those Pipes brings What Is into Being.

In company with sheep-herds and cow-herds, His piping arouses and, thrusting, drives the Dance of Life.

The lure of those Pipes recalls to life the Dead.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

Never trust a man with horns on his hat.”

(Granny Weatherwax)

 

Yes, it's true: I did meet Old Hornie in the woods at the age of 16.

And no, I'm not going to tell you about it.

I'm not going to tell you about my most intimate sexual experiences, either.

No: those stories, and that story, is, and are, mine to me, not for other ears. This much I will tell you, though: what happened then changed me forever.

You can always tell a newbie by her eagerness to recount—usually at length—her Expeeeeriences. After you've been around for a while, you learn that everybody has had their own. You also learn that you can distinguish the real ones because they're the ones that people don't talk about.

Now there's a fine paradox for you.

Here's the irony: you don't talk because you don't have to. You've been there, you know it was real, and those In the Know can see the changes that it wrought. The eyes will tell you the truth of it. The changes are the story.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

Among all the hoodied and red-capped yahoos and yobbos who invaded the US Capitol on Wednesday, one stood out. You know which one I mean.

The one in the horns.

“Guy in horns Capitol” I image-searched. It was more than enough to find what I was looking for.

Horns, fur, paint, and skin. The eye automatically, as if by instinct, draws toward them. How could it not?

In long accordance with ancestral practice, I will not dignify said yob by naming him. Though he sports heathen tattoos and the regalia of the Horned God of Witches, he is (apparently) neither witch nor heathen.

No matter. He's not important. Soon the FBI will be hauling his saggy white ass off to jail, where it probably belongs anyway.

Horns, fur, paint, skin: in combination, instantly iconic. What is it about these primal elements that so draws the eye, that so draws the heart?

Who is it here that draws the heart and eye?

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

Long ago, the Horned looked down from Heaven, and saw that we were cold, and hungry, and in darkness.

Then, in his mighty ruth, he stole the Fire of the Gods, came down, and gave us Fire.

Ever since when, we sing his song at Yule.

 

He Came Down

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In Which Our Intrepid Blogger Makes an Outrageous Claim

Hwæt, we seax-Hwiccum   in síð-dagum...
"Lo, we knife-Witches   in these latter days..."

 

Many peoples worship the Horned God—as god of all Red Life, why wouldn't they?—but to the Latter-Day Tribe of Witches, he is ours, our god in particular.

Why so? Easily answered.

The Horned is especial god of witches, ours to us, because we are his offspring.

As we see it, we are literally the Children of our God.

This is why the Swedish witches called him Antecessor: goer-before, ancestor.

Many tribes trace descent from a common ancestor. Scots Gaelic clann (pronounced klawn), the source of the English word clan, literally means “children (of).” In this, the Tribe (in Witch, that would be Thede) of Witches is no different from any other.

Why are some people witches and some not? Easily answered.

The Horned overshadows our fathers at the moment of our conception.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Antlers Forever

Gods know that I'm no great fan of Patricia Kenneally-Morrison's Kelts-in-Space series, The Keltiad, but that's not to say that, in her envisioning of what a pagan society might look like from the inside, she doesn't occasionally get things right.

Indeed, sometimes she gets them very right indeed.

PK-M's Kelts-in-Space know of a figure called the Caberfèidh, pronounced CAB-ber-fay. In Scots Gaelic, this means “stag's antlers.” In fact, he's no kind of fay at all—or maybe, on second thought, he is—but rather the pan-Keltic Antlered God Himself.

On Earth, Caberfèidh is the title of the hereditary chieftain of Clan Mackenzie. (“Clan” means “children”: hence, the “children of Mackenzie.” It's the Q-Celtic version of the word that's plant in P-Celtic Welsh, as in Plant Brân, the “children of Brân.”) A pretty felicitous image, this: the clan itself the stag, and the chief the very antlers thereof.

The metaphor is a profound one. That antlers are by nature deciduous, while the stag himself lives on, comments obliquely on the sacrificial nature of the chieftaincy.

Sure, and when it comes to the Caberfeidh, we're of one body with Him, indeed, and He Himself the Antlers.

And if you should hap to meet the Antlers Himself, be sure to say Him so.

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  • Jamie
    Jamie says #
    Mr. Posch, Who knows? Isolated off-world settlements might be ideal locations for pan-Pagan enclaves. Maybe not the future city

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
A Visit to St. Cornely's

...if you'll please just step this way, we come to one of the highlights of our tour of St. Cornely's: a Roman Era bas-relief depicting St. Cornely himself, dating to roughly A.D. 425. Though worn, note the quality of the sculpture.

Horns? Rather surprising things to find on the head of a saint, no? Although of course, Moses frequently wears them as well in medieval art, as you know. Well, no, those aren't actually horns per se...the name Cornely derives from the Latin clan name, Cornelius. While the name's ultimate origin is unclear, it's thought to derive from Latin cornu, “horn.” So the horns are, in effect, a visual pun identifying the saint, alluding to his name.

Ah, yes indeed, the saint's nudity: visitors always comment. Surprising, is it not? Although not, of course, unparalleled in Christian art. This alludes to the manner of his death: stripped naked and thrown into the arena to be trampled by wild bulls.

But, of course, he's not entirely naked, is he? Does anyone know the name of the kind of neck-ring that he's wearing? Yes, that's right, a torc: a type of jewelry associated with ancient Celtic nobility. This particular torc is one of the mysteries of St. Cornely's. The reason for its inclusion here is unclear: there's no mention of it in the legend of St. Cornely. Perhaps this sculpture was commissioned by a noble Celtic family: this part of England was once, as you know, the territory of a Celtic tribe called the Dobunni. Perhaps the torc is by way of making a claim of local ancestry for the saint, though of course such a claim would be highly unlikely, historically speaking. As it is, we simply don't know.

Note the bull here to Cornely's right—not looking particularly wild, I must say—with the saint's hand raised in blessing over its head. This alludes to the manner of the saint's death which, according to the rather gruesome logic of canonization, makes St. Cornely the patron saint of cattle and cattle-herding. In fact, the Dobunni were known far and wide for their fine herds, so the choice of this particular saint as patron for this particular parish makes a great deal of sense.

As it happens, Cornely is rather unusual among saints in having two feast days each year, both of which, interestingly, correspond with major events in the cattle-herder's year. The annual Blessing of the Herds falls in late April, just before the cattle would have been driven to the summer pastures, and the other in early November, just after All Saints' Day, at the time of the annual slaughter. Intriguing, no?

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  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    In fact, there actually is a Roman Era bas-relief of a Horned God in a little parish church up north somewhere (Yorkshire?). (Good
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    No, but you've read my rune: he's the fiction that tells the truth.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    So, the local version of the horned god continued onward wearing St. Cornely as a mask. Is this St. Cornely found in Lives of the

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