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serpents ring

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 16:56
A Tale of the Serpents Ring
 
being a chapter from ‘the Auriglyphica of Snakeappletree’
 
This account is a true story. Tonight the moon is a few days past half moon, waxing. In honor of our Celtic tradition I will record here for posterity the associations. Not the regular celtic lunar waysigns of the white wolf and the black raven; tonight for purpose of our story we shall instead use romantic alternate designations of black cat and silver snake, for these are the powerful symbols which tonight have guided us.

Two spirits as seen in the moon, their heads dancing together in a clear sky full up of purple ultraviolet glow, a sign that we tread into the fifth dimension. A sacred time of potential and creativity in which the waves from our minds and our hearts reach out and find manifestation as events. A time during which kamma plays its role within our experience, to guide and teach us on our path. At precisely eight o’clock in the evening on the 7/11/2008, such an event occurred. To understand it in full magnitude we must first backtrack a few hours to some other related events, also loaded with symbolism and mythology.

There I sat upon my digital lizard console, a scrying pool of electric rainbow, a communication tool by which I had just been reunited with an old friend after several years apart. As a wise old mentor used to say to me; “when the time is right...” Well tonight the time was right, blessed by the Spirit. The reason I had not previously been able to find this friend is because her surname has changed from White, to Whie. The loss of the Taoist symbol for wayfinding had not been lost on me because having studied many mysteries I now generally associate myself with the snake path. So highlighted here are the letters S and T. A snake of course is curled around a cross in common symbology and from this we derive many layers of meaning. I am grateful to our mutual friend who has put me back in contact with this white witch; the same ally who once spoke cryptically to me about a white snake. At the time I had no idea of what he meant but the symbol has stuck in my mind for years; and now reveals itself as a key.

Whie, modelled after the Saxon word Wy, from which derive the words ‘wicca’ and ‘witch’. It means ‘to go into chaos and draw forth form’, or more simply ‘to question’. I have been writing much about this very subject recently. Having schooled upon the banks of the river Wye on the border between England and Wales, I remember the teaching that the river Severn means Sea Dragon; ‘Vern’ being Saxon for ‘worm’, referencing a type of dragon, the Wyvern, a serpent with two wings and two claws depicted upon the original Welsh flag, rather than the imperial version known today.

In the same way that water seeks bedrock and so flows around hills; snake trails take a roundabout way of telling and this is justified as a part of our heritage and traditions. So I return now toward the main focus of our story. For now be it known that my elusively named and long lost friend has upon her digital face the image of two black cats.

Tonight I walked beneath the moon with a young witch. She wears upon her fingers many rings, one of which is of silver and forms the shape of a snake curled around her finger. We walked to a shop to buy chocolate, which cost us gb£2.30, expensive but necessary. We chose the darkest chocolate in the shop for our cookies.

On our way out of the shop our attention was drawn to a kitten with eyes huge and glowing a spectral tone of green. The cat was hiding beneath a parked car. The carpark of the shop is large, it being a motorway services. The timid animal peeked up at us and my friend the young witch made yowling sounds which brought a smile to its face. I have seen her call cats to her many times, a creature she has deep affinity with. I felt sorry for the kitten because there are no houses for miles around and it looked skinny and underfed. I questioned whether it was lost and as we walked away, I felt something strongly calling me back. So I returned and discovered the kitten nearby, eating a half burger somebody had dropped from the fast food outlet at the service station. I sat and watched it for a while whilst the young witch lingered elsewhere in the background. As I watched, I questioned myself; what am I doing? Why am I drawn to this scene? Obviously there is some lesson that I have to learn here, an event as yet to play out and reveal its secrets. I returned to the young witch who was swinging around a metal railing, holding onto it and somersaulting around head over heels, landing on her feet. I laughed and told her about the cat. Then for some reason I can’t explain I wandered back over to the place where the cat had been. This time there was a different, smaller kitten, licking the buttered roll that had accompanied the half eaten burger.

Again I returned to the witch and told her that there is a feral colony of cats here in this place where humans drop food to feed a litter living beneath the bushes in front of the motorway services. I explained how my long lost friend had once told me about her idea for having feral children, and having seen a photo of her two cats on her internet site, it was amazing that now here I had just encountered two feral cats. My friend the young witch was playing with her snake ring as I explained this and at exactly eight o’clock in the evening, she managed to snap its neck and break its head. Immediately she sat down grumpy and tearful.

The magnitude of this story is even more greatly pronounced, the enchantment enhanced, at the readers understanding that there is a very ancient African story which, although it has mutated through different cultures, is remembered most strongly by this writer as the Egyptian papyrus scroll version bearing its symbols. The Cat uses a ceremonial blade to chop off the head of a Snake beneath the sacred Ished Tree, and the Apple of the snakes blood waters its roots. The ished tree branches interweave as they grow like Celtic knotwork.
 

 
 
This is the First motorway services you will encounter upon arriving in Wales by road, having crossed either of the bridges over the river Severn. Both of which incidentally are owned by a French company and on both of them you have to pay to get into Wales, despite many locals claiming it should be that you have to pay to escape.

 
   

Egyptian Stellae photographs from the temple of Hathour in Dendara south of Luxor,
courtesy of Kerylos E. Aziz.

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I asked the young witch why she was so upset, had she bound powa into these trinkets; which obviously she had. She tearfully nodded. I hugged her and told her that in this carpark, a place of scattering, the energy bound may now be unleashed and that she would find freedom from it, as the threads surrounding her would now find their new weave, and be bound naturally into new form. In fact with deeper understanding the story can be seen to mean an evolution, a progress, as we enter through a gate (cat) into the next cycle of the spiral. My logic did little to console her and she pulled all of the rings from her fingers and cast them to the ground! Dutifully I scooped them up in case she should regret their loss and desire them again in the future, and we walked home.

Upon a roundabout above the motorway we stopped momentarily and I looked at the shape of the story; the roads we were traveling upon, snaked from our home at the tail of the snake, around in a ring at the roundabout, to the shop and carpark at the mouth of the snake where these events had happened. The young witch is currently on a metal sculpting course and where we stopped upon the roundabout, at our feet, a torn and rain soggy newspaper flapped up at us the word ‘smithy’. I laughed as the connection knitted in my mind that she should go from this and weave her own serpent ring cast to replace the broken one.

I sit and record this story as the young witch prepares and bakes cookies. With any joy she will have added the secret magickal ingredient, a pinch of chili, to the chocolate. Ah, but there is more to this tale. There is a memory rendition of the Greatest Swordmaker in the World from the book of the Princess Bride by William Goldman. And a clever interplay between this and the art of biscuit making, in which we learn that every energy no matter how subtle, the mental and the emotional, are also an essential part of the mix. In fact one Egyptian symbol for Bread is the same as that for World.

Then there is the story of an Egyptian guide who contacted me through the internet to translate a complicated hieroglyphic scene that turned out to be an evolved form of the very same story of snakeappletree already mentioned, with whom I also spoke again today for the first time in several moons. So there is a deepening understanding of the threads and their symbols which guide the paths of our lives. And there is the realisation that so many true signs and understandings of Life are missed because of such hidden factors beyond our knowing. It comes down to recognising the links, that there is a connection there.

As we walk home that I remember that the rune ‘W’ is associated with the rune ‘B’, Berkana; the Birch tree which druids and Wiccans alike have told me symbolises Growth & Rebirth...

Blessed Be
 
 

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