(David)
I tend not to talk in public about my workings. But I will be happy to talk here of philosophies and suchlike, many instances of suchlike probably, including veneration of the land.
First, I'm drawn to start this second post with an extension of the brief introduction I wrote in my first one.
I've practised for thirty-two of my sixty-six years in this body, precisely and uncoincidentally since I went and got myself a bit blown up in the Gulf War. Those three-and-a-bit decades have been a world of chronic pain and illness for me, but they've also been incredibly rich in terms of spiritual exploration.
Physically, I'm pretty much a hermit in a small wooded valley in south west Britain. My parallel paths of ecosocialist activism and nature magic eventually revealed themselves to me as one and the same walk, so I'm comfortable with that. Other converging aspects have been animism, witchcraft, hedge druidry, and shamanic journeying, which have now merged in me.
For a long time, I have been led by the feminine divine. Then, two years ago, I entered a lengthy period of quietness, a physical hibernation with intense mental and spiritual activity, helped and protected by two of my spirit guides, Bear and Stone, from which I emerged strong and being drawn to look outward more than before.
My power animal spirits are Lion and Wolf, and with the feminine divine still active in me I am now also being called by the masculine divine. This is new. I'm cautious because my old life prior to getting wounded was very masculine, and naturally I left all that stuff behind when I walked into the forest. But I'm not rejecting the call.
I write books. Novels of science fiction and fantasy, but also during my hibernation with Bear and Stone a non-fiction book that turned out to be a magical nature journal and memoir in which I did some shadow work and helped to heal some recent ancestral trauma. It's all in the book, which (Eek!) my publisher is getting ready to release soon.
So, land veneration. What does it look like?
For me it was growing up on the salt marsh of my blood ancestors, then escaping modern day humans in the adjoining town by running away to sea as soon as I was old enough, then coming home badly injured twenty years later to a tidal marsh valley three hundred miles from my birthplace and learning that those humans had "reclaimed" both of my wetlands to build roads over them, then lying terribly sick and physically broken in my bed, grieving, thinking my useful life was over in my mid-thirties, and attempting to end it. It was the spirit of this valley filling my bedroom suddenly with their presence and beautiful floral scent, and saving me.
It was that event setting me on a new path of mysticism and nature magic, leading these thirty years later to my quietly joyful life in which I commune with and venerate the land.
A polarisation has occurred through my disgusted disassociation from the corruption of human politics in this country, and my beloved association with the more-than-human life in the land. This polarisation feels purifying.
The spirit of this valley doesn't come in person to me often, but they have introduced me to many others. To spirits of creatures, trees, plants, and inanimate beings. To magical spirits in this world and the otherworld. To my ancestors of blood, of place, and of tradition. Most recently, to myself.
The greatest offering I can imagine making to the land is of myself. That, then is my offering. In every way I can.
I don't talk in public about my workings, but I will say that I'll never forget the spirit's powerful presence and scent. Ever.
Land veneration. What does it look like to you?
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