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Storm Constantine

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“The Egyptians had what might to us seem a strange attitude to their gods. While they were happy to sing praises to their deities in order to coerce them into manifestation, they were not able threatening them either. Many spells have survived that promise all manner of dire consequences if the deity concerned does not fulfil the practioner’s wishes. These threats included the destruction of temples, the slaughter of sacred beasts, and perhaps worst of all, the deliberate refusal to acknowledge a god’s existence.”

“Although we refer to the magical ‘books’ of Ancient Egypt, these were in fact scrolls, more often lengths of papyrus stuck together and rolled up, but occasionally parchments of calf vellum. These books were regarded as extremely esoteric, and certainly not for the eyes of common people. Some were said to have been found in secret places, such as forgotten tombs and hidden caskets, and to record the actual words of Thoth or legendary sages and priests. It is likely that the priests considered their own magic to be most effective and sacred, and they kept their knowledge secret in order to make themselves appear more powerful in the eyes of less priveleged individuals. They often wrote down their spells in a kind of code, referring to their ingredients by alternative names in order to confuse any unintiated person who might try to read them.”

“She spoke to a woman whose strong, charismatic presence proclaimed her a noteworthy force within this group. The motivators were always easy to spot. The woman was tall, with a fierce, beautiful face, her functional khaki clothes draped with bright, fringed shawls. Ari was entranced by this dashing creature who stroke from menhir to menhir, running her long, strong fingers over the circuits, her thick, red hair wrapped up in a colourful scarf.”

“The group began to move, circling slowly, feeling with their hands for an invisible boundary. They were claiming the space for their own. There were no words, no verbal summoning of the elements. To Ari, this was something new; the silent, spiralling bodies describing the parameters of their temple. Then one by one, each member of the group spun in the middle of the circle, describing with gestures the sanctity of the chosen space, slowly whirling shapes of rags and hair.”

“As a child, I had thought the guardian-pursuers to be very real, but as I grew older, I concluded they were simply products of our own imaginations, shaped into being by the trauma of the scrying rite we all undergo at eight years of age. It’s not impossible that the scryers conjure them forth from the murk of the soulscape itself anchoring the vigilant images to our conscious minds by an insidiously instilled sense of guilt.”