SPELL & SPÅDOM

"She remembers the onslaught
of the world's first battle,
When Gold-Potion
was pierced with spears
and in High One's Hall
she was burnt.
Three times burnt,
three times born
often, unseldom,
yet still she lives."
–Völuspà

Credits
Music: Wardruna 
Bindrune magic: myself

CONTRADICTION

No summer without a Norway missive. That’s what I’m thinking. But as these days I’m growing more and more tired of rhetoric – and clichés make me want to kill myself – I’m thinking that the best way to convey a message to all those who have been inspired by my Nordic adventures is to insist on practicing the magic of contradiction. I believe in contradiction. I pledge my allegiance to contradiction, as contradiction is the only thing that keeps us away from piling up on conformist masks. For me, the best way of living an uncomplicated life is to make sure that I have both feet well anchored into two worlds: the world of logos and the world of mythos. All physicists, mathematicians, and logicians (especially those interested in computations and permutations) know that life happens in and off contradiction. It is better to be dead and alive at the same time than dead but deluding yourself that you’re alive, or alive but thinking all the time that it would be better to be dead. So, up here in this magical place, the Lofoten Islands, I contradict myself. While enjoying the Jacuzzi and the aromatic oils at the place I’m staying for a whole month, I keep claiming that I like the cold because it makes my brain stay vigilant. I keep claiming that I like the rain because it makes all this earth smell like heaven – and how could it? – while also sticking my head into the pressure cooker in a steaming kitchen where all things lamb, goat, and fish are under preparation. The warmth of the house against Avalon and troll conditions makes me want to strip naked and walk about in the garden on cloud and green moss. Yesterday I took a dive into the Arctic waters, and I felt like Godiva washing her hair in ice and fire. Words words words. Beckett was right. All writing is a sin against speechlessness. The truth needs no words. Truth stares us in the face. It laughs at us. It laughs at our mistakes, which we make because lying is more convenient. But never here. Not in the Arctic. The light goes right through me like laser, cutting all that which is not necessary. Truth is an essentializer. My knees go down, and I pray in gratitude. I can really do whatever I want. And I am really exactly where I want to be. And I really have the whole world working for me. That’s magic, and it goes beyond words and worlds.

ANALOGY

Back from the annual and wonderful PsyArt conference, this year taking place in Ghent, I ponder on what I have just learned. I get it confirmed that the way for me is still called detachment – especially from having to define myself through my job. As a general rule, I do at such gatherings what I always do: deliver a paper, have fun with friends, allow knowledge and wisdom to compete and acknowledge that wisdom wins every time, and read tarot cards. On catching up, friends who know me and ask me what I’m up to these days are not surprised by my answer: ‘I’m tired of rhetoric and want more magic in my life. Consequently I do more magic.’ ‘Good for you,’ they say, and some wish that they were as adventurous where matters of the expansion of the mind are concerned.

As scholars of psychoanalysis most of the people attending this conference deal with limited and troubled minds, so I understand their desire to plunge into simple thinking where simplicity is a way of persevering. Where new acquaintances are concerned, however, things are more delicate. As often is the case, some academics have a hard time with analogies. It never occurs to them to ask themselves why, for instance, they are more prone to accepting a scholar among them who identifies herself along the following lines: ‘I do comparative religion, my research is into church history, and my specialty is the holy guardian angel’ than accepting a scholar who says the following: ‘I do comparative religion, my research is into occultism, and my specialty is fortunetelling.’ This latter situation is frowned upon as if talking about the angels of the church is more reasonable than talking about the angels of tarot. Now to the million-dollar question: What is wrong with people’s vision? Why is the first thing – of which most people know nothing – more legit than the second thing – of which most people also know nothing?

In my younger days I used to spend a lot of time enlightening people about the benefits of uncovering blind spots, and telling them how ridiculous the situation of not being able to see differences and similarities is. But not anymore. Now I run. I run from all those who think that being an intellectual is about having academic credentials. I run from all those who make claims to knowledge and scientific objectivism while remaining ignorant. I run from all those who look at others with suspicion without having any reason for mistrust. I run from all those who are afraid of themselves. I run, run, run, all the way to the Lofoten islands for a whole blesséd month where I can commune with the sheep of the earth, and the uneducated but wise spirits of the land. Enjoy your summer, and may you all find peace.

For more tarot related posts, see my Taro(t)flexions website.