I was sitting out on the patio staring out at the moon realizing it was full. My cigarette burning pointlessly. I took note of the shadows and light playing across its face as the light reflected off it casting a silver blue light upon the landscape before me. I could not take my eyes from the sky, even as words were being spoken to me. A different language from that of the sky and stars, I heard those words and distantly acknowledged them, but my attention was raptly focused on the sky and an experience I had many years ago while training. There was nothing but me and the deep well of space. The stars were not very visible that night. but the loud clatter of streets and light in the sky could not separate me from the world of the deep void and the unstruck sound of star fire and moonshine.
While I was training, I was introduced to a Feri Goddess in the same fashion we all are. You are brought in to meditation. She is called, God Herself, and you are left to your experience of Her and guided home. She was immense in both size and spirit, most would call the experience intimidating, if they were to have it, just with Her appearance. Mostly she doesn’t speak, She just shows you things and leaves you to your interpretation. I remember having a bit of a different experience, I asked her to show me the star I came from remembering my Father tell me repeatedly as a child that we were made from the stars. I have no idea what the hexes possessed me to ask such a question, but I remember asking it and, more surprisingly, getting an answer.
This experience was brought to mind recently after coming to the clear realization that here is much lore and poetry about magic being irrevocably bound to star forms. For example Daniel Schulke’s invocation in the Ars Philtron: ” Star-unto-well , By night I seek the relicit flame of the antient exiled sun. . . Eye within eye, I behold the new dawn, face within face, and form within form, Etched in the veiled black-seals of void.” In my minds eye, I can see stars turn in accordance to the magic called upon. I have come to the conclusion that there are many who also call upon the magic of stars. I recall, in my mind’s eye, always tilting my head and vision to the sky when casting and invoking as though I expect the stars above to hear me and catch the energy of my intent and move it in the direction I need while pouring my soul forth to the gods. I point to the stars while I sending the cone to honor my command. I look to the stars while working through a vexing moment. I remember, once, being asked to name how many stars were in a constellation, closing my eyes seeing it and counting what was there and getting the correct answer.
While she, the mistress, the lantern of our planet’s nightfall, catches my attention while in this urban existence the stars are never far from my attention, in spite of the fact there is much light and life interference. I am however, consistently consumed by the attention given by other occultist to the stars. Not just in their precise motions in the sky, but by the acknowledgement that we and our magic may be connected, drawn forth, and guided by their presence even though they are mostly veiled by the existence of out urban lives. The stars seem to to sing through the void, the light noise and clinging clatter of the modern era. Staring up has become a ritual for me. I may not see all the points of light streaming through the ether, but it sees me and you and everyone else and moves us internally in manners beyond expectation and comprehension.
I hope you look up in wonder and awe. I hope magic moves you through that which you may not quite see and comprehend. I hope great and profound whisperings that only stones and trees can properly pronounce. Look up. Look up and allow your eyes to be filled.