Pray to the Night Gods: New Ceremonies & Devotional Galleries

Plate with Cuneiform Script: Pray to the Night Gods
Clay; Early 2nd millennium BC, Ancient East.
Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg

Sometimes it feels a bit lonely. 

Academically at least, I know I am not the only human who prays to the Great Night Gods. There are always others on this crazy planet -- the small pool of people who have been doing it across the millennia. I figure that all of us who honour any of the many & varied Night Gods ultimately find that deep, inexpressible yet compelling reason for engaging Them. After all, Their adoration continues on, whether we have had a tradition passed down to us from our families & culture, or whether we came to Them on our own, feeling our way about as we create & discover new, personal ways to honour Them. 

The Autumn Equinox has passed & the Termination Dust has capped the mountains. Now is the time for Darkness to settle & linger over this land. Time to move inward. Time to honour the Night Gods during their most conspicuous attendance. 

I have begun composing a special divinatory dreamwork ceremony, a Rite for Morpheus & the Oneiric Brood. It will probably take some modeling & inspiration from this ceremony, but much of it will be my own. I think. It seems to make sense to me that this ceremony occur monthly or so, throughout the dark window between the Equinoxes. Perhaps it should extend beyond. I will discern that when the time approaches. It is all open to adjustment & adaptation -- this is how we get it right. This is how we cultivate tradition. 

In honour of the Night Gods & the darkening season, I have finally added the third piece of the devotional galleries here in the journal. These galleries are a continually evolving, inspirational project for anyone who appreciates art, literature or any of my particular Night Gods. They are a perpetual work-in-progress & a personal joy to create.

• NYX, Νύξ, Nox: Primordial Mother
• Children of Nyx: DREAMS, The Ονειροι, Oneiroi
• Children of Nyx: SLEEP, Υπνος , Hypnos

For the Files: Finding Refuge in the Nightmare?

Dream notes to self, for the files:

I woke from what seemed to be a very long, strangely significant dream in the early a.m. April 12. Being a great lover of dreaming & sleep, I rarely take the time to write down dreams because I would rather resume the program. Occasionally however, the dreams seem to demand otherwise. This dream haunted me as awakened. It haunted me as I attempted to return to sleep. It felt like I had received an important message. It contained several people I know in this life, which is unusual. It contained symbolic references to some matters at hand in my community, but more importantly, it also seems to have some bearing on my relationship to Morpheus -- a relationship for which I maintain a blend of gratitude & ambivalence. I could not find my notebooks in the dark, so notes ended up scrawled in coloured pencil in my child's sketchbook. This is what I wrote, for the files:

Night (only fragments of memory remaining)

• The High Priest is here.
• I am outside a greenhouse-like tent aglow in the dark. It is filled with people in celebration of some kind... a wedding? a festive dinner party? 
• No. It is a church revival, a jubilee. 
• The H.P. tells me to stay outside, safe in the dark. He will go inside & take care of what needs to be done.
• We all (who else?) stay in this area overnight, awaiting Sunrise in some kind of dormitory. (I stay in dormitories more often than not in my dreams.)

Morning

• The High Priest & High Priestess are here.
• Where is my family?!? Where is my husband, where are my children?
• There is no response via cell phone. 
• Cold, cold, so cold with fear. Something is wrong (my husband is never without his phone).
• I must, we must find them. 
• Maybe they went to NoHo (an abbreviation for Northampton, Massachusetts).
• In NoHo, we watch people, families go by, searching for mine.
• People keep trying to help, offering me children who are passing by. "No, no, no, they are not mine," I say.
• I recall thinking that NoHo is really nice & that we should visit here as a family, bring the kids here someday...

In the Bank (the transition from NoHo, if there was one, was lost)

• I am alone.
• I am in line to conduct important business.
• The three bank tellers keep switching stations. Lines continually form & re-form, following their seemingly random repositioning. I keep losing my place.
• I am in a hurry, desperate to finish business & find my family. 
• I am very aware that this is a foreign town -- aware of being an outsider & I sense a mild antagonism, or suspicion towards me, especially each time the lines re-form & positions change.
• People in line become increasingly hostile in general & I try to remain unobtrusive. 
• The security guard locks the doors & dims the lights, signaling that the bank will be closing soon for lunch break. I ask if that means we will be served & I am told yes, they are completing transactions for people inside but are not taking any more customers until after lunch.
• The woman in front of me & to the left, a portly brunette in a short ponytail & plaid shirt turns around & gets in my face about people who drive big trucks & SUVs, insinuating that I am one of them. I tell her that I drive a station wagon. She diffuses into a thin, mature woman reminiscent of Nancy Reagan, wearing a madras dress with an oversized collar. She gives me a big hug. I find this unsettling, but do not betray my feelings.
• The lines re-form a final time, leaving me second in the far right line. 
• I notice that there are more people waiting in the bank than there were when the doors were locked. People are crowding in the line, they are crowding around me. They seem to have taken note of the shuffling of positions & I feel like some of them want my spot.
• All of the people are in black & white except for the two closest to me. One is a man in a green felt hat -- a tall, rounded gnome-style hat -- with a very full, rich brown beard & moustache & piercing brown eyes. The other is the woman in the madras dress.
• The woman in the madras dress has a smile that seems to be painted on her face (not literally) & she keeps hugging me. I was able to ignore it earlier, but now I feel like a cornered animal & her hugs feel vaguely violating. I say to her loudly --enough for others to hear -- but with control, "It is very sweet of you to want to hug me, but you know it is not normal to be putting your arms around strangers in a public place, don't you?" She seems to fade a bit & become less relevant. 
• The man brown & green man tells me, "I really like how you drop off the ladies at the bookstore every day." His words are carried in a lascivious tone & he is leering without actually leering. The implications are clear enough to me. Everyone is staring, listening, waiting for my reply. Once again, I feel cornered. I am angered by him, but I remain controlled. "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong person. I do not live here. I am from the North, from lizard country."
• I see a map. The North country is dappled with places & land features named after lizards, their reptilian kin & their prehistoric ancestors. Looking at the map, I notice that its shape & borders are reminiscent of the state of Wyoming. I know that this place is very familiar, but it is not my own. For the sake of protection, I am lying.
• Phobetor. (It comes to my mind clearly & with force.)
• I tell the brown & green man (or, at least I think to tell him) that I am from Phobetor, or the kingdom thereof. I know that this man will recognize this place. He will also not be of it. I know that it will carry implications which will keep me safe. I know this word, but I cannot remember what it means. I know it is important, very important. I struggle to remember, but I cannot grasp the meaning. It does not matter now, as long as I am safe.

Something wakes me -- my baby, my bladder, something. I hear "Phobetor" echoing in my ears. Disoriented & confused, I get out of bed & use the restroom. I check the time. It is 2:22. I attempt to return to sleep, but the dream & it's symbols do not allow for it. I blunder about the house in search of a notepad which I will not find because I suddenly feel a powerful need to return to the bedroom. This dream has left me afraid of the dark.

On Phobetor: Phobetor is one of the Oneiroi, the dark-winged daimones or spirits of dreams. Ovid states that the gods call him I'celos, but men call him Phobetor: "...here below the tribe of mortals call him Phobetor." (Metamorphoses 11. 585) Phobetor means "to be feared" & he is the shaper of dreams which come to man, hence his name. He is brother to Morpheus, but unlike his brother who assumes the shapes of men, Phobetor "...forms the beasts and birds and the long sliding snakes." (Metamorphoses 11. 585)

"Phobetor," by Italian artist, Beatrice Riva.
Discovering this piece chilled my blood by a few degrees --
here is the face of the brown & green man in my dream.

PICU: What a Visit Taught Me About Polytheism, Prayer & Pragmatism

PICU: looks like a party, but it's not.

PICU: A pediatric intensive care unit (also paediatric), usually abbreviated to PICU (pron.: /ˈpɪkjuː/), is an area within a hospital specializing in the care of critically ill infants, children, and teenagers. A PICU is typically directed by one or more pediatric intensivists or PICU consultants^[1] and staffed by doctors, nurses, and respiratory therapists who are specially trained and experienced in pediatric intensive care. -- Wikipedia

Just over a week ago today we were unaware that we would be admitting the Changeling to the PICU for treatment of what would much later be diagnosed as "staphylococcal scalded skin syndrome" (SSSS). When you have SSSS, your skin splits open & sloughs off at the slightest graze of a fingernail or the tug of a band-aid. Rashes bloom, blacken & fall from your body. The entire surface of your being is red, enraged, blistering, on fire, like that of an overeager prom-goer who took too much time at the tanning salon. 

Staphylococcus aureus (in stain): looks pretty, but it's not.
Image courtesy Wikipedia.

All this thanks to a little critter called S. aureus who, if introduced deeply enough into the body, will release exotoxins which cause detachment within the epidermal layer. This skin-sloughing bacteria is a relatively rare breed in the staph family. But still, it is staph & staph is everywhere in this beautifully complex & dangerous world of ours. Once again, no one is special.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, we have already had a very lengthy round with the NICU environment, so we have acquired a solid battery of ICU coping skills. This was not new territory. In fact, the familiarity of it might have been the most immediately traumatizing aspect of our visit. Awash in fluorescent lighting, the smells & sounds of the PICU brought back that little bit of PTSD that I carefully packed away with the hopes of never revisiting. I had to grab my swooning, crumpling, tear-welling self by the horns & say: "Do or die. This is survival time, sister. You know this place. Make-it-work." Less than an ounce of grief, followed by days of make-it-work. 

Setting our Selves aside. Making it work. We do these things because we must. We do these things for Love.

What struck me very clearly the first night while gingerly curled around the Changeling in his bubble-bed was that my personal gods & collaborative spirits aren't so befitting to the crisis situation. I have actually run upon this before, but perhaps I was never lucid enough to see it for what it is. I also think this is where I have always had a wee bit of ambivalence with the whole "prayer" concept. (Yes, I am aware of the irony of this blog's title.) 

Unpopular as it is, I consider myself a polytheist of the more Parmesan variety (as opposed to say, Ricotta). In practice, there have been many times when I would have qualified as henotheistic or perhaps more accurately, kathenotheistic, except that I am never a complete purist or ever entirely exclusive & animism muddles things, so I suppose even in this, I qualify as an In-Between (once again). Lunar & Solar devotions are my most concrete, consistent & ritualized practice, but the Moon & Sun -- as I recognize Them -- are not "gods" per se, but venerable, life-weaving & live-giving beings with corporeal forms. That's animism, as I see it. The gods proper are (generally) incorporeal spiritual entities who carry with Them their own set of skills, interests, personality & agendas. That's polytheism, as I see it. Of course, it's complicated.

"Morpheus" by alexmartinez of deviantART

The pitfall of polytheism within my ICU-prone world is that the small handful of deities with whom I have a regular (or oftentimes irregular) relationship (but generally over many, many years) don't fall into the dulcet, pray-to, caretaker model. There are also no interventionists on my call list. Most of Them came to me in some strange, unexpected & abrupt fashion, while couple of Them I petitioned, stalked, flagged down or otherwise pursued myself. Regardless of how we came into relationship, none of Them are particularly apposite, at least in a conventional way, in an ICU. Oh, & I don't just go barking at gods I don't know when I suddenly need Them. So, how do we make-it-work?

Apparently I know by instinct. Once the situation settled, like an automaton I contacted the outside world asking for 'petitions, prayers, energy, good vibes, hoodoo, magick, whatever works...' I did this knowing that we would end up on my popular Christian-mystery author aunt's twitter prayer chain. I did this knowing that we would end up in multiple LDS prayer pools. I did this knowing that Wiccans would work us into their workings. I knew my mom would be exercising her Will (Thelemite? Must be something about psychiatrists). I knew that the Catholic, Druid, Jewish, Buddhist, Methodist, Atheist, Born-Again, Humanist folks & all those "Others" that comprise our friend & family network would be giving it their best go, in whatever fashion suits them. And really, if those people have a rapport with an interventionist sky-god like Adonai or JC or a mother-goddess like Toci or Brighid & they want to pray on our behalf, why should I object? Just make-it-work.

Even the 8:00 am prayer over the hospital PA system each morning was making-it-work. Never having stayed in a Catholic hospital before, the first day I awoke to the prayer, dazed & baffled. The priest's deep baritone & thick Spanish accent filtered through the isolation doors in a mostly unintelligible blur of voice, but I took it... & maybe even looked forward to it... a little bit. It came from Love. Make-it-work. 

/begin digression: This amuses me. When I was young & "fundamentalist" I would have balked at the idea -- I always found it offensive when someone else was praying or petitioning for my wellbeing because I interpreted their actions as a surreptitious attempt to impose their belief system upon me... somehow. I believe that inflexible, resistant, exclusive attitude stemmed from a defensive insecurity. Nowadays, I don't find discomfort in the well-intentioned spiritual efforts of others. As long as it comes from Love, I take it. I must be more secure, or getting older, or maybe I am just indiscriminate or something... /end digression

"Female Satyr with House, Child and a Putto" by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo.
My mind's eye vision of Fauna (& quite possibly my ideal body image too).
Image from the Norton Simon Museum.

But enough of other people's gods. After sending out the "Pragmatic Pagan's" smoke signals, I scrunched up, helpless & despondent in that tiny bed -- all the while remaining ever vigilant not to break any more skin on my little baby -- & I talked to my gods. Well, some of Them anyway.

I talked to Morpheus & I asked Him to use His pull with His Oneiroi brothers to give our tiny morphine-filled creature the peaceful, reparative sleep he needed in order to mend his devastated body. I talked to Fauna & Faunus & I said, something like, "I know You are not creatures of these hospital-places. You are creatures of the forests & wild places... We are too. My children are Your children & I want to make sure I can take them back into the bogs & the woodlands & the high deserts & teach them the secrets hidden there. Please, if You find any joy in the beauty of a babe reveling in Your sylvan secrets, if You have any strings to pull, please, please pull them. For him, for us." Then, maybe I asked Thoth (Tahuti, if you prefer) to give the still struggling-to-definitively-diagnose medical staff a leg up as I passed out from exhaustion, but honestly I cannot remember...

Oh, & I talked to the Moon of course. That Lady, our measured guide, the Gradual One. She Who Makes Change by Degrees. I thanked her. Because by then, Her work was already done.

Please do not mistake my words as dismissive of Those that I carry close to my heart, Those I whisper to in the greenwoods & in the Darkness. Theirs are among the greatest of gifts, but so much of that world is left unshared. Mostly, that world is about me. Absolutely none of this situation could be about me. It needed to be 100% about making-it-work.


Setting our Selves aside. Making it work. We do these things because we must. We do these things for Love.

Sometimes this means pragmatism over purism. The Who & the How is irrelevant. When it comes down to it, all that matters to me as a mother, lover, partner is that it works & that Love, something so Good & so big is allowed to triumph over the selfish smalls; like bacteria... & egos. 

Going home.
We made it work.
All of us, together.

How Shrines Begin.

Together, on the silver chaise, very late at night. 
You recline. I sit, perched on the rounded curve of its overstuffed edge.
Staring out the window at a tree strangely poised against the pinkish winter sky, I say,
"You know that secretary I 'inherited' from my ex-boyfriend's, acquaintance's grandmother?"
"Um..." 
"The one in the basement of the house in Utah... with the ball & claw feet..."
(I swear that tree knows what I am talking about.)
After a moment,
"Oh. Yes..."
Still fixed on the tree,
"I want something like that, but a little wider than a grandfather clock, with solid doors in place of the lattice & inside, places where surfaces unfold, like the desk, but different & places that cradle offering dishes like the one the Perrins sent me & I want to use the great big glass vanilla vials to hold flowers & I want to collect more baroque picture frames like the one with the painting of the Victorian lady & I would like to have drawers or a cabinet below but I don't know quite know how to keep The Changeling out..."
"Ok."
"In those frames, I want an image of each of the gods that have been with me in significant ways throughout my life... It's time."
You nod in acknowledgement. 
"...starting with Thoth."
You understand, even though you were not there.
"...& there should be Fauna & Faunus & a place for Freyja's seeds..."
You agree, with a wry smile I know is for Freyja.
(Is the tree out there musing over Freyja too?)
Then, I feel myself struggle with the words, almost choking,
"And Herne..."
You snort softly, knowingly. You know He is the One I keep close, with much discomfort. I know, He is the One who waits at the end of the road.
"...And Morpheus."
You do not know how important He is, but you will. Soon. I promise.
I stop. You smile, waiting but not expecting.
There is a long pause.
"Ah... & Bacchus, of course." 
"Of course."
And this is how shrines begin.

Well, this time, anyway.

The Trouble with Dreamwork (or, My Broken Magick… & Ego)

This post has been decidedly uncomfortable for me to write & has taken several weeks, but if you have ever wondered what happened to the "Spiritual Warfare" cleanup campaign…

Sometimes we get stuck.

Last Autumn I was participating in a series of pathworking meditations which had a profound impact on my ability to effectively use the dream incubation technique in my "Hatred Remediation" project. At the time, however, I did not realize this. When I look back on my posts in October & November of last year, I can see that I was on fire. Or something. 

When I migrated South, I found my dreamwork abilities waning, waning, waning... I thought at that time that this had something to do with the season -- it was winter after all & the mycelia, like many other life forms are at rest, in stasis, sleeping. So I gave myself a little bit of slack & figured I would pick it up again when the weather was more accommodating...

When I found the fungi popping up early Spring, high-desert-style, I thought this heralded a change on the horizon… no.

When I returned to Alaska & found fungi the very first time we hit he trails I thought, "Let the dreamwork begin!" … no.

Utterly broken Coprinus(?)

Somewhere around Summer Solstice I came to terms with my broken magick. Broken, broken, utterly. Intuitively, I reached into my bag of tricks & pulled out the sympathetic magic. I declared to Hubby, "This is how I am going to do it from now on. I can't do the dreamwork anymore. Besides, it's more creative & fun this way, right?" Right?

I went ahead & completed two more of my remediation projects using some original sympathetic techniques. I even received assistance from a few other people. But somewhere in the back of my mind I was mulling over & lamenting the loss of what I shall call my "subscription" to that "channel" that felt lost to me. I liken it to having rabbit ears on a television. You swivel that contraption round & round, antennae akimbo until you finally capture that special signal. Ah! Then you will do everything in your power to keep that position locked into place; duct tape, stacks of books, strategically placed houseplants. But inevitably, the cat decides a new perch is in order & poof! Bye bye special signal, auf wiedersehen sacred programming, ciao my precious channel.

I can't really blame it on the cats this time. The children, maybe.

I still have yet to write about those two workings -- now nearly three months completed -- despite the fact that they really were quite clever. This is probably because I have been feeling deflated. Or not on fire anymore. Just kind of soggy. (Which one might think would be good for a mycophile…) 

I have not bothered to pursue any further mushroomy-workings. 

Instead, I performed a 180 & appealed (much to my ego's chagrin) to the Wiccan High Priest who had been sharing his late High Priestess's meditations with the community. The short story is that I have now attended a group class, some private meetings & a circle thus far. I also have a daily 'anointing ritual' which is specifically intended to liberate my intuition. It is all somewhat humbling & awkward & the decision has surprised more than a few people who know me. It is also remarkably comfortable. Like putting on an old pair of jeans. I know that system -- I have lived it. Even if I cannot abide by the label any longer, Wicca is as familiar as my native tongue. It only makes sense to return to it, even feral & changed as I am, to recalibrate my antenna, to remember how to listen.

Miniature poppy in the greenhouse.

I also decided to appeal to Morpheus. I generally keep my relationship with deity very private -- I believe such relationships should not be discussed casually, publicly, idly. My reason for mentioning this here is because the results have been important to my dreamwork recovery. I had to initiate this connection from scratch because there is no information regarding how Morpheus was formally worshipped (though of course the assumption is that he was because of the presence of dream temples). So, I determined that I would just begin with visions of Him -- the way I would incubate a dream, at night just before falling asleep, entreating his help, offering to return His favour with favour, etc... 

Poppies on the porch.

I have some things I must do now involving shrines & poppy gardening & while my rational self balks, I cannot deny that I have begun to remember my dreams again.

So I continue to lick my wounded self-image & nurture the flame that resides within. I don't like asking for help, but sometimes, it becomes an imperative. We'll fix it together. The whole motley lot of us; my gaggle of fungi, a very generous High Priest, beloved Morpheus & me. Now that's the stuff of dreams. Or something.

  

Getting un-stuck: Gathering poppy pods throughout Alaska.

Transforming "Spiritual Warfare": Day 33 (Ohio) [A Photo-filled Magickal DIY of Epic Proportions]

3/3/2014: This post has been added to the Animist Blog Carnival: Dreams edition. To see more animist perspectives on dreams, please visit: Animist Blog Carnival: Dreams

Note: If you are unfamiliar with my "Transforming 'Spiritual Warfare'" aka. Mushroom Hatred Remediation Program, you might want to read the midpoint recap, Transforming "Spiritual Warfare": Back to Business &/or the project's inaugural post, Transforming "Spiritual Warfare": Day 1 (Hawaii), to understand what I am attempting with this post. (I know it's weird, but what magick isn't?) If you are not familiar with the theocratic prayer campaign referred to in this series, see Desultory Philippic's excellent discussion 40 Days of Light, To Bring Back the Darkness, &/or the coverage over at the Wild Hunt.


An Additional Note: If you are participating in Dianne Sylvan's "Spiritual Nomads" E-Course, you might recognize this as falling under Week Two's "Weirdness" discussion. Admittedly, it qualifies.

I-80/Ohio Interstate shield. Courtesy WikiCommons.

The eyes have it.

I have traveled I-80 through Ohio twice in my life. Both times I was moving & both times were rough transitions. While my state of mind may have slightly tainted my experience of Ohio, I am certain I am not alone in being very underwhelmed by this state from the vantage point of this East-West highway. Somewhere along my image search I came across some vacation bloggers who described touring I-80 in Ohio as some of the worst interstate travel anywhere in the U.S. Uncharitable, but true.

Image found HERE.

While browsing the Ohio state welcome signs, I learned that this place has a variety of slogans ranging from meh, to quite clever: "Birthplace of Aviation Pioneers," "With God All Things Are Possible" (really?), "Mother of Presidents" (seven of them), "Ohio, The Heart of It All," "Ohio: Don't Judge Us by Cleveland," "Ohio: Sorry About the Smell, We're Working on it"... Of all the tag lines (& there are many more) the one that stuck with me was "Ohio, So Much to Discover." This is the official Ohio state slogan according to the Department of Development, Division of Travel & Tourism. What struck me was that it felt like a challenge. So much to discover? Really? 

Discover, I did.

Wait. Before I begin with the discovery business, I've decided that perhaps I can recruit some help with this epic & ongoing "hatred remediation" process. So, this time I am going to write it as a walkthru. This will make it epic in length (& chock-full of fabulous imagery!), but if you feel patient & inspired (or perhaps you have read so many of these by now that they do not seem completely bizarre anymore), please feel free to hop on the mycological magick bus & do the "working" yourself. Fungi are so friendly & they just don't get enough hobnobbing with us hominid folk. I'm sure they will appreciate someone else talking to them besides crazy me.

To talk to fungi about remediating waste left over by the prayer campaign, I use a technique called "Dream Incubation." Because this post is going to be very, very long, I am going to give myself a break & snatch the Wiki's words to define this process:

"Dream incubation is a practiced technique of learning to "plant a seed" in the mind, in order for a specific dream topic to occur, either for recreation or to attempt to solve a problem... While somewhat similar to lucid dreaming, dream incubation is simply focusing attention on a specific issue when going to sleep." -- from Wikipedia's article "Dream Incubation"

"Dream Incubation" by kyriemance of DeviantArt

I use the dream incubation for several reasons: 1) Working in your sleep bypasses all the hang-ups & distractions that can plague your work during the wakeful hours. 2) Since the working is on a mental/spiritual/telepathic (or however you understand it) level, using the subconscious to do the "talking" is really very pragmatic. You can't get caught up in being verbal. 3) I could do this the Woo-Woo way, but honestly, I am not very good about getting things done with Woo. It's so complicated & I get obsessive about all the Woo-ey details. Much akin to the altar issue, for me, it's best to just keep the toys to a minimum. 4) Fungi seem like dreamy beasties to me, so why not? 5) This is a big project which takes a great deal of time & effort. Additionally, I have a family & they are busy, noisy people. Thus, I have to get things done when everyone is asleep. What is more practical & expedient than to use my sleep time to get the work done? It's magickal multi-tasking at it's best. 

Besides, it makes for great dreams.

Now for a very cursory history of dream incubation, a brief discussion of technique, followed by a list of resources for the curious & ambitious: 

Μορφεύς, god of dreams. Courtesy Wiki
"Morpheus & Iris" by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin 

Many cultures throughout history -- past & present -- have made use of dreams to foretell the future, problem-solve, communicate with deities &/or the spirit world, etc. It is speculated that the Mesopotamians, ancient Jewish & ancient Celts used dream incubation for spiritual guidance, oracular work, prophesy, etc. & there is ample evidence that the ancient Japanese, Chinese & Egyptians used dream incubation in an organized fashion, having specialized dream temples, halls or other structures specifically for this process which often served as a means for solving political issues. However, the ancient Greeks can be credited with elevating the technique of dream incubation to an art form. The Greeks left us with dream diaries, a lengthy text on oneiromancy (see Oneirocritica, The Interpretation of Dreams) & the remains of their dream temples (e.g., Asclepeion) where dream incubation was primarily used for psychological & physical healing. Many of the same techniques used by these widespread & varied ancient seekers are also used in dream incubation today.

Dream incubation technique varies by culture & individual, but the goal is to create for yourself a period of intense immersion in your dream subject. The most basic way to do this is to spend dedicated time thinking about it during the day & then as you fall asleep, focus on the subject intently, repeating it, expanding upon it until you enter sleep. To strengthen your process you can employ many other tools such as meditation, journalwork &/or appealing to Divinity through ritual, prayer or symbolism. Some people find that using cues are helpful, like burning incense at the bedside, anointing with essential oils (clary sage, for example). Others employ dream-inducing diets, herbals &/or sleeping positions. There are many other techniques & tools to assist the process of dream incubation, but it is not my intention for this post to be about incubation techniques... after all, we're supposed to be discovering Ohio, talking to mushrooms & cleansing our country of theocratic detritus.

However, if you are interested in learning more about dream incubation, here is a medley of random resources to explore:

• "How Can You Control Your Dreams?" from Scientific American. 2010-07-29
• Psychology of Dreams Webcast from UC Berlekey w/Prof. Eleanor H. Rosch, 25 lectures (iTunes U podcast -- it's free) Psychology 106, 001|Fall 2009|UC Berkeley
• "Dreaming & Inspiration with the Sleeping Goddess of Malta" by Karen Tate, Goddess Theology scholar, speaker & author 
• Dreaming in the World's Religions: A Comparative History, searchable Google E-Book. (see also "Related Books" on About This Book page)
• "The “Committee of Sleep”: A Study of Dream Incubation for Problem Solving" by Deirdre Barrett of Harvard Medical School, from Dreaming, Vol. 3, No. 2, 1993 
• The Jungian-Senoi Dreamwork Manual, by Strephon Kaplan Williams & the Jungian-Senoi Institute, circa 1980. Strange, but most excellent -- if you can find a copy. 

With the background information out of the way, we can return to the project at hand. Every time I work with a state, I do the following procedure, give-or-take a few state-specific adaptations as needed:

First, I try to look at artwork by artists from that state. There is a great deal to be said for looking at the world through the eyes of local artists. Then, I spend copious amounts of time browsing the Wikimedia Commons category for that state. I try to look at the majority of the photographs if possible, although I have been known to cease & desist when it might cause me to develop carpal-tunnel syndrome. Next, I visit the local mycological society websites, state-related fungi websites & images to develop an idea of the fungal fauna in general. Then, I wait for some kind of sign that indicates the fungi du jour. This answer comes in various ways, sometimes it is decided by serendipity, sometimes instinct, sometimes even in a dream. I prefer it when the fungus is one I have met personally. This way, I can search my own image files & select my favourite images of the fungi, recalling memories & really "connecting." However, sometimes it is not a beast I have met. If this is the case, I do my homework, checking my books & preferred mycological haunts on the internet, browsing photos & finding someone with whom I can work. Then, I might write a poem, entreaty, chant, or other clever & apropos verbage to help clarify my intent or, I might use someone else's words. Sometimes, words are just not necessary. FINALLY, I take all that to bed & incubate a dream. In my dreams, I ask the mycelia of the focal fungi (as well as the other local fungi species) to remediate the hate. 

Ah, & you thought you were weird...


So, back to the business of discovering Ohio. You will now be visually spammed with some (but, by no means all) of what I discovered about Ohio. The goal here is to immerse yourself in the Ohio landscape. (A note on credits: all the following photographs are courtesy Wikimedia Commons. Links to image page sources are in captions.)

The Crystal King/Ohio Caverns, Beech in Autumn/Hueston Woods, The Devil's Bathtub/Hocking Hills 

Conkles Hollow/Hocking Hills, Winter in Blacklick Woods, Indian Point Park/Lake County

The Wilds (ICPWA) a private, non-profit wildlife conservation center on 9,154 acres of reclaimed coal mine land. It is home to over 25 non-native & hundreds of native species & is the largest wildlife conservation center for endangered species in North America. 

Cedar Falls in the Winter, MacCracken Hall/Miami Uinversity, Oxford in Winter

The Blackhand Gorge State Nature Preserve, Squire's Castle/Cleveland North Chagrin Reservation

Sunset from Fairfield Beach/Buckeye Lake, A-Frame Bridge/ Old Man's Cave

Campbell Mound/Columbus, Williamson Mound/Indian Mound Reserve

Dexter Memorial/ Spring Grove Cemetery, Lorain Lighthouse/Lorain, Serpent Mound (aerial view)/Adams County

"Angel"/Spring Grove Cemetery & Arboretum, Corn Field/Ohio

Brown's Lake Bog/Brown's Lake Bog State Nature Preserve, one of the few remaining kettle peatlands.

Glacial grooves/Kelleys Island, Brandywine Falls after a storm/Cuyahoga Valley

Zoraville Bridge NHP/Conotton Creek, Fairfield Township, 

Fairport Harbor/Headlands Dunes State Nature Preserve,

The Genius of Water, aka "The Lady"/Fountain Square, Cincinnati 

Kamelands/ Highlands Nature Sanctuary, Yellow Springs/Glen Helen Nature Preserve

Wasn't that lovely? Now that we have developed a concept of Ohio, or at the very least, have ample fodder for visualization, let us move on to an exploration of the native fungi in this very "discoverable" state. As luck would have it, a photographer with a penchant for fungi (read: well-versed mycophile) & a macro lens offered up a plethora of truly spectacular images to the WikiCommons. The following images were taken in the Wayne National Forest, Strouds Run State Park, "The Ridges" at Ohio University & various other Ohio locales by "Shroomydan" (aka Dan Molter of the Mushroom Observer). I will do my very best to use restraint.

Mycena acicula, Amanita abrupta, Pouzarella flavoviride, Pseudobaeospora sp.

Scutellinia sp.,  Bisporella citrina

Pholiota squarrosoides, Hygrocybe psittacina

Tylopilus plumbeoviolaceus, Marasmius rotula, Rhodotus palmatus

Xylocoremium flabelliforme, Boletus hortonii

Nectria episphaeria, Urnula craterium

Hygrophoropsis aurantiaca, Hygrocybe cantharellus, Laccaria ochropurpurea

Entoloma murraii, Lactarius volemus, Clavaria vermicularis

Laetiporus cincinnatus, Russula parvovirescens

Mutinus caninus

Well, so much for self restraint. If you found yourself fully immersed, but still yearning for more, go visit the Wikimedia Commons & search "Ohio fungi." The collection is extensive, diverse & gorgeous.

Now for Ohio's fungal remediation representative. You might have noticed a delightful little red & black ditty up there on the second row. That's Scutellinia scutellata & it's an old Alaskan friend of mine. Otherwise known as the Eyelash Cup fungus, Eyelash Pixie Cup or Molly Eye-winker, these diminutive cuties have the prettiest little rim of "lashes" about their outer edge making them appear a bit like tiny orange or scarlet (thanks to carotenoids) peepers. It's very easy to find them in droves on moist, rotting wood -- this is because the are saprobic & thus, perfect for the plan. Also perfect for this project's theme of search & discovery! Didn't you & your eyes discover amazing things about Ohio? 

S. scutellata with a slime mould friend

On a tangential note, I did not discover the function of those lashes. None of my sources offered any kind of explanation for their function, yet there was a consensus among professionals that they are "beautiful," "attractive" & they make people smile (see, it's not just me)... I am thinking that cuteness (to hominids) is not the purpose of this adaptation, but no one appears to be asking/exploring the question. Despite failure in my pursuit of an answer to the eyelash mystery, I did receive two consolation prizes: 1) I learned that S. scutellata likes to fraternize with "mosses, slime moulds (!!!) & other cryptogams"(emphasis obviously mine) & 2) I found this spectacular photo of a slug eating an eyelash cup. Just look at this: "Naturally Curious with Mary Holland." Awesome. If you weren't already convinced they are cute, I bet you are now.

Onward to the final immersion! This time, I have paired my own images of S. scutellata with a variety of prayers/invocations to Morpheus. I think this is an apropos treatment for this particular effort. Feel free to come up with your own expressions if you prefer. 

I wol make invocacion,
With special devocion,
Unto the god of slep anoon,
That duelleth in a cave of stoon
Upon a strem that cometh fro Lete,
That is a flood of helle unswete,
Besyde a folk men clepeth Cymerie...

-- Chaucer,  The Book of the Duchess

Morpheus Lord of Dreams, we call unto thee.
Weaver of webs in the attic of the subconscious.
Great Jackal, Manifesto of impermanence,
Magickal King, Sandman, Anubis, join us now.
Come down from your moon lit mountain,
with wispy cloak and eyes of light.
Past the stars, through the clouds of disbelief.
Awaken our imagination, throw your poppy like sand upon our distracted minds. For we come to dream, to pay homage to the art, the joy, the reality of fantasy. Opening our subconscious we invoke hermetic truths, universal archetypes and mythical legends. From the depths of our inner most void- align our energies with the ray of wisdom.
Descend thee Morpheus.  -- Korinne (via Evolver), Invocation to Morpheus

S. scutellata

We open our eyes to discover. We close them to sleep. May we never lose sight of liberty, may we ever dream in freedom.

The eyes have it.