Ecstatic Agendas

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With help from my new cane I made it to the summit of my favorite volcano today, for the first time in over a year. I arrived to the park an hour before sunset, and spent most of the intervening duration sitting on my collapsible stool, facing West, chanting solar-chthonic names to honor the upcoming equinox and the sun’s descent into the underworld season of the year.

Just as the smoldering embers of the day began to fade indigo, my contact arrived. Full of enthusiasm and carrying a heavy case full of ritual implements, he began speaking immediately about Kore, Plouton, and the gematria of Hekate’s name. I assisted him to unpack as he explained the significance of each item and how we would use them. He chose an auspicious tree near our meeting point, and I helped him assemble a quick altar: a bouquet of herbs, some fabric and masks, vessels of water and oil; a flame and some cylinders of incense. He washed both our hands as we began to chant – I followed his lead and he was patient with my pronunciation, stopping a few times to let me catch up. We circled the tree, pouring libation and singing seven sacred vowels. Smoke curled among the outstretched roots of the great fir as night fully descended. We crouched with the spirits of sky and earth and the liminal beings that traverse these realms. With faces veiled as we chanted and gesticulated, we must have been an anomalous sight for stragglers upon the trails – two huddled figures tending an indistinct assemblage, making strange sounds in the shadows.

At one point the air was rent by the sudden arrival of three youths on dirt bikes who circled the grove! I wondered if they took note of us, and I was glad for my knotted length of sturdy branch in case they intruded. But the trio only made a quick pass before settling at the far end of the wooded plaza for a while. We continued.

After roughly an hour, my companion concluded the rite by thanking the gods and the spirits of place and time, of the site and its denizens, of the city and the valley in which it sits. We broke down the altarspace and packed it away, quietly discussing the ritual and the ancient fragmented traditions from which we drew.

Returning down the hill to our vehicles, we parted warmly, with talk of future opportunities to share our practices. With a hug and a last salutation, we each exited the park toward our own destinations. 

I am honored to have taken part; excited to have shared in these odd obsessions with another person here in my adopted hometown. Neuroscience tells us that partaking in the sacred improves both mental and physical health outcomes; sharing the experience with collaborators and kindred folk promotes happiness and longevity. Meeting others who accept and amplify our personal quirks and flakiness breeds confidence, empowerment, and courage. Such kinship is sorely needed in dark times.

Gods bless us, every one.

Jason Triefenbach, HFHR

Jason Triefenbach is an artist, writer, and non-denominational minister with a garden and a lifelong interest in lurking around the Occult/ Paranormal shelves in bookstores worldwide. As Sun Duel they record and sometimes perform music with a variety of friends and loved ones. Jason has been self-publishing zines and pamphlets since the early 1990s, beginning with a sloppy collage broadsheet Licking the Toe Jam, and culminating thus far in the limited – edition perfect-bound paperback journal BARBAROUS TONGUES, available HERE.