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Well I practice Voodoo, but I'm an English magician. That probably seems a bit weird, at first glance, but I have a hugely multicultural spin on what it means to be English. For a start, go just two generations back in my own ancestral history and you're in Scotland on the one hand and you're in Italy/Sicily on the other. And that's just two generations back. I don't think you can really talk about "English culture and tradition" without recognising all of the other cultural influences that have formed it and continue to. I'm fairly certain that the events of the Old and New Testaments did not take place in and around Tunbridge Wells, yet the influence of Christianity has shaped our culture for thousands of years.
An anthropology Phd randomly told me the other day that there was strong evidence for trade routes, and therefore most likely some level of cultural exchange, taking place between the British Isles and North Africa from before the Roman conquest. I don't have a source for this, I'm afraid, as it was a pub conversation, but it's food for thought when you consider the magical landscape of this country and the various influences that have shaped it over the centuries. Some more hidden and overlooked by history than others.
Ultimately, Voodoo as I practice it (which has more in common with the New Orleans approach than anything else) is all about place and ancestors. I honour the Seven African Powers and Les Mysteres, the Gods of Africa. I honour the Holy Land of Guinea and the Holy City of Ile Ife, the cradle of the mysteries. I honour my magical ancestors, named and unnamed: the Snake Priests and Two-Headed Doctors, Voodoo Queens and Pythonesses, who have carried this tradition from the heart of Africa - long ago and far away - by many and varied circuitous routes, to these shores. Their work, their lives and their experiences in this City have shaped the living nature of Voodoo as it exists in London. I honour and raise a glass to all of that. But none of this is the idealisation of a mythic golden age. There is cruelty, oppression, barbarity, greed, ignorance, pain and suffering in the story of how African magic came to be practised in England's green and pleasant land. You can't pretend that didn't happen. To honour these traditions, you have to take that on board, which is not the same as allowing yourself to drown in self-indulgent white guilt which doesn't help anything. I love and honour my African spiritual ancestors with all of my heart, and I will do my level best to express these mysteries to the best of my ability in my life and work as an English magician.
There is no getting away from the fact that I am an English magician, regardless of my blood ancestors or the ethnicity of the ancestor magicians that have bequeathed me the framework I operate within, I'm practicing on English soil. I grew up in this culture. Voodoo is about place as much as it is about ancestors, and all places have their spirits, their magic and their mysteries. I'm from Newcastle, that's my hometown, and those are my colours. There is magic there which I draw on. I have my places of power and deep connections to the landscape of my home. I've lived in London for ten years, and I have intense relationships with many places in the landscape of this City on both sides of the river. I've lived and breathed magic at these locations, crossroads, boneyards, woods, secret wild places, haunted buildings, sacred churches, old monuments, dicey parts of town. This is the heart of my magic. When you pour rum for Papa Ghede in a London boneyard, you may be looking at the Mysteries through a Haitian lens, but the dead of Lewisham are not going to speak to you in French Creole (or maybe one or two of them will, such is the nature of my City). Don't go looking for tropical woods in English forests, different powers have their sway who need to be tipped a nod and will reveal secrets of their own if you know the right language. More than anything, I've only been able to learn that language by studying diligently at the foot of one of the remaining great cultures who haven't forgotten.
But England is not exactly quiet on the magic front either. Culturally, magic has been stamped out in the west. We have been told that there is no such thing. It doesn't exist. Fairy stories and make-believe. From the Reformation onwards into our post-Industrial age, there have been concerted efforts to step away from a "belief" in such things. But magic is not about "belief" at all, so much as a means of relating to the mysteries of nature, consciousness, our bodies, our emotions, our planet, our universe, and the multi-faceted kaleidoscope of experience that is the human condition. By stepping away from these processes of understanding and strategies of action, and consigning it all to the waste-bin of historical fancy, we're denying ourselves the tools that we need to halt this blind and headlong rush to extinction and environmental disaster that various pessimistic voices would have us believe awaits around the corner.
But for a country that, on the surface of things, doesn't believe in magic and is actively opposed to this mode of thinking - it does have the habit of churning out magicians and continually driving a discourse on such matters within a culture where that discourse is largely scorned and unwelcome. I think that's pretty amazing really, when you think about it, so I honour all of those guys. What would the international magical landscape look like without John Dee and Edward Kelly, the Golden Dawn magicians, the Theosophical Society, Aleister Crowley and his crowd, Dadaji, Dion Fortune, Austin Osman Spare, TOPY, the Chaos magicians of Leeds and London and elsewhere? In a very real and pragmatic way, this is my tradition and these are my magical ancestors. I am very much indebted to all of these people who have kept the mysteries active and alive in my country, in my City, in centuries when such things have been totally unwelcome and otherwise edited out of culture and history - or occulted, if you like. Fucking hell! What an accomplishment is that! Buy them a round of drinks and raise a glass.
I honour all of these different strands that have brought me magic. Nothing comes into existence without a backstory, and everything we know today has its roots somewhere in the past. What we might romantice as "long ago and far away" was at one point the living reality of our ancestors, on whose shoulders we stand. The backstories of human lives tend to be extremely complex and convoluted, and the history of magic is no different, because these mysteries have been treasured and transmitted to us through the medium of human lives. Real human beings, who lived and loved and died, and left us their glimpses of magic. We take these glimpses and widen them into the contemporary moment through our own practice, so that the fires and passions of the mysteries burn brightly for a time, maybe bright enough so that after we're gone, someone else will be able to take something from the embers and start a fire of their own. |
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