Thomas Hickathrift, Lord of the Year (part 2)

Above: Saffron Walden parish church

This is the second episode of Dave Hunt's research into the legends surrounding Thomas Hickathrift. It appeared in ASH number 2 winter 1988 and is reproduced here with brand new images to help enhance and expand the article. Dave, a Cornishman by birth, looks at some Cornish links to the East Anglian folktales and concludes with fascinating evidence of ancient sun worship in the ancient and historic North Essex town of Saffron Walden.

Thomas Hickathrift, Lord of the Year
Part 2: Sun Worship

by Dave Hunt

In the first episode, I related some of the legends of Tom Hickathrift, giant and giant killer. I have since come across a legend from Morvah in Cornwall, which makes it necessary to tell one of the other East Anglian tales.According to tradition, in Tom's later years, he set up home with a tinker, who was the only man who could match Tom's strength and fighting ability. This may seem a rather feeble legend in itself, but when I relate the Cornish legend, you will realise its significance.

The Morvah Legend.
Morvah, in the far west of Cornwall, has always been famous for its giants. The Cornish language did not die out here until the 18th century, and the people were so isolated from the rest of the country they retained their customs and beliefs long after they had become folklore elsewhere.

In one of the tales, the story is told of one giant called Tom, and his battle with another of his kind. As Tom drove his cart from St Ives to his home in Morvah he found the road blocked by a newly constructed dry stone wall. Because he was too tired to remove it, Tom decided to take a short cut across the land of another giant who lived in a nearby castle. As he drew near the castle, Tom was challenged by the occupier, who demanded to know why Tom was on his land. Tom argued that, as the giant had blocked the road with the wall, he was taking his own way home. At this, the giant pulled a small elm tree by its roots, and brandishing it as a weapon, ordered Tom from his land. Tom then upturned his cart and , removing a wheel and axle s haft stood to face his foe. After a battle that made the ground shake with its ferocity, Tom finally dispatched his enemy with a mighty blow to the neck. The victor then took possession of the castle and all the treasure it contained. A point of interest is that the legend states that while the battle was being fought, the local people were dancing round the festive fires in the vicinity.

This legend and that told of the East Anglian Tom are so obviously the same that one wonders how the same story can exist at different ends of the country, a distance of some 300 miles apart. Having said this, it is of interest that East Anglia was, until quite recently, as isolated as Northwest Cornwall. Perhaps we have here a nationwide memory of the old Gods, told by the people of Albion's extreme regions to their children and grandchildren until relatively modern times.

As for Tom Hickathrift's companion of later years, the tinker, the Morvah legend states that Tom eventually befriended a Tinker named Jack, whose strength matched his own. Tom even allowed Jack to marry his daughter Genevra. The wedding took place on the first Sunday in August. One and a half miles east of Morvah stand the Mên-an-Tol holed stone, one of the most enigmatic Bronze Age stone monuments in the country. This consists of two upright stones and a third, which is disc shaped with a round hole in the centre, not unlik a cartwheel.

Ogmios

Ogmios - Ogma Sunface, Son of Breas, Lord of the Sun and the Celtic Hercules was worshipped by the Druids as the inventor of the Ogham alphabet, god of eloquence, healing, fertility and prophecy. He is portrayed in carvings as wearing a lion skin, a nd carries a huge club. His feast day in Scotland is Hogmany, our New Years Eve. The power of Ogmios lies not in his great strength, but is symbolised by the chain that joins his tongue to the ears of those listening to him. He is a hero furthering the cause of civilisation, the god of eloquence and persuasive discourse. In Irish mythology, he becomes th e god Ogma, whose sword tells all the exploits it accomplishes during the battle of Mar Tured.

The Greek Hercules is depicted in similar garb to Ogmios, wearing a lion skin, and carrying a club. He was also famed as a healer of the sick, and Lord of the Zodiac. Ogmios, as Sun God, would naturally carry the same title. The Roman writer Lucian connected Ogmios with Hercules, and in Gaul a similar figure existed in Smertius, the Striker, although this Summer God carried a hammer rather than a club.

Ogmios as inventor of the Ogham alphabet has some famous counterparts. Among his equals we find Hermes, in ventor of the Greek alphabet, Thoth, inventor of hieroglyphics, and Odin, discoverer of the Runes. Ogmios as lord of the Sun also has a counterpart in Helios, the Greek god of the Sun.

Getting back to Saffron Walden, it is time to look for signs of our Sun God around the town. St Mary's church is a magnificent Norman (with later additions) building and is said to be the largest parish church in the country. As with many other sacred and secular buildings, it has many superb gargoyles and grotesques carved on it's exterior. High on the north wall of the nave are spandrels, decorated with, amongst other designs, cart wheels. These undoubted solar symbols are usually symbolic of St Catherine, a fictitious Christian marty r put to death by the Romans on a blazing cartwheel. Lower down the north wall, tucked in beside a buttress, is a charming little carving of a fellow wielding a club, with a most fearsome look on his face. Again, high high up on the north wall, we find a string course of grotesques including a phoenix, symbol of rebirth, another solar sign, two figures holding torches, solar again, and a chained monkey. "A chained monkey?" I hear you cry. "What on earth has a chained monkey got to do with the Ogham alphabet?" Absolutely nothing! However it is of interest that one of the symbols of Thoth, inventor of Hieroglyphs, is a monkey which he led around on a chain!

So what of Hermes and Odin. Can we find evid ence of these two in Saffron Walden? Indeed we can. Of Odin, just a small thing. South west of the town in Grimsditch Wood, in medieval times Grymswich. Grim is another name for Odin, or Woden, discoverer of the Runic alphabet.

Above: Saffron Walden Turf Maze.

Hermes, it is said, discovered the Greek alphabet after watching cranes flying in formation overhead, making letters as they flew. Apart from the figures of Tom and the Wisbech giant on the Sun Inn, we find two depictions of cranes, birds sacred to Hermes. A sculpture above the doors of Barclay's bank in the town, executed during the early part of the twentieth century, depicts cranes flying. Coincidence? Maybe. Of the two Sun Inn cranes, one is shown performing a mating display, or crane dance as it was called in ancient Greece. The crane dance is said to have produced the pattern of the labyrinth or maze into which the sun god descended after his yearly death to be reborn eventually from its centre. On the east side of Saffron Walden common lies one of the countries largest and best turf mazes or labyrinths in the country. One of the streets approaching the common and aligning approximately onto the maze, is Hill Street. In 1468 this was Helestrete (Hele Street) surely a reference to Helios, the Greek sun god. If the alignment is carried across the common, through the maze and continued, we come eventually to Helion Bumstead. May I suggest that before the two and three stories building were erected in Saffron Walden, one could stand looking along Helestrete and see the newly born sun rise from the maze, on a particular day.

This is some of the evidence of Sun God worship in ancient Saffron Walden. However, before I close this episode I should mention a small carving of a Romano-British God found at Corstopitum, a Roman town in the north of England. It depicts a god dressed in Roman type armour, who carries a square shield and a large club. He is accompanied by a single cartwheel.

The Feast of Atargatis

To mark today's feast of Atargatis, 21st February 2010, we are pleased to present an article that was originally published in The Lighthouse number 2, Autumnal Equinox 1993 issue. The Feast of Atargatis, a strange but true surreal visionary adventure of psychic communications across time and space, of haunting past lives and the battle between a mermaid fish Goddess and a dark sea monster from another dimension. Enjoy.

The Feast of Atargatis

(Four Go Mad at Brean Down)

by Swami Amrit Surlok

Thames Estuary. Isle of Tanit. Circa 900 BC.

Nights darkness. At the rivers edge a procession of robed forms silhouetted as their shadows moved in the moonlight. Selenka, Priestess, Princess, raises her arms and her companions follow. The gateway in the depths to the spaces between the spaces was open and the dragon of the deep stirred. Beyond the moons reflection another light flickered seeming to originate beneath the surface of the water. Selenka was troubled. Something was amiss. The forces she worked with were changing, distorting, as the rituals in her homeland degenerated. She thought of her Phoenician family and how she had travelled to this strange sacred river to oversee the rites associated with the sea on which her people depended. Her brothers Gilgaat and Balaat caused her great concern. All three of them were disgusted by the sacrifices of children to Astarte their father the king officiated at. The brothers were to be initiated as full Priests of the cult and would be expected to continue the procedure. Blood was everywhere. It was coming nearer. The seashell grotto of the water dragon stank of it.

Above: Atargatis

Daylight. Selenka stood by the river. She'd seen the scene so vividly. The initiation of her brothers. The bald chanting Priests. The smoking choking incense. At the crucial moment the brothers turn away. Her father the king. They're walking back signalling refusal to accept. The king steps forward. A sword. The brothers slain. Balaats back shredded. Pierced to his lungs. Thrown on a ritual fire. She stood now staring at the beautiful plate she held in her hands. Charged with the energies she loved. An image of a female mermaid type form whose long flowing hair was made up of numerous tiny fishes. The whole framed in intricate patterns. It was all over. Must be shut down. Put into the ethers to return again in another time and space. She hurled the plate in despair into the river. There was still a final process to fulfil. Her brothers were in the great void. Magical destinies were being worked out. Almost immediately they'd been born again and yet not born. Deliberately magically aborted. Brought by the Priests to the river of darkness in the other world island in the west. To the star beacon, the hill of the dreaming dead. To the opposite bank of the very river at which she stood. They had come and placed the foetuses, Gilgaat sliced in half, in this void space to take them beyond normal destiny and prepare them for the right time. Secretly Selenka came to the hill and entered the realm of death working with the souls of her brothers to ensure their well being. For her now as for them this incarnation was to conclude with a sacrifice in the name of good. The black serpent, raw shadow of blood, Qliphotic form, was through the gateway now. Everywhere the feeling of pestilence and violence increased. Standing on the hilltop she called it to her. It wrapped itself entirely around her.

January 1993.
The black serpent was back in the River Thames. Somehow, after the performance of the extraordinary ritual to mark out the chakra points of the Avebury serpent at the winter solstice, a corresponding response in the depths of the Daath doorway beneath the waters in the realm of primal Nodens beyond Reculver had brought forth the balancing shadow form of the river dragon. The great conjunction was near. Uranus and Neptune. Vast karma burning. Past lives. The watery deep. Daath darkness to be faced. Acknowledged. Integrated. The close knit group of friends all were facing their shadows. What on earth had happened to them all? Suddenly they were barely able to talk to each other as they confronted intense agonies in their personal processes. Dispersion. Dissolution. Seething negativity. Violence in the air. Even strangers shared nightmares of a monster in the river.

Above: Eight pointed star depicted in the Margate Seashell Grotto

For Ma Prem Dana the last few months had finally proved to be too much. After her incredible inner plane initiation as Priestess of Ishtar in the Temple of the Blue Flame on Ishtar's feast day in August as Surlok's living room had entirely dissolved and become a Babylonian temple she and he had experienced a roller coaster ride of initiatory dramas beyond anything either of them had ever thought possible. The kahuna shamanic exorcism to remove Hecate from her. Encounter groups. Therapies. Screaming. Vomiting. Reiki. The endless sagas into the early hours of the morning of E.T.'s. Dolphins. Mahakala and Dakinis, Enochian Angels, the Babylonian past life with Surlok, the three eighteen foot tall void beings from Sirius who followed Surlok around, and finally the orgasmic ecstasy of the kundalini energy of Osho Rajneesh, quickly followed by the amazing revelation of Ishtar. Somehow she and Surlok had received in one stunning session a complete vastly intricate life teaching centred on a calendar of the eight pointed star of Ishtar in which everything that they were into was resolved. It aligned to the seasonal festivals of Paganism. This wheel of the year turned anti-clockwise and included a space between the spaces invisible eight point star within it to mark the half-way points between the festivals when, so they were led to believe, the void zones fully manifested. What did it all mean? The short term effect was total burn-out. Having climbed so high and been filled with so much light so did a complimentary stirring of the dark depths manifest. Every problem she'd ever had in her whole life confronted her in its most extreme form.

Swami Amrit Surlok knew that for him 1993 was time to really get into Tibetan energies. Lying on the floor having been reading about the wrathful deities, the skull smashing blood drinkers from the Tibetan Book of the Dead, he'd given himself a Reiki treatment listening to monks chanting to Tara. He experienced an unusual physiological phenomenon. Rapid eye movement whilst still awake and in fact intensely conscious. It lasted perhaps as long as half an hour and felt so strong he worried his eyes were about to shoot out on stalks. It concluded with a searing pain in his right temple. When he awoke the next morning both nostrils were filled with blood and he was acutely aware of his skull as he'd never been before and an aching all over it. A gentle pulsation in the forehead persisted on and off for days and eventually months afterwards. He calmly accepted he'd possibly had some sort of astral brain operation. It was not uncommon apparently to Reiki initiates. It fitted with the wrathful deities and Reiki was ultimately coming from a Tibetan space. After all Dana had experienced being taken by Mikao Usui to a mountain top where he'd pierced her brain with a foot long syringe. Extreme psychism immediately followed. It was worrying then to keep thinking of the river and something hideous pulling him there. Keep it under wraps. Don't talk about it to anyone. Don't pump it up.

Alex Langstone was disturbed. Why the pull to the Thames and the feeling of Lovecraftian malevolence? What did 1993 have to offer? Confiding in Surlok concerning the river they realised something was afoot. A get together was in order. Alex's flat. The Temple room. Why not listen to this Tibetan Tara chant. Within moments for Alex the room vanished to be replaced by Silbury Hill. A female form dancing atop it. A Sky Dancer Dakini? Surlok and Dana had both seen after the Avebury ritual, independently of each other on the same night, Tara and a host of Dakinis around Silbury. The figure was changing. The image resolving. It now looked eastern Mediterranean. A communication. A name. Selenka Astarte. Game on. In the weeks immediately following, Alex experienced Selenka as a kind of inner plane contact. It soon became apparent things were far more complicated . Scenes from the past. The river. The plate. Then beyond. The brothers. Death. Selenka the sister. Surlok felt a potential great significance in the shortly up coming conjunction with its aspects of deep karma and Neptunian waters. The black serpent in the river was bringing back what had gone before and it had to be resolved.

Surlok had a feeling about Selenka. Dana was out of commission wrestling with her personal demons. He was convinced Selenka was a past life of hers. On being asked the Selenka contact confirmed this. Here was an unusual case of what the literature of Shamanism called soul loss. There was no physical contact with Dana at all but some aspect of her was guiding a vast process. Some vital part of her she'd lost contact with and was consequently in a shut down stupor. It must be sorted but when? The Imbolc conjunction was the centre of gravity but it was felt unwise to undertake hefty work of a magical nature right in the middle of it. Surlok had been trying to make sense of the Ishtar Star teaching. He knew that this was a space between the spaces scenario. He knew that he was looking for a date somewhere in the twenties of February. Aha! The twenty-first was a new moon. This could be it. Investigate further. It was exactly six months on from the August Ishtar feast of Dana's initiation. The Star Teaching postulated a strange relationship between events separated by six month periods. Wasn't the Tibetan new year the new moon in February as well? This was getting interesting. Alex and Surlok wanted to transcend this past life grunge in order to be able to open up to the Tibetan energies they both now felt were to be the years centre of gravity. Here was a possible nexus point where all the issues could be put into the cosmic blender together. Surlok flicked through Durdin-Robertson's Goddess festival yearbook. February 21st. Atargatis!

Above: A Mermaid by J. W. Waterhouse

Here was the figure on Selenka's plate. Atargatis was primarily a Phoenecian Goddess generally pictured as half woman half fish. Virtually the original mermaid. In some versions she was consort to Dagon on whom Lovecraft had based his awesome Cthulhu concept. Cthulhu who lay sleeping beneath the ocean depths ready to return. Surlok knew that any situation like this could always be made far worse by looking a Kenneth Grant's books. Outside the Circles of Time was the best bet. Grant quoting Michael Bertiaux on translating forces from Universe B through the Daath portal into Universe A: "Dagon will come again, as will mighty sorceries - for the mighty beasts of the deep have been unleashed and they have gone about their pathway of destruction and far worse is expected - only by lycanthropic transformation by being and firstly becoming a monster shall the magician escape". Good news for certain. And Dagon was connected with Sirius. Hang on a minute. Ishtar star six months reverbs. After Surlok, Alex, Dana and others had performed an intense reality-smashing ritual to bring Isis/Sirius down into the Glastonbury Zodiac in July '92 in the brief period before Ishtar first appeared on the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary at the Ozric Tentacles gig at Glastonbury, Alex's Dion Fortune contact had spoken of a void portal opened in the Thames. There had been some joking about Dagon being in the river. Shortly before Dana's initiation a series of events had linked Ishtar to the river in a similar way to the Isis Thames connection and hints of Dagon had been present. No one was laughing now. The chums were knackered. 1992 had been a head-banging year. They just wanted to chill out until the pretty flowers came out. Lycanthropic transformation to sort out Daath portals to Universe B they could do without. Surlok had wondered why he'd been feeling like an axe murderer for a month. Now he was starting to suss it.

Atargatis was fascinating. The deities of the Phoenicians had links with the Babylonians. Atargatis was connected with Ishtar. As far as Surlok was concerned she was an aspect of Ishtar. She had strong elements of the love goddess about her. Aphrodite had undoubtedly evolved from Atargatis. Botticellis immortal image of Venus/Aphrodite emerging from the sea was a modern doorway into that space.

Above: The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli

Here was the key. A turning point in the year. Winter transforming into spring. A black serpent to turn green. The spring love goddess to transmute the darkness from the depths. Atargatis was in some sense a glyph of a primordial moment in evolution that somehow each of the players in the drama had to recapitulate in their own psyches. Halfway between alien depths and human love she was a mediator who existed in the spaces-between-the-spaces just as, for example, the Trickster archetype was both animal and divine. Where to accomplish this though? At first somewhere along the Thames estuary seemed the best bet.

On a Sunday afternoon in late January Surlok suddenly recalled some Enochian void shenanigans he, Dana and Alex had messed about with the previous June. The whole thing had been quickly closed down when a huge serpent had emerged and started wrapping itself around Dana. What? No way was this not connected. He told Alex thereby pressing the on button for an exceedingly odd scenario. Late that night Alex felt called into his Temple room. Selenka was waiting for him. She pulled him out of his body and took him to Dana's flat where she was sat mute, a hideous serpent coiled around her body. Alex was to remove this serpent from her and give it a good hiding. He later confessed that the resulting tussle was the heaviest do of his life and he'd seriously considered at one point in the midst of it all that he'd taken on more than he could handle and was going to literally physically die. Eventually mission was accomplished.

Now a very surreal sketch. Alex and Surlok journeyed to Silbury Hill for the February full moon. They were guided by Selenka throughout. No contact in the 3D world with her physical current incarnation had happened all year. It was time for lycanthropic transformation. Hurray! A black serpent lay sluggish across the landscape. On the hill Alex's main inner plane contact who was known as Jeremiah orchestrated the scene. Selenka in attendence. Ishtar, Astarte, Tara and Kuan Yin at the four quarters. Surlok's friend Jane danced a serpentine circle around. Alex sorted out vast energies. Surlok allowed the black snake to enter him. He knew from his initiation into Sannyas he could handle it. Back then in November he'd screamed and howled and cried for twenty solid minutes as the awesome transformative life energy had entered his body. Hyperventilating to stop his ribs breaking and his body from exploding he'd experienced ecstasy beyond anything he'd previously known. Dana had seen a huge serpent rising up his spine. Coming back from Glastonbury to Avebury the next day Dana told Surlok that the same snake was in the ground there. Everything evokes its complimentary force. Again crying howling growling screaming writhing wriggling on the ground, on the womb of the Earth Mother, the third eye void gateway of Silbury, Surlok was overwhelmed. His tongue was flicking in and out. He was licking the earth. Find him a jacket that does up at the back. Finally peace was restored. The black serpent turned green. A turning point of sorts. The feast of Atargatis beckoned though. It seemed anything could happen by then.

Above: Mahakala

In the week leading up to the big day Surlok's phone rang. Dana! He'd deliberately not contacted her to lay all this horrendous strangeness on her as he knew she was going through some heavy times. He also knew that their incredible telepathic bond was such that inevitably she would be in some way tuned into the saga but to what degree? She knew an important time was very near. Cautiously they opened up to each other. He said nothing at first of the Selenka story. She'd been dreaming of underwater scenes. Dolphins and mermaids. Yes, she'd felt compelled to watch the movie "Splash" when it had recently been on TV. She'd had a long time affinity with mermaids. There was Tibetan stuff happening for her as well. Most importantly a strong feeling had been building up to travel to the West Country for the coming weekend. All of her commitments had vanished leaving the time free. She wanted to go somewhere beyond Glastonbury. Visions of the sea. A cliff peninsular stretching a long way out into the water. Let's get together with Alex and see what happens.

Above: Brean Down

As Surlok put the phone down he realised where the location was. Brean Down! He practically vomited his dinner up. Brean Down. The physical location for Dion Fortune's immortal occult novel "The Sea Priestess". The haunting past life drama of a woman called from far off lands (in this case Atlantis) to preside over sacrificial rites of the sea and the karmic reworking in the present day of what was left unresolved. Dana had not read the book and didn't know the story. Neither Surlok or Alex had consciously recalled it recently but the whole Selenka story had uncanny resonances with it. Once Surlok got the idea of Selenka as Sea Priestess his legs almost gave way. He and Alex knew Brean Down and the novel only too well. Back in July 1990 in the days of the Grove of the Sky Dancers they'd performed in Essex the ritual the Farrars had got together from the fragments in Fortune's book. When Surlok had got home that night his bedroom ceiling had partially collapsed and he'd narrowly escaped serious injury. Stories circulated that the sea priestess material was well strong and others had had some heavy scenes with it. Undeterred and possibly insane they'd gone to Brean Down later that year to do the ritual again. After a few strange events they’d bottled it and fled in a state of near hysterical terror convinced that certain death would have followed the rituals performance. They knew something big and unresolved was waiting for them there and they'd have to go back eventually.

Above: Priestess by Chesca Potter

Friday February 19th. Surlok, Dana and Alex at Alex's flat. The beans spilled. How much of this saga corresponded to whatever was happening to Dana? A good test case: Alex and the serpent he'd removed from her. Surlok knew when that had been. The movie "The Abyss" (most appropriately) had been on TV that night. Part of Dana's drama of being presented with karma to be micro waved was the reappearance of an ex boyfriend who can be called Bob after the character in "Twin Peaks". He'd come out of the closet and Dana recalled the night in question vividly. On waking the next morning Bob had told her he'd spent the whole night pulling snakes out of her body. At that time in general it was not unusual for him to relate that he'd just disposed of a large snake out of the window. It's a funny old life guv'nor and no mistaking. The unutterable strangeness of this vibed up the coming weekend very nicely.

So long awaited the Feast of Atargatis weekend was here. Tibetan new year. Nexus point. Alex, Surlok, Dana and Ma Sitaram Kola headed for Silbury for starters. Atop the hill where Selenka had first been seen Surlok and Alex burned Tibetan Buddhist incense around a large framed picture of the great protector Mahakala. A statue of the Dhyani Buddha Askobhya (who transmutes the distorted energy of anger, aggression, hatred and violence into clarity and mirror wisdom) and an image of Green Tara.

Dana let out a great scream. On to Brean Down in primal darkness for a preliminary vibe out. Dana was told the story of the Sea Priestess of Dion Fortune. Surlok's three 18 foot tall mates from Sirius were about as well. Finally to a B&B in Weston-Super-Mare. Surlok wasn't impressed by the decor in the bedroom of the lesser spotted whatever it was warbler and up went Mahakala. Out came the statue of Tara. Into the sleep void softly chanting the name of Mahakala.

Feast day. Brekkers. A party of Nuns sat next to the chums crossing themselves before eating. Good job they didn't get a glimpse of Mahakala. He's a fluffy pink pussy cat when you get to know him, but his appearance is that of a terrifying demon. To the beach and the great sheer face of rock to be climbed by steep stairs. Dana confirmed on seeing the place in day light for the first time that it was indeed the place of her visions. Why was a man sitting at a desk way out on the beach? Why was another wearing a straw boater doing some outlandish dance routine a little further up the beach? They were being filmed. Of course that explained it all. 11am. Sunday morning and miles had been walked and to where? The climax of such a saga was hardly likely to be uneventful. Alex began to develop strange physical symptoms. In his recent workings with his Temple of Isis Iseum he kept ending up drowned at the bottom of the sea as some sort of sacrifice. It had been so real he'd tasted sea water and felt his lungs filling. He began to intuit a karmic link with his asthma and recent bouts of pleurisy. Now his breathing was laboured and his back hurting. The image of Baalat’s sliced back and punctured lungs. And out there in the Bristol channel ahead a lighthouse. Haunted since childhood by this image and recently going through events linking it with the goddess he was launching a magazine of that name. Deep, at the very least, Jungian processes of integration were emerging from his depths. As the four chums neared the ruined fort at the cliffs edge Alex felt as if his whole life’s drama was about to somehow be resolved.

Above: The Sea Priestess (detail) by Paul Atlas-Saunders

Surlok marvelled at how the diverse and individual elements of the whole mythic saga somehow harmoniously interrelated so that even apparent contradiction could be integrated within its flow. He had his own personal perspective on what this was all about. When the Avebury ritual had first entered his head his brain was full of Kenneth Grant, nutty stories of Egyptians in Wiltshire and an image of Nuit arched over Silbury painted by Chesca Potter. Nuit equated with Draco, dragon serpent of space, "Primal Goddess of the Seven Stars, which were considered as her spirits, souls or sons. These seven were manifested by the first-born son, Typhon, ie Set." The feeling was that the serpent in the sky of infinite space was lying also in the landscape waiting to resonate again to the most archaic of frequencies. The ritual would "bring the glory of the stars into the hearts of men" by aligning the seven stars with the seven chakra points in the landscape serpent. It was a safe bet that such a sketch would have tumultuous results. Two months later he felt he had a preliminary understanding of what had happened, at least to him. Vibing heavily with Crowley and ancient Babylon he was experiencing some kind of blending. He'd often felt surprised in view of Crowley's Babalon cultus how few references to Ishtar as such could be found in Thelemic literature. He believed she should be consciously fully integrated into the Thelemic mythos being a perfect meeting place of celestial Nuit and physical Isis. Here was the original Queen of Heaven and Goddess of Love, War and Magick all in one. After all the Scarlet Woman, Whore of Babylon of Revelations, undoubtedly derived from Ishtar.

There's a strange correlation between the void of infinite space and the oceans darkest depths. Life emerged from both these profoundly alien zones. Just as there was a dragon of space who could be considered as the womb of humanity so likewise a dragon of the deep. In the Babylonian system this was Tiamat. Tiamat, Surlok felt, was a Nuit of the waters. As the seven stars were in the Avebury serpent so they were also in the Thames as he himself had previously discovered in his psychic quest along it in 1991 through seven holy wells to its source at Seven Springs. Tiamat was a benevolent force. A womb of humanity. As Babylonian culture developed something went wrong. As matriarchy was supplanted by patriarchy the male deity Marduk predominated. Tiamat became personified as a chaos monster, an evil force. In a conflict with Marduk she was dismembered. The Phoenicians seemed to have pumped up the worst aspects of Babylonian material the wrong way. Alex's battle with the serpent was a wyrd echo of the Marduk Tiamat scenario. The Thames serpent represented a magical current distorted. Alex and Surlok had no quarrel with Marduk. He was an old matey of theirs. That didn't alter the fact that Tiamat needed rehabilitating. There had been a strong feeling that all of the whole mad business needed to be sorted by the Spring Equinox. This was Tiamat's festival and Babylonian new year when the combat of Marduk and Tiamat had been ritually re-enacted. If the current remained distorted the whole year would be wrecked. Atargatis felt like a meeting of Tiamat and Ishtar who were ultimately the same force. It made perfect sense (to Surlok at least) that She offered an ideal key to turn everything around.

Dagon as a Typhonic force was a watery Set. Set the first born of the Seven Stars from the space between the spaces. A son/consort of the Goddess. This energy is in everyone. No point in putting on a blissed-out New Age smile and surrounding yourself with cotton wool and candy floss and ignoring it or banishing it as evil. Face it, own it, integrate it. Deny it and remain unbalanced for the rest of your life. In Jungian terms at least to claim you haven't got a Shadow is pure stupidity. The void. Ecstasy or terror? Dissolve in it's silence. In space no-one can hear you scream. But...Harpocrates divine child carries the real bliss in his smile and his gesture of silence. The radiance of the sun behind the sun.

Above: Aeon Tarot Trump from Aleister Crowley's
Thoth Tarot, painted by Lady Frieda Harris

Nothingness is always greater than that which apposes it. Fear of the void. Mankind’s endless striving and mechanical desiring all come from it. Distorted energy of distracted being as the Tibetans would term it. Ishtar, Crowley, Tibet, and Rajneesh taught Surlok the same thing: the Void is female. The destruction it appears to reap is always necessary. It is actually a nurturing force. Paradoxically it is empty and utterly full and overflowing simultaneously. This was the Zen Koan life had presented Surlok with that had finally destroyed his brain. The Void is the Tao. It is life itself. Set-Typhon appears as a monster, a dismemberer just like the wrathful skull smashing blood drinkers of Tibet. As the Abyss is crossed and the ego has to have its endless games dissolved, even that which was good and worthy, of course it comes to picture the dynamic energies responsible as terrifying and evil. The Indians knew the truth. Shiva was simultaneously creator and destroyer. To Surlok he was like the Horus-Set duality in one figure. Even an accomplished mystic and magician may hang onto the fear that when all they thought they were and knew is gone there will be nothing left. All of the paraphernalia of ritual is an attempt to hang onto and pump up what ultimately you have to give up. Ra Hoor Khuit the will of the magician is very impressive and powerful and it's tempting to identify exclusively with him but Hoor Paar Kraat is vaster by far and his message through Harpocrates is Silence. There's a Gnostic image of Harpocrates seated on a lotus. Surlok used it in his imagination to blend Crowley and Tibet and to help all of those diverse elements of his mind to harmoniously dissolve into the Void together. The Nothing that is feared is Everything. Only in it, out of the Tao, that Void can the True Will , the star of the Hidden God, the sun behind the sun, manifest. Some challenge.

Surlok knew '93 was an inevitable Thelemic saga. His three mates from Sirius always appeared in Crowleyan situations. He began to intuit increasing levels of subtlety. Having raised the serpent within himself through Sannyas and the Avebury ritual so also did Set-Typhon manifest. The Dagon serpent he'd allowed to enter him served as Hoor Paar Kraat to Ra Hoor Khuit. He was putting on the wings and arousing the coiled splendour within him. This void Goddess space was what Muktananda called the divine Goddess Shakti Kundalini whose body is the entire universe and is all life. As this force got to work in an individual it ironed out the creases. Spasms and convulsions, howling like an animal, all sorts of odd physical symptoms, many not at all pleasant, were standard fare. This was the Typhonic initiation. Surlok longed for the Roses of Isis.

And so they had found themselves, as if in a dream, exploring the ruins of the nineteenth century army fort that in Dion Fortune's novel had become the temple home of Vivien Le Fay Morgan, looking down the steep jagged rocks to the crashing waves of the tumultuous Bristol Channel. There on the rocks at the waters edge the Fires of Azrael had been lit and the secrets of the future seen. A semi-circular ruined gun emplacement at the very edge of the cliffs provided a self contained zone which could easily be mocked up in imagination as a temple. It was a bright morning and looking out and down into the waters, the sunlight glistening through their rhythmic pulsations, it was easy to get a sense of ancient civilisations and their timeless mysteries. Ever since first reading the Sea Priestess in the early eighties Alex had experienced powerful longings to travel to Brean and throw himself into the sea as a sacrifice. The feeling returned stronger than ever. Turmoil boiled within him.

Above: Astarte Syriaca by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Dana sat on the outer rim of the gun emplacement facing out to sea. Surlok sat at her left, Alex to her right. Kola stood behind Alex. Dana now saw Surlok standing above his body wearing a white robe and holding a stone urn that was giving forth clouds of smoke. Smoke of the fire of Azrael. She saw herself in a green velvet robe with gold embroidery. Alex was in red and holding aloft a long sword pointing to his left that reached over the heads of Dana and Surlok. So did Selenka, Gilgaat and Balaat make their return. Had they had some sense of all this then? What had they seen in that fire? Dana had a strong feeling of life in the churning channel, they were being watched from deep within the water. Her throat constricted and she began to experience a physical transformation until she had gills and was breathing through them. A wave of divine energy came from the water and shot through her body up between her legs. Kundalini sea energy. Exactly six months on from her initiation as a Priestess of Ishtar so now did she become Priestess of Atargatis as Selenka was reclaimed and reintegrated. What exactly does a Priestess of Atargatis do in the twentieth century? Within moments she was to find out.

Alex was in agony. He was blind. The sea had entered his head. A blue energy that seemed to say "come to me". This was the end. Kola held him back and put Reiki into him. He had opened his eyes but couldn't see. Or breathe. Coughing. Choking. Water in his lungs. Dana put her hands on Alex. "Get the pain out!" he howled. His back was open. A great gaping wound hole. Burning as if seared with red hot metal. Dana's process of reintegration with her higher self had been instantaneous. Without even thinking she understood what had happened to her and was able to help Alex. "The sea is not your enemy. It's your friend. Use it to heal yourself. That blue energy. Breathe it in. Breathe out, spew out the colour of your pain. What colour is your pain?" Brown. Alex coughed up grunge galore. The cosmic process got personal. He was looking for someone/something to blame for his pain. Dana switched on her Sannyasin therapist aspect. Alex's self exorcism climaxed in a scream to the waters. Sadness. Depths of grief. The forces that Surlok and Dana's Sannyas initiator Manan had called the Divine Energy Dance came down and took Alex's pain away. Transmuted the base matter, the prima materia. Compassion flooded Alex. And then. Love. This was a homecoming. He'd returned to the depths where he'd emerged from. Personally, emotionally, spiritually, magically, totally. Acknowledged, owned, integrated, loved. So is the shadow sorted. He opened his eyes. "I am going to have to take the 1st degree of Reiki" he said.

So the chums walked back along Brean Down and out onto the beach for the finale. The beach was all but deserted. The February sun shone promisingly. Out to the waters edge. An offering of love to Atargatis/Aphrodite and the hope of the coming Spring. Red and yellow flowers and milk given to life’s waters, to the Love Goddess of the Sea who had guided the agonies of transformation from the alien bestial void depth. Ishtar/Tiamat. Yes, the secret of Alchemy. Without love you cannot face your shadow and sort it. Blessings had showered. All praise to the Goddess. The chums were totally blissed-out. Off they went for some well earned tea and buttered scones. On the journey home they stopped for a silent acknowledgement of the awesome mystery that is Silbury Hill and then back to mystic Essex for beddy-byes.

Monday 22nd February 1993. Alex and Dana had obviously got a result from Brean Down, but Surlok wasn't sure if the whole process had been fulfilled for him. Despite some extraordinary material that Dana and Alex had given him concerning his three mates from Sirius he was left feeling that for him personally surely something more spectacular should have concluded this epic saga. He went to bed and entered what he termed "Void Consciousness". This was a space he instantly recognised and had preceeded his astral brain operation. It was somewhere in the realm of Gurdjieff's "Self Remembering" and Osho's "Witnessing". A sense of conscious awareness but without any object or ideas being seized upon for that awareness to maintain itself. It started by just looking at the back of the eyelids and thinking on nothing. No verbal formulation. If this state was maintained sometimes a shift of gear occurred when it seemed the head expanded. He found himself in that space. Now his hands began to throb and pulsate very strongly as they rested palms down by his sides. He was used to strange sensations in his hands from Reiki but this was excessive. He was not aware of any discontinuity in his consciousness at any point in this process. His hands continued to pulsate ever more strongly.

Suddenly he felt a shock as profound as any he'd known. A pair of hands, utterly real, totally physical. were gripping his own as if from beneath, palm to palm. Opening his eyes he saw emerging from below his stomach, joined to him, the upper body of a male humanoid entity whose hands were those gripping his own. Its colour was a blue tinged olive. The face was like some classical God or Angel but somehow familiar. The eyes were burning. Whites incredibly bright. It looked at Surlok. Into him. A transmission of energies through the hands penetrated his subtle bodies. He was aware of endless layers and grids, of energies inside him. Chakras, acupuncture meridians, bodies of light, his human anatomy. The whole lot. Everything. The two figures were merging. Undulating pounding waves of interpenetrating electric rhythms were forming new retuned circuits of energy. Surlok was moaning and groaning orgasmically and then again opened his eyes. What? A dream? A searing pain shot through his right temple. He'd had a complete continuity of consciousness. Intense self awareness in fact but...Whatever the hell had just happened it was certainly no ordinary dream experience.

The face! It was the face of Harpocrates from Crowley's "Aeon" Tarot Trump and it was also Surlok's own face. Get Kenneth Grant's "The Magical Revival" off the shelf. Set-Horus etc. Harpocrates-Hoor Paar Kraat-Set. The concealed aspect of Horus. The Hidden God. Sirius. The form of Horus in Crowley's "The Book of the Law" is Hru-Machis. A twin form with Horus/Ra Hoor Khuit and Set/Hoor Paar Kraat/Harpocrates as its dual aspects. Surlok was already into the Harpocrates form. "Applied to man, these twins embody the idea of the soul and the spirit. The soul is the astral shade, the stellar light in darkness represented by Set and Sirius, the spirit is the solar body of light, represented by the sun. One is of the night, the other of the day." Harpocrates God of Silence seated on a lotus. "The active form of silence...is typified by the secret creativity which operates in the darkness and solitude of gestation." All through 1992 Surlok had got progressively further into the "Aeon" card. Now, amazingly, he'd experienced it as a living reality. This card has been "Judgement" in old Aeon decks. Dead coming forth from tombs. Angels with trumpets. As a backdrop of his personal "Aeon" Surlok fancied he heard Tibetan trumpets. He recalled his skull smashing, blood drinking buddies. The realms of the Bardo. Judgement of the dead. The white light of the Void. Radiance of the Silver Star. So did he integrate his Shadow. This was his homecoming. To the Sun behind the Sun. The Hidden God. Born from the Void. Nothing would ever be the same again. For the players in this drama, Surlok, Dana and Alex this was finally it. The end of the beginning.

From left to right: Surlok, Alex and Dana
shortly before the great adventure.

Bibliography.
The Book of the Law by Aleister Crowley.
The Sea Priestess by Dion Fortune.
The Magical Revival by Kenneth Grant.
Outside the Circles of Time by Kenneth Grant.
The Goddess of Love by Geoffrey Grigson.

When presenting Alex with the 1st draft of this article on 5/6/1993, a 33 day numerologically, which was 11:11 part 2 and 6 months to the day since receiving the Ishtar star teaching Surlok saw for the first time in Olivia Robertson's "The Call of Isis" the FOI Star and Dragon diagram showing Tiamat coiled around the Star of Ishtar with its matrix of the inner sun and 33 centres. His gonads trembled. Exactly 6 months to the day after the Avebury ritual which had provoked images of Tara at Silbury and talk of helping to bring Shambhala into the British landscape Tibetan Lama Ganchen Rinpoche presented Kalachakra Shambhala teachings of healing and purification under the protection of White Tara a few miles from Avebury. He spoke of the auspiciousness of performing this work near to such an important site at such an important time. So Ishtar and the Star teaching and Tara and the Wheel of Great Time teaching came ever nearer to blending as Surlok and Dana knew they would. Tara, after all, means "Star" and "great void".

"Love one another with burning hearts"

About the Author

Swami Amrit Surlok (aka Paul Weston) is a Psychic Questing, Reiki, Crowley, Fellowship of Isis, Adi Da, Kriya Yoga, Mother Meera, Druid, Osho, Gurdjieff, Scientology, Anthony Robbins firewalking, UFOlogical, Avalon of the Heart, 2012 kind of guy. He is author of Mysterium Artorius, published in 2007 and Aleister Crowley and the Aeon of Horus, published in 2009. His new book Avalonian Aeon will be out sometime during 2010. Check out his blog Avalonian Aeon Publications

Mr Thomas Hickathrift (Lord of the Year)

William Palmer Robins, 'The Old Sun Inn, Saffron Walden', watercolour, 1941.

The legend of Tom Hickathrift was a central theme in Dave Hunt's quest for the many secrets and mysteries hidden within the ancient Essex landscape. For many years Dave tirelessly researched the towns and villages of north west Essex, and in this very early article, published originally in ASH magazine No. 1 Autumn 1988, he explains some of the legends surrounding the East Anglian folk hero Tom Hickathrift. This research eventually led Dave to rediscover the legendary Essex Landscape Zodiac. One day I hope that those folk who now hold this research will allow it to be published for all to read. So without further ado, here is Mr Thomas Hickathrift (Lord of the Year) by Dave Hunt.

Mr Thomas Hickathrift (Lord of the Year)

Part 1: The Legend
by Dave Hunt

In Castle St, Saffron Walden, stands what was once the old "Sun" Inn, now an antique shop. This splendid half-timbered building has on it some exquisite examples of pargetting, or plaster moulding, an art much practiced in the Essex of long ago.

Among the fascinating designs are portrayed the images of Tom Hickathrift, giant and giant killer, and his one time adversary, the Wisbech giant. The pargetting is probably 17th or 18th century, but the secret it contains is much older.


Tom, the stories say, was born at the time of William the Conqueror, the son of a Cambridgeshire labourer. By the age of ten, Tom was already six feet tall, and proved stupid at school. Tom's father tragically died, leaving his mother to support him. He lazed by the fireside while she worked hard, and when mealtimes came, he ate as much as five fully grown men.

A Wisbech farmer, taking pity on Tom's mother, offered her two bales of straw, on condition that someone collected them. After much pleading, she prevailed on Tom to fetch the bundles. And so he set off, taking only a length of rope to secure them.

The farmer offered Tom as much straw as he could carry, but was horrified when he laid the rope on the ground and piled on enough to fill a wagon! Then he tied it up, hoisted it onto his back as if it was a bag of corn, and carried it home.

To prevent (so he thought) a similar occurrence on Tom's next visit, the farmer hid two huge boulders amongst the straw, all to no avail. When Tom arrived for the second bundle, he carried it off as if it was as light as the first! The boulders fell out as Tom walked home, so he resolved to have words with the farmer about cleaning his straw properly.


News of Tom's exploits quickly spread around East Anglia and more and more people wanted him to work for them. One such was a brewer in Kings Lynn who wanted beer delivered to Wisbech, a round trip of some twenty miles. For each trip Tom would receive as much food and drink as he wanted, plus a new set of clothes. Tom discovered, after a few journeys, that he could halve the distance by cutting across the territory of a fierce giant in the locality. The giant however, did not take kindly to trespassers, and as soon as Tom set foot on the land, he (the giant) came roaring out of his cave, threatening to knock Tom's head off and hang it on a large tree, which was gruesomely festooned with the heads of previous interlopers.

At this, Ton, being naturally somewhat annoyed, challenged the giant to a fight to the death, and while the giant went into his cave to fetch a huge club, Tom removed a cartwheel to use as a shield, and the axle for a weapon.

The duel began and for a time they were evenly matched. Eventually the giant, being out of condition, began to flag, until. streaming with blood and sweat, he fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Tom's answer was to batter his head clean off his shoulders. In the Giant's cave, Tom found enough treasure to make him rich for the rest of his life.

This deed made Tom a hero throughout East Anglia, and, with other exploits, including driving away a fierce band of highwaymen and even fighting the devil in the church year at Walpole St Peters in Norfolk, he soon became a highly respected citizen, to the extent that people referred to him as Mr Thomas Hickathrift.

This is the most famous legend of Tom, but there is another, less-well-known, but more pertinent to this investigation. It goes thus.

The inhabitants of a certain district were being abused by a dictatorial Baron, who confiscated all their food and cattle, leaving them to starve. At a meeting of local leaders, it was decided to ask Mr Thomas Hickathrift for assistance.

Tom duly arrived on his cart, which carried an enormous club, by now Tom's favourite weapon. As with the Wisbech giant, Tom. after some argument, challenged the Baron to combat and defeated him at the gate of the castle, knocking his head from his shoulders. As a result, Tom was able to restore to the people their livelihood.

Contained in these two stories we find elements of, naturally, the triumph of good over evil, but also evidence that Tom was more than just a local hero. The cartwheel used as a shield, is a solar symbol, as in the Catherine Wheel. The axle represents the pivot around which the months turn and these two symbols alone, being used by Tom to defeat the Wisbech giant (as winter destroyed by the year cycle) and the wicked Baron (more obviously the Lord of winter and deprivation) suggests that he was in fact the Lord of the sun, bringing back prosperity to the land.

There are many other clues to be revealed in future episodes, but one deserves a mention now.

Between the two figures on the Sun Inn pargetting, there is depicted a large circle. Until comparatively recent times, this was divided into twelve segments, surely a representation of the months, or even the zodiac, being fought over by Tom, the summer Lord and the Wisbech giant, the dark bringer of winter.

In the next episode I shall reveal more pieces in the jigsaw that finally portrays Ogma Sunface, Celtic god of the sun, Lord of the Zodiac, bringer of knowledge and eloquence, and inventor of the Ogham alphabet.

In Memorium

Dave Hunt
1941 - 2009

Friend and mentor across time and space.
A tribute by Alex Langstone.

It is with great sadness that I can report the death of ASH magazine founder Dave Hunt. Dave was a stalwart of the Earth Mysteries and Occult communities in the south-east and his encyclopedic knowledge of folklore and mythology was outstanding. He spent many years researching landscape mysteries and legends around Essex, a county he loved.

Dave was born in 1941 in Mevagissey, Cornwall and he always loved exploring the British landscape. Indeed in 1993, we spent time researching an alignment of ancient sites across south-west England, which was eventually written up as The Eucharist of Osiris, and published in The Lighthouse volume 2 number 1.

But it was in 1985 that I first met Dave. I was a keen and enthusiastic 20 year old, wet behind the ears, but fascinated by esoteric subjects and eager to learn. Dave took me under his wing, and over the months and years that followed I learned much. Dave had a great way of passing on knowledge, and I shall always remember with affection, the years we studied together, and the way Dave always encouraged and supported me. He was the key player in the publication of my book Bega and the Sacred Ring, and without his valuable support I doubt if it would ever have been published!

His esoteric legacy spreads far and wide. Dave worked alongside many within the esoteric community. He was a student of 20th century occultist extraordinaire William G. Gray and was an adept of the Craft of Cunning. Dave worked with Andrew Collins during the early Earthquest group, where he helped Andrew research the Running Well Mystery. He later helped Andrew again in the search for the seven swords, by finding the sixth Meonia sword in Tintagel, Cornwall. This episode has been immortalised in chapter 45 of Andrew Collins' psychic questing classic The Seventh Sword. The chapter is entitled Morgana Awakes and absolutely sums up how I will always remember Dave.

Dave Hunt co-founded ASH magazine, along with myself, Ian Dawson, Claire Capon and Jim Kirkwood, and under his leadership he encouraged us all to write and lecture about what we had researched. He remained with the magazine until its demise in the spring of 1997. He also helped host two very successful ASH magazine Esoterica conferences and was fundamental in the organisation of the ASH Wednesday public meetings, held during the mid 1990s. He was an active member of the Leigh-on-Sea based Temple of Isis Iseum, during the early 1990s and a valuable guiding light, teacher and mentor in the Clan of the Trees. Dave's biggest legacy though was his research. He spent years researching the Essex Landscape Zodiac, and I sincerely hope that someone, somewhere has this document, and that it will one day be published. I recall spending many happy hours out in the field with Dave, whilst he checked and re-checked the maps and the landscape for clues to the elusive geometry of the Zodiac, and he gave many excellent lectures on this subject.

I am very fortunate to have in my possession some of Dave's work, and it will all be published in due course.

The thing that will always stay with me most of all was Dave's infectious sense of humour. Many times I recall situations that needed the lightness of his humour and he always made everyone laugh, and this was one of the joys of belonging to some of the groups he was a part of. Dave was a wise soul, who would tell it as it was! He will be sadly missed in the communities he served.

Below is a poem from an early issue of ASH, that Dave wrote. I can recall talking to Dave about it at length at an editorial meeting, where it caused much discussion. It is a particular favourite of mine and seems a fitting conclusion to this obituary.

Years End

Years End

by Dave Hunt

In the hours between the hours when day has
died and night not yet begun
and this old Earth is made to sigh by Autumn's dim
and dwindling days,
over hills and vales made mellow by the mists and
setting sun.
The Mother of the mystery walks her secret ways.
As old as time, and born of time itself She passes,
quiet, stealthy and unseen.
Shuddering with the cloying cold that surely
soon will come.
Making Summer's sun and warmth a half
remembered dream.
And as She passes, with caressing touch, She
plucks the life from all She does survey
and drops it, gently as a falling leaf, into
a basket made of dark decay.
Over all the land She wanders, dogged by
shades of darkness and of fear,
pausing for a while at homesteads locked
against the Crone,
to scratch at door and window or to
freeze the child's tear
who hears her in the chimney softly
moan.
When She has passed the land is
locked in Winter's sere and snowy hold.
The now dead sun hangs like a pearl in
the pewter bowl of sky,
yet folk in Albion, huddled round the
fires against the cold
quietly wait to hear from far a future
Child's cry.

Written in 1989, and originally published in ASH magazine no. 3.

The Witch and the Stone

Folklorist Ian Dawson was one of the founder editors of ASH Magazine, and was at the magazine until the very last issue in 1997. He spent the nine years that ASH was in print, as a loyal and leading light within the editorial team. He wrote more articles than anyone else, and was a champion of the Green Man in Essex, along with being a mine of information on Essex Witchcraft and Cunning Lore. The article below, was one of his earlier ones, and was published in the second issue, which hit the streets in the winter of 1988!

The Witch and the Stone
by Ian Dawson

For years Essex has been known as the witch county, because of the many witchcraft trials held there in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It is hardly surprising therefore, that there are many stories about witches and their craft, coming from this part of the British Isles. One such story is that of the Witch of Scrapfaggots Green. For years the villagers of Great Leighs knew of large stone that lay at the crossroads known locally as Scrapfaggots Green. Under the stone were the remains of the Witch of Great Leighs, put to death some 300 years before.

In 1944, during the second world war, the roads leading to Boreham air base had to be widened so that military vehicles could travel along them. One of these roads, called Drachett Lane, led over the crossroads where the witch lay, and an army bulldozer pushed aside the stone that marked the witch's grave. From that day onwards. there followed a series of events that defied all explanation and to which nearly everyone in the village was witness to at one time or another. For instance, after a calm and serene night, a farmer awoke to find his hay stacks had been tipped over and scattered around the surrounding countryside. He also found his wagons had been turned sideways in their sheds and it took the farm labourers half an hour to get them out! Sheep were found outside their still secure pens, yet there were no gaps or any means of escape. A builder found his scaffold poles spread all over his yard and some decorators found their heavy paint pots and tools missing, when they turned up for work at a cottage they were decorating. They finally discovered the paint pots under a bed in the attic. The church bells rang of their own accord at midnight and the church clock was found to be two hours slow. Cows stopped giving milk, chickens stopped laying and three geese disappeared without a trace. Not even a tell-tale feather. A chicken that belonged to no one was found dead in a water barrel. Daily the turmoil grew until a reporter for the Sunday Pictorial arrived on the scene and was witness to one event himself. At the village pub, the Dog and Gun, another large stone turned up on the doorstep. The landlord said he had not seen it before and did not know where it had come from. After he and the reporter struggled to move it out of the way, he stated that it would take at least three strong men to lift it.

This, as with the other happenings, had no explainantion. No logical one anyway.The locals though, had their own theory. The moving of the stone at Scrapfaggot Green had let loose the spirit of the witch and it was she who was to blame for all the disturbances. Harry Price, the well known ghost hunter and head of the London University Council for Psychical Investigation, was consulted about the mysterious happenings, and in his view, the events were caused by a poltergeist and suggested the stone should be replaced in its original position. As this action was in accord with local feeling, and that Halloween, the witches night was approaching, they decided that this was what they should indeed do. So out to the stone on Scrapfaggots Green the villagers went and edged it back to its place. From that moment, all the strange activity stopped. They later found out however, that one last trick had been played before the replacement of the stone. A woman who kept rabbits, arrived home to find them all in the chicken coup with the chickens! So what was the cause of all these disturbances?

These upsets, although trivial, were witnessed by nearly everyone in the village and some of them would have required super human strength, ruling out the possibility of any foul play. Earth Mysteries enthusiasts would say that the stone at Scrapfaggots Green was a pagan standing stone or markstone, and the removal of this stone would release the earth energies flowing into it, causing poltergeist activity to occur. Or perhaps the villagers of Great Leighs were correct in their assumption, that it was the witch herself who was causing all the mysterious happenings.

Records show that there was indeed a witch who came from Great Leighs by the name of Ann Hewghes who was brought to trial at he nearby Chelmsford Assizes in 1621. For various misdemeanors performed on the nights of the witches sabbats, the old Celtic quarter days of Imbolc, Feb. 1st, Beltane April 30th, Lughnasadh Aug. 1st and Samhain Oct. 31st, she was put to death at the stake. As burning of witches did not take place after the reformation, this form of execution seems quite strange. However, among the crimes Ann Hewghes committed was the murder of her husband which was considered petty treason and punishable by burning at the stake. She was buried on the spot and covered by a stone to keep her down. There is no record where this spot was but crossroads were traditionally the burial place of witches. Bones and ashes were said to have been found beneath the stone at Scrapfaggots Green and incidentally, scrapfaggot is an old Essex name for a witch.

The stone which turned up at the village pub can still be seen. You will not find it at the dog and gun however, but at the St Annes Castle Inn. It seems that one night, three men from the pub tried to carry off the stone, still known as the witches stone, to no avail. Upon investigation, the stone was found to be too small to be the same one that covered the witches grave, but could it be a fragment of the original stone? The bulldozer that widened the road could quite easily have broken it and a piece found its way to the pub.

The fact that the stone is now at St Annes Castle Inn is interesting. The pub is one of the oldest ion England and is haunted by an old lady called Anne. Some say it is he witch herself who has taken up residence at the Inn, arriving with the stone that for so long kept her down.

A strange story but a true one. Whatever the case, the facts remain. I'll leave you to decide for yourself.


Notes.
The image above was published with the original article and is by Jim Kirkwood.

The Sacred Flame

Jim Kirkwood, aka Lucifaere, The Ancient Technology Cult, Beyond the Fields We Know, has been writing Electronic Music since the late 1980’s when he stepped back from fronting a black metal band to explore a solo career in instrumental music. He has his own unique style of Gothic EM which moves easily between huge symphonic slabs of music, dark ambiance and sequencer driven soundscapes, inspired by the fringe side of life - strange esoteric cults and religion, conspiracy theories, ancient mythology and civilisations, sci-fi and fantasy . Jim was one of the founding editors of ASH Magazine, and he contributed several thought provoking articles to the magazine. He was artist in residence between 1988 and 1991 and he produced 24 drawings for the publication in total. The article submitted here was first published in issue no. 1, Autumn 1988, which went on sale almost exactly twenty years ago today - happy birthday to us! To sample Jim's comprehensive music catalogue click here, or view his brand new website here.

The Sacred Flame

by Jim Kirkwood

Kyrie Eleison.

The air is heavy with incense and the sound of a strange chant. I glance across the small chapel to a statue of Mary the mother of God. I like Mary, which I'm told is unusual for one of a protestant background. It seems only a short step from Mother of God to Mother God, yet the Christian faith is still content with the masculine half of the Tao and gets nervous when the subject of God and sexual equality is brought up.

For the third time in my life I am attending a Roman Catholic church. It is exactly twenty one years since the first, confused encounter. A priest dressed in white walks around the perimeter of the church and back to the altar. The white robe reminds me of something, a Druid I think. I wonder why they walk round the church carrying a burning censer and a crucifix on a pole. Then I realise he has just formed a circle around the people. A different kind of magic.

This time I am singing along with the rest, I now know what the strange chant means. Children are playing in the aisles and the music is accompanied by two ladies playing guitar and keyboards making an ethereal sound that echoes round the chapel. The priest, a Dominican brother, talks about love and reads from the Gospel of John, the gospel most favoured by the Celtic church and the Christian mystics down through the centuries. It is the gospel of fire, so called because of the strong image used in the opening chapter of an eternal flame burning in a sea of darkness. Tolkein used exactly the same image in his book, the Silmarillion, when writing the creation myths of Middle-Earth.

The idea is of course borrowed from the religion of the Magi and it is interesting that the three wise men who followed a star to the birthplace of Christ, were themselves Magi and astrologers from Persia. The worship of fire forms an essential part of the religion of the Persians, called Zoroastrians after their founder Zoroaster who lived, according to Parsee tradition, between 660 and 583 BC. The element of fire though, was sacred to the Persians long before Zoroaster. The worship of Mithras, a sun god, can be traced back to 1500 BC and there are many aspects of this god which have been attributed to Christ, especially concerning his birth. A hymn, sung to Mithras also reveals importance of the sacrifice of blood. "Thou hast saved us also by pouring out the blood eternal". It is It is an interesting fact that Christ claimed to baptise with fire and his death coincided with a solar eclipse.

Apart from the Findhorn community, what do Christians and pagans have in common? To have asked this question a few centuries ago, the answer would have been the stake. Heretics made just as good burning as witches. But it is 1988 and the law, for the moment, is on our side.

The answer is simple, yet it would seem difficult for most to accept. We walk the same earth and breathe the same air. The fire of the sun gives us light and warmth to good and bad alike and the same water sustains all life. If we can agree that there is only one power in and around, creating and maintaining all the elements of life forms dependent upon these elements, then we have found the supreme harmony between our apparently different religions.

Whatever name we chose to give this one power, whether we see it as a trinity or a duality, this one power has poured out His/Her blessing through the elements on all, regardless of their religion or beliefs. This article is the first in a series on the elements, and in particular, the elements as seen from the Christian point of view.

In the closing chapters of the excellent book by Marion Bradley, The Mists of Avalon, Morgaine of the fairies enters the Christian chapel of Mary at Glastonbury where she discovers a statue of St Brigid and recognises the goddess of that name. At last she sees, after a lifetimes struggle with a bigoted Christian church, that the powers that be were not limited to working in the way that she thought they should. The goddess had been reborn in Mary and Brigid and her worship continued.

St Brigid, the abbess of Kildare was born on the 1st of February 450 AD at Fockhart near Dundalk. Her life and that of the Celtic triple goddess Brigid have become so interwoven over the centuries as to be almost inseparable. One particularly close link is that of the element of fire. A perpetually burning fire among the Druid oak groves in the central plain of Ireland was part of the ritual worship of the goddess. When the abbey of Kildare was built on that site the flames did not die but were kept alive by St Brigid and her nuns.

As hinted at in the above mentioned book, the early Celtic church did indeed share much in common with the pagans and the fire of Brigid could be seen right up until the reformation. Today only the ruins remain, but who knows, the wheel turns. The oaks may grow again and the fire rekindled on the plain of Ireland.

The writings of St Francis, himself heavily influenced by the early Celtic church, left us a rich legacy of their beliefs and practices. Brother sun and sister moon are familiar to all of us. His faith was simple, and like the druids he worshipped his God mostly in the great outdoors. The elements, far from being static, to him were living beings with whom he shared his life. This was not a romantic ideal that he lived. At the end of his life, his eyes had to be cauterised with a white hot iron. These words are his reaction to being told what the treatment would be.

"My brother fire, outdoing all things in splendour the Most High
created you mighty, fair and useful. Be kind to me this hour,
be courteous, for I have long loved you in the lord."

Such a belief in the elements as living beings figured very strongly in the religion of the Hebrews.

"Who makest the winds thy messengers,
fire and flames thy ministers."

"Who maketh his angels spirits;
his ministers a flaming fire."

Psalms 104 v4

Above are the same quotations. The first, a modern translation from the RSV bible. The second from the older King James version. The difference between the two give us some understanding as to why the modern Christian fails to see anything spiritual within the elements. One quotation implies that God merely uses creation for a purpose. The other reveals that the elements are living, thinking, moving beings.

In the Hebrew/Christian tradition the archangel Michael was the master of the element of fire as well as being the guardian angel of the nation of Israel. The other three archangels, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel being air, water and earth respectively. Such designations of angels to the elements and cardinal points was an essential part of the belief system of the ancient Hebrews, long before the kabbalah came on the scene. It was during the bronze age, 1200 BC, that the Hebrew peoples, wandering for forty years in the wilderness, developed the idea that the four archangels stood at the cardinal points to protect them, each holding a key to one of the four elements, which were believed to be the weapons of God's judgement. The arrival of Christianity saw the designation of the elements to the Holy spirit, the symbol of fire being a single flame. belief in the angels did not cease, but they lost their elemental significance, being seen more as messengers and rescuers than interacting with the powers of nature.

J.R.R. Tolkein and C.S.Lewis, apart from being very good friends, were also strong advocates of the Christian faith and much of what they believed can be read in their books, Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia. In Tolkein's works, angels, or divine spirits, took the form of wise old men with supernatural powers, an idea straight out of the old testament and certainly a prominent feature of the Celtic church where angelsoften appeared as beggars in disguise to test the faith of the religious. Gandalf, the wizard/angel who walked middle-earth dressed like a beggar in grey rags, also possessed one of the three elemental rings of power, Narya the ring of fire. The other two were Vilya and Nenya of the elements of air and water.

According to Robert Graves, the colours of these three rings, white, red and blue, were a reoccurring sequence symbolising the lunar-vegetation goddess as new, full and old moon and as maiden, bride and crone, of which Brigid is certainly an example.

This great work of fantasy, which borrows so much from the mythologies of the Celts and Norse interwoven with Christian ideals, presents us with a vision of marriage between heaven and earth to which both pagan and Christian can easily relate. It is a vision of the past, a vision of the Christianity of Jesus the gentle carpenter from Nazareth whose parables were full of the elements of nature so beloved of the Celtic church.

It is also a vision of the future once this dark age has received the sacred flame. I'll see you there.

Kyrie Eleison

Credits
ASH Magazine Autumn 1988 cover art by Jim Kirkwood
Celtic Cross and Dragon by Jim Kirkwood (was published in the same issue as this article).
Brigid by Paul Atlas-Saunders (not part of the original article).