The kings of old would undergo Sovereignty rites similar to the horse sacrifice of the Celts on their coronation day. That evening, they would lie with a cuen, which is the Anglo Saxon source of our word “queen”.
The cuen would be a shaman skilled in evoking and awakening the two energetic serpents which, during sexual intercourse, would rise up the body and interweave, just as they do on a caduceus, to create the Marriage of the Sun and the Moon within the human being.
This, I hasten to add, is a real physiological experience in which the Other Worlds break through into this one. Once the serpents reach the cup-shaped hypothalamus, which resembles a chalice or grael, they look over the rim to excrete red and white drops of elixir that, upon reaching the base of the grael, swirl together to create the catalyst which causes the explosion of the light of a thousand suns.
The Holy Grail
This is the real meaning behind the legend of the red and white liquids carried to Avalon by Joseph of Arimathea. It was the final Mystery teaching of Eleusis; the holy grail of the knights of Arthur Pendragon and many a serpent-grappling hero of yore from Hercules to Michael and so on.
Initiates were forbidden from revealing this inner alchemical process, upon pain of death, because it was strictly reserved for kings and pharaohs, tsars and emperors, those who held the Sovereignty of the cuentry, the country.
The cuen would rarely sit on a throne and share political power with the king, although there are exceptions to every rule; the beautiful Kiya became Pharaoh Akhenaten’s wife after he apparently – and euphemistically – fell in love with the aroma of her hair on his coronation night. But usually the cuen was the power behind the throne.
The ruler often married the daughter of another king for diplomatic purposes, but the cuen was the source of his claim to the Sovereignty of cuentry. She was the bridge between him and the nature spirits. It is what is behind the expression “the king marries the land.” The king married the spirits of the land through the auspices of the cuen in what was not mere empty ritual but a real, tangible experience of divinity.
If you’d like to know more about shamanic sex – when, where and how it was practised – it’s all in my book, The Sacred Sex Rites of Ishtar, available on Amazon currently under my byline Ishtar Dingir.
Classic Grail literature, scribed by the Normans around the 12th century, concentrates on the Wounded King archetype – one which is immensely valuable for deep inner healing at the shamanic level. But I go back much further into the Celtic roots of these stories and so I will be describing, in a series of articles here, how to work magically with the Wounded Queen archetype because it is through Sovereignty rites that a Queen of the inner planes makes a wounded man into a King of Earth.
The doorways to the Enchanted Land of the Magical Queens is plain to see in my books and the keys to their locks are all there too for those who can recognise them. However, through lack of a proper education many today cannot recognise the keys or know what to do with them. So these articles will help you find them, and also teach you how to work magically with them yourself. This will enable you to develop your own connection to the spirit of Sovereignty of this land, which, in turn, will empower and enlighten you to realise your own inner Queen. Continue reading
I sometimes feel like a story archaeologist. I have a mental image of myself, digging and digging and digging underneath all the rotting story mats of the wandering troubadors and tale-tellers of old. Some of those story mats are quite ragged by now; others have gone decidedly mouldy.
However, the deeper I dig, the closer to the original story I get. And then, if I’m lucky, I can find the shamanic themes that ran through what we now call ‘myths’ which show the wisdom of our earliest ancestors – a wisdom that is sadly lacking in much of today’s literary offerings. I then weave these myths into my own stories in a way that I think better reflects their true, multi-dimensional nature.
Most of the ancient myths that have survived and are available to us today were translated either by Christian monks or by PhD students and, as far as I know, none of them were translated by shamans, like me, and that’s why I keep on digging – and sometimes, I hit gold.
There was an article in the Financial Times recently with the take-away that we might as well give in and surrender to Islam because we don’t have any culture of our own in Europe worth preserving. It was written by one Gideon Rachman – for those who were around in the Sixties, the name of the Jewish slum landlord Rachman, who featured in the Profumo Affair, would have rung a loud bell. And I thought it highly ironic and a classic example of how those that we’re persuaded to welcome into the country under the pretence of “cultural enrichment” end up turning around and biting the hand that feeds them – just like some of those largely male ‘refugees’ in the German reception centres who are biting more than the hands of those providing for their needs, and grabbing at their breasts too.
When I first tried to read Katharine Maltwood’s A Guide to Glastonbury ‘s Temple of Stars, I ended up with a terrible headache. Even though I’d studied mythology and archaeology for decades, this 1920s identifier of the Somerset circular landscape temple seemed so ‘other’ to me, and her ideas far too dense, like an overpoweringly and sickeningly rich scented pot pourri from another time. However, now – several years later – I’m picking up her books again and reading them with ease and joy. It’s almost as if she’s talking to me personally at times – as if she’d written for an age when we would have more knowledge about our ancestors and thus be more able to pick up her quiet nudges and gentle allusions which are threaded throughout her writing like delicate and refined gold knotwork. Continue reading
In the days of old, far back into the mists of time, roaming storytellers would turn up at villages with rolled up mats which they would unfurl and spread under a huge and rambling tree, as if to announce their arrival. Long before cinema, television and even writing, let alone the printing press, news that the storyteller had set up his mat would spread fast and wide, and a ripple of excitement would be on the breeze in anticipation of rivetting entertainment to come. Continue reading