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235 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1935
And I saw in my imagination all the life that is behind the sea, and it seemed to me that there was intelligence behind it; a mind not unlike our own, but vaster, and vastly simpler. The life of elemental nature differed from our life in degree, but not in kind. It had the same kind of corporate being as a hive or a herd, which is not embodied, but overshadowed.It is a lively and engaging read that made me feel a bit dizzy by the end with all the atmospheric goings on. I say "lively" and, while that is true, it's also full of long passages of philosophical musings that not everyone will like. As I am a bit given to musing myself, I enjoyed it, but I would add that how you feel about The Sea Priestess will largely depend on your world view and whether you take it seriously as a spiritual text. I read it as fiction but the author meant for it to be much more than that.
There is a curious power in silence when you think alike without word spoken and each knows the other's thoughts. As long as nothing is said, the thing you are thinking remains in another dimension and is magical, but as soon as you speak it, you lose it. It is the old story of the jewels bought in the goblin market, which you must only look at by moonlight or you find them to be a handful of dead leaves.Over the weeks that follow, as Wilfred paints sea murals over the interior walls of the temple he has redesigned and refurbished for his goddess, from the remains of an old fort, the two spend many hours together, basically getting high on the elements. They spend evenings staring into fires made of particular woods that bring about visions. They stand on slippery rocks at the edge of the sea, beneath the full Moon, and let the sea water lap at their ankles. They are able to confirm through a series of visions manifested during ceremonial magic that they have been together in a previous life, she as the Sea Priestess and he as her sacrificial victim. Once this knowledge is certain and Vivien feels that Wifred is ready, all that is left for them is the playing out of an ancient ritual, in which Wilfred loses not his earthly life but certainly his reason for living. The Rite of Isis completed, Vivien leaves him cold, and he never sees her again.
I truly believe that Dion Fortune was a reincarnation of Morgan Le Fay , I am sure they were from the same soul group and even Dion's style for red dresses long cloaks all reflecting her past soul connection to Glastonbury and this area of the Earth. I wonder if Dion realized that she was in affect channeling her her soul origins, and her origins as a high priestess of Isis. Even the land she lived on in Glastonbury is the same land that Morgan Le fay lived on, as she was able to awaken the land and work with and its magical properties. Its a shame that as I walk past that land now it seems sad, like it holds many secrets, also that it has many tales to tell .I don't know whether Fortune believed herself to have been the mythical Morgan Le Fay, but it appears that at least some of her fans believe it.
(Molly speaks)Interestingly, Fortune herself seems to have been more like Vivien, who, as a priestess, did not indulge in sex. Fortune married once but was ... well, unfortunate. From what I can glean, sexual chemistry did not spark between Dion and her husband, and he sought partners elsewhere, which led to their divorcing. She seems to have been rather prudish sexually, which explains a lot about this book and her philosophies. Pagan priestess or not, Fortune was born in a time when bold female sexuality belonged only to whores. So perhaps she had to make something grand, cosmic, and sacrificial out of lovemaking, because she could not appreciate it in its (natural and human) right.
"Lo, I receive the gifts thou bringest me
Life and more life-in fullest ecstasy
I am the Moon, the Moon that draweth thee.
I am the waiting Earth that calleth thee.
Come unto me, Great Pan, come unto me!
Come unto me, Great Pan, come unto me!"
(Wilfred reflects while watching Molly)
I knew that she was exercising her ancient right and giving me the mating-call in the name of the moon, far truer to Nature than any convention of duty and modesty. And I knew why Morgan had said that on the inner planes the woman is positive and should take the initiative, for the Astral Plane is ruled by the moon and woman is her priestess; and when she comes in her ancient right, representing the moon, the moon-power is hers and she can fertilise the male with vitalising magnetic force. And the answering power awoke in me from the very deeps of my being, far deeper than the overflow of desire that comes from a physical pressure; for she called up from me the reserves of vital force and brought them into action-the reserves that the law of our nature guards against the great crises when we fight for life itself—the things that give the madman his strength and the poet his creative frenzy. Not until these things are called up by the call of the beloved can we be said to have mated to the depths of our being. They are not called forth when the man wooes the woman because he feels like it, but they are called forth when she comes to him in the name of Great Isis and bids him worship the goddess with her and through her.
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‘Is that the river down below you?’ she said.
I told her it was.
‘The one that comes out at Dickmouth?’
I told her that was so. ‘This is the Narrow Dick,’ I said. ‘Where the Broad Dick is, I have never been able to discover.’