The Wizard in Oz
by Oberon Zell-Ravenheart
Legendary Journeys:
The Wizard in Oz
by Oberon Zell-Ravenheart
Prelude—1985
Thirteen years ago, in March of 1985, Morning Glory and I
were among the thirteen adventurers on the legendary ERA Mermaid-Hunting Expedition to New
Guinea. Flying from San Francisco on Qantus Airlines, our trans-Pacific journey took us
first to Sydney, NSW, Australia, from whence we would eventually depart as well, for our
return home. Wending our way through customs at the Sydney Airport, we wondered how we
would ever recognise among the thronging masses our as-yet-unmet Pagan friends with whom
we had been corresponding. Not to worry—as we exited through the final doors we were
met by an entire coven, all in full robes and ritual regalia, holding out to us a chalice
full of sparkling clear water!
Our initial visit in Sydney was very brief, as this was only a stopover on the way to our
intended destination of Port Moresby, New Guinea, where we were to rendezvous with our
dive ship, The Reef Explorer, which would take us through the Coral Sea to a little bay
called Nokon on the outer coast of New Ireland, where our Mystery awaited… But
afterwards, having solved the Secret of the Mermaid, some of us, including Morning Glory,
my son Bryan, and I, returned to Sydney for a longer visit.
At that time, the Pagan scene in Australia ("Oz" to the locals) seemed to
consist mainly of Alexandrian Witches and a few Ceremonial Magicians. Many were
Solitaries, as Australia is a country the size of the US with the population of Los
Angeles (17 million), and the People are widely scattered. Morning Glory, Bryan and I were
put up in the Addams-Family-style Victorian home of Tim and Gillian Hartridge, where we
slept in the Temple. Tim and Gillian arranged for a couple of open-house meetings, where
we got to meet a number of the local Pagans and, more importantly, they got to meet each
other—many for the first time. We also did interviews with local media—on
Mermaids, Paganism, the Goddess, and the Church of All Worlds.
We visited other kind Pagan folks as well, including Bill Beattie, a brilliant and
sardonic writer who was at that time Editor of the wonderful little journal ShadowPlay.
Bill took us on a pilgrimage to the Norman Lindsey Estate, as well as to some of his
favourite secret places and vistas of stunning natural beauty out in the Blue Mountains.
On our return flight, Morning Glory, Bryan and I stopped off for a week in Oahu, Hawaii,
where we stayed at the home and Heiau of Sam Lono, the last traditional Kahuna Priest of
Lono, the Hawaiian god of Agriculture, who was at the end of his life. We absorbed
teachings from him, his apprentice, and from the land itself, before heading home to face
major changes in our lives...
Fast forward to 1998
In April of 1998, Morning Glory and I were contacted by
Quenten Walker of the CAW Temple of the Spiralled Web in Brisbane, Australia, who wished
to invite us to attend as honoured guests and presenters at the upcoming "Pagan
‘98" festival—the first Pagan festival ever to be held in Queensland.
How could we refuse? During the past decade the Church of All Worlds had really taken hold
in Oz, spearheaded by Fiona and Anthorr Nomchong, who in 1992 had managed to get CAW
incorporated as the first legal non-Christian church in Australia! Fiona had come to the
US in 1994 to be ordained as our first Down Under Priestess, and there were now several
CAW Nests and numerous members in Oz, where the1996 national census had concluded
that—as it is also in the US—Paganism is Australia’s fastest-growing
religion (11,383 self-identified Pagans—not counting 67,279 Hindus—already .064%
of the entire population!).
Pagan ‘98 was unfortunately scheduled for the same weekend (Aug. 7-9) as the CAW
Annual Meeting at CAW’s "Grow Closer" festival in Indiana. But Larry
Andersen and Kris Jensen kindly released us from our prior commitment to Grow Closer so we
could represent CAW-US in Oz.
Muggy on Maui
Right after Morning Glory and I returned from Starwood
(July 22-26), we re-packed and took off for the first leg of our new adventure. We
departed via Air New Zealand from San Francisco on Friday, July 31, watched an in-flight
movie, and touched down in Honolulu, where we were picked up by our good friend Moonstorm,
who had made some arrangements for our visit to the Islands. After a lovely night (Thai
dinner and a hot tub) with Moonstorm and Gloria, who were in the final stages of packing
for their incipient relocation to Seattle, we hopped an inter-island shuttle flight for
Maui in the morning.
On Maui, we were met and hosted by Dr Alex "Sasha" Lessin (therapist and
Tantrist) and Janet Kira Lessin, who have a charming small retreat center (known as the
Lessin Trust) nestled in the tropical rain forest amid macadamia-and-avocado groves on the
Western part of the island. Other residents included Nama’e Natume (Wind Breather), a
Shaman from Australia; Magwatha (who gave me a copy of his art-and-meditation book, Soul
Speak); Count Ayran Von Draeger and his mate, Shanti (who had recently come from
Centerpoint, an intentional community in New Zealand). We were given a full suite at the
Lessin’s, but the beginning of August is the hottest possible time to be in Hawaii,
and we found the heat and humidity to be nearly unbearable.
As we had hoped, we spent a day with Kutira DeCosterd at her beautiful Kahua Hawaiian
Institute. She led us on a long hike down to a jewel-like cove of the sea, where dolphins
frequently come in to play with swimmers. Alas, the weather was stormy, and the water too
choppy in the funnelled bay for dolphins to enter. Moreover, Ayran, the first to enter the
water, retreated immediately in pain from the burning welt of a long jellyfish tentacle!
(But that didn’t stop Morning Glory from taking her own ceremonial immersion.) In
compensation, Kutira led us upstream via a long canyon to a positively archetypal swimming
pool at the base of a sheer cliff, fed by a high waterfall whose top was hidden in the
clouds, where we swam and picnicked. Upon our return to the Institute, we met the lovely
Lumina Lovestar from the Love Temple in Los Angeles. Back at Sasha’s, we were treated
to a spectacular Hawaiian Luau (lovingly prepared by Shanti), replete with the riches of
the Island. Hot-tubbing, music, and deep conversation filled the tropical Hawaiian night.
The next day we spent at the beaches (no jellyfish in these places!) with Ayran and
Shanti, frolicking naked in the warm surf. At the Little Makena Beach, the nude beach on
the South side of the island, Morning Glory and I decided to pull out our fins and masks,
and do some snorkelling beyond the breakers. Finding nothing out there to look at but
sand, we turned towards shore to discover to our alarm that the retreating tide had taken
us much further out than we had realised. Fighting the current to return took all our
strength, and at one point we feared we might not make it. But hand-in-hand, together we
called upon our last reserves, and finally caught a wave which tumbled us onto the beach,
exhausted but grateful to the Sea Goddess for sparing us in our foolishness.
After another glorious night of feasting and partying, with an inspiring concert by
Heather Secord and Steve Okerlund, we spent much of our last day in poly counselling with
our new friends and gracious hosts, who have dreams of creating extended family and
community around the beautiful facilities of their Center. We came to the conclusion that
here is a perfect venue for the weekend "Tribal Retreats" that Liza has created,
and which our Ravenheart Family has been hosting back home; as well as potential places
for future "Body Sacred" and other small-scale sex-and-spirit and polyamory
events and conferences...
Return to Oz
The next overnight leg of our flight to Australia
included a transfer in New Zealand. Unfortunately, we could only gaze wistfully out the
window of the airport lounge toward the distant verdant mountains.
We finally arrived in Brisbane on Thursday, Aug. 6, having lost an entire day due to
crossing the International Date Line. Quenten picked us up at the airport and took us home
to Mimburi (means "sacred place" in Dingadau Aboriginal dialect), his
newly-acquired land near the legendary Glass House Mountains. It’s a charming and
magical 59-acre ranch, with several buildings and a meandering year-round stream running
all through it, creating numerous enchanted ritual areas among the tanglewood. By next
year, he hopes to have the facilities fixed up well enough for it to serve as a site for
"Pagan ‘99." His long-range plans for the land include provisions for
leaving it in trust to the CAW.
The other imported Guests of Honour for the festival were Isaac Bonewits, "Archdruid
Emeritus" of Ar nDraiocht Fein; and his wife, Deborah Lipp, a Gardnerian High
Priestess. They brought along their son, Arthur, and planned to extend their visit into a
family vacation touring Oz, as did Morning Glory and I. Quenten took us all back into
Brisbane for dinner and a movie—"Dark City," a positively brilliant
Australian film which we would recommend to everyone! (Except kids; Quenten’s
delightful daughter Demelza took Arthur to see "Dr. Doolittle" instead.) When we
got back to the ranch, Rob Adams (a giant biker with "Proud to be Pagan" painted
prominently on the saddlebags of his motorcycle) gave MG and I fantastic and much-needed
Shiatsu massages.
Pagan ’98
The festival began Friday afternoon, and was held at a
YMCA camp near Petrie, Brisbane. During the previous month, there had been various attacks
on the event in the local media, spearheaded by several Uniting and Evangelical Christian
ministers. Naturally, as always happens in such cases, the media had to come out and
interview the Pagans to see what we had to say for ourselves. The result, as usual, was
some of the best publicity we could have hoped for, as Quenten and the other festival
organisers and Pagan spokespeople came off splendidly and informatively, and the Christian
antagonists came off as ignorant, hateful and bigoted idiots. With great promotion,
competent organisation, and four imported Guests of Honour, the festival attracted around
300 attendees, making it the largest Pagan festival yet held in Australia.
Being as it was the middle of Winter in Oz, this festival celebrated Imbolc, not
Lughnasadh, which was going on at the same time back home. I felt considerably disoriented
being plunged from high Summer into the season of short days and long cold nights. On top
of that, there was a 17-hour time difference, and the cardinal directions were reversed!
The Southern Cross blazed in the polar sky, the full moon was upside-down (no
"face" discernible), and "Deosil" (which means "sunwise")
was counter-clockwise! The only familiar constellation was Scorpio, and it was
upside-down, looking like something else entirely.
The camp provided comfortable lodging, and meals were excellent. There was a full schedule
of workshops and presentations, and a number of merchants and craftspeople had booths.
Saturday evening was the main ritual, with the theme (as it so often is these days!) of
"Unity Through Diversity." Everybody, kids included, got dressed in their best
ritual regalia for the occasion. But when Andrea, the presiding High Priestess, announced
just before it began that children would not be allowed, Morning Glory and I caught each
other’s eyes across the dining hall and nodded our signal: "Right, then.
We’re off with the kids. Mrs Peal, we’re needed!"
The Kids’ Ritual
Isaac and Deborah joined us as we gathered with the kids
and their parents, who were milling around in dismay wondering what to do, and we packed
everybody off to the camp’s fire circle, where we all put together an impromptu
ritual that I daresay the grown ups dug just as much as the kids. A five-year-old little
girl named Alex (daughter of Ambrosia) had a light-up plastic sword, and I walked her
around the Circle with it (Deosil—counterclockwise of course!) while Morning Glory
led everyone in singing Buffalo’s "We Are a Circle." Four children each
took the Quarters (going in order: East=Air; North=Fire; West=Water; South=Earth), lit the
Quarter candles, then together ignited sparklers from the candles and brought those in to
light the central fire.
As the fire blazed up, Morning Glory gathered all the girl children to her on one side,
while I gathered the boys on the other. She had the girls all stand in the
Goddess-invoking posture and call upon Kore, the Daughter-Goddess. Then I had the boys all
make finger-horns, stamp their feet, and call upon Kouros, the Youth, and Faunus, the
young Horned God. Anthorr had joined us by then, jumping ship from the Main Ritual, and he
drummed while we danced wildly around the fire, raising energy to empower "The Next
Generation."
After the dancing, a plate of cookies and a large chalice of milk were blessed and passed
around, and we settled back for the Storytelling. Deborah Lipp began with a European
folktale; Morning Glory then told her story about how Kore created the first Possum, and
won thereby the right to design all the animals of Australia; and Anthorr finished up with
an Aboriginal legend. So the stories carried us across the world with the migrations of
our People, to this very place.
We concluded the ritual with Gwydion’s "All from air into air..." just as
runners arrived to tell us that the barbecue Feast was beginning. As we ate, a
"ridiculously cute" (in the words of the Guidebook) ring-tailed possum climbed
down from the trees to beg for scraps, no doubt having appreciated MG’s story!
Growing Closer and Separating
In appreciation for our handling the Kids’ Ritual,
Rhys and Andrea, the presiding High Priest and Priestess of the Main Ritual, gave MG and I
a bottle of Mead, and one as well to Isaac and Deborah. Mead in hand, we all wandered over
to the outdoor stage where the popular Celtic band, Mythica, were playing. Morning Glory
and Deborah went off into the dark to parlay with some folks, and Anthorr, Isaac and I
snuggled up to Natasha, Julienne and Ambrosia. When the band finished playing, the six of
us migrated over to the bonfire, where a bardic was in progress. Isaac contributed his
delightful and sexy song, "Black Velvet Band," and he and I managed a duet on
"We Won’t Shave Any Longer." And we all snuggled into a warm and cuddly
puppy-pile throughout most of the long Winter’s night.
After a lunchtime "Pagan Leaders Panel," Sunday afternoon was for final sales,
packing up and poignant farewells. The YMCA staff members who’d been on-duty told us
that we’d been the best group they’d ever had. As we were loading the cars, a
koala climbed down out of one of the gum trees and wandered obliviously right through the
bystanders to another tree. The guidebook warned us not to try and handle wild koalas, as
"they have claws like Edward Scissorhands." But we never expected them to be so
unafraid of people.
A bit of a problem (as in, "Houston, we have a problem...") in our Mythic Images
statuary business had necessitated a last-minute change in plans for Morning Glory, who,
instead of accompanying me on a planned tour of Australia, now had to fly to Hong Kong on
Tuesday to rendezvous with our other wife, Liza, and personally oversee production of our
first factory order from China. Anthorr offered to drive me on Monday up to Cairns to
visit the Australian Tropics, which seemed like a good idea at the time.
So after a late barbecue at Quenten’s, we (Quenten, Demelza, Isaac, Deborah, Arthur,
MG and I) got up early Monday morning for a trip to the zoo. Morning Glory went really
nuts in the kangaroo petting area, saying: "I have found my people, and they are
‘roos!" The ‘roos seemed really drawn to her, and they gathered around her,
standing tall, with blissful looks in their big lazy eyes as she scratched their chests.
But I couldn’t stay, and had to bid farewell to my lovely lady, and go meet up with
Anthorr. The last I saw of her she was cuddling a koala.
Car Wrecks and Crocodiles
Anthorr had two other passengers for his trip home to
Cairns: Scarlet and Melissa. We bunged in all our gear wherever we could fit it and headed
out from Brisbane around two in the afternoon. I had no decent map, and only the vaguest
idea of the scale of distances (they were all listed in kilometres, one km equalling .6214
miles), and no one had bothered to mention to me that this trip would entail over thirty
hours of driving one-way, with a 36-hour return ride on the train! These Aussies are a
tough lot; they think nothing of piling into a car and driving straight through for days
for a one-or-two day event.
Well, I didn’t think much of it, either. I’d had a whiplash injury from a
rear-end collision last November, and trying to sleep on the plane on the way over had
nearly wrecked my back. But as the night wore on, and the other three rotated drivers (not
only didn’t I have an Australian driver’s license, but I’d never have
handled driving on the left side of the road; in case of an emergency, my instinctual
reactions would be lethal), I tried futilely to make myself as comfortable as possible,
finally settling like a pretzel onto the floor of the back seat.
It was in this cramped position that I was startled awake about dawn by the violent
lurching, bumping and spinning of the car. Anthorr had dozed off at the wheel, and we had
landed in the middle of a field on the other side of the road, having taken out several
pylons and ripped through a fence. Fortunately, no one seemed to be hurt, and the car was
still driveable, although making some funny noises. We managed to limp on into Ayer, the
next fair-sized town, where Anthorr was able to find a shop that could do repairs
sufficient to get us back to Cairns (still over six hours away). Well, the repairs took
until 5 PM. We got showers at a caravan (trailer) park, had lunch at Col. Chicken’s,
and hung out at the town library. When we finally pulled up at Anthorr’s place in
Cairns, it was nearly midnight.
Since I had only one remaining day to spend in Cairns, we got up early, and had a pleasant
visit with the folks at "The Witches Cauldron of Cairns," a really neat occult
shop where I picked up a copy of the full-colour slick newsstand magazine, Witchcraft.
After lunch, Anthorr drove us up the coast to the Hartley’s Creek Crocodile Farm,
where a whole bunch of giant estuarine crocodiles—the largest reptiles on
Earth—were on display. Some of these suckers have been recorded at nearly thirty feet
long, and some of the live ones they had here were over twenty! A highlight of the tour
was a regular "Crocodile Dundee" handling and feeding demonstration, as we were
regaled with tales of unwary bathers in Northern rivers being "taken" by these
monsters. On the way back, we stopped off at Ellis Beach. The Southern end, as with many
public beaches in Oz, was "clothing optional," so we enjoyed a cooling bit of
naked frolic in the surf and beachcombing for shells to incorporate into my sculptures.
In the evening, back in Cairns, we met up with Rich, a wonderful young student of
Anthorr’s, and we all went out to a mall for dinner and souvenir shopping. We
conversed long into the night, largely around Anthorr’s getting back into fuller
participation in the CAW that he had been instrumental in bringing to Oz in the first
place, and resuming his bid for ordination (which, as his Clergy Sponsor, I support). He
is now circulating a petition of support, and already has several dozen signatories on it.
Major problems that Anthorr and other CAW members kept mentioning to me revolved around
lack of attention and response from CAW Central in the US, and difficulties in getting
materials from CAW Oz HQ, such as newsletters, Green Eggs, membership
applications and materials, Nesting info, ballots, etc. I believe that Anthorr’s
ordination and empowerment will go a long way towards addressing these issues, as he is
one person who has a full grasp of the organisational aspects of CAW in Australia, having
been the one to have put it together in the first place.
Brisbane to Bellingen
Early next morning (Thurs.) I boarded the train for the
36-hour return to Brisbane. Quenten met me at the train Friday afternoon, considerably the
worse for wear after another all-night journey. We grabbed a meat pie at a gas station,
and rushed back to his land for a Nest meeting of the Temple of the Spiralled Web. There
was a fairly large turnout, and I was the featured attraction, "holding court"
while folks plied me with questions, such as: "How did you come to start the Church
of All Worlds?" "Has the CAW turned out like you expected?" etc.
Since I had just taken a one-year leave of absence from my three-decade position as
Primate of the CAW, I had to make clear that I could speak only about the Church, but not
for it. Throughout my entire trip, I scrupulously avoided promoting or representing the
CAW in any way, though of course it was my lifelong service in this capacity that had
resulted in my invitation to Oz in the first place. This was an interesting exercise for
me; other than the few years we were raising and exhibiting the Living Unicorns
(1980-1984), I have never before seen myself in any other public context than as an
emissary of CAW. So instead I focused on promoting and representing Mythic Images and our
Ravenheart Family.
The next leg of my journey was to be a visit to Bellingen, about a third of the way South
towards Sydney. Lilitu Babalon and Cullen were driving up to the TOSW Nest meeting to pick
me up and take me back with them. But just before the meeting, Quenten received a call
from them; their car had broken down and they were stranded about an hour away. He took
off to get them while I stayed at the meeting. When they returned, they concluded that the
only thing to do was rent a car. By the time they’d figured this out, we had to leave
immediately for the Brisbane Airport, where the only available rental agency would be
closing at 10:00.
I grabbed a small bag of clothes and necessities, and my CPAP breathing machine (I’d
been diagnosed with severe sleep apnea just before leaving home, and had been outfitted
with a machine to force air through my nasal passages at night. After only a couple weeks
of this, barring impossible circumstances—like sleeping in planes, trains and
automobiles, and camping out—where I couldn’t use it, I was already feeling much
more alert and functional than I could ever remember. My diagnosis had indicated that my
nightly blood oxygen level was being depleted by 20%! However, now each night I look like
I’ve been attacked by an H.R. Giger miscegenation of an alien face-hugger and a
portable vacuum cleaner!). After another difficult night of trying to doze in a moving
car, we arrived at Lilitu’s around 4:30 AM.
Lilitu and Cullen have a booth at the monthly Saturday Market in Bellingen, and the next
day was a particularly big market day, as there was also a major jazz festival going on.
So we got up early and headed down to the park, which was crowded even in a drizzling
Winter rain. I hadn’t walked ten feet from the booth when I ran smack into an old
friend: John Douglas. He and his lovely wife, Naomi, used to live right around the bend
from Morning Glory and I during the eight years (1977-1985) we’d homesteaded on the
5,600-acre Greenfield Ranch, one of the great California Hippie communities, founded in
1972 and still going strong, and where the CAW still maintains its 55-acre sanctuary of
Annwfn. Running into John in Bellingen seemed the most incredible of coincidences, as I
hadn’t seen him in ten years. He used to put on these wonderful annual "Healing
Gatherings" at the Ranch; then he and Naomi disappeared, and I never heard what had
happened to them. Well, it turned out that they were now living in a community in the
beautiful Thora Valley above Bellingen, where he’s still putting on annual Men’s
Gatherings!
Serpents and Goddesses
That evening, after a great dinner by Lilitu, special
plans had been made. Margi Woulfe, an Elfin Irish redhead with a Fey teenage daughter
named Alinta, had arranged for us all to have tickets to the Dorrigo Playhouse for the
final night of a three-drama performance: "Sophocles, Serpents & 2nd Class
Citizens." The first play was Sophocles’ "Antigone," performed by high
school kids—a classic tragedy on issues of justice, loyalty, and the abuse of
authority, which the kids performed passionately. An interesting feature was that, while
the spoken lines were all from Sophocles, the sets and costumes were from circa 1970 or
so, and Creon, the King, was portrayed as US President Richard Nixon—even to the
name-sign on his desk.
This was followed by "Medusa’s Tale," adapted by Carol S. Lashof. This was
a myth I did not know: the story of how Medusa, once a pretty young devotee of Athena, was
pursued and raped by Poseidon at the very foot of Athena’s statue in the Parthenon,
as a wager between the two deities. Begging her Goddess for justice, Medusa was instead
cursed to become a monster so hideous that any who beheld her gaze would be turned to
stone. She tells her tale to Perseus, then says, "Now slay me if you will, and end my
torment!" And the triumphant hero carries her head back to Athens and presents it to
Athena, who has it affixed to Her shield. Whew! Pretty intense for a small-town audience!
But the final performance really knocked me out! "The Serpent’s Fall," by
Sarah Cathcart and Andrea Lemon, it dealt with the quest of five women to explore their
roots and discover the Goddess, each thread linked in some way with The Serpent. One was
an archaeologist excavating the ruins of Knossos and Babylon. Another was a Greek
immigrant working in a restaurant. The primary protagonist was an inquisitive young
Catholic woman who goes to see the retired spinster headmistress of her former girls’
school. And the final character was a modern urban Aboriginal woman. A musician
accompanied the performances on digeree-doo, drums, rattles and guitar, as the five women
took turns telling their stories, occasionally coming together in song, dance, and ritual
chants.
The entire performance was stunning—the acting, set design, choreography, and the
unfolding story itself. This was one of the most thoroughly Pagan performances I’ve
ever seen, and the audience gave a standing ovation. Afterwards, Margi had arranged for us
to attend the cast party and meet the players and directors. I was simply blown away by
the implicit Paganism among everyone.
Margi and Magic
That night, sweet Margi took me home to Thora with her,
and we began to fall in love...
On Sunday, we visited John and Naomi (Margi knew them, of course; she seemed to know
everybody, and everybody seemed to love her). We arrived at their lovely home and garden
just as they were burying the placenta of their newest baby. We got caught up with each
others’ lives, and they suggested that maybe I should consider our Family moving to
Australia.
Now of course, I believe in magic. One of the signs of being on a magical path is a high
incidence of synchronicities, or meaningful "coincidences." I see this
phenomenon as a wave form, and since "probability enhancement," as Anodea puts
it, is my favourite working definition of magic, I have learned a special approach to
magical attunement and manifestation that I call "surfing the syncronicity
wave." Well, everywhere I was looking I was seeing that wave rising, and, like the
guy in "Close Encounters" with his mound of mashed potatoes, I had to
acknowledge that "this means something!"
After another of Lilitu’s wonderful dinners, lovely Margi took me home again, to her
two cats, two dingo dogs (he Totem), a horse and a goat. It was raining most of the time,
and Alinta was coming down with a bad cold.
Monday morning Lilitu had set me up with an interview at the local radio station, 2BBB-FM,
where she also worked. I talked about Paganism, the Goddess, the Gaia Thesis, Unicorns,
and polyamory, drumming up a little publicity for the presentation I was to be giving that
evening at the Library, which Lilitu and Cullen had arranged. In the afternoon, Margi
drove me around the countryside, showing me, among other things, the modern Rudolph
Steiner School Alinta attended. She also arranged for me to get a much-needed massage, and
we collected some listings from local Real-Estate agencies.
After a visit to the famous "Old Butter Factory" (a renovated dairy now serving
as a complex of crafts shops featuring local artisans), Margi took me to "Bat
Island" just in time to watch fleets of flying foxes unfurling their great wings and
launching themselves upon their nightly rounds. They looked like pterodactyls in some
Jurassic jungle. Eerily, crossing the short boardwalk to the island, over a small swampy
area, I recognised the place as a scene from a recurrent dream I had often had as a youth;
the only missing elements were the small crocodiles of the dream!
We had another of Lilitu’s great dinners, made of the giant cauliflower that John and
Naomi had given us from their garden. Then we were off to the Library, where I spoke for
the whole evening on topics dear to my heart, primarily around the theme of "Gaia:
The Once and Future Goddess"—a presentation I have developed elsewhere as a
slide show. As usual, questions and answers took as much time as the main presentation,
including those from an Evangelical minister, who never so identified himself.
In the morning I did some photo studies of Margi for future sculptures, and we Shared
Water. She was now starting to get Alinta’s cold, so she stayed home to rest up and
get some of her work done, while I was taken into the coastal city of Coffs Harbour by
Greg and Therese Softley, who own a charming magical store called "Goddess," and
are very interested in getting Mythic Images sculptures into Oz. They took me to lunch on
the wharf, and over to "Muffinbird Island"—a breeding sanctuary for
peculiar burrowing sea-birds. We climbed the paved trail all the way to the far
observation platform, but we never saw a single muffinbird. Incidentally, I also learned
that Paul Hogan ("Crocodile Dundee") has a home in Coffs Harbour.
Upon returning to Bellingen, I did a Tarot reading (in exchange for the massage), recorded
an interview for Lilitu’s radio show, "Pagan Place," and spent a last
magical night with my beloved Margi, who began taking on a new modification of her name,
to "Amargi Wolf." Early the next morning, amid tearful farewells, she put me on
the train to Sydney.
The Legendary Lindseys
After a pleasant train ride, giving me much time to
think, I arrived in Sydney around 4:30 PM on Wednesday, where I was met by Antonia
Beattie. A brilliant and effusive Russian woman, she and Bill had met and married since my
last visit, and recently moved to a new home in the Blue Mountains, a couple of hours from
the City. We picked up a pizza on the way home, and I had an absolutely lovely evening
getting to know Antonia and catching up with Bill.
Thursday morning I was feeling a bit sniffily as we headed out to Springwood, and the
Norman Lindsey Estate and Gallery. Surely there is not a Pagan anywhere who hasn’t
seen the exquisite 1994 movie, "Sirens," set around 1925 and depicting a
fictionalised incident in the life of this remarkable Pagan artist, who lived from
1879-1969. The movie was actually filmed at the Norman Lindsey Estate, which has been
preserved as a national trust, complete with a significant selection of Lindsey’s
erotic oil paintings, watercolours, etchings, books, ship models, and lawn sculptures (of
which the deteriorating concrete originals are now being replaced with bronze casts). Bill
and Antonia are great Lindsey fans, as am I; and it was Bill who first took Morning Glory
and I to visit this place when we were last here back in 1985. With scenes from the film
fresh in my mind, I delighted in wandering over the grounds, picturing them inhabited by
the "legendary Lindseys"—Norman; his wife, Rose; and their two daughters,
Jane and Honey (Helen). Bill and Antonia bought two copies of the large book, The
Legendary Lindseys, and presented one to me as a gift to our Family, as we all have a
certain identification with the Lindseys and their lifestyle...
Norman and Rose had moved to Springwood in 1911, and, except for a few years in the
‘30s and early ’40s when Norman lived at his city studio in Sydney, he spent
nearly sixty years at the property, continually remodelling and expanding on the
buildings, sculpting mythological nude garden statues and fountains, excavating a
Roman-style fantasy swimming pool, and making pathways through the bush. A new attraction
had been added since my last visit: a video program featuring filmed interviews with
Norman and other members of the Lindsey family. It was fascinating to actually see and
hear one of my greatest heroes, whom I had previously known only through his art and
writings. I was also intrigued to learn that the only one of Lindsey’s novels I had
read—Age of Consent, which Nybor had turned me onto—had been made into a movie
back in the ‘40s, starring James Mason! Now I have to locate a copy...
After a wonderful dinner by Antonia, and an evening of animated conversation and poring
over numerous Lindsey books, and the galleys of Antonia’s beautiful new book, The Art
of Witches & Wizards (soon to be published), Antonia drove me into Sydney in the
morning.
Sydney
After checking out a few of Sydney’s used bookshops
in a fruitless search for any of the several biographies on Norman Lindsey (My Mask, by
Norman; Model Wife, by Rose; and Portrait of Pa, by Jane), Antonia dropped me off in
Rozelle at Adrienne Harris’, coordinator of the Pan-Pacific Pagan Alliance (an
Australian affiliate of the British Pagan Federation). Adrienne and I took the bus back
into the City, over one of the three most beautiful bridges I have ever seen in the world,
to spend a few hours visiting with my old friend, Tim Hartridge.
Tim was now living in a new house in Darlington, with a lovely new lady, Vanessa. But the
Addams-Family style decor still predominated, and a large front room was still dedicated
to being a temple. Tim was a gracious host, and showed us some of his stunning magickal
photography, and we enjoyed elegant conversation over cups of tea. Upon my inquiry as to
the whereabouts of a certain intricately carved ebony staff which I had acquired in the
Trobriand Islands and inadvertently left in his temple closet those thirteen years ago, he
averred no recollection, but allowed that Gillian might know, and gave me her contact
information. Unfortunately, when I later tried to reach her, I was told she was on
holiday...
Back in Rozelle, Adrienne had arranged for an after-dinner open house. I was now seriously
ill with the cold I had gotten from Margi, and spent most of the evening propped up in an
easy chair like a zombie, while a number of absolutely lovely people came, visited awhile
and went. Unfortunately, I was not at my very best, and cannot clearly recall them all.
However, around 11:00 the house was suddenly filled with about fifteen delightful
folks—mostly quite young—from the new Free Pagan Church of Australia, including
the High Priestess and Priest, Pamina and Don. They presented Morning Glory and I with
certificates of honorary lifetime memberships in the FPC, and a Certificate of
Registration for the Church of All Worlds, along with a full set of their documents and
newsletters, Western Witch—all of which I accepted graciously on behalf of MG and the
CAW in appreciation of the honours so bestowed. Pamina and Don invited any CAW members
from the US who may be travelling in Oz to visit them at home, or attend any of their
gatherings.
Nimbin Finalé
Catching the Saturday morning train heading North from
Sydney, I had an eight-hour journey to read and reflect upon the lessons and ramifications
of my journey thus far. Getting off at Lismore, I was surprised to be met by Rob Adams,
the aforementioned Pagan biker. He drove me out to Ambrosia’s home at Lillian Rock,
outside of Nimbin—a great barn of a house, still under construction, with electricity
derived from solar panels. Her two adorable youngest daughters were delighted to see me,
and climbed all over me, recalling the kid’s ritual at Pagan ‘98, which they
were still charged up about (Alex had cast the Circle with her light-up plastic sword).
They reminded me so much of the little Lindsey girls as depicted in Sirens...
Rob, Ambrosia, her girlfriend, and I sat up conversing late into the night, killing off a
couple bottles of mead. Much of the talk centred around the CAW, and their interest in
getting more involved (Ambrosia and Rob are already members.) As so often throughout this
journey, I felt I was among Family.
On Sunday, Ambrosia and Rob drove me into the legendary town of Nimbin, Australia’s
notorious drug law enforcement-free zone. In 1973, Nimbin held the famed Aquarius Festival
which launched Hippie culture in Oz. The Hippies came, and never left. It’s still a
time-warp to the Summer of Love—as the Guidebook says: "house facades and
shopfronts are painted in lurid, psychedelic designs, its small stores sell health food,
incense sticks and patchouli oil, and many of the locals have stuck to their 1970s dress
code too" The Guidebook warned that "you’ll invariably be hit up for a dope
deal…" and it was right. A Koori (Aboriginal) woman tried to sell me some bud
(no, I wasn’t buying!).
The highlight of Nimbin was unquestionably the Nimbin Museum, a rather astonishing sort of
"Hippie Hall of Fame," with a bizarre walk-through fun-house approach featuring
memorabilia, paraphernalia, Bundjalung Aboriginal stuff, drug law reform materials and
environmental action exhibits a la Earth First! Several complete painted-up VW vans are
imbedded in the elaborate displays, which are pretty indescribable.
After Nimbin we had a brief visit with Virginia, who had accompanied Fiona (Anthorr’s
ex-wife and our first Australian Priestess) on her trip to the US back in 1994, and with
whom at that time I had had a delightful (and humorous) romantic encounter. We visited
awhile over tea in her lovely home, admired her paintings and ceramic sculptures, and then
it was back on the train for the final leg of my journey, returning to Brisbane to
rendezvous with Morning Glory for our flight home Monday morning. Adding it all up, I
figure I travelled about 9,000 km in Australia, or 5,600 miles!
When Quenten picked me up late that night at the train station, he gave me the
disappointing news: unfortunately, things were going slowly in Hong Kong, and Morning
Glory would have to stay another week or more. So in the morning I caught my return flight
alone, flying all night, and arriving back in San Francisco on the same date as I left,
only several hours earlier, thanks to the International Dateline.
Home at last! What an incredible journey!
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This page is Copyright Lilitu Babalon, 1999
I'll give you permission to reproduce anything on my page if you ask, provided it is mine.
However, if I find you plagiarising, well.....