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In this issue: Stories, dreams & musings in tribute to Victor Anderson by Anaar, Anne Hill, Cornelia Benavidez, Francesca DeGrandis, Leah Samul, Max Airborne, the Pitch Black Witch, Rhea Shemazi, Starhawk, T. Thorn Coyle and Victor E. Anderson. As well as the usual variety of Feri outpouring: The
Etheric Anatomy of the Human Being Feri
Witchcraft & Chaos Magic The
Filipino Faery Faith In
Darkness Mirror
In
Defense of Old Glory Invoking
a Hero Kwyr
Craft The Magic
of Being Human Metamorphosis
Postmodernism
& the Sacred Genderfuck Temple
Song Test
& Requirements Working
Feri in Oz (Australia) |
Witch Eye 6Honoring Victor Anderson“How are my forbidden blossoms?” he’d say when I called. He always loved to call us that, Cholla and me. His forbidden blossoms. He had a special place in his heart for queers, it seemed. Victor was someone who put his reverence where it belonged: in the Goddess, not in social convention. The truest kind of Feri Witch. Unafraid to speak his mind, much to the chagrin of approval-seekers and know-it-alls. And while he revelled in his uncensored black heart, I sometimes got the impression he was sad, or at least a bit lonely, to think that he scared people away. Victor was a genius. The kind of genius that both compels and frightens people. Such power in such a tiny body. Reading the contributions to this issue of Witch Eye has brought me to tears more times than I can count. Victor, interdimensional though he was (and is), brought forth a tradition that has as its wellspring the beauty and essence of our humanity. The depth of that gift, and my gratitude for it, astounds me more and more every day. Whatever Victor meant when he dubbed me and Cholla “forbidden blossoms,” I like to think he referred to the essence of our humanity, the gifts we bring to the world, the beauty within (rather than despite) all the ways we don’t conform to acceptable standards. Victor died almost a year after my Feri initiation. That first year was a tender and difficult one for me. When I spoke to him a week before his death, he was on his tear about poetry. It greatly disturbed him that people get so bogged down in metaphor that they miss the literal meaning of a poem. He would read me some of his poems and ask me to interpret their meaning. “This is real spiritual education,” he said. At the time, I think I was annoyed at being put on the spot. I didn’t see how that was an education, except in understanding his poetry. As I’ve moved into my second year post-initiation, and come to see and accept that I have an important role in the Feri community, I’m learning so much about my power and my gifts. Learning how I spent so many years not seeing the forest through the trees. I’m starting to see what Victor meant when he annoyed me on the phone. How silly that we can be so unaware of what is right in front of us. After Victor’s memorial service, some members of his coven said they wanted to thank me for finding the bagpiper he had wanted at the funeral. They had a gift they wanted to give me. After a few weeks, I got together with Kelesyn at a Berkeley cafe and he brought the gift, wrapped in a box. I could see in my mind what was inside as he handed me the box: the big red stone apple that had been on Victor’s altar. It was so smooth and beautiful and it fairly oozed with a feeling of Victor. I was quite moved, but I didn’t really get it until I drove away. Forbidden blossoms grow into forbidden fruits. I was growing up. I, too, could become the truest kind of Feri Witch I so admired in Victor. With so much love and joy and still some grief in my heart, I dedicate this issue of Witch Eye to Victor H. Anderson, founder of Feri as we know it, interdimensional Witch and friend. -- Max Airborne, Oakland, California, March, 2002
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