By Kris Littlesun (This article is a follow up from my piece about aspecting Baphomet, read it here)
While I was at Queer Pagan Camp, my friend gave me a beautiful statuette of Baphomet. When I brought it home however I felt a strange reluctance to getting them out of my bag. I have a really bad issue with clutter, any space I occupy for any length of time ends up looking a complete state and my room is generally the epicentre of the chaos. This is something I have a lot of shame around, especially when it comes to people seeing my space when it’s in that kind of state. I realised that the reason I was uncomfortable with getting Baphomet out was because I was nervous about them seeing the state that my space was in – which I felt was rather strange, because of all the deities I feel Baphomet is probably one of the least likely to be bothered by a messy bedroom.
After some pondering I realised where this uncomfortable feeling was coming from; the lesson Baphomet has been teaching me at this time is about how we put divisions, value judgements and beliefs onto the world, which are not really there but which we create and invest in and which shape how we live in the world and how our lives work. For me there was the slight embarrassment that Baphomet could look around my space and my life, see what I’ve made of the possibilities in the raw material and say “is that it?”
Because I know that I hold so many patterns of belief and behaviour that prevent me from living a full and strong life. I know that the clutter I surround myself with is one very visible symptom of this. I know that I’ve built these up to the point that I forget that they are changeable, that they are not how things really are but how I’ve decided that they are. I feel that it’s outrageous that I’ve kept them for so long, even when I’ve suspected that I have the power to change them. Through the lessons I’ve received from Baphomet I can push the reset button, I can see the structures I hang my life from and decide which parts of them are useful and which aren’t. Like the tower in the tarot, built up of false ideas and which crumbles into darkness when put to the test.
Last night I meditated with Baphomet on this idea, and here is my account of what happened:
I see Baphomet, the familiar horns and great bat wings, but this time with the body of a great serpent.
Their mouth opens, the jaw dislocating, opening up a gaping void of possibilities
Out of their mouth comes a huge egg, I know that this is the cosmic egg, the Great Zero, all the power that ever was and ever will be…
Without division, without form, without judgement
With one lightening quick flash of snake tail, Baphomet smashes the egg into many pieces. Divisions are formed, boundaries are created, objects become separate. But it is random, no thought has gone into how it has been broken up and separated. A life like this is one of acceptance, one of blindly accepting the way things always have been as the way things truly are. A life lacking in agency and power.
Through Baphomet’s power the egg comes back together, and I can see the previous divisions for what they really are; random breaks in the whole that may help or hinder depending on where I am at the time.
I take the whole egg in my hand, and with a pen I write on it the things I want to believe about my life and about myself, I am strong, I am focused, I am productive, I have vitality…
I break the egg, with care this time, along the lines I choose to break and around the words I have written. I lay the pieces out, a new paradigm built out of conscious choice, a new kind of clothing for my experiences that will help rather than hinder me.
A different metaphor – a piece of paper is screwed up into a random shape. I open out the sheet and flatten it out, pressing out the random criss-cross pattern of lines. I start to make folds with intent, precise lines with a complex but definite pattern. Before long, what was a random ball of paper has transformed into a perfect complex flower.