The Encyclopedia of Spirits: The Ultimate Guide to the Magic of Fairies, Genies, Demons, Ghosts, Gods, and Goddesses J I UDIKA LLES For Leor Warner, Ascended Master (20 July 1941–13 September 2007) Contents Introduction T P F S HE UBLIC ACE OF PIRITS T S L S HE ECRET IVES OF PIRITS W W A S HO OR HAT RE PIRITS? R S EALMS OF PIRITS W A S M L B M HERE RE PIRITS OST IKELY TO E ET? W D S H U HY O PIRITS ELP S? W S ORKING WITH PIRITS F Y S A INDING OUR PIRIT LLIES C S OMMUNICATING WITH PIRITS T C F S HE ARE AND EEDING OF PIRITS A S D RE PIRITS ANGEROUS? C C OMMANDING AND OMPELLING W D I M W P P R U HAT OES T EAN HEN RAYERS AND ETITIONS EMAIN NANSWERED? Elements of Working with Spirits: A Spirit Worker’s Glossary Using This Book Spirits: A–Z Appendix: Spirits and Their Specialties Bibliography Acknowledgments About the Author Copyright About the Publisher Introduction T P F S HE UBLIC ACE OF PIRITS airies, demons, Djinn, devas, dybbuks, dakinis, Nymphs, mermaids, F ghosts, nagas, orishas, lwa, mystères, Elves, dragons: that’s just a few of the many kinds of spirit beings. Considering how many people vociferously refute their very existence, the extent to which spirits permeate modern human culture is astounding. You don’t have to believe in spirits to be surrounded by them. In fact, it’s pretty hard to avoid them. Let me repeat: spirits permeate human culture. References are so all-pervasive that it can be easy to overlook their original meanings. S P O L PIRITS ERMEATE UR ANGUAGE Do you want to flatter a woman? Call her a goddess. If a woman is beautiful, small, and lithe, she might be called a sprite or sylph. If you find this woman inspirational, she’s your muse. If she’s irresistible, she’s a siren. Sprites, sylphs, muses, sirens: these are all categories of spirits. Names of individual spirits permeate language, too. Want to flatter a man? Call him Adonis or an Apollo. If he’s a musician, call him Orpheus. Maybe that beautiful woman isn’t small and lithe; maybe she’s voluptuous or statuesque, Junoesque, in other words. Coming up with these references is no Herculean task; just a little thought and effort and you, too, will be thinking up dozens. Here’s a few more: The name for the physical condition of an erection that refuses to recede (sometimes to the point of medical emergency) is priapism, inspired by Priapus, a Greek spirit, who, as his votive statues attest, sports a permanently erect phallus. Do you have an enemy, someone who is gunning for you? That person is your nemesis, named for the Greek goddess of justice and vengeance. Ever described being stuck in the office, stuck in an elevator, stuck in a traffic jam or hospital emergency room as like being stuck in hell? You’ve just evoked Hel, Norse guardian of the realm of death. Trying to seduce someone? Try an aphrodisiac—something evoking the power of Aphrodite, alluring goddess of love and sex. Nemesis, priapism, and aphrodisiac are elegant words, indicative of a fine vocabulary. Spirits permeate all facets of speech—obscenities, too. Ever muttered, “Oh, Frigg!” in a moment offrustration or told someone harshly to get away from your frickin’ car? That word’s not just a soundalike substitute for a stronger obscenity: it’s the name of yet another Norse goddess, alternatively spelled Frigg or Fricka. A modern obscenity for women’s genitalia evokes the name of Kunti, a very ancient goddess of India, although honestly it’s doubtful whether most of those who use the word have a clue as to its origins or that the word emerged in sacred contexts. Jumping Jupiter! By Jove! Names of spirits permeate modern marketing and brand names. Before Nike, Mercury, and Saturn named shoes, cars, or even planets, they named deities. It is not that manufacturers necessarily believe in these spirits or consciously wish to pay homage, but that the essences of these spirits have so permeated our cultural vocabulary that all it takes is their names to evoke visceral reactions en masse. For instance, I own lipsticks named after biblical seductresses: Salome, Jezebel, and Astarte. Go ahead and guess whether these lipsticks are bold and bright red or pale pink and sedate. S P O C PIRITS ENETRATE UR ULTURE They permeate literature from its earliest days to today’s best sellers. Enheduanna, oldest known author in history, composed hymns to the goddess Inanna over four thousand years ago. Her work remains in print, now in English translation. Spirits of one sort or another are significant characters in recent favorites like Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, and Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s Good Omens. The Da Vinci Code? Fascination with Mary Magdalen knows no bounds. Sometimes references to spirits are intended literally; sometimes they serve as allegory or metaphor. Sometimes a spirit’s name is expected to do nothing more than evoke a mood or emotion, create some ambience. Maybe folklore can exist without spirits, albeit in truncated form, but mythology definitely can’t. Worldwide mythology is accurately defined as stories about and involving spirits. An entire literary genre—fairy tales —is named for a branch of the spirit world. Literary classics are populated by spirits (The Aeneid, The Iliad, The Odyssey, Faust, Macbeth, or The Tempest). So are comic books: Morpheus, the Erinyes, Uma, Circe, and Lilith are but a few of the spirits who prowl through their pages, as do Brunnhilde the Valkyrie, hammer-deity Thor, and virtually the entire Nordic pantheon. Folklore isn’t only old. Brand-new folk tales featuring La Llorona, the Weeping Woman, and Bloody Mary, the killer in the mirror, emerge daily. Hawaiian volcano goddess Pelé is the subject of modern urban legends and old myths. Poems are full of spirits: again sometimes the allusions are intended literally, sometimes allegorically. Consider Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene or Christina Rossetti’s The Goblin Market or various poems by William Butler Yeats. I’m pulling these out of the air, somewhat randomly, in no particular order: thousands of others, maybe millions, could just as easily substitute. If you have a taste for classical culture, then you may know that the very first official ballet was inspired by the witch-goddess Circe. It was but the first of many. Other dancing spirits include La Sylphide’s winged Scottish Fairies, Swan Lake’s secret swan goddesses, and Giselle’s willies, an alternative name for vila, seductive, sometimes deadly, forest Fairies. (Vila guest star in the Harry Potter novels, too.) Spirits permeate opera: for starters, Undina, Maria Padilla, Ariadne auf Naxos, and Richard Wagner’s entire Ring Cycle. (Speaking of rings, spirits are intrinsic to the plots of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and the Ring series of novels, movies, and manga.) Styles of art, literature, and music may come and go, but the spirits are eternal. They pervade popular music as completely as classical: “Stupid Cupid!” “Cupid, draw back your bow!” “Venus”: a hit song twice, years apart, for Shocking Blue and Bananarama; “Venus in Blue Jeans”; Bob Dylan’s “Isis”; Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle.” Sometimes references are metaphoric but not always. Sarah McLachlan’s touring festival of women’s music celebrated feminine power via its very name, Lilith Fair, honoring Lilith, rebellious demon- goddess and first woman. Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon,” ostensibly a song about a Welsh witch, actually evokes a Welsh goddess. Listeners unfamiliar with African-Diaspora religions understood Desi Arnaz’s trademark “Babalu” to be a fun novelty number rather than a tribute to a potent West African deity. (See Babalu Ayé.) Likewise, the macarena is not just a dance craze but a spiritual tribute, in this case to La Macarena, favorite Madonna of Spanish matadors. Spirits permeate the visual arts so thoroughly that discussion is almost pointless, it’s so overwhelming. Images of spirits surround us. They are everywhere. Cemeteries are filled with images of assorted psychopomps, those spirits who escort human souls to afterlife realms. Garden stores offer stone sphinxes, plaster gnomes, and a vast selection of Aphrodites on the half-shell. Look in store windows and calculate how long until you encounter the ubiquitous image of Maneki Neko, the Japanese beckoning cat, who reputedly attracts customers as if by magic. Mermaids grace the labels of products like wine, tuna fish, and sardines, not to mention Starbucks coffee. Recent trips to the supermarket netted me a bottle of Japanese rice vinegar with a label featuring the smiling face of Okame, goddess of mirth; a jar of Laxmi brand coriander chutney, named in honor of India’s goddess of good fortune; and a bottle of Spanish Rioja wine with a label depicting Ares, that helmeted lord of war. Visit virtually any art museum, except those devoted solely to abstract art, and just try to avoid the spirits. They’re pretty omnipresent in museums devoted to history, too. Look at an Egyptian mummy case: it’s covered with pictures of spirits. Go visit crafts museums, quilting exhibitions, sculpture gardens: odds are, you’ll find some spirit lurking in the works. If the spirits aren’t on display, their images are almost guaranteed to be in the gift store, waiting for someone to take them home. Once upon a time, Western art was entirely “religious”: what that means in plain English was that the only officially acceptable art featured images of Christian religious figures: Madonnas, for example. During the Renaissance, as restrictions loosened and artists were permitted to create work that wasn’t exclusively Christian, they didn’t so much change their subject as broaden it: images of Pagan deities were added to the repertoire. Think Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus or Pieter Pauwel Rubens’ epic painting, The Rape of Europa (the name of that continent honors that goddess). Even centuries later, the subject of spirits never seems to grow stale: it remained a favorite theme of the Salon Painters, Pre-Raphaelites, and Symbolists and remains popular today. Goddess images permeate the work of modern artists like Nancy Spero, Mayumi Oda, and Niki de Saint Phalle. The lwa (spirits of Vodou) dominate Haitian art no less than angels and saints once dominated European art. A large void is created in Tibetan art should one remove all depictions of the divine Tara. Some religions (Islam, Judaism) banish imagery to varying degrees for fear that any image may be construed as sacred and thus venerated. In