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Selections from Personal Essays on Halan Themes

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The Three-Fold Law:


Selections from

Personal Essays on Halan Themes

by Caelia Powell

Table of Contents
I.On CreationII.On the ThirteenIII.On the Goddess' commandmentIV.On the significance of the VeilV.On the manifold and pluriform modes of magicVI.On the nature of DeathVII.On taking life

The Three-Fold Law:
In the beginning there was only Chaos. Then there were the Nine. Chaos is unfettered potential, unfettered energy. This energy was the raw stuff of the Weave. From this potential came the Nine. They were of Chaos, but they had form given to them by the Weave. They had thought, and they were thought, and they became more. Of their names, we have little indication. Even the name of Hala is but one of many names for the Ninth Goddess, and should she have a true name, a divine name, it is hidden from those whose minds could not properly comprehend it.

The Nine became aware that all was static and unchanging; for without was Chaos, and the Gods themselves were ordered, but they were formed whole, and did not grow. So they separated the World from Chaos and gave it order. They etched the patterns of the World upon the Weave, and it took shape. Each of the Nine must have had their own part of the world, but Hala’s was the force that bound all of these parts together, the invisible energy that unites all things, the Weave itself. Just as she held the physical world together, she must have been truly blessed among the Nine, for her gift to Creation was the one without which nothing else would have been possible. In this way, the Goddess is the spark that kindles all life; hers is the womb that engendered all who live and breathe; we are all her children.

The Nine placed Man into the World. Man was formed of Weave and Chaos both. Man could grow, could change, even in ways that the Nine could not foresee. He was something different, something new. The Nine knew that if they remained in the World, Man would simply do as they did, and would stagnate. Man needed to be left to his own devices to develop, to evolve. The Nine believed Man would become something wholly different, would grow to reach potential even of which the Nine could not conceive. So the Nine placed Man into the World and withdrew, and made among themselves an Oath not to interfere but to grant unto Man only distant favors and blessings.

Yet the Nine underestimated the bestial nature of Man. For Man did not strive unerringly towards his own development or his own perfection, but instead used the gifts that the Nine had given him to argue, to bully, to steal, to kill. Mankind was terrible not because his strength eclipsed that of the Gods but because his petty self-interest led him to small-minded cruelty and petty tyranny. Man languished in a half-light of depraved and savage self-destruction. And the Nine despaired of their creation.

Alone among the Nine, the Goddess Hala was unwilling to leave her children to their fate. If the Nine had placed mortal Man in such a predicament, then the Nine must set it right. The Goddess begged the Eight Unwilling to return to the World, or, if not, to release her from the Oath they had made. The Eight refused: the Oath had been made to let Man determine his own fate, and by the Oath they would abide. So it was that the Goddess, lamenting bitterly, declared herself forsworn. From that day onward, Hala would no more be of the Nine, but would enter into the World to grant succor and comfort to her mortal children. Such was her love for her Creation.

The Three-Fold Law:
When the Goddess Hala returned to the World after the departure of the Eight Unwilling, she knew that to simply use her power to intercede openly would rob humans of that characteristic that made them unique in the beginning. She had to find a way to break the stalemate that kept humans bound in the endless cycles of petty violence and suffering: in order for her desire to deliver Mankind from their prison of degradation, she would need to place a finger upon the scales that the Nine had balanced so well--too well. Instead of delivering them herself, therefore, she would grant unto them the power to effect their own deliverance: she would give them the secrets of mastery over the Weave.

The Goddess walked the hills and valleys of the world, and gathered to herself six men and seven women women who, despite their oppression and torture by the darkness of the World, retained yet wisdom, compassion, and a desire to see mankind reach its full potential. To these Thirteen, the first Hallowed, she taught the secrets of the Weave, granting to them the ability to manipulate the raw energy at the foundation of the World itself, giving them power beyond any other spellcaster arcane or divine. These Thirteen went out into the World to fulfull the Goddess' most sacred commandment: oppose suffering at any cost. Some settled down and founded hospices, teaching the people who came to give reverence to the Goddess to access the lesser divine blessings that Hala might grant. Some of the Hallowed joined covens to produce greater works of magic, and many of these married and began families. The bloodlines which sprang from these Witches persist still, and it is from these bloodlines that spring yet Witches of unsurpassed power, many of whom prove to be Hallowed in turn. It is unknown if the bloodlines are required for a Hallowed Witch to be born, as the secretive nature of the faith means that no genealogical records of any substance are kept from generation to generation, except sometimes in the recitations of each Witch's own ancestors.

With Hala's Gift imparted, the Goddess stepped back from the World once more, but not to depart, to watch, to wait, to answer prayers, and to inspire, to take her place among the gods and new goddesses of the World. Those who remained spread out over the lands, founding new Hospices and new covens. In order that the lessons of Hala might be remembered, the leaders of the hospices and covens wrote down Hala's teachings in volumes which came collectively to bear the name the Tales of the Ages. When their students formed new covens or hospices in turn, the leaders of the new hospices copied the texts of their teachers. Because the originals varied tremendously between them, because new information, spells, rites, and rituals were added, and because errors and omissions were made in copying, no two groups have precisely the same text, and thus no two groups are the same in practice. Some wear white robes, some blue; some are veiled, some are not; some consist of only one gender, some are mixed. They all share the same fundamental commandment: seek always to take the path that results in the least suffering. This is the legacy of the Thirteen.

The Three-Fold Law:
The Goddess enjoins us to always take the path that results in the least suffering. From the earliest days of the novitiate, we must repeat it, and write it, and recite it. At first it seems a simple statement, perhaps, and easily espoused, but in practice one both complex and nuanced. Indeed, the fundamental question is one that has divided the followers of the Goddess since the first Thirteen Hallowed split between the hospices and the covens.

The root of the question is this: Is the path that results in the least suffering the path that in and of itself causes the least suffering? If that were true, would it not be simplest simply to not exist at all? We are all obligations on others at some point in our lives, and in being so we cause them hardship that might be prevented entirely were we simply to cease to be. But then again, to live a life in which we relieve others' suffering or, simply by our toil and industry, prevent it, is undoubtedly superior to one in which we simply did not inflict any at all. Therefore, many of the Goddess' followers conclude that the best way to honor the commandment is to ease the suffering of all the individuals who might come to them for help, treating sickness, pain, and grief with magic, herbs, tonic, and wisdom. They combine this with monastic rules which aim to minimize the harm they themselves do to others without the walls of their hospices. The strictest of these, generally those hospices found in Mordent and Falkovnia, cover their entire bodies with woven cloth, symbolically setting aside their individual identity to better focus solely on the commandments and works of the Goddess, and believe it sacrilege to reveal themselves. The subsumation of the self into the Goddess' will helps to resist temptations and failings such as pride, gluttony, or greed, all of which lead to suffering. The principles of this branch of Halan worship can best be summed up as helping all those in need to who come to the hospices to ask for help.

Yet there is another interpretation of the commandment, and one with a radically different praxis. It is all well and good to ease the suffering of individuals, one might argue, but it was given to the Halans to redeem Mankind from the venal and base nature of the World as the Nine created it. To merely treat the symptoms, the thought runs, is to callously prolong the suffering of thousands, if not millions. Therefore there are those among the adherents of the Goddess who seek to bring about the Goddess' vision of a perfected Mankind by taking whatever actions are necessary to reshape the World in the Goddess' image. What machinations they might employ are needfully shrouded in secrecy, but to replace a ruler of unredeemable cruelty, to subtly undermine racial theories of superiority, or to manipulate groups into settling their differences are all tactics that these more activist Halans have employed in the past. That is not to say that they will take up arms in open insurrection--this option is not ruled out, but Halans must always be pragmatic, as they must weigh the suffering that would occur if they died against the suffering that will occur if they take no action. The principles of this branch of Halan worship can best be summed up as weighing all possible actions on a scale and taking the course of action that results in the least suffering, even if that course requires manipulation, secrecy, or violence.

These two views are (obviously) not always compatible. However, there is no easy way to divide Halans between them. Most hospices, undoubtedly, belong to the former school; most covens, undoubtedly, belong to the second. But since the Hallowed exist both in the hospices and in the covens, and some covens play the role of a hospice and some hospices are well-known and politically-connected, the reality is far more confused. It has happened in the past that these differing philosophies have led to open conflict between different Halan groups; most notable are the continued efforts by hospices to suppress or control solitary witches, whom they believe to be a great threat to the local populace with their unfettered power, despite the fact that this power was granted by Hala to her chosen to change the World for the better. These conflicts can and have ended in violence, and Hala has not withdrawn her favor from either winning or losing sides, preventing any easy interpretation or conclusion. The Goddess' commandment, therefore, is one that is anything but simple.

The Three-Fold Law:
Not all Halans who work in hospices are veiled, I understand. In some places, the hospice sisters wear little more than a shawl to identify them, a touch of weaving for the Weave, as Mother Ermintrude used to say. Yet to me the idea of going before the eyes of those who do not see me first as part of the Goddess' power in this world but rather as a woman of flesh and blood is now as alien as it would be to run before them entirely undressed. It was not always this way. Like all novices in the White Hands Hospice, until fifteen I did not wear the veil. Of course, I did not go outside the Hospice by the Mother's commandments, but I was bare-headed even in the sight of those who came to the hospice for healing and comfort. Their eyes seemed strange to me, seeing through me, as though they did not understand the truth of what and who I am. In this way, I feel as though those who see me veiled see a truer version of myself than the face that greets me in the mirror after I bathe.

Some have asked me how I can stand to wear the veil. Others have called it stupid, or foolish. The truth is that I longed for it even before I was instructed to put it on. I yearned so much to be a part of the Goddess' will for Her servants, to surrender myself as Sister Thomasin said we should do. The girl who put on the veil was full of self-doubt and loneliness. The veil made me whole. Together, I and my sisters and brothers are part of something greater, are doing work far beyond what we could ever have done without the Goddess' grace and our fellows' companionship. To live as a normal woman, to form attachments, is to lose the way. It is no secret that the sisters and brothers in the Hospice do not marry unless they first take off the robes, and those are few and far between. To have possessions, to have selfish desires, these deprive others and thus engender suffering. In order to take the path of least harm to those in the world, we must first withdraw ourselves from it.

The Veil is therefore both a symbol and a tool, a symbol for us, personally, in manifesting our commitment to our Goddess and the commandments she has given to us, and a tool in allowing us to exist as Her servants both in our own eyes and in the eyes of those who behold us. And to those who see a veiled sister, knowing that such a person will always give them succor or assistance should they require it, it is a beacon of mercy and compassion in a world inflamed by murderous violence and tyrannical subjugation. And, of course, it means that each Halan who dons the veil sees the world through the Weave. This is the significance of the Veil.

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