Magical Night

Pagans devote hours to practice

Story by Elizabeth Diehl

(Photo by Greta Rybus)

Mismatched jars containing anything from mugwort to body salts line the shelves of the temple like suits of armor.

The smell of sage, bundled and burned less than an hour earlier, swirls around a space filled with the crescendo of drums, tambourines and bells.

Barely lit by flickering candlelight, the face of Raven Digitalis flashes in and out like old film-reel footage. Murmurs rise to yells, as Digitalis’ coven invokes the banishment of winter. In unison they shout, “Say farewell to all that’s dead, and greet each living thing.”

In a garage corner sectioned off by nut-colored tapestries and decorated with hand-stitched banners, a group called Opus Aima Obscurae practices the “work of the great dark mother.”

To the non-believer, the ritual feels like a child’s game of make believe, evoking memories of a summertime tree fort, magic and bedtime stories.

In some ways, it is without the inflexibilities of more traditional religions. Digitalis tells “Why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes at the beginning of the ceremony.

(Photo by Greta Rybus)

Sitting cross-legged next to her father, 4-year-old Sparrow Ostarah is wearing a T-shirt with a big purple heart on the front and a fluffy ballerina skirt. Her mouth is stained black from homemade candies, her messy mouse brown hair and large eyes make her look like a doll.

Sparrow doesn’t hesitate to interject questions throughout the ceremony and Digitalis is more than willing to answer them. He explains the meaning of the tapestries to her and how they depict earth, water, air and fire.

Despite the light-hearted atmosphere, the coven is committed to its faith and dedicated to one another.

“We train people to be clergy members so they have to have a severe devotion to the community,” says 32-year-old Estha McNevin. “In order to even join our group they have to do community service.”

McNevin is a Montana native, high priestess and elder like her boyfriend Digitalis. They are members and founders of the group, which they started in the summer of 2003 and have since expanded to five full-time members.

(Photo by Greta Rybus)

McNevin stands outside the walls of the temple in the kitchen, and the smell of crackling cooking oil encircles her as she sprays rose water into the bread dough she will later bake and everyone will eat.

On the ceiling, hundreds of tarot cards dangle from individual strings, and two black cats named Fizzgig and Uba roam the house lazily. Propped into the center of a bookshelf, a laptop is loudly playing a Bollywood movie. In the corner, on the kitchen table, silver platters are filled with cashew-orange and sunflower-lavender chocolates wrapped in varying colors of tin foil.

The group is meeting to celebrate Imbolg, the shifting of season and the return of light. To honor the day, they are putting together a large Candlemas feast.

For the celebration, they pull practices from a number of their many beliefs, such as witchcraft and hermeticism, which incorporates alchemy and astronomy. The group also practices Qabalism, an abstract magical branch of Jewish mysticism, and Chaos Magick, an eclectic branch of occultism. According to Digitalis, Chaos Magick is “highly focused on changes in consciousness and a magician’s ability to craft one’s experience to his or her intention.”

(Photo by Greta Rybus)

In addition to the five committed members, four of whom are students at the University of Montana, seven other Missoulians gathered at Digitalis and McNevin’s home to take part in the tradition. Among those in attendance were Sparrow’s mother, Dianne Keast, and her mother’s husband, Bob Ruby II.

The family recently moved here from Seattle. Keast is an acupressure practitioner and Ruby teaches Reiki, a form of energy healing. They attended similar rituals in Washington, and learned about Opus Aima Obscurae shortly after arriving in Montana.

On top of the individual activities of the members, the group makes time to attend Estha’s lectures, commits to at least three hours of community service a week, and participates in weekly temple rituals that often last until six in the morning.

“We kinda do all of this on top of school which is OK sometimes and kinda stressful other times, but it works out,” says Madeline Keller, an art student at UM and priestess in the group, who has known Raven and Estha for six years and has been studying under them for four.

“After your first year, if you decide to take your mark and continue on as clergy, then you write papers and read scripts and do research,” Keller says.

“They are very realistic in their ideas of magic, I have been to a couple pagan rituals where people did things like reference Dungeons and Dragons as spiritual, things like ‘I can levitate,’ and ‘I have feathers growing.’”

(Photo by Greta Rybus)

Next to Keller’s feet sits a large sand-colored wicker basket full of rainbow shades of yarn. A black hat she has just finished crocheting lies flat on top of all of the balls. She is planning to give it to a group that distributes the hats to cancer patients who are just beginning chemotherapy.

“I realized, after I was making it, that maybe I shouldn’t make someone a black chemo cap,” she says with a smile.

Some people hover over the food on the kitchen table waiting for Estha’s word that it is OK to finally dig in, while others play tarot card games on the couch in the living room.

Behind them, the family altar, one of the many types of altars in the home, holds candles and pictures of family members living and dead.

In a large fish tank, nestled between two couches and the hallway, a fancy gold fish swims in circles on its back, through the school of fish fins.

Outside, Missoula is sleeping.