IRONWING - Trance (The Hanged One)

I drew this one today and very appropriate too I might add.

The site says this:

XII - Trance (The Hanged One): Pregnant, she ascends a shaman's tree hung with offerings, and awaits visions. The inward road has vanished, and the path out has yet to appear. One root is wrought iron weathering like wood, the other is wood being replaced with iron ore. In the cave, a poorwill hibernates under a mask made in its likeness - a bird whose evening chant is the shaman's song of power.

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Very much like the Hanged Man in a traditional deck this card seems to be pointing to a waiting period where old ways are dissapearing but the new way is not yet clear. All you can do is wait it out.

One thing I would like to ask though . . .

The book states this: She climbs an iron shaman's tree that is decorated with whit cloth strips, a traditional offering for sacred trees in Siberia and in Britain.

Now that does surprise me. I know that cloth strips are used to adorn and worship sacred trees in Siberia, Mongolia, Buryatia, India, Nepal, Tibet etc etc but I have never heard of that in Britain! Does anyone have any information on this please?

Ok, well I have found some information about the Hawthorn/May tree and of course the maypole with its ribbons etc.

This article: http://www.whitedragon.org.uk/articles/hawthorn.htm

Is very informative and has at least started to answer this question since the card deals with pregnancy and fertility, the waiting etc and the maypole, ribbons etc also deal with fertility and expectation of the coming year.

Looooong post about Sacred Wells

Wells of Wisdom :

All over the world, wells have long been associated with women. Mythologist Joseph Campbell suggests that this link of women's mysteries with water is essentially a connection between the waters of birth and that of the cosmos; the amniotic fluid is precisely comparable to the water that in many mythologies represents the elementary substance of all things. In early Europe, wells represented secret entrances to the body of the Earth Mother, the Underworld, all leading back to the Well of Wyrd. And because the life-force of water came from the Wyrd Sisters it was particularly associated with the mysteries of women. This bond between women and water is common to almost all traditional cultures.
At St Helen's Well, Rudgate, there is a legend that the original spirit of the well used to accept offerings from young girls in the form of pieces of their clothing hung on the nearby tree. This is obviously an early example of the ritual of cloth ripping and hanging as seen on the Sancreed Well. In the legend, the spirit of St Helen's Well, having received the offering, would then reveal to the girl, in a dream, the identity and image of her future husband. The Church rededicated the well to St Helen about eight hundred years ago, so this story refers to a period at least that old.
A similar legend attaches to Pin Well at Brayton, near Selby. A young girl going to the well for the same purpose would be turned into a fairy-sized being by the spirits of the place. In exchange for pins dropped into the well, to be used by the elves for 'elf-shot', the spirits agreed to reveal a vision of the girl's 'true love'. The local clergy exorcised the well and rededicated it as the Well of Our Lady.
Wells of Wisdom 2:
In the spring, the roadside banks and hedgerows in Cornwall are dotted with the delicate-stemmed flowers of the wild violet, yellow stars of celandine, and nodding clusters of early bluebells - colours coaxed from their hiding places by the warm sun in this most southwestern tip of Britain. Down one of these winding country lanes near Penzance lies the ancient site of Sancreed Well. Many wells like this one have survived from the time of Middle-earth. A survey conducted in the 1950s identified over twelve hundred in Wales alone.
The path to the well runs from the lane and past an old church, which was probably built in the vicinity of the well, like many churches in those times, to discourage people from seeking spirits at enchanted spots of the landscape in favour of worshipping at the altars of the new religion of Christianity. The path past the church is well trodden, worn hard over the centuries by people who have continued to come here to visit the waters.
Throughout the thousand years of Middle-earth, people came to these wells and sat in their presence in silence, or danced, sang, lefr offerings and dipped ritual objects into the waters. They used the wells as a way of connecting with the powers of the spirit world.
The first glimpse of the Sancreed Well is not of the well itself but the thorn trees which stand next to it. When I visited one May, their branches were heavy with white blossom, like aromatic snow. And hanging from the branches were scores of coloured ribbons, rags, pieces of material, tied and knotted into place by streams of visitors over the previous months, or even years. Small banners spun in the wind, longer ones draped over the branches and rocked back and forth, a few tied low down dragged onto the ground. Some were quite new and still brightly coloured; most were faded with exposure to the weather, a few very tattered and breaking up with age. The effect is stunning and even eerie. Even now, a thousand years and more since the e~d of the time of Middle-earth, these tokens carried with them the human need for connection with greater forces, for help, for blessing. Other wells across the country are simil~rly festooned; the spirit trees are often thorns, but also old 'blasted oaks', beech trees and others.
The entrance to the Sancreed Well is a low stone archway, cut into a large mound formed of earth covered with turf. The interior of the entrance glows with soft sunlight slanting through the arch. Inside, stone steps descend steeply into darkness. Stepping carefully down the worn steps, I saw that the interior of the well was lined with stones reaching to a ceiling above. The walls glistened with beads of moisture, and at the bottom of the steps the water sat still and clear as crystal, as it had for centuries.
As I reached the bottom step, the outside world seemed to disappear, and I was cocooned in a timeless space. It was so quiet in the well, so peaceful, so conducive to the floating of images in the mind, to plumbing the depths of one's fears and wishes. I felt protected in the. well's cool, sparkling, softly-lit embrace. I crouched by the water, and gazed into its depths.
Not only the Celts, but also the later Anglo-Saxons used wells for connecting with the Otherworld. Even where the wells are no longer visible, surviving place-names mark their original presence. The village of Fritwell lies a few miles north of Oxford in the Cherwell Valley, alongside the M40 motorway. In the time of Middle-earth, it was a site of divination. The Anglo-Saxon word 'ftiht' and its derivative words referred to diviners - people who foresaw the future by consulting the oracles or supernatural powers, whereas 'wella' is a wellspring. And so Fritwell denotes a place where divination took place at a spring. These divinatory wells were anathema to the Christian church. The eleventh century Laws of the Northumbrian Priests assert that 'If a sanctuary be on someone's land around a stone or tree or well or any superstition of that kind then let him who made it pay "law-slight", half to Christ, half to the landowner.' The place-name 'ftihtwella' must have been in use before such practices were outlawed.

From The Real Middle Earth: Magic and Mystery in the "dark ages'

I first thought (before reading the not-so-LWB) that the white clothes in the tree are icicles and the night rain is drops of sweat/heat. And it instantly made me think of my hot flashes And yes, menopauseis also a Vision Quest and an Initiation! So I am glad I looked at the card itself first before reading the LWB.

I find it a bit difficult to see the bird from the mask in this picture? There are two sets of big eyes, so which ones belong to the poorwill and where is the shaman´s mask that it wears?

Trance (The Hanged One)

This is a card that is always easy to interpret in a reading because it is loud, but it is not so easy to work with as the subject of a card study, because it is a fascinating mixture of images that provide many wildly different avenues of thought.

The woman stands in an iron tree and we are told it is decorated with strips of white cloth. I see bushes and trees with strips of cloth tied to them in my area. They are usually fairly close to the road and to me it is one more indication that the old ways still persist. My husband spent many years living on the Black Isle in the Highlands of Scotland. There is a tree there, near the Clootie Well, that folk come to visit. It’s a wish tree and they tie strips of rag or add other decorations. My husband worked with one man who would stop the car every time they went past the tree, as to just drive past it would be a dishonour to the tree. I find that deeply heartening. (image attached)

I never read Lorena’s page on this book before doing this study and I always saw the white strips of cloth in this card as bells. I guess in future I’ll have two options. As bells they work extremely well – different voices clamouring for the attention of the woman in the Tree (you, me?). Each bell could be a different claim on her time and attention but when a few or all ring at the same time – how can there be room in life for Spirit too? I found this out the hard way for three weeks lately when my work was so pressing and insistent that it over-rode all other considerations.

I ended those weeks with a cluttered and very unquiet mind. I was worrying and stressing about small things throughout – little bells kept ringing in my mind and totally distracted me from the task in hand. It was good when the project was done – I had achieved our aim and given myself a salutary lesson in the process. Now I know that when things become pressing and threaten to take over my life (for however brief a period) it is more essential than ever that I take time out for Spirit. That sounds daft – like I am making an appointment – “Oh look – it’s 3.00 pm – time to be spiritual” but it’s more like finding time to focus entirely on something connected to my spiritual life, and thus enhancing it and helping my future growth. If I let the day to day tasks of life overwhelm me, the neglect of my spiritual self is obvious almost immediately.

So – back to the image. Here is Trance (me/you/whoever) in the Tree. The star in her tummy indicates that she is pregnant. This does not means a physical pregnancy because otherwise an awful lot of us would find no meaning here. No, she is pregnant with – take your pick – hope, an idea, a project, love, anything that fills her with anticipation and that she needs to wait and grow for, so that eventually some sort of fruit is born.

Aside – Billie Holliday singing “Strange Fruit” as the lynched men swung in the breeze. Hanging from trees. And I think of hanged men taking the place of the strips of cloth – or bells – and following that line of thought I start to burn with the injustices done – being done – to be done. Because many trees bear the strange fruit of the song, and the tears fall from the sky at what it is forced to witness.

We are told the tree itself is made of iron. Iron has such a distinctive smell. Standing in the cleft of the tree like that her whole world at the moment is iron, the feel of it, the smell of it, its strength supporting her. And so I took time to think about iron. How we get it, how we use it – but most of all the fact that it comprises 70% of this world’s core. And for some reason I find that really amazing. And then I think “How odd that she shares it with us so freely, when it’s her actual heart”. When I bleed I smell the iron in my blood – even there she shares herself with me. Smelling the heart of the Mother. Must be absolutely overwhelming when you burrow deep into her warm and secret places.

I remember when I was a nurse and was hanging up a plastic blood bag to replace a drained bag for one patient. I was in a white uniform apron and it was visiting time. In those days we had long wards with beds side by side. I drew the curtains and went into the patient’s cubicle and started to hang up the bag. It burst. I was drenched in blood and had to walk the length of the ward soaked in blood to go and get a bucket etc. to clean up. Those poor visitors! The horror on their faces”. What I chiefly remember though is the smell and the rich redness of it.

Back on track lol. The woman stands in the cleft of the Tree, pregnant with something. I am happy she is naked. How could you stand so close to the Mother and be in any way hidden or hiding? And the nakedness is symbolic of that total exposure.

The bottom of the Tree shows two paths leading to different areas of the Lower World. At first glance I just see them as two labyrinths. Look again and the differences between them are glaringly obvious. The difference means that she stands in the Tree with choices either side of her. The labyrinths are such good features – in readings they can be so very many things. The outward similarity – but fundamental difference – is illustrative of so much. I tend to think mainly of people because to me the labyrinths resemble brains, and the similar-but-different thing really works with people as the subject.

I enjoy the word “labyrinthine” – long and tortuous, like the paths themselves . We are told little about the actual labyrinths which I think is good because it leaves me free to roam around the word in my mind and find what I see/feel when I come across the images. I found an absolutely fantastic link for labyrinths. click me. A small part of the page linked to says, and I quote “ As a unicursal (one way in, one way out) a labyrinth is teaching and showing centredness. This differentiates it from a maze which has many paths and deadends leading to confusion. Like life and destiny a labyrinth may be a long journey but it has a specific beginning and a definite end. Like mandalas, a labyrinth offers a holistic route (meandering radius) from the periphery to the center. A labyrinth imprints a “royal groove” – a ceremonial pathway designed according to principles such as Harmonic Proportion and Alternance of Energy. For instance the clockwise (sun) and anticlockwise (moon) spins of the meanders (winding paths) map out a balance between the left and right hemispheres of the brain”.

Do follow the link and read the page it points to – it’s absolutely fascinating. I never knew that the seven circuits of the classical Cretan labyrinth correspond with the chakras, and make musical patterns! This gives such added depth to the card!

Amongst other things we are told in the linked article that prehistoric labyrinths would have served as paths for ritual dances, and/or traps for unwelcome spirit visitors. Labyrinths have been constructed worldwide – from Java, native North and South America, Australia, India and Nepal. I particularly appreciated learning the difference in meaning of maze and labyrinth, which were to me of very similar meaning. Now I understand the vast difference between them. So vast as to mean they are opposites!

Thinking of the Classical Cretan Labyrinth somewhat naturally I think of Theseus and the Minotaur (click me for the myth). We are told that the Minotaur was half bull, half man and was the son of the wife of King Minos of Crete). We are further told that he was a crazed, enraged being and ate the flesh of young people who were sacrificed to appease him. (Odd how it’s always the young and/or helpless who are the sacrificial victims in cases like these).

I actually feel quite sorry for the Minotaur – kept prisoner within the dark labyrinth which he isn’t quite bright enough to escape from. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. I once tried spending a day in my bathroom (I know that sounds odd). No radio, laptop, TV, phones or books, blinds drawn, and as little sensory input as possible. After a while spent meditating, a bit of time just drifting and a nap – it gets bloody boring. Poor Minotaur. Poor young men and women – sacrificed to appease another victim. And from there I went to modern victims of circumstances beyond their control. Are they victims? Or evil bastards when they act out their rage against the society that somehow eludes and/or revolts them? I offer no answers here – just questions to think about. Is it OK to feel sorry for the Minotaur in his desperate anger – but not OK to feel sorry for the serial killer who is a modern minotaur? Theseus killed the minotaur and was hailed a hero. He killed a being too dim to be able to escape his own prison – was it really heroic? Questions …… no answers.

The Tree itself – the roots extend in two directions forming a shape that looks like a 60’s hairdo One side is all gnarled wood. The other is striated and we are told that this effect is caused by the reaction of the soil and wood together over time. Gradually they change form – the wood is slowly changed and the soil enriched in the process. Given enough time and enough wood, we get the fuels that have for centuries powered our own development. This illustrates, once again (and very neatly) our dependence on the living beings around us. Even their death and decay is necessary to our survival. Lorena says the striations in the wood eventually become almost metallic in appearance. That’s really interesting. I love that the oldest trees join (even if just in appearance) with the iron that is at the heart of the earth.

The bird in the little underground cave is new to me. Apparently it is a Poor-Will and it is the only bird known to hibernate! They don’t live in my country at all which I am hoping excuses my dreadful ignorance. They apparently doze through the worst of the winter in holes or cracks. What really strikes me as odd is the fact they do so upside down. And here, given the card I am studying I think immediately of the Hanged One. Upside down, and dormant for a period. Who knows what goes on in the Poor-Will’s tiny brain during that period? A trance like time. I think of my own meditations – to all the world I am in a trance like state. It isn’t actual trance but it comes fairly close at times (I don’t hang upside down though lol). And it is at these times that my brain does its best work. Not necessarily its most productive from an outside point of view, but from mine it is the richest of fishing-grounds where I find the ideas that help me grow.

The Poor-Will is a special bird – the Hopi call it “the Sleeping One” in recognition of its unique habit. It is tiny, and its small size serves as one more reminder that lessons can come from the humblest of sources. In this case the bird’s face is used as the image for a shamanic mask, showing that the qualities of this special bird are such that they deserve exploration and celebration.

Trance (The Hanged One) has always for me talked about self sacrifice. Or the sacrifice of self. Two different things? Consider self sacrifice – where one lives a life for others, attending to their needs and wants before one’s own whereas sacrifice of self implies a deliberate breaking down of the ego – a necessary part of the journey of spiritual growth. But the two are not necessarily the same at all. For instance the daughter who sacrifices her life to her parents’ needs might be a towering mass of spiritual pride because of her consciousness of that sacrifice. And the successful businessman could be the humblest of people. Which – for me – is the most desirable? I think the latter.

One thing we learned a lot about during one phase of my life was spiritual pride. It is insidious, and never ever stops trying to flourish. I defy anyone bar the humblest (and therefore greatest) of people to say they are without it. And of course such truly humble ones would assume they wore the stain anyway….. We used to carry out an exercise regularly, designed to see where pride-in-self was flourishing within us. Oddly it can be very humbling to realize how full of self pride on actually is… And if I trace my finest achievements to their roots, did I really do it alone? Every step of the way right from the word go – with no help, support or encouragement at all – not even the Goddess?

I have a favourite card in the Solleone deck. In it I gasp at the sacrifice this Hanged Man is about to make. Not some time out of his life, not his money or his work. He’s about to sacrifice his whole life. But now I look at Ironwing’s Trance and I think about self sacrifice, and sacrifice of self. Of course the two can be combined. I think of the parents automatically going without so their children can have. (Although some parents never ever stop reminding their poor kids about it …).. I think of the adult going to work day in, day out for years to a job she really doesn’t like, but there is a need for food on the table and a roof over the head.

Then – there is the shaman in this card – whose sacrifice is of her “self” as well as her time, her effort and her heart. Without gradually chipping away at that ego she can’t grow and become the shaman that she is called on to develop into. This is an enormous sacrifice that very few would care to try and make whereas I know that most of us would lay down our lives in a heartbeat for a loved one….



The linkages, paths and correspondence sin this card give it enormous potential. It covers shedloads of ground and is amazing..