Where Waters Gather

Tine-maps


This week Trace asked me to write about Tine-Maps, which are a subject that I’ve talked about a bit before but never given much details.

There’s a few ways I could describe Tine-Maps. They originated from me wondering what a sigil would look like, made out of the Antler-Tines symbols. But when I think about the way I do them now, I think they way I’d be most inclined to describe them is as devotional art, or even a prayer made with images.

My approach to making sigils is a bit different from others I’ve seen. The first sigil method that really clicked with me was from the book Sigil Witchery by Laura Tempest Zakroff. Unlike many other approaches to sigilization that focus on obscuring or detaching from the meaning of the sigil, Zakroff’s approach involved coming up with a set of personal expressive symbols that could easily be combined, like a heart for love, a moon for change, a star for magic, and then combining and embellishing them in artistic and magical ways to express a larger meaning or intent. I really recommend the book highly, it’s put together as a workbook, with spaces for your own explorations. It’s one of the few magic books I’ve used where I really did do almost all the exercises!

In a sense, I think reading Sigil Witchery laid some of the groundwork for me making the Antler-Tines in the first place; it got me thinking about simple iconic descriptions of concepts. So when I had my set of 27 symbols, and with my experience with rune and ogham magic that involved inscribing them in combined and artful ways, it only made sense that I would do the same with my own symbols. A lot of the artwork for the Prism Codex uses the Antler-Tine symbols in subtle or overt ways, to reinforce the meaning of the myth or essay that follows them. But those aren’t exactly Tine-Maps either.

The first Tine-Map came together when I had a powerful need for a positive change in my household, something that I knew the Sculptor-of-Pieces could help with, and I wanted to find a tangible way to express that desire. A sigil felt right, but I also wanted to include the Sculptor-of-Pieces themself, so when I did it, I started first with their symbol as a framework, rather than any of the Antler-Tines. From there, it only made sense to add the smaller Antler-Tine symbols in and around and among the larger deity symbol, in a way that expressed what I wanted to express. The focus of my work was on the anvil, the action I wanted to put toward it was inside the hammer, other contextual influences were arrayed around it.

An image in gold ink on a black background. The symbol of the Sculptor-of-Pieces (a stylized hammer and anvil made of interlocking shapes) is decorated with four smaller Antler-Tine symbols, representing Fracture, Anvil, Clouds, Land, Family, and City.

It came together smoothly and quickly, and when it was done it immediately went up above my doorway, in a place where it could do its work and I could see it regularly. Every time I notice it, I feel that connection to the Sculptor-of-Pieces and to that intent, and it has worked fabulously in promoting exactly the good household connections that I hoped it would.

So, after 500 words, that’s what a Tine-Map is. It’s a combination of Wanderers symbols and Antler-Tines, meant to express a particular goal or feeling, a visual connection to both deity and magic. I have done a few since then, and the process always feels meditative and affirming, and I’m always happy with the results, both visually and spiritually.

If you’d like to make a Tine-Map yourself, there are no set rules, but there are some tips. Think who you want to talk to; mine have been with the Wanderers but I suspect the same process would work with other entities too. Find a symbolic representation of them that’s easy to draw, and then do it. Give some thought to the parts of the symbol or image, what they might mean, and then think about the other symbols you want to add to it. I gave some specific examples of what the different parts of the Sculptor symbol mean, above, but I don’t think of those as rigid; they were just what made sense at the time. When I’ve done other ones, the ‘zones’ have changed a lot. Likewise, there aren’t set Antler-Tine meanings to use; all of the tines have many layers of meaning, and I find work like this to be exactly the sort of situation where one might discover a new one.

An image in blue ink on a black background. The antler symbols for the Dancer-Between and Singer-in-Silence are both sideways, framing the Antler-Tine symbol for Dance.

If you do make a Tine-Map, or something similar, I would love to hear about it. This is a really rewarding practice for me, and I hope it can be so for others too!