“But our handfasting was a valid religious ritual, sacramentally and morally and spiritually real. Which, I say also, and joyfully, Jim took very seriously indeed.”
A “valid religious ritual” that was “sacramentally and morally and spiritually real”?
Are you sure about that, Miss Kennealy?
“Patricia Kennely later changed the spelling of her name to ‘Kennealy’, and retold and elongated her story in her 1993 memoir Strange Days…Kennealy hedged about some of her bizarre claims by writing that she might have hallucinated the whole thing. She also wrote that she was high on marijuana, cocaine, and tranquilizers during the period in question.”
– from Jim Morrison: Life, Death, Legend, by Stephen Davis
“I barely saw Jim hanging out with Patricia Kennealy and if he ever married her in some sort of Wiccan blood ritual, he never spoke a word about it to anyone I ever knew. Jim and Lynn once went to some sort of Ouija board seance thing with Alice Cooper, but they left early because Jim thought it was stupid. For a guy who always mocked astrology and spirituality and transcendental meditation, I can’t imagine him taking a Wiccan wedding even remotely seriously.”
“Patricia made it plain that the ceremony was her idea, staged because of Jim Morrison’s curiosity about Wiccan ritual and practice.”
And, did Jim know that he took this alleged ceremony seriously?
It sounds like Jim Morrison had ceremonies that were about as “sacramentally and morally and spiritually real” with at least two other women that Patricia Kennealy claims to have had with him.
In these cases, however, neither of the female participants ever claimed to be Jim Morrison’s “wife” or his “true love” that Morrison, for some mysterious reason, kept secret from his friends, associates, band mates and not to mention rest of the world, after Morrison was no longer around to speak for himself.
From Nico – The Life and Times of an Icon, by Richard Witts
” Nico wanted Jim Morrison to join her brotherhood, and he obliged. They cut their thumbs in the desert with a knife and let their blood mingle. Such a ritual form of devotion appealed to their shared sense of theater, but Nico wanted even more. She wanted Jim Morrison to share not just her blood, but her son. One night Nico decided they should be married, to test if he was stringing her along, or serious.
As the drunken boor in front of her had offered little more than literary discourse and downright lust, she suggested to him that he might like to propose marriage to her. He laughed himself off his chair. She hit him, they fought, and when they got tired, they made up. That was the routine nature of their alliance, day after day – affection, argument, rancor, resolution.
‘I was in love with him, and that is how love goes, isn’t it? He was the first man I was in love with, because he was affectionate to my looks and my mind. But we took too much drink and too many drugs to make it, that was our difficulty. Everything was open to us, there were no rules. We had a too big an appetite’.
Nico kept two prevailing souvenirs of her liaison with Jim Morrison: his blood in hers, and red hair.
‘He had a fetish for red-haired shanties, you know, Irish shanties. I was so much in love with him that I made my hair red after awhile. I wanted to please his taste. It was silly, wasn’t it? Like a teenager’.
Nico kept her hair tinted red until he died.”
In Jim Morrison: Friends Gathered Together by Jim Morrison’s close friend Frank Lisciandro there are at least two additional stories about Jim Morrison “bonding” with a couple of other women through esoteric rituals by sharing blood and reciting oaths.
On pages 323 and 324 of Friends, Eva Gardonyi shares her story of sharing this type of ritual with Morrison.
pages 323 – 324
Frank Lisciandro: Talk about that episode between you and Jim where you were doing a lot of cocaine and then cutting yourselves….
Eva Gardonyi: It was like we wanted to do like a brother/sister sort of stupidness, okay? We put our blood together and it started dripping and then we would smear it on our naked bodies and then we would start dancing and then f*cking and next morning the house was covered with blood.
Lisciandro: When Jim stayed a month or so at your house, what were his writing habits like?
Eva: That particular night he wrote a poem with blood, I don’t know, my memory just doesn’t serve me right. I don’t know if he tore it up or not. It was about some obscenities and thanking god.”
“Here’s the thing; if I got married but my ‘husband’ didn’t even want to make it legal, then ran off across the country to his longtime girlfriend I wouldn’t think he had taken it seriously either. And I wouldn’t be surprised if people assumed he was lying and didn’t mean it.”