The Slavs are coming and boy are they pissed.

There are no altars this year. I've torn them all down and replaced them with poison plants. There is a Christmas tree and other acceptable holiday decorations. Yule is not here.

I find it amazing and I am beyond anger that I am expected by my in laws to respect their religious beliefs and family values while they regard both me and my beliefs as evil. It's been 13 years, I think I am done. I am heartsick that after all this time my husband can not help me find a solution. His solution has always been ignore it, it will blow over and they will see what a great person you are. Well, I am into 13 years of: oh it will get better. It's not better. And I realize that I have been relegated to the corner as the family member that is openly ignored because she is not like us, but make sure to wish her a Merry Christmas anyway. Now, I am angry and inconsolable. I am angry at myself for believing in my husband's optimism.

I started not showing up to holidays and family events, but I fear I have given them just what they want. My absence. They get to look at their shiny grandchildren and forget the evil one who bore them. Every Yule for 13 years, I have been given pain without the courtesy of a pretty box or ribbon I can later reuse. My husband expects me to not only be okay with that, but to behave and then when it comes up he asks: are we gonna go here again??? He says that because he doesn't know what to do, so doing nothing is his answer. I think he actually got miffed at me when I demanded the kids stay home with me this year while he goes to his parent's house. I would actually like to spend the holiday with my children this year instead of my friends' kids. It would be nice if he would stay home with me, but his mother's umbilical cord is still attached. Actually, of late, everyone else's opinion weighs more than mine.

Well, if he's not miffed at me for requesting the presence of my children in my little pagan evils, he will be now for publicly broadcasting that there hardships in marriage where two religions are observed. Hex, he may be angry at me for hinting that marriage is hard period. Actually, there is a part of me that thinks he is just waiting for the socially acceptable moment to divorce me ( kids all grown and or he makes it big and can afford a nanny.) It makes me feel used, that thought, like our marriage is a sham. There is a part of me that wants to say he has a LOT of sucking up to do, but that would just involve meaningless trinkets and other BS. I don't want material crap. I want my husband's heart, his respect, admiration even. I want to feel like I actually matter rather than a convenience who knows where all the milk sales are and can spell well. I want to know that he actually understands the meaning of the words coming out of my mouth. I want to know that he sees me. I thought that was all stuff I earned when he  asked me to marry him.

We had a really large blow up a few weeks ago.  Actually, I think I did. It's the same argument, but more heat, another year's layer of pain being anticipated. I packed bags, emptied bags, repacked bags, threw bags. I took our wedding rings and threw them into the dark abyss of the deep sea trunk I inherited from my Grandmother. Good luck finding them. This was the same day I tore down all of my altars and packed everything away. My position was: FINE! I will never inconvenience you with my religion again. I miss my altars, but I am too stubborn and angry to put them back up right now. When I made commentary about putting them back up, he made the comment that he never told me to take them down. It came out in a self righteous tone that made me want to go find a punching bag. I hope that's not what he meant; it only fueled more anger that he either thinks has evaporated or he is ignoring because he doesn't know what to do.

I am going to have my Feri Feast, drink my sugarplum faery vodka and make glogg. I will do this all without my husband or his blessings. I am going to listen to those who have walked before me and figure out what I am going to do. Doing nothing is not an option. I have been 13 years of waiting for a solution or maybe just a scrap of hope. Most of all, I will be teaching my daughter that THIS SHIT IS PURELY UNACCEPTABLE and never marry a man who tries to hand you his heart while it's still ruled by his mother.

This post is not about pissing my husband off, although I know it probably will. It's not even about venting. It's more of a cautionary tale about what happens when you combine religions and marriage. It's hard all by itself to blend lives together in a functioning unit. It's harder when there is no emotional support or even acknowledgment that something is wrong. While I know my husband loves me and I know that I love him, this hurdle is hard to get around and I suppose every marriage has at least one very large boulder on the path. This one is ours. . . or maybe just mine.

I hope that your Yule is happy and bright and looks nothing like mine. This has been your cautionary tale. Pass it around and do not repeat.

Blessings.

Dear Everyone on planet Earth

Violence will be done whether it be knife, rope, rock, or gun. It's not anything that can be legislated against in names of tools. It can't be prevented without looking at the make up of the fabric of each thread within a community. If I who has had visions about these things and can not do anything to prevent them because I have no real time info such as place and time, what the HEX makes you think YOU CAN! Legislation means nothing. Control is an illusion!

You know what works?????

Compassion, attentiveness, mercy, and love.

You are the difference, the power, and change.


Make it good.


End of rant.

Ripples

We, my husband and I,  put our children on school buses this morning with a smiling facade, especially for our kindergartener who knows nothing of what evil has transpired. We plan on keeping it that way for as long as we can get away with it. I suppose, fortunately for me, that I have already established a certain quirk in the morning as I am waving good bye to a bus full of children. If I had not already started, this incident would have sparked the practice. As the bus is pulling away with all our precious ones settled aboard, I draw a pentacle over it and whisper to the Gods for the blessings of protection from all harm. I been given looks that vary from quizzical to mockery for my actions. These things do not concern me and are more a reflection of other individuals rather than that of myself. This morning I added a request: that this blessing includes healing and that all who come in contact with those on this bus also receive this blessing. Stones in the pond causing ripples is the effect I am looking for.

There was a list of names that floated by me. It was hard looking at the numerals behind the names and I felt infinitely grateful that my children's names were not on that list. I keep thinking of someone I know whose job it is to be the school police officer for 6 six schools and how she would have felt if this happened at one of her schools, on her watch. I have a feeling her city will be finding more officers to help her out in the wake of this.

And in the wake of this, we are having dialogues about gun control, mental illness management, and why????? We as a nation *yes, this includes you, lawmakers* emphasize and enact the words sensible, compassionate, and practical as we create new foundations for things like addressing the legislation of weapons and mental health management. I think the most important thing we all need to remember is this: if someone is seeking to do violence, they will find the method and means to carry it out. The children in China, who were attacked around the same time as our children, were assaulted with a knife not a gun. We need to move deliberately, thoughtfully, and effectively. We need to make sure not to have a knee jerk reaction that will set the pendulum swinging wildly.

Right now, all I can think of doing that is practical is to send reiki; a whole blanket of it to cover and comfort everyone. I also am in the process of making little protection/ comfort pocket charms for the little ones immediately around me. I have not decided whether they will be the stars or mushrooms from Mario Bros. but either way, they will be stuffed with the leaf and blossoms of lavender * harvested on a Wed. in the hour of Mercury. Am I going too far here???*

Newtown, may all your roads lead to healing and hope. I am heartbroken and heartsick for your loss. I hope that, should you decided to open up Sandy Hook again,  you call in a Holy Person or dozen to bless her. One of the things I have learned about buildings is that they develop a personality and have hearts. Sandy Hook is surely shattered and grieving. Holes have been punched into her on many different planes.

Be healed.
Be blessed.
Be well.

The Chariot lesson

www.alexanthorn.com

Things turn slower in house neighborhoods as opposed to apartment neighborhoods. The frenzied activity of life is concentrated into a smaller place with more people spinning the wheel. I think I did okay as an apartment dwelling witch. I managed to keep the muck and mire of it all of that mostly at bay and made some really great friends of trees from head to stern of the Valley. I can feel the layers of adjustment peel away in finer and finer layers, but extended apartment living leaves it's mark. It gets so quiet around here that when I feed Bruiser * the hearth's beta fish*, I can hear him chew. Yes, I said that: I can hear my fish chew his food. That is an experience I probably would have never had in the apartments.

Everything about this last part of the year has been about trying to get me to slow down, and I have had no success with my compulsion to get up and go do something, anything, right now. In this failure of mine, I have manifested cold after cold after allergy attack and whatever else was floating around at the cootie factory we call schools and THEN some. I think I got this way because I kept drawing the Chariot. Every time I saw the Chariot show up. I felt as though I wasn't doing enough, or well enough in one area. Somehow I kept feeling as though I were being reminded that I was insufficient in some mysterious manner and had to prove my worth to the Universe.

I think I read that wrong. The thing that caught my attention was a recent experience I had at a friends house. She had mentioned that something had been missing. I had my pendulum on me asked if we could use this as practice fodder. She agreed and we proceeded to ask a bunch of yes-no questions. We managed to find what it was we were looking for in short order, actually. The trigger for my realization came when we hit a bit of a snag in our spirit conversation. As it turned out, our perspectives were not quite in synch. His idea of a back closet was different than ours.

Communication is difficult. It's amazing we succeed at it at all.

So back to the Chariot. The message wasn't: you're a mess, take charge. The message was: you are choking up the reigns.

Oops.


***In other news: my phone has decided that it no longer likes twitter or most social media apps so all things with my twitter will have to be done from Dinoputer. Really, I'm not ignoring you. With Tumblr and Twitter not working for me, I am not able to post pics from my phone, which sort of chaps my hide. Until I get this slowly sorted out, I will have to rely on the wealth of imagery provided already on the web. I will do my best to properly credit what I borrow. I will still be checking in and answering emails and generally raising Caine.

Burn fornicators of mothers, burn!!!!!

@ShakespeareSong ( thank you for this gem!) :

The ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling is ablaze. We require no water, allow the fornicator of mothers to burn. 

NO relationship is a perfect one and my relationship with my husband is no exception to that rule. We had a fight, it's the same fight as usual only every time we have it, the heat gets cranked up. I am honestly hoping that time will prove that this last incursion yields positive results and understanding. Admittedly the whole thing was ugly, messy, and brutal. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, but there was work that HAD to get done.

I cannot allow the energy and stink of the fight to linger in my home. You got it SMUDGE!!!! I pulled out the last of my mugwort smudge and lit it. I passed it over myself and could feel a tingle run through my crown charka and trickle down my spine clearing everything as it went. I started at the hearth of the home and moved around the house in a widdershins manner once I was clear.

The thing that caught my attention was how hot the smudge started burning as I approached the places in the house where the heavy arguing took place. I have seen smudges burn like gangbusters before, however not quite in this manner. I thought my smudge was not only going to combust into full living flames, I thought it might pop and explode everywhere. I'm not surprised, just fascinated.

There was so much smoke being released into my home I thought for sure the smoke alarm was going to protest. Not a beep from the incense zealot was heard! (more surprise) The end result was a decision to let the smudge just burn. . . ALL OF IT. I'm feeling better, the house is feeling better. As it turns out, I think the house itself does not like it when my husband and I fight about as much as the kids don't. I could hear it's protests deep into the dark hours of the morning as I tossed on the couch. It creaked and groaned miserably. I have had a while to listen to my house in the night when all is silent and usually things are not nearly as noisy with house sounds like they are after an argument. Last night, the house was much more vocal than usual and I took it as a sign that She will require some TLC the Kekri season while I clean her up. I have yet to decide/ divine what exactly that is but I am open to suggestions I guess.

I don't have Mugwort growing in my garden, however I have wormwood, not quite the same but it will yield the results I really need: healing and protection. I harvested some that was overgrowing ( a hair cut was needed anyway) and wrapped them up to be hung and dried for later use. It will be interesting to feel the energy variant as the new smudges are used, but that's another day's musing. I just know after last night's verbal incursion with hubby, that I cannot be left with out an artemisa smudge and the current one simply had to burn, baby, burn!

Still breathing

reminds me of what I see when opening the gates

I breathe in; I know breathing in. . .

I breath out; I know breathing out.

These are the words I feel my mind reaching for most this Samhain season. It's been a parade of Spirits and Otherworldly beings traipsing through my home and life since the end of September. It has also been a very busy part for me as well. I started my Solstice Vodkas, filled the bottles to fit the vision I had, made a trip to the graveyard, threaded my way through ancestral traditions in as many layers as possible via baking, reading, dreaming, sewing, ritual, and ancestor contact ( a process I am still rolling in at this point.)

Most interesting dreams and meditations have offered up tangible evidence of their source. I think my lack of faith in humanity has peeked out because the gods and my spirit connections are all like see??? No really, we're more solid than you think. All of these goings on's were even reflected in June when I threw the cards for my solar year reading. I never anticipated the hey it's gonna be ugly in 6 months, but things will lead to better places for you the next 6 as something that would be as jagged as I have been feeling of late. As a reader, I sort of pull away for that aspect and try to prepare the witchery for myself to help navigate what must unfold. There were some witcheries that I planned out ahead of time that actually helped me out and there were a couple of things for which I was caught completely off guard. There's a part of me that thinks well. . . what did you expect??? Then there is another voice that keeps reminding me that not all can and should be seen in foresight. Try to handle it with grace and move forward. Not sure I have managed either of those things very well. Working on it. . . uh. . . I'll get back to you on that.


P.S. Mercury, please allow me to start posting my pics online. . . we've danced until we're dizzy already, time to go back to work now.

Thanks!
 

Sharks are the keepers of secret ocean passages

My Oath Mother sort of made me look at my personal processes closely a few weeks ago while she was visiting. She commented on how swiftly I was physically healing, but emotionally I was a roiling cauldron and it was time to pop off the lid. Those weren't her words, but it was the idea conveyed as she spoke. I realized that what she was saying is that I was not handling my near veil encounter the way we mostly hear about in the stories that get back to us. We hear about how some feel entirely different and jump at life with a new vigor. We hear about the visions and the internal knowing beginning to occur for the first time, we hear about all sort of life altering things. There were things within myself that  I had thought put to rest. They landed on me and curled around like dragons. It was more fascinating than frightening, yes there was fear involved. At first they decided I looked like something mildly interesting to chew upon, something changed their mind and they lay down to rest. I don't know what that was and I am scrambling around inside trying to understand what that something was. I feel frustrated like when I woke after that experience and couldn't remember what that second tool was. I am still unclear medically and spiritually as to what exactly has happened to and within me, but I still remember the look on all my spirit connections faces. I think I looked surprised as well.

I want to dream of riding reindeer some more. . .

I think at this point is it better to just let what must unfold, unfold and in the mean time, dive into the season and all the chore whoring I can take without Old Woman Winter sending me more cooties.  Hopefully the Grinch took last year's Grinch Hunt seriously and sticks with the Christmas crowd. The Sugar Plum Faery Vodka is finished and being blessed, the yeast beast is sitting in my refrigerator and sourdough delicious, graveyard dirt obtained with blessings, and the chore whoring for the season has begun. . . next up scrubbing walls! This Year the Thracians are coming to the Yule Faery Feast and the Celts are looking in much in the same manner I felt my Thracian ancestors do last year.  What is this that's waking up and kicking the sleep from my eyes?

Dear Georgi Mishev. . .

Georgi, it really isn't fair how swiftly your book gets consumed! Okay, sure I am feeling a bit like a dirt nap happened and have been reduced to altering my state of being with heavy drugs such as Robitussin and Nyquil, but really??? About three hundred pages were turned by my heavy and overworked mom eyeballs! I know I read several of those pages twice because I passed out with my book dropped over my chest and the rest of me falling off the couch it seems. The book was, thankfully, safe from any falling harm. Okay, I have to admit to one bibliophile sin: I spilled a couple of drops of hot water with honey and lemon on the part where you are discussing drawing down the moon. I know, horrors!

There were many things about this book that struck personal cords for me. On a very basic human level it revealed that there could be good reason for me to love the taste of basil and sourdough bread. It's much like the ham for Christmas thing from my Grandfather's side of the family. I can see that I am going to have to learn how to make sourdough bread. I can feel parts of my personal practice already shifting a little to make room for personal ancestry. I was always told that this would happen, but I think that I was very discouraged by the fact that much of my family's history is lost to war, hate, and ruin.

Your descriptions of Hecate in certain places confirm some dreams that I have had of Her. Many people see Hecate as the old Crone woman. I have seen her holding and caring for young ones, I have seen her running through the woods with very large wolf like hounds at her heels, I have seen her guarding the gates and guarding the hearth fire and none of these things could I explain and pin point as real images of Hecate until I started digging into where Her stories began: in my Grandmother's childhood home. Seeing your drawings of Her echo some of those dreams.

Obviously there are things that tradition is going to have to ignore, damn me or not. There is no Grandmother who can pass the knowledge of healing and magic that I have long worked to uncover to my daughter, so I am going to have to step up seeing as how she is interested in learning and I am seeing things 'catch.' I can see the wisdom of allowing a 'clean elderly woman' who has seen much of life do the training. However, that luxury has been denied, so I am making my own rules to a certain extent. That one has to go out the window. Sorry tradition.

I think I disagree with the ancients when they are talking about doing certain magics naked for them to be effective. I have done ritual dressed in every day clothing, ritual clothing and sans clothing. They were all effective. Stepping away from the social normal is a mindset for me, not a state of dress. Yes, the lack of clothes in beautiful weather can help establish this mindset, but it is not the end all be all. Besides, there is no way I am going outside next full moon with no clothes on to draw down the moon! And I AM going outside next full moon to draw down the moon.

I appreciated the discussion you had in the book about those of the faerie realm. I found it interesting that red threads were used heavily in this sort of magic as well. I had been using red threads, and fabrics, and yarns on an intuitive level and based upon what I have seen in my visitations to faerie. It is nice to see it in black and white so to speak. I am also getting the impression that I may have spoiled my wee folk with something a might more boozey than wine. * whistles and walks away*

I may have read and finished this book in a hazy stupor of cold medication, but I know this book is not done with me by two vital pieces of information. I still have not put it down. I find myself going back to places of intrigue to me. The songs, the spells, the rites all dance around in my minds eye like I may have witnessed this somewhere in my soul's memory. The other piece of information is that at about four in the morning, while the morning was still dark, I found myself being handed a feather broom and another tool I cannot remember. I didn't see the person handing them to me. It was very real much like a member of my family had come into the room to see how I was only all of those people were asleep and then I found myself awake and moving about. I jumped as I realized I had been given these objects and didn't want to crush them clumsily. Of course the objects were absent. All of this happened in the spaces in between.

Sorry Georgi, this book is doomed to ragged edges and a broken spine. There may also be ribbons of varying color and length hanging from it at some point or another. BTW, you may be interested to know the honey used in previously mentioned spilling blasphemy was local desert wildflower honey.

Sorry, I have been witchnapped by the Gods of Samhain.

My life has literally been dumped upside down. I don't think I am minding the fact that everything seems to be in chaos mode. . . I mind the interactions I am having with docs that range from oh you're a hysterical woman you didn't have a heart attack to here lets take a bagillion gallons of blood and do all the wrong tests to find out what ISN"T wrong with you. I feel like the docs are all on a fishing expedition to find out what meds they can sell to me. The only doc I have not had a negative response to is my cardiologist who has patiently listened to what I had to say and looked at everything objectively without invalidating my experience. I am still waiting to hear back from him about my echocardiogram, but I knew that was gonna be the case. I am a bit worried that since it almost a month after the event now that there will be little evidence for an endocrinologist to interpret with any test they may want to do * of course involving more gallons of donated blood.* Are you sure vampires don't exist?  Me either.

I would like to say thank you to all of those who have been sending me healing. I am literally floored with how many of you stepped forward when I announced my health issue. I never expected any of that and I am immeasurable grateful for all of your efforts and most especially your love.

So, as usual, The Gods of Samhain came to get me. It was a bigger witchnapping this year. I have a temporary reprieve, but I know there is work on my desk that is demanding my attention. It's a good thing I love what I do. This seems to be the time of year where I sort of fall off the blogging. There is literally so much going on for me in my private practice that I seem to get swallowed up by it and my family life. It's not a bad thing. It just is. The best way to get a hold of me is through the evils of Book of Face and Twitter.

But hopefully, I'll be making it up to you. I received Georgi Mishev's Thracian Magic Past and Present. I have been able to peek through it, but as the Samhain season has geared up, I have found no time to sit and really read it as I wish too. So After Samhain, I will be sitting down and soaking in this book and doing a whole lot of talking about it here from a personal perspective. However, I get the feeling that my ancestors from that region would like to have some words with me before I do this.

It's gonna get interesting over here.

Everybody ground.

Oh and one more thing:
check  out Samhain Sirens! There is still time!

A Tale to be Told by Graveyard Dirt

I whacked my head this morning trying to ignore the approaching day. Not hard enough to leave a goose egg or anything, but quite enough to leave me with a bit of a throbbing sensation that keeps saying this is real. It is Samhain and the rabbit hole only gets darker and deeper here. Since my heart decided to ambush me a few weeks ago nothing has made a whole lot of sense. It's like Once Upon a Time fell into Wonderland and everything has been warped and skewed since. . . complete with a hidden Wicked Queen! I tell you it's surreal. There may be a Wicked Queen involved, but that usually means that there are hidden allies also afoot.

 Mike showed up the other morning in that special place between waking and dreaming. I don't have that painful twinge when he shows up anymore. I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that I don't miss him here or not. It's more like a moment where I can actually see him. I know he's there and seeing him brings a smile. What made me stop in my tracks was the fact that he immediately started giving me directions on where to take graveyard dirt from and how much. Even the coalescing clouds in the sky today are contriving a way to make my task easier. I don't think those are directions any witch can afford to ignore. It has definitely peaked my curiosity. Even more so since no one is "talking" so to speak.

I feel like we have invoked the Delay Fish and Wild Chasing Goose with the doctors. The results are not explaining what happened to me a few weeks ago. In fact, there are few remaining signs that anything at all happened, which speaks volumes about energetic healing therapies. I still have to take an echocardiograph on the 16th, but only because the cardiologist couldn't see anything on my second EKG. As opposed to the first EKG, this one showed that everything was good and normal. Thank you for all of the reiki and healing you have all sent my way. I am grateful. However there are things that the docs want to look at. It's weird how these things come up. I'm still wondering how my heart got all tangled up in this, but the facts remain. I am at the docs because of it and now we are finding things that need a closer look. Not sure how long I want to play that game. I'm not notoriously good at Doc taming.

A murder of crows showed up few days ago. They hung out in a tree down the block that suspiciously looks like it could be a Yew. You can't miss the tree or the crows when they show up. The tree has this part of it that is bald and it sticks out like it says everyday is Halloween for me with a wicked little wink. The crows sat there and squawked like they were trying to get my attention and as soon as they had it, they fell silent and just stared at me. There is a part of me that thinks I should have been spooked out. There are a lot of things that have recently occurred that should have spooked me all sorts of out of whack. I think the phrase I'm a bit spooked that I am not spooked comes to mind with every turn of the sun and moon these days.

I am watching the clouds roll in wondering what role I am to play in the coming mash up faery tale that has dropped into my lap. Got my graveyard dirt payment and offering to the graveyard itself ready. . . later I go and dig up some dirt and see what it has to say about the future castings that are certain to happen. I mean really all this magic chore whoring I have felt compelled to do has a purpose yet to be unfolded. Every step has felt guided and shimmers with the wicked gleam of an inside joke yet to be told. Everything sings the moment is soon. . . there is a part of me that knows and agrees, but most of me feels the impatient two year old within stamping its feet demanding to know why it can't know what it doesn't understand. I suppose only the Graveyard Dirt will tell the tale.

 PS
if anyone has any good recommendations for an account that will allow me to post a photo online from my phone so I can use it online for what ever social media I feel like are most welcome right about now. Thank you ;)

Attack of the Cootied Zombie Mom

It's Wednesday evening and finally things have settled in, at least as much as it's going to settle before bed time for little ones. This week started off on shaky ground for me. I had spent a good of last week checking fevers, plying remedies, and trying to keep up with the flow of how everyone else had to move through the week. Well, as is predictable, now Mom has the cooties and I still have to slog along to keep up with the rest of the family. Ok I don't know who I am fooling with that one. . . it's attack of the cootied zombie mom, so this entire post could out right be completely non-sequitor and bonkers to boot.

First, I would like to congratulate Kris Bradley ( Aka Mrs. B) from Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom on the publication of her first book through Weiser Publishing! Huzzah Kris! Way to rise above the slime that was thrown at you last year! She has also been picked up by Patheos! More kudos!

I guess my younger two kids have turned me into a bleacher mom. Miss B is playing volleyball and the Little man has football fever. I am not so much a sports fan, but I am sure as hex a fan of my kids, so if that means I have to go sit in bleachers and cheer from the side lines, so it will be. I am sort of enjoying it, truth be told. I love seeing my kids get out and do stuff they love. The are competitive little ones, far more competitive than I. . . I suppose I can either blame the cooties for that or their father. Right now, I am more into blaming the cooties for everything. ( I didn't say it was their fault, but I AM blaming them!)

I have been walking little man to the bus stop in the morning and picking him up in the afternoon. It's a bit hottish in the afternoon, but we live close and can find a few trees to duck under for a water break on the way. This has been the morning/ afternoon ritual for a bit now that school has started and the neighborhood stray cat on that block has taken notice. He looked up at me the other day and, bold as the sun is bright, came up to me and started purring and rubbing all over me. ( Nike was not happy with me. ) The cat sat down after a while at my feet and continued to purr. We had a brief conversation which consisted of me talking to a cat and the cat meowing back as though holding up his end of the conversation. It's probably a good thing I was by myself, crazy cat lady comes to mind.

The cat conversation was a nice little break in all the crazy makings of the zombie mom I am right now. It just seems that everything has to happen at once. It's like the universe sprang at me with a pop quiz and I left my brain in bed. I wonder why it happens like that. Part of me wonders if it's a subtle reminder that you are stronger than you think you are. Maybe it's just that I am worn through and everything feels much bigger than it really is. What I do know is that there are things that I have to do. I have had a hard last year with my immune system doing crazy stress sick stuff with the move and I have not been back up to par in that area. I suspect other things may be going on as well and have created a mundane and magical plans to bring myself out of the hole.

First order of business is a diet shift. Nothing drastic, just more fresh produce than usual. Soup, salad and bread season is on us and I guess it's right on time. What I would really like to do is collect a bunch of different salad recipes of varying seasons and start making a bunch of salads and soups for dinners while cutting down the meat we intake. Don't even ask me to cut out my bread. . . I will have to send my flying monkeys at you.

 Second order of business is to add a clearing bath to my regiment. I was pouring through one of my books and ran across a recipe for the worn through haggard out spirit. Well that certainly describes me right now. The original working calls for it to be summer solstice, however, as in all things magical, sometimes you ignore the 'right' timing and do what the emergency calls for right now! Besides, there is plenty of fire in this Az desert sun left to serve the purpose of this magic ablution! Just because the calendar say's Autumn, does not mean the weather agrees. It's still hot. So emergency batch of Golden Waters. . . sorry about the weird timing. .  just help me!

Third order of business. . . more stress management. Meditation time must be carved out. I get time to meditate, but I have not established a patterned since I moved into the new house. There are things that I do that have been etched into me since the beginning of my training days, however, my 10 minutes minimum a day has been tossed around like a restless wave gone rogue. Time to grab the sea by the roll and channel it into a new pattern. One that fits my life now.

The moon grows larger and brighter as I type this. I know that this is the time of year where I turn inward to see where I am as an individual. This is just the beginning of a whole bunch of coming introspection and I am trying to make it as productive and holistic as I can. The good things ( and there have been blessings all along the path this year) keep me warm at heart, but the bothersome things still kick my arse with mean bouts of insomnia/ chronic fatigue cycles, that have left me hopelessly Mad Hatter-ish at best on some days. I know this year I will be avoiding and Lead Pentacle work like the plague and focus on a more Jovian resonance this coming Yuletide. Be happy dammit!

The Gods of Samhain cometh and I can hear the world thunder with their tread. Ride the wave, find your balance, and dive deep!

7 Seven 7: a beastly upgrade.

I'm a gonna break the rules. I know right? Shock and horror. I was presented a blogging award that seems to revolve around the number seven so, I figure we're gonna visit the seven playground instead of seven awful boring facts about me.

See??? Here is said award:

Thank you, Vickie

The first thing that comes to mind for me when seven shows up is that lucky, lucky rabbit from the School House rock multiply your sevens short.

In the video Sampson seems to be the exception to the conventions of how life works in comparison to the conventions everyone else adopts and it works for him. He just has the luck and timing thing on his side. Well, sevens have the capacity to be just that: the hand of divine providence that places you in just the place at the right time with just the right thing to say or do. It talks of mystery, magic, fate, gods, and ancestors.

I have had several different philosophies of how numbers are looked at opened up to me when I decided I wished to hone the talents my ancestors gifted to me. Because of that, I have sort of formed this mash up understanding of what numbers talk about when they present themselves repeatedly. The most recent added facet would be my studying and work with Mongolian Shamanic divination techniques. Through these studies I have been putting myself to the task to, I have found that it's not just the number that matters, but the context under which the number is dropped into. This is most clearly demonstrated in the 9 coin divination. The seven of heads indicates success and full recoveries from illness, while the tail indicates horrible disaster by means of predator.

If you turn your attention to the tarot system, seven pips seem to also have that same dualistic nature regardless of its heads up/ down position. It could be talking about using all at your disposal, including magic, to manifest your goals and dreams or it could be talking about delusion, over defensiveness against enemies that do not exist, and fears that are overpowering and defy logic. The inverted seven in this system is usually a great big, wafting lacy, red curtain. . . As in: STOP. Right. Now. Look around you and pay attention.

Turning our attention back to a Mongolian system, the seven in the spread of thirteen talks about you being consumed and crossed by your own anger, self sabotage, or someone is very angry with you and throwing monkey wrenches in your gears. It's clearly a very negative thing here, but a very important message that could shift how you move through the maze. Even then, I would still qualify that as a hand of fate thing on the account of forcing you to acknowledge that something here is not right and you need to take a closer look to know how to fix it.

In a method I was taught to read playing cards,  the sevens are said to bring the troubles that fate has assigned. While Fate may indeed be spinning out our assigned troubles, hurdles, and flying monkeys, Fate does not assign how we choose to handle them. Clearly, that choice remains in our realm and how we choose to handle those things may be the sole key in how the event unfolds. Yes I know, it is a paradox of sorts, albeit, a comforting paradox to me, however.

Sevens are sort of like the words a friend keeps saying to me: " I have good news and bad news: the future is in your hands." Really, it is a sort of beastly up grade to your situation, usually born of strife and chaos, but the imagination takes flight as necessity demands a solution.

Seven seems to be the pinnacle of blessings and blasphemy: 7th Heaven and 7 layers of Hell, 7 chakras and 7 deadly sins, 7 days of the week and 7 seas ( oh come on, we all know you want to obliterate Monday.)  Both the fairy realm and Pleiadies are represented by a star of seven points. So I guess I have good news and bad news: how you handle sevens is all in your hands.

A special disgust

I was thinking that it was probably a good thing not only for me, but for the people with big R's by their name, that I ended my subscription to the news paper. At this point, I may have cut out many pictures to go on a curse board with a needle encrusted something or another carved to look like a phallus. A wilted phallus. HOW can a man who claims to love his mother SOOOOOOO freaking much proclaim that RAPE IS A VIABLE FORM OF CONCEPTION? ( Hello Paul, WTF are you smoking because that vile poison should be unmade, not just banned, unmade and fizzled into an oblivion.)  While pregnancy can occur as a result of rape, it does not make the method of that conception acceptable in ANY form. In the days when abortion was banned,  the trauma induced by said conception has been known to drive the pregnant woman to commit suicide! Not that anyone would blame her, in fact there is a whole faction of society who would probably blame the rape on her while we should be teaching DON'T RAPE! 

http://monstergirlquest.wikia.com/wiki/Chimera_Dryad_Vore

I am beside myself in a rage that leads to a special kind of disgust! A curse worthy kind of disgust. I can hear Malcolm Reynolds mutter about special hells and pretty floral bonnets in the back of my head while Wash practices letting his dino's eat GI Joe action figures. We are not even gonna talk about the fact that Zoe seems to be mysteriously missing along with most of the ship's arsenal and Inara is passing out, liberally, Venus Penis traps.

Rape is a word that should send shudders down your spine just to say regardless of your gender and orientation of sexual preference. Rape is not an acceptable form of ANYTHING!


 DON'T EFFing' RAPE!  

PERIOD!

THE END!

Don't get me wrong. This isn't just aimed at the statement that was made by Mr. Ryan,  Akins said something just as horrific, so have other male upper crust types. It's at epidemic proportions when people feel that it's ok to make jokes about struggle snuggles and say atrocious things in front of a very large televised and largely reported event. It's like something in them is broken and they do not understand vileness of what they are saying. Maybe they are broken. Maybe one of them or one of their friends have committed said atrocities and they are trying to convince themselves that nothing is wrong with rape as a means of conception or just getting some. This is aimed at ANYONE who thinks that rape is a means and method to any end.

The thing is that most of us understand that rape is not about sex. It's about power over and the inducement of terror to attain compliance. It is a wicked ugly beast who should be put down at every turn and scorned by every woman and man as blasphemy. Sex was meant to be a sacred sacrament between two consenting individuals.

Like I said in the beginning of this post, it is probably a VERY good thing that I quit my subscription to the newspaper. My curse picture collection would have been very impressive.

ONE MORE THING:

DON'T RAPE! ( or else)

Look ma! No kitty lips!

I think I am sailing out the other end of the storm. I am tired. You know the kind that goes clear, deep into you. The stress has notably done unkind things with my fibro. If I have read the signs correctly, there is still a bit to go. I have sneaking hunches as to what it may be and I know that it will slam into the family like a wrecking ball. I have prepared myself for this by speaking with my own beloved dead about helping her to pass if that is what she chooses to do with the energy I am sending. You see I learned something while Cora was going through her death process. She had been in and out of the hospital and word spread that this trip was quite serious. The Feri community began to send healing energy in droves. She had helped so many others with her own brand of healing, how could I not participate in that? Then in the chaos of the moment there was Thorn who pointed out that maybe healing isn't what Cora really needed. She emphasized the idea that only Cora, at this point, knew what was best for her and that maybe instead of sending healing energy we should be sending her just energy for her to decide what to do with. That was the only thing that made sense to me and removed the dread of the inevitable news of Cora's passing. She passed May 1st 2008. I got the phone call while celebrating my youngest child's 1st birthday with ice cream shop ice cream. It was a bitter sweet moment, but I am taking my cue from the lesson I learned from Thorn and Cora and sending my husband's Grandmother tons of energy. I have no idea how his family would react to this type of action so I guess mum's the word, but how can I not? She has done me many kindnesses. I am preparing myself to help my husband mourn his grandmother's passing, so I guess the feathers and the order of their discovering really were the portends I thought they were when they started lining up on my altar after morning walks. I hope I still have a good hand left on the helm.

I know that things regardless of what actually happens, things will be okay. During the darkness of this storm I started to see light shine through; my oath mother had gifted me with some black heart beads she had specially commissioned. She wanted beads that threaded side to side and discovered that 99.99 percent of the black heart beads she was looking for strung from top to  bottom. Three of those little jewels are now in my most grubby, witchy hands and I'm 'a gonna hoarde those babies! I know it sounds weird to hear (read) someone say that the arrival of black hearts, or any other said sign, brings peace, but that's my truth. The white/ grey dove's feather I found this morning only confirms that light indeed is dawning on the horizon. I look forward to a smooth sea and a calm nights star gazing.

My cat must even recognize that her mama's a bit of a train wreck this morning. She didn't stick her lips under the door and yowl merceilessly until I got out of bed. Usually, I am greeted first thing in the morning ( before my coffee: most dangerous btw) with a pitiful yowling that seems to echo off of EVERYTHING! It's like she has figured out just the right tone, timber and location to stick her head under the door and start in with that horrible Halloween sound track. It's like she grew extendable kitty lips for just the right amount of annoyance. I actually got coffee this morning without the full frontal frenzy assault. It was nice to not try and think this morning with out miss kitty lips and her 2 cents. I'll let you know when the storm is gone. Thank you for your patience with me. I know I have been off and on MIA.

Brass sun tool.

I didn't really understand what it was I was missing when I decided to start working with a large brass tray in my magic. The desire for this type of magic came during a time when I became sharply aware of how my SAD affects me. Our landlord had decided that everyone would be getting solar blocking screens on their windows. I had to get a note from my dr. to have the manager remove them. I remember seeing a picture of an altar somewhere on the web that displayed a working within a brass tray and fell in love with how it made me feel. I realized that it was the same warm, radiant solar energy as soon as I stepped outside into the heat of the day. I remember staying int he Midwest during the winter and how I craved to get in the car and sit in the sun to get that radiant warmth feel.Those memories and thoughts forced me to re-look over the properties of brass. Ok: fire and the sun. . . well sheesh there you have it. I was getting a tray!

I didn't spend a lot of money on my tray. I paid $7 at a thrift shop. There were even several brass trays to choose from. Everything just fit all together from the moment I decided to get a brass tray to the moment I brought it home and cleared it. For a while, I had to convince Nike that it was not her sleeping bowl. She actually leaves it alone now that I have had it seasoned and put it to full use.

Over the last couple of year wheels of working with my brass tray, there are things that I have noticed.  I have used it to help project out workings, I have used it as a healing platform. I have laid out almost all of my spells and craftings upon it. Somewhere during this process, I developed a tool that is as much the Sun as my mirror is the moon. Literally, I have put the power of the sun upon my altar.

Part of the ritual I perform while setting a new altar, is to recharge the brass tray. I take it out in the bright of the day and hold it to face the sun until the tray is hot and humming. There is this moment during this process that never ceases to fascinate me. It is the moment the metal starts warming in my hands as I am holding the tray aloft, standing in its shadow. I can feel the cool of the shadow protecting my face, but all the sun's rays seem to start dancing around the out line of my body. I feel like a mirage appears during that moment. It grows in pitch and I break it before I think I may go numb from standing still for so long. Each time I did this I could feel my stamina come back. I had been on a cycle of being under the weather off and on since we moved into the new house. I mostly attribute it to change of life stress, but I do know that the brass tray magic has contributed to my healing processes either through  energetic properties or how those properties cause me to think and act in my own interest.

While casting and blessing at my altar, there is another thing I grew to appreciate. I love setting my hands upon the brass edges of my tray and pour energy into the working laid upon it. In my mind's eye, I could see the energy snake through it, following the designs until the entire tray was engulfed and saturated with power. Then at the right moment, shoot it off like a rocket in the correct direction. It enabled me to improve upon my long term workings. I discovered that even if I was not doing a working for healing, prosperity, or protection, the tray was well worth using for just it's projective tendencies.

I will not begin to dictate how a brass sun tool as such should be honored and blessed. I will only relate to you that through ritual blessings on solar holidays and enlivening before working with the power of the noon day sun *or any other property/timing of the sun you wish to harness. ie. twilight.* has its rewards, most of which I will allow for you to discover yourself.   ;)

I am only a couple of years into my work with this tool. I do not claim that I know everything there is to know about this sort of work. I am looking forward to discovering more about this tool and how it interacts with my own self discoveries. What I do know, is that bringing the power of the sun within my temple space has made large, positive differences in my life. I think I am seeking a balance between the powers of the moon, which I have spent so of my magic career under, and the power of the sun. It is only in the last 5 years that I had started to work more with male divinities as a Feri student. It seems only proper that they have asked for a greater influence in my magic, or maybe they just wanted me to have a beneficial tool. Who knows how the gods really think. I don't.

I think I'll just say thank you for the great tool.

Slightly off kilter post migraine post

I have to warn you that I had a migraine that dropped me on my head yesterday. While I feel okay today, I am going through the normal "scattered file syndrome" so this posting may be complete and utter random madness.

I have been spending some time looking at how my Ancestor work has been progressing since I began looking into my paternal Grandfather's birth culture. Ms. Graveyard Dirt threw down a gauntlet last year ( love ya sweets.) I thought that it was a most worthy challenge and I was in the right space and frame of mind to go there. There have been many occurrences that I have written down in a journal, but for every one there is written, I can point to several others that I have not. I think that, this year, Samhain will be very interesting and very personal. My only suggestion to anyone who is looking to do ancestor work is to be sure you are ready to see the proof of your work. Speaking of work, you will only get out of the work what you put in.

I think from now on, one of the things I am going to have to do is start the Sugar Plum Faery Vodka at Samhain so it will be good and ready come time for Yule Feasting. Sort of a Witching Hour with Grandpa type thing. 

( Thank you Ms. Dirty: I'm keeping the gauntlet.)

Speaking of my roots, Russian Justice Dept. . . really two years for a 30 second song??? Admittedly, I have never heard Pussy Cat Riot or anything of their work. I have not heard the song that got them the evil eye of the Russian Justice system. Frankly, I don't give a damn about what that song was saying at this point. It's the idea that these people were told to shut up or we are going to do horrible things to you. Really Russia, are you so far gone in your panic of losing power that you have to imprison people for 30 seconds of saying exactly what is on their minds?

Ugh!!! New Cup!

My library is quickly becoming the place where magic starts. It is a cross between ancestors and knowledge in there and it also a place where all the clocks stop working. Literally, time has stopped in that room and it is an interesting thing to notice while you are doing the work or steeped in a story.

It's been a little over a year since we bought this house. I knew it would be a good fit when we put in a bid on it and I am glad to know that part of my intuition is alive and humming along just fine. There are still things we need to get around to doing, like pulling out old nails to things we aren't going to hang, sealing up the screw holes and touching up the paint job or just flat out repainting. The back yard is starting to look like it may actually be growing grass. All that little bit at a time weeding I did last summer has paid off in spades. There is not a sow weed to be found in the grass, nor is there any of that thorn sticker plant. I may have to resort to stealing my sow weed when my root supply runs out. I can just hear the neighbors now: "Honey, that crazy lady in the straw hat is back. . . it looks like she picking more weeds."

It is that time of year when I start to pull together all my Samhain recipes for various things. I still have to get off my behind and pick up some supplies and list my new items in my shoppe. Most of what is going in to the shop is a direct result of my personal workings and the Guardian work I have been doing this last summer. It's not quite done. Sometimes these things manage to drag themselves out to meet a specific time line. Sort of like that bus going around the corner once, missing your stop to avoid a piece of misfortune should you have been able to get off the bus at your anticipated time. The Universe has it's own weird little tick tocks and time pauses that, in no way, do I claim to understand. I just take note, smile, and nod.

New cup!!!

Being MIA and learning to be bright

I know that I have MIA here for a while. I find that when I am compelled to silence, it is better not not write other wise I just sit infront of the computer with a long standing indent on my forehead from the whole head desk thing. I found that during these times, tweets and tumblr pics are more my cup o' madness tea. Thank you for taking the time to come back and read my pages. It surprised me how many of you kept coming back even though I was MIA. Thank you for that, you make me smile inside.

I have taken off my sandals and pressed my feet onto the cool tile. It makes me hot just looking outside. You can tell that the sun is blazing away out the window and the cool of the tile immediately pulls me back indoors. As of right now, there have been no further viridarium emergencies. I have figured out the pattern of heat exhaustion with the plants. Although the Melissa is doing a fair share of complaining, not that I blame her. Mr. Patchouli has setled nicely into his pot and is starting to do more than just cling to life. I actually felt comfortable enough to pinch off a few leaves! Who knows. Maybe by this time next year, I will have an over abundance and will be packaging up some of those viridarium treasures! I may have even successfully rooted a branch from my little rue plant that decided outside was definitely not her cup of tea. *fingers remaining crossed on that one* I have packaged up a few of my viridarium treasures to make sure what I have does not waste.

All of my witchlings have gone to school now and will return my now quiet home to it's loud racaus state in a few short hours. There may be tears involved if the behavior chart doesn't say green ( no TV.) I have found a strange thing has developed over the years. I may seek peace and quiet while everyone is hustling through the hearth, but when I get it, I am fidgety and constantly distracted. I am not talking about the ooooooo shiny distracted, I am talking about the I suddenly drop everything and listen really hard to the silence distracted. I think I need more practice with silence. Silent meditation time only comes at specific times here usually and now that I have more silence, I find it a little overwhelming. 

I have been keeping busy while I am on News Diet and while Mercury Rx does all the normal trickster things that get me in a huff on occasion. I have crafted a few new pieces of magic based up on things I have been working on and experienced with my guardian work so far this year. I am still not done with guardian work as there is another guardian left to go. I have to say that it has been a little turbulent over here, but it is the hot cooking turbulence that creates a perfect meal. The dish is not done yet, but there is an enticing aroma about the hearth now. I suppose you could say that I am experiencing the initial bubbling of the pot as you put in the pasta.

 I canceled my paper. I just can't hack the persistent uninvited clutter of anger and despair sitting on my doorstep, even if the circulars are in it. You know what happens: I open the paper and the latest, hottest buzz word catches my attention and then before you know I have read half of the article that leads to the rest of the article and I am now turning pages with zero resistance until I get to the why oh why did I read that??? mode. I may be a news addict. I'll just add that to meetings I should go to alongside the plantoholic hot line.

I have chosen several projects to immerse myself in while all of these shifting pieces of earth beneath me rearrange how I navigate, including few contributions to Samhain's Sirens a Halloween Blog with related postings and giveaways. I also have pet Yule project lined up as well. I will keep you posted as the projects develop. There looks to be quite a nice line up of bloggers involved so it is looking to be a great deal of fun! There are some Oddlings I would like to put together and other seasonal things I would like to get a hop on including getting my Blood Rose Shaman oil and incense put together. I have finally finished tweeking it. It's satisfying to put a recipe in my book with purple ink.

I feel rather aimless right now with the quiet house and I realize this piece probably reflects that fact. As I become more accustomed to the silence enveloping me, I hope to find myself back in the mode of being more focused and goal oriented. It's a transition, I know. The guardian work I have been doing has offered not just turbulence *as turbulence is often required to shift things* but hopeful solutions, unexpected surprises and gifts, and new avenues to places I thought I already knew.

It may be bright outside, but it's starting to feel like bright will happen inside as well.

The Mad Hatter's Tea Party has been interrupted by enclosure. . . again

I have been intentionally silent.

I have been patiently waiting out Mercury's wild backward dance with other hand and mind occupying projects and pre-school starting activities. Some of which were struck with Mercury backwardness that I had to mop up.

With recent events, I feel like I am being pushed to surface and speak.

But what do you say? What do I say? There are no words that I can imagine that would begin to begin the healing that is so necessary right now. There are no words that can restore to us the innocence and comfort felt in the house of movies and story tellers. Yes the floor is sticky and the chairs smell like stale popcorn and feet, but the enchantment of light dancing through a darkened room and reflecting on a silver screen has always been a place of solace and re-evaluation for me. The looks on the faces of my family had to reflect the same horror on mine when the news broke. We are a movie family. We love them, we love the whole process of the making of movies ( I like watching them best though). We love the people involved in front of and behind the camera. ( we also love craft services) This event shook us where we live. Will it stop us from going to a theater? Hexes NO! However, there will be a new tone of vigilance for me while we are there.

I wish I could say that these type of events surprise me, but those of you who know me are waiting for me to just say it already. These are just symptoms of a much larger problem; enclosure  I will spare the gory details here because I know you cannot force an unwilling mind to open and see, so click on the link if you want, but know it's not a happy discussion. It's one of those necessary unhappy conversations about what happens when a space becomes overburdened and its effects on the landscape and inhabitants.

There is, however, light at the end of the tunnel that has nothing to do with on coming trains, traffic, or near death experiences. We are a co operative society. We help each other. This alone is one of the most important tools we have and through it, doing all the right things can not only make this place better, but expand our reaches into the known Universe to discover new things and bring forth new understandings.

As long as we continue to be the co operative society ( yes, even me, the one who runs on the fringes of society, has a productive use in society) there is hope. We can't predict the who's, when's, and where's of the next prober rat attack, but we can buy time for our children and throw out a life line to those in need and willing to grab the rope.

You should know that you are loved.

Every time something like this happens, there is the question: what the Hell Is going on????

What's going on is complicated and does not have a single silver bullet solution. There are probably many very good solutions that work well together, but I have found that having a basic understanding of what the real problem is, gives me new perspective for personal solutions.  I have also found that understanding the base cause of the craziness help me keep my sanity in one piece.

I hope I am preaching to the choir right about now, but if I am not, feel free to respectfully express that.

It is to my deepest disappointment and personal horror that the Aurora community has been violated as they were. The effects of this event ripple deep and reach far. As of right now, I have no idea how I would handle a situation as Aurora has had to endure. I suppose it would be wise to ask for guidance.

My eloquence seems to have abandoned me.

Aurora, I hope that you heal and find comfort as you find a new balance to move forward from this.

Nine coins tell the tale

The Monsoons are due any moment now and a rumble across the sky will announce it's arrival. Lots of things have shifted in the last couple of years. Large shifts that have affected my personal practices. I made some serious head way with my ancestor work which lead me to understand why runes made any sense to me at all. I made a set of Faery runes in hope that they would be a great tool for me to use for divination instead of just using it to write things I don't necessarily think little eyes should be pouring over ( you know just in case.) While I appreciate the use your noodle a bit more aspect of that, the only thing I really wanted to do is create magic with the rune figures; those runes will have to find a new partner. I don't like the idea of a good tool sitting in a box gathering dust.

My decision to let the runes go was sealed by digging into the Shaman roots of the Northern and Mongolian people. I found in one of the books I picked, up a methodology of using 9 coins as a divination tool. Immediately I was intrigued. Sort of like runes, but not. They certainly take less room and tuck away quite nicely. They also probably will raise not a single eyebrow while out and about. Perfection! There are only two pieces of advise: all coins must have a head and a tail; all coins be the same size and weight. My inner eye already had ideas of how this would manifest for me: copper pennies with the date of my birth on them.  ( Yes, I have a secret stash of those on the bottom of my magic bag under the threshold.) I suppose you could use gold doubloons if you are of the mind to, but I can see as carrying those around might make you a target for unethical characters.

The copper penny magic I have been working for a while, apparently, has entrenched itself in my practices, right down to how I spend New Year's day: separating out all the coins I have acquired in the year by penny year and even further to which ones are leap year and birth year. No. I guess I am not obsessed with copper, now am I? That might be interesting to figure out why, but no time for that at the moment.

The first step in any divination is the same here as anywhere else: A clear focus on  what it is you want to know, only here, you have the coins in hand, shaking them as though they are dice. I continue with this until I get a cue to stop whether it be internal or an outside voice then blow some of my personal energy into the coins. The coins are stacked in the right hand without looking at them, then flipped over into the left so the coin that was previously on top is now on the bottom. Next, is the telling. Which ever face of the coin on the top of the stack is up is the ruling face and called white (heads) or black (tails.) You count out the coins that are of the ruling face until the face on the stack of coins has shifted.  These are the telling coins. And they tell quite a bit.


The Telling:

1 head: White Arrow

wishes will be granted, there will be a peaceful home, business will blossom and grow, profits will roll in, disease will be healed, rituals will be well received and successful, finding a partner will be successful, the lost will be found, Honor and integrity will land you on top. Listen for news coming from the south.

1 tail: Black Arrow:

Business will be hard, friends unreliable, livestock and needed objects misplaced and lost, hunting will be successful, motivation is lost, there is great risk of becoming ill. What ever that is desired will require more effort, but it is close in hand.

2 heads: White Mountain:

Business will be successful, great strength and lack of fear in tough situation, diseases will be healed, Runaway animals and items are found, expect visitors when staying by water. Whatever is desired will manifest with little effort, cultivate friendships and network.

2 tails: Black Mountain:

Hunts will be successful, That which is lost will be found but with difficulty, News from a man on a dark horse will arrive, There is danger of chronic illness, Beware of bad water and food, Legal issues will be resolved in a satisfying manner, there is a danger of hidden enemies working against the querent.

3 heads: White Boat:

Good results in finding business partners and friends, guests arrive safely, quick recovery from illness, legal issues are resolved in you favor,  A man on a white horse will bring good advice about finding that which is lost, elders and others of high status will be available for help.

3 tails: Black Boat:

Everything that can go wrong will go wrong and then some, That which is lost is a long way away or fell victim to predators, There is danger of eye disease, A man in black on a black horse brings news of the lost. whatever it is desired here should be abandoned and forgotten.

4 heads: White Lion:

Success in business, hunting and victory over enemies. Quick recovery from illness, Good News from a southern direction.

4 tails: Black Lion:

recovery will be slow if illness develops, consecrate an animal to the spirits of water and earth. rituals and business will be good and hunts will be productive. News from the west about that which is lost. Important news will come from a spiritual adviser or wealthy person. A shaman should be called to avert illness and disease.

5 heads: White Wolf:

a friend will be helpful in business, victory over enemies, a ritual should be performed to stave off illness.

5 tails: Black Wolf:

Success in business, helpful friends, victory over enemies, there will be an inheritance or treasure found, hunting will be productive, everything arrives on time, however lost things are pretty lost beyond your reach. There may be a good reason for quarrel.

6 heads:White Sun:

there will be a slow recovery from illness, lost animals and objects will take about a week to resurface, friends will be helpful in your business. There will be lucj=k in hunting however be aware of thepossibilty for a transportation break down or accident.

6 tails: Black Sun:

This is a reading not good. There is nothing to be gained profit or help wise. Hunting will not be productive, and your transportation may break down. There is also a danger of being surrounded by incompetence and deception.

7 heads: White Raven:

News will come quickly from a southern direction, that which is lost will be found and retrieved quickly, illness will quickly leave, visitors bring good luck, legal issues resolve in your favor, you will meet unusual people who bear important news, business partners and friends are reliable and true. Success will come quickly.

7 tails: Black Raven:

There are nasty rumors running around about the querent. That which is lost is to the east of where it was last seen, familiars and animal companions may  become ill or killed by predators, major setbacks and thefts are possible.

8 heads: White Moon:

 All things successful, people and guests arrive on time and safely, profits are to be found, things will be sold, recovery from disease.

8 tails: Black Moon:

Everything will be difficult, there will be no help from friends or business partners, what is lost will be found in the southwest,  news from a person of good character, break down of transportation.

9 heads: White Cup:

Everything will be successful, extraordinary good luck, Good for traveling and good health, Lost things will be found.

9 tails: Black Cup:

All things are difficult, danger to life, no friends, lost things will not be found, hunting will not be successful, Do a ritual to call upon help from spirit friends and ancestors.

I have found what I have been seeking in the divination department. I hope you do as well and if anyone is interested in obtaining my faery runes, keep an eye peeled for them in my shop. ;) 

The under tow of reality

Yes, Mrs. Oddly and family snuck out of the desert under the cover of darkness and made a bee line for the beach! Specifically, we went to Santa Monica beach. It was a trip loooooong over due. I started the whole process by announcing to my water friend and guide that we were coming to the ocean for a visit and asked that my family and I have safe passage through his realm and back. He told me that he would meet me at the gate. And he did. Not too far after we passed the weigh station that separates  CA and AZ, we were greeted by a truck bearing the image of one of Poseidon's own and one of my guides.

Yes, one of the beings I have befriended and work with is a hippocampus. Most mythology and fairy tales will tell you to steer clear of these beings or horrible things will happen to you. . . mostly drowning. My experience is simply any creature can be harmful. It's all in the relationship you build. If you approach any creature mundane or mythological with out understanding of its nature you can be sure to land your behind in a whole lot of trouble.

As we drove closer toward the coastline I watched the thermometer drop from 110 to 72 degrees. That, all by itself, was a treat! Later, as the night crept in, I realized that my AZ blood required something heavier than a sweater to stave off the cold, moist air; next time. . . I bring the peacoat!

We passed through LA on the PCH and drove through what I dub the magic tunnel. It has ivy clinging to its walls and it curves so the darkness looks like it could last for quite some time as you are approaching it. As you pass through it, there is this hum that resonates through everything and then you see a pillar of light that stretches around you. As you emerge from this tunnel, the beach is up front and center. The chaos that was LA disappears and a whole new place has emerged. If that's not a magic tunnel, I have no idea what is!

When we got to the ocean, we spilled out of the car and made a mad dash for the water with Little Man cheering the whole way! Literally he was jumping up and down for joy yelling: I LOVE THE OCEAN!!! That made my day! We passed the swings and the little park with the dragon head to stick our toes in the water, ate hot dogs on a stick and poked in the ocean soaked shoreline to watch the water lap away the evidence of our passing. We headed for the pier to see what wonders and magics lay there as Miss B and I played the Witch Penny game. We left copper pennies laden with blessings all over the pier and 4th St Promenade. I reserved one to toss off the pier to say thank you with.

Our whole trip to the ocean was filled with little moments of magic. One of those moments was truly amazing. My daughter came running out of the ocean and made a bee line to where I was sunning myself ( and guarding our beach gear) with  a gleam in her eyes. She stopped short of falling on me and presented a little stone black heart that she caught in the waves! However, the ocean did take it's due. I made matching anklets for us to wear at the beach to soak up the water and bring home with us. Miss B's was taken by the ocean. She told me it was okay because now a mermaid out there somewhere has a pretty piece to show off to her friends. I offered her mine, she declined. This trip was exactly what I needed. It reaffirmed for me the fact that the under tow of reality is beset with magic if you choose to see it.