Fear the copper pennies!

I may be delusional, but I think Autumn may have more than a two week shelf life out here this year. The evening is chilled enough for me to think that a long sleeve is a good idea and that strange 'cold clarity' that comes with that chill is slowly rising out of a mirage stricken pavement.

My ancestor working beads came in and I quickly went to work making ancestor connection talismans. The first one goes to my witchling who is actively learning to walk in a 'crooked' manner. The rest go out from Odd soon to seek others ready to do the work. Samhain feels thick this year. I know that sounds like a paradox, but I think I have pin pointed the feeling upon review of the situation. It's plain old 'I'm addicted to fear and if I can't have real fear I'll make some.' Really there are loads of people who make their weather and cry about the rain. That's all this is. It's like grow up class got skipped or something.

I have been at least observant of the pagan online community for quite some time *shudder* and every single year as the equinox rolls through there is this crazy voice decrying how evil we are for praying over candy in spite of the fact that they pray over candy as well. Quite frankly, I am nauseated to boredom on this subject but I dare not take my eyes off of fanatics lest they do the standard desperate we are right and if we are not we will crash the plane in spite thing. True story. . . it happens.

So my solution to all this insanity is to pray over the candy. EVERY BLASTED SINGLE BAG OF IT I COME ACROSS!  Yesssssssss! Even and ESPECIALLY the candy corn because I'm a bitchy faced witch right now. If the fanatics are going to bang the fear mongering drum as loud as they possibly can with out-right bullshit and lies, then I will pray for the safety and preservation of common sense within the innocents they attack. We have seen this behavior in other aspects as well. Remember the Texas Gov's The Response??? Or how about the renaming of the States (my favorite was Throw Jezebel From a Wall State: New Jersey) and reclaiming the District of Columbia as the District of Christ because if it isn't properly Christian  ( in their fanatic eyes) it must be of absolute profane evil. . . like the rest of the world doesn't exist or something like that. . . really children??? . . stop throwing sand in the sand box or you'll get sand in your eyes too.

So here goes:

Holy Mother, 
Divine hand of Providence, I pray that you bless those who receive these sweets be endowed with your grace, protection from the profane, an open eye of wisdom so true discernment may happen, a will to call the hypocrites out on the harmful bullshit as bullshit, and stand firm in their assessment with resolve to move forward toward love. 

Ho O'pono pono Amene


Yes I know. . . it's not the Maleficent I originally intended ( lucky everyone). I actually talked myself out of the Victor style praying tree. . . but there's always next year. Pray I do not alter the magic. Yes go ahead, fear the copper pennies you find in the candy display bins if you want, but if you are smart, you'll pick it up and make a wish.

Just got stranger. . . new cup!

Mabon came in with a bolt of lightening and turned things on their head. Including me. Everything is still facing North but it is all upside down, if that makes any sense at all. I must be feeling the season settle in or some strangeness indigenous to Odd, but I feel a calm even as I know there is a storm coming and it may not be pretty. That is the most Odd thing of all. I am usually spun up emotionally and tempest tossed by the current. Am I sitting on my surf board well finally? I don't know. I just know that now, more than ever I feel compelled to watch carefully everything. I can feel my inner self smell the shifting winds and even though there is a calm hand upon me, I feel a dreadful purpose and it draws closer to us all. I am not left with out hope. Quite the opposite, it feels like grim focus on what it is I need to do to make things right with me and mine.

Three words have been spinning around in my head:

Love
Honor
Order

It rolls through my head like my reiki mantra does while I am working. I feel like I have been struck by lightening as I am going through my daily rituals. Each one has had an added dimension to them with subtle shifts that have shifted some of the meanings of things I grew up with in my pagan witchy career. I still trying to absorb everything in an organic gentle way. I know better to push something like this. Butterflies must open by themselves lest harm comes to them and prevents them from flying.

I have been quietly witnessing the shifts I have seen happen in the online pagan community. Once respected voices have fallen away in either frustration or disgust. There is behind the scenes gossip girl  behavior that makes my bottle of gossip girl gag want to find bottom. Name calling, finger pointing, personal attacks. . . blah blah galah. AAAAAAHHHKK!


NEW EFFING CUP!

I am sorry those voices have felt compelled to leave the general online pagan community. Those voices will be missed, but I understand the need to step back and gather oneself. I wish them fair travel winds and sweet water enjoy your journey and come home when you are ready. I will be waiting patiently for you at any rate.


I don't know how close to the surface I am going to be this year as the Samhain Gods come to call me to my work. I feel some thing very deep below calling my name and I am compelled to respond. I will try to be in touch with the world via twitter, but you all know how my blogging becomes at this time of year.

One more thing to remember:

She who stirs the cauldron is not the slave.

Names have been called. The Land of Odd just got stranger if that is at all possible.

Close your eyes and look up.

Press Play

I can feel the Gods rouse to their time on the year wheel's stage. His hooven feet start to scrape and echo; I feel it in my bones. It's a sort of thing that resonates like a gong only it comes from within.  It won't  be long before the magic chore whoring for the season begins and I volunteer for the annual kidnapping. Yeah, sure, I'll stir that for you. ( note to self. . . don't touch anything and don't taste anything!)  If you close your eyes and listen to Panoramic from the Book of Eli score, you can get an idea of what that pull feels like.

Breathe Deeply Through your Nose

I think I am in love with the way that sound feels. I reminds me of the pull of gravity. It's not the gravity that pulls you down here on this well we call Earth, but the pull of our personal sun star. That piece of ourselves that is both manifest and ethereal; I call that center and I do see it as a star. I think I see my center as a star because I grew up with my Father telling me that I was made of star stuff.

The sound that I crave to hear often comes as something that, at first blush sounds, empty and lonely. It is this sound that makes me seek out its source and I always come back to me and when I am at my most still I can hear that my whispers are not being echoed back at me, but whispers from something far more immense in measure and wisdom. Most of the time I don't remember the words. The words were never important. It was that peace that washes through me in that moment. Maybe the words and wisdom and imagery were indeed all in my head, but there is also, in fact, a physical response to what my brain is experiencing.

Many years ago, a friend posed this question: how would you feel if you were the last person to see the last of a dying star's light? I was sad at first and told him so. The question has pitter pattered behind me with it's mark still dancing in my mind. The emotional response has shifted over the years, like a snake that sheds it's skin to reveal a new understanding of a larger body. I have come to an understanding that the reason this sound feels lonely at first is because it is the sound of light traveling to a specific destination though a vast ocean. Light years. . . that's a long time to measure by earth human standard. Everything would echo in your soul. There's no where else for it to go. If I am made of star stuff and I am the custodian of the last of the light from a star, wouldn't I be moved by the sound of its travels?

This has been your visit to Odd.

Peace.

And remember that you are made of star stuff too.