Ive been watching quite a few conversations as of late about cultural appropriation and what passes for religion and what doesn’t. It’s been quite interesting really when one considers that the white man (from most any culture) has seen fit to run over those who are different then incorporate their beliefs into their own paths. One only has to look at the Native Americans. With every one I have ever run into claiming to have some sort of Indian in their lineage(most Cherokee), its a veritable smorgasboard. Just an aside on that…the Cherokee tribe being one of the “Five civilized” often adopted their captives into the tribe, so some of those claims might be true. Be that as it may, the incorporation of the spiritual beliefs of Native Americans can be varied from tribe to tribe, so to have a one size fits all kind of path is insulting to those who live it daily. No where does the word shaman actually exist within the construct of religious practices. Not within those who live in this country. It began as a term adapted from a word in Asia. It refers to one who walks realms and divines. No clear consensus from anthropologists can be accredited to those who live, practice religious beliefs throughout this country of Native Americans. So I find it highly offensive that many pagan people, some who are pretty educated, can be so ignorant about this. They include many things from the tribes, except one thing. Their faith is lived daily. Their spiritual connectedness to ancestors is like breathing. So those who practice a plastic form of their spirituality continue to oppress the native peoples, who often live in abject squalor, struggle with alcoholism and addictions. I see this sort of thing also for those who would pull from other paths such as vodou. Now honestly, when one hears this..many think of the style practiced down in New Orleans, a type of root work brought in from the African diaspora with the slaves that came in on the ships. But there are many other forms such as the faith of Haiti, and santeria, and others. I see many who claim to practice these paths and yet..they have no connection. By that I mean they do not live it. I know several who have houses, that make this a part of every aspect of their lives. They learn the language in which the rituals were first spoken, honoring the ancestors from which they come.Some are open only to lineage, so that family line is continued, others open to all, with a caveat. Be careful what you ask for because sometimes the Lwa will answer precisely as asked. Some will try and perform rituals and make and sell supplies that are designated for the deities, but truly they fall short if one is not committed ..no initiation, opening of one’s self to the Lwa and all that entails. No learning of the language , dismissed as unimportant , no honoring of ancestors as a primary focus on which to build this path. My question is how can one actually claim a faith if you are not going to immerse yourself in it completely? My path is more hoodoo, folk magic..based upon family connections. Those ancestors are the ones who give me strength when I seem to lose my way, to give me guidance as I forage a way to make this work for me in my daily life. I give thanks every morning before I start my day. Any work I might do is always based on things that I have been shown either growing up, or as I grew into this faith that keeps me centered. So…does that mean I step on cultural lines when I work? Perhaps, since hoodoo is also from a time when slaves coexisted with poor white trash sharecroppers. There were always healers..have been since the dawn of time. Sometimes it was based upon necessity since the need for healing was not available for lack of money. In truth their folk remedies often worked better than any a physician prescribed and still do today. So what about rituals not so “light”? Those too often appeared when people had need, and people knew whom to go see. My grandfather sharecropped for a long time between gigs on the railroad and in a mechanics shop with his brothers. I still remember he and Mr Bert sitting on the back of an old Studebaker truck talking about the fields they worked. But it’s his mother, my Gran that people came to see. She had herbs in her closet by the back door, and in her garden. People would come and ask advice, receive healing herbs or whatever it was they desired. So, it is from her that started me on this quest for knowledge about who I am and what I wanted to incorporate spiritually.
So for those who would pull from a path based on heritage, or decide that the religion itself calls you. Why not give a little thought to that? If you are not willing to study, to immerse yourself completely into ALL aspects of said path, then you are fucking over those who came before you. Dishonoring what they accomplished and making yourself look stupid in the process. It’s not about the “path du jour”. Whatever is expedient and easiest for you. One cannot just throw up a temple and speak a few words of a language and call yourself a priest of said path. No amount of money paid to some charlatan will make it right. And yet it happens every day. In this instant religion, and money talks generation, the ways of old are often swept aside in an attempt to be “right”. Well I happen to think many are “wrong”. If you do not connect to those who came before, you have no foundation to stand upon. No path to follow to give you an idea of where to begin to find out who you are. It’s time we call bullshit on those who don’t do the work. Stop trying to make a buck because some asscricket has it and is chirping for you to give them knowledge they have not earned. Stop handing hand over fist things others have no right to. When people ask for rituals, stop and think about it before showing them. Who are you to say the guides wish them to have it? Do you not think if they did, they would not provide it? I’m not speaking about healing, because truthfully I was taught that we all have responsibilities(to whom much is given, much is required was a constant refrain from Gran). We are to help those in need. not those who want…there is a big difference. Those who want usually have a way to pay for it..any price decreed by those plastic folk who sell whatever their little hearts desire. Those who are in need…often will go without , when we can lend an assist. I don’t go out of my way for every request for help. sometimes it is through the struggle that we can overcome our problems. sometimes those with health issues…it is their time to depart this plane, so the energy itself should be used for that endeavor as well as provide peace for those left who mourn. But its time those who proclaim a path think about their position on said path. What is it you are trying to achieve? What purpose does your walk serve? Does it truly honor those who came before? If not, might want to check that mirror. Just wake up people and smell the rum….things need some tweaking.
Just another day at the circus
The child’s excitement was growing more each hour. The anticipation growing so that he could barely keep still. The circus was coming to town and he at last was old enough to go into town on his own and see it in all its magnificence! “You’re gonna wear a hole in my carpet if you don’t sit down” says his mother. “I can’t wait!” he said excitedly. His deep green eyes shown with a light of energy “When is Dad gettin’ home?” he asked. “Soon” said his mother not looking up from her darning. “He said he will be here in plenty of time”. The boy turned to once more look out at nothingness beyond the window pane. His thoughts went back to previous visits to town with his parents. The side glances from the townsfolk, the whispers. His family didn’t have much to do with the town people and they pretty much left his family alone as well. The door opened and the boy flung himself from the window at his father. “Dad!” he cried. His father laughed as he caught the boy in mid-air. “Nice greeting”, he said as he sat his son down. “Now what did I do to deserve such?”. The boy laughed. “You know”, he said, “You said I can walk to the circus in town on my own”. His parents looked at each other. “Son”, said his father. “Things in town are not so calm”, he began. “Are you going back on your word?” he asked, tears beginning to well in his eyes. His father sighed. “I just don’t want you to be hurt”, he said. “I’ll be fine”, the boy said. “I will take Boz with me.” At his name the huge black dog lifted his head and thumped his tail where he laid by the fire. His dad shook his head and smiled. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled some money out. “I don’t supposed this is what you’ve been waitin’ on?” he asked. The boy grinned and took the money from his father. “Thanks Dad”, he said. He turned and kissed his mother good by. As he looked into her eyes filled with doubt and worry, he told her,”I will be fine Ma”. The he turned and whistled for the dog. “C’mon Boz,let’s go see the circus”. With that he and the dog left, closing the door softly behind them. His parents stood and watched him leave. “He will be fine”, said the man placing an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ve taught him well, and he knows how to protect himself”. “I know”, she said. “I just worry”. With that they turned and busied themselves with the preparations of dinner and talk of the day’s affairs.
The boy and his dog began the walk into town. The sun was just going down behind the hills, casting its last embers across the wheat fields. The boy took in a deep breath. “Smell that earth Boz?” he asked. “That is home. As long as we can feel, touch and smell the earth, we are home”, he said. Soon the boy begins to come to evidence of urban environment. More houses clustered together. people walking, some riding in wagons as they too, went into town to see the show. The boy was careful to stay to the side of the road so as not to impede others and draw attention to himself. But a tall, gangly kid with parents who lived on the fringe of civilization with a huge black dog is a little hard to miss. “Hey Boy!”, a voice called. He looked around. In the wagon was an older woman with a girl about his age. “Want a ride the rest of the way into town?” she asked. The boy was a little startled. Nobody talked to his family…EVER, and they sure didn’t offer to do anything nice for them. They were all afraid of them since that night long ago. “I ain’t a gonna sit here and wait all night boy” said the woman. “Do you wish the ride or not?”. The boy nodded and began to climb onto the wagon. He stopped. “What about Boz?” he asked. “He kin rid in the back”, she said. “Thank you ma’am”, said the boy. So he and the dog settled themselves into the wagon. “The name is Wyrna”, said the woman. “That there is Emmie”, she said as she nodded to the girl. “I’m Chance”, said the boy. “I know who ya are”, said the woman. “I’ve known your parents since they were little. Damn shame all these fine uppity people look down their nose publicly then hit your ma’s back door when they’re in trouble”. “It weren’t her fault she could not save the child. They came too late for help”. The boy looked dumbfounded. ..stunned into silence that someone outside of the family would even bring up the old history. “Keepin’ things inside ain’t good boy”, said the woman. “It’s time that people admit the truth and move on and stop trying to punish those who had no fault”. It was with relief that the wagon came into town. The woman parked it out in an open space so her mule could graze and would be easily accessible. “This here will be where it will sit,” Wyrna told Chance. “If something happens, hightail it back here and git under the tarp”. “Otherwise, we will leave as soon as the show is over. I’ll give you ten minutes to come on or we move without you, y’hear?” “Yes’m”, said Chance. He and Boz walked away towards the tent, and moved to the cages of the animals as they peered back at him. Soon it was time for the show to begin and Chance found a seat on the end of the bleachers inside the tent with Boz sitting at his feet. The ringmaster comes to the center of the ring. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS. WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH. TONIGHT YOU WILL BE AMAZED BY FEATS OF MAGIC,DEATH DEFYING TRAPEZE ACTS, AND A SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY THE WITCH AND HER FLYING MONKEYS”. At that last statement, a murmur went through the crowd and even Chance gave a small shiver. “Do ya think its real”, asked a voice behind him. Chance turned and there was the girl from the wagon. “I don’t know. …won”t til I see the monkeys”. said Chance. “My Ma says yorn is a witch”, said the girl. A flash of anger crossed his face, but Chance said nothing. “We don’t mind”, said Emmie. “We believe she is a good woman”. Chance nodded and turned his attention back to the ring where there was a horse act going on. He paid no attention to it though as his mind flashed back six years previous on the night when the back door of his parents home crashed open and a frantic couple came in holding a little girl. “Help her please”, cried the woman as she held onto her child’s hand. “Lie her down on the table”, said his mother. “Chance set the kettle aboilin’ and bring me cloth and my bag of herbs” she said. He hurried off to do his mother’s bidding and he could hear part of the conversation as he did as he was asked. “Why did you not bring her when she first got sick”, asked his mother. “I could not”, said the woman. “I would not allow it” said the man. “And yet you are here now”. His mother shook his head at the ignorance of pride. Chance brought the things his mother had asked for, placing them at the end of the table. “I need more light” she said. So he and his father gathered lanterns and placed them around, filling the room with a brightness that almost hurt the eyes. The little girl was pale. so pale, her skin was almost translucent. “I am not sure if I can help” said his mother sadly. “She has been sick a long while and the disease has ravaged her body”. But still his mother began her workings, with the lighting of incense and herbs, making a poultice to apply to the tiny body that laid on the table. For hours, she worked until she had no more energy left. She slumped in a chair and spoke quietly. “I have done all I kin”. “It is all in the hands of the maker”. The little girl opened her eyes and took a shallow breath then closed her eyes…she had moved on. “NO!”, cried her mother. “You did this!” said the father. “You would not heal her!” Chance’s mother raised her tear stained face. “I did all I could. You would not allow my help when she first became ill. “. Chance’s father stood and went to open the door. “I think it best you leave”, he said”you will have preparations to make, and my wife is tired”. The parents gathered up their child and mourning her they left. Soon after that it was talks in the town, whispers of how the witch would not heal the child of the mayor, had let her die. Nothing was said of the pride that kept them from calling for a healer. So Chance and his family were essentially ostracized and given wide berth when they came into town. On the surface, people avoided them, but still there some who came to the back entrance to find some help from his mother. “Look”, said Emmie. Chance blinked. He had sat through the whole show without even seeing an act until now. Into the ring came a figure, dressed all in black, face as green as an apple from his grandfather’s tree, and on her head sat a pointed hat. But what fascinated everyone was the figure on her shoulder. It was a little monkey, dressed all in green, but as he moved there was an appendage on his shoulder. A wing. Chance could hardly believe his eyes, nor it seemed could the crowd as a collective murmur went through the crowd. “I am Elphalba”, said the witch. “This is my pet Wilbur”. We will put on a show demonstrating the aerial dynamics of flight for mammals”. At this the witch cackled. “Go my pretty”, she said and extended her arm. The monkey took off flying around the tent, swooping and picking hats from one, dropping it on another, taking a cotton candy, tossing it up and smacking with satisfaction as the spun sugar hit his tongue. The murmuring of the crowd continued to grow. Chance grinned. “I think we might oughta start heading for the wagon”, said Emmie. “This might not end well”. “I think you’re right” said Chance. The two kids began to go toward the exit as the monkey continued flying around the tent and picking at people as the witch chanted in the middle, her voice rising as the monkey flew faster. They reached the wagon at the same time as Wyrna who was relieved to see them. “Git in”, she said. “This may get outta control”. They began to move back toward the outskirts of town as the two kids looked back. It seemed as if the tent glowed, and grew tighter then out of the blue, a loud BOOM and all was quiet. The three were silent as they made their way out of town. “What just happened?” asked chance. “Wal son, said Wyrna as she bit off a chew of tobacco. “I think some of those folks are going to be thinking again about how there are some who are healers and some who cause more problems than one can handle”. she cackled then spit. “Tell your Ma she can expect some folks tonight”. All too soon they were at his house and chance and Boz climbed down. “Thank you for the ride Miz Wyrna”, said Chance. “More’n welcome” she said. “Take care now, and we’ll be seeing you round”. He waved as they moved away and he went inside where his parents waited. Chance began to explain all that had happened and how he had gotten a ride there and back, and how there might be people coming. His dad smiled. “I don’t know what we were worried for. You seem to have handled yourself well”. His mother in the mean time after hearing the story of the strange witch, began to gather her herbs, candles and put the kettle on for boiling water. They did not have long to wait. A knock at the back door was almost immediate. A familiar face stood there and this time he held his wife. “I know I cannot expect you to help me”, he began. “But please”. “Bring her in here” Chance’s mother said. She led the way to a small bedroom off the kitchen. “Chance, gather the light please”, she said. She then set to work, and finally she turned and told the man. “I have done all I can. we wait”. Soon others came to the door. Most only needing something for pain. Some needing a bone set or a cut stitched. The man sat alone with his wife in the small room, but he could hear all that was said and done. Soon the sun began to rise, and Chance’s dad came through the kitchen . Chance had fallen asleep on his arms as he had helped his mother all night. His father shook his shoulder. “I am going to feed the animals, but if there is need, come find me” he said. Chance nodded and went to put on the kettle for tea so that his mother would be able to continue her work for he knew she would not leave the woman until whatever was going to happen did so. The woman opened her eyes and looked at where her husband sat slumped in his chair sleeping softly. “Wha happened”, she began. He jerked awake and held her hand. “You were injured when the tent fell”, he said. “I brought you for help”. He looked at Chance’s mother and said “I am sorry for what happened between us. I know that it was my fault that you could not heal our child. I am grateful that you did not hold that against us”. She nodded and told him that his wife would be able to go home later in the day. She moved out into the kitchen giving them some privacy and saw that chance had made tea and toast for her. She smiled. “I am a little saddened. Not because you did this, but because it appears the events of the previous night has shown me that you, my son have grown.”. “No longer a child”. The praise from his mother brought tears to his eyes and he quickly hugged her close. “I am always your child, and I am proud to be the son of the town witch”. Together they turned and watched the sun come up over the horizon, each lost in their own thoughts. “I wonder where that circus was going next”, said Chance. “To another town to smack others, I expect” laughed his mother. Chance laughed. Life was a lot like that circus he thought. Just when you think things are as they seem, you get slapped into reality.
You aren’t one of “us” so fuck you
Sometimes it boggles my mind when the “my way is better, so I’m right ” brigade starts in others. There is a court case that many are watching closely in which a Wiccan chaplain is petitioning to be able to minister in prisons for those who have need of his service. At the moment only secular faiths are recognized and many don’t feel that he has a right because after all, Wicca is not recognized by people outside the pagan world. It’s called evil, satanic, ungodly…out of ignorance because they do not understand it. And as for those considered under the pagan umbrella, well forget it because most don’t even qualify as a religion if we are going to compare them to Abrahamic faiths. My problem is when those in pagan circles want to tell those who walk outside a group setting that because they aren’t religious, then they do not qualify for protection under the first amendment. I respectfully disagree. That amendment states that no law shall be enacted in the establishment of a religion(which in this political climate is coming closer to being broken EVERY. DAY.). It also says that none can be impeded from the free exercise of religion. It is when the definition of religion comes into play.
re·li·gion
[ri-lij-uhn]
noun
1.
2.
a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
3.
the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.
4.
the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.
5.
the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.
If we go by the 1st definition or perhaps the 5th one..then ALL who practice ANY form of spirituality are religious in the sense that we have a belief and as such are protected under the law.
If by chance , we go by the 2nd, then by others definitions we are all witchfucked. Not only do we have to try to fight with those outside pagan circles, we often have to defend ourselves from those who walk a structured path, are involved within circles and see those of us who walk solitary paths or a path that to them holds no structure(according to them) as inferior.
Many of us having had secular faiths shoved down our throats dislike the term “religion”, not because we aren’t, but because we like to think of ourselves more as spiritual in the connection to universe and how we practice. How often do we run across those who sit pews then spew hate to those who are not the same as them? There are more than enough examples, so I will spare you the listings, but the climate of our country has seen more than enough attacks on those who walk contrary to those in power to be alarmed. I can agree that all of us need to speak up. To let those we’ve elected that we no longer will sit idly by and let them usurp all the rights granted us by our founding fathers(who were NOT all christian btw..many were theists and in the preamble says that all men are created equal endowed by their Creator with certain inalienably rights). You see what they did there? They said “their Creator”…not a faceless god of one specific faith, but how people choose to see a higher power(or not). Many who choose to not label their path a religion usually have deity involved somewhere in their path. That is their right. And it is protected. So why quibble over which definition one follows? Its a personal spiritual journey and we all need to stand up as an individual and demand that all people be treated equally …even if you don’t agree.
Many of us having had secular faiths shoved down our throats dislike the term “religion”, not because we aren’t, but because we like to think of ourselves more as spiritual in the connection to universe and how we practice. How often do we run across those who sit pews then spew hate to those who are not the same as them? There are more than enough examples, so I will spare you the listings, but the climate of our country has seen more than enough attacks on those who walk contrary to those in power to be alarmed. I can agree that all of us need to speak up. To let those we’ve elected that we no longer will sit idly by and let them usurp all the rights granted us by our founding fathers(who were NOT all christian btw..many were theists and in the preamble says that all men are created equal endowed by their Creator with certain inalienably rights). You see what they did there? They said “their Creator”…not a faceless god of one specific faith, but how people choose to see a higher power(or not). Many who choose to not label their path a religion usually have deity involved somewhere in their path. That is their right. And it is protected. So why quibble over which definition one follows? Its a personal spiritual journey and we all need to stand up as an individual and demand that all people be treated equally …even if you don’t agree.
Traveling for center?
I know things have been off kilter as of late with the circus that is my life, the betrayal by kindred and with the recent loss of a dear friend, but had no idea how off they were until I fell asleep. I had an early night even though I didn’t have anywhere to be until later the next day, but I was so tired and whipped by the week that sleep seemed a better idea than a drink and social media. No sooner than my head hitting the pillow did I seem to fall out..deep, dreamless sleep…for the moment.
I got the feeling of being stared at, so I opened my eyes and could see the red glow of eyes from the outer edges of the web. I grinned. Brin and I walked to the edge of that protection and saw the large wolf standing there, its eyes glowing red. He snarled as I approached. I laughed. I am not afraid of you, nor the master you serve. What’s done has been done and your coming here will not change things. Go back and give him this message:
Vous récolterez ce que vous avez semé, il ne vous apportera pas le repos, mais vous avez fait ce que tu veux et fait de votre mieux. Nous en avons fini, plus rien.
The wolf stared for a second, then left walking slowly as if he did not relish giving the message but would do so as commanded. Brin and I continued our walk of the perimeter, checking webs and speaking softly about various things. I then went to lie back down to see if I could go back to sleep.
I find myself sitting. I look around and see a gray mist, the sky seemingly filled with the color of smoke that I see in various places. And ravens. Too many to count if I had the inclination to do so. They were talking amongst themselves trying to figure out why I, an interloper was in a world that I know well. Not personally, but through a friend. I have never been here, never had the desire to do so because I’ve always found another way to purge. “Jebus”, I think to myself. “What in the hell have I done now”? I can feel the fear rising, filling my belly with trepidation, and filling me as it rises to my throat, almost paralyzing me into statuesque state. I stand, and realize that I carry a package with me. It is part of myself I instinctively know, and is bloodied. I walk about 9 steps and there she is. The protector of this land. One that I only know from what has been told to me and others, and yet I feel I know her pretty well. She stands in front of me, her glossy black feathers have the softest sheen and it makes me want to stroke them to see if they are indeed really that soft. “Get a grip Shae”, I tell myself. “My apologies for the intrusion. I seem to be off as of late and I should not have come without welcome or invitation”, I tell her. She peers at me closely. “What makes you think you were not invited? You are here, no harm has befallen you”. She turns to walk away and I can hear inside my head the “yet”. I shake my head. “This way”, she says over her shoulder walking away. I follow her and she points to a small pyre of bones. “This is yours”. I walk to where the bones have been gathered, and see that they have been woven in an intricate way, as if someone did this for me, expecting me to come. I look at her and she points to what I carry. “For that which burdens and holds you down, your friend left this for you. ” I nod and place the package down on the pyre, feeling instantly a sense of loss within me. So I stand and look thinking about what to do next, when she says “start the fire ,girl”. Umm..yeah, start the fire. Now how do I do this? Ok…let’s see. I stand facing the fire, thinking of all that the package holds. I reach out my hands and at first, just a single spark appears from my fingertips, but as I continue to think on things, and look at destroying all that misery, the fire glows as a blue flame and comes from my hands to light the pyre into a huge bonfire. It licks the blood from my hands, pulling the last remnants from me. I want to pull it back since its a weight that has been carried for some time, but I know that to truly find center again, I have to let it go. So I sit on a nearby rock and watch it burn, the flames devouring each and every morsel of pain, degradation, and misery that was carried. As I sit, Raven Woman comes up behind me. “Why did you not use your friends name? You could have done so as you entered, could have done so to light the fire”. I speak without turning around. “It has never been my way to use others for my benefit. If by some chance I was not allowed here, I would have accepted what happened by way of punishment. And to rid myself completely of what I brought, I had to light the fire alone.” She nodded. “There are many who would not do so. They would have used her name for their gain. You are welcome here should you have need”. “Good by Swamp witch”. She then walked away. I smiled to myself. I gained some measure of respect from her for not being like so many. I continued to watch the fire burn out then I stood and walked away, past all the ravens who spoke as I walked past, this time with understanding. And so it was that I found myself once more in my bed. “Damn”, I thought to myself, I am going to have to speak with my friend about this. ” So I make a few notes so that I will not forget(as if could). I fluff my pillow and resettle myself and fall asleep yet again.
But I am not to stay there. this time I find myself outside huge ornate gates. Black wrought iron, surrounding a cemetery. I smile because this place I know well, having seen and visited it since childhood. The gates swing open as if in welcome, and as I enter, my hand goes into my pocket seeking. Yeah ,there they are. Nine silver coins. “Je vous remercie de m’avoir permis de Papa entrée”, I say as I toss them before me. I enter the cemetery and breathe in the peace. “Your Gran taught you well”. I hear a voice behind me say. I smile and turn to see a familiar figure. “She would not be pleased if I did not remember my manners”, I tell him. “I will leave you to your walk “, he says. I nod then turn to find a familiar path. As I walk, I feel the eyes of others upon me, but they do not bother me. I have felt more at home in cemeteries than among the living most of the time. I continue on until I come to a small waterfall located in the back. Its small stream tumbles over the rocks filling the stillness with its music. It is here that I often come to just sit and let the peace wash over me. I have no idea how long I sat, or what the thoughts that came and went were like. It’s not necessary because the peace that replaces them is more than welcomed at this point. Soon, too soon, I walk myself back to the entrance, using another path instead of the one I entered in on. One must always complete the circle my Gran used to tell me. As I prepare to leave, he once more approaches. “Always good to see you cher”, he says. “Merci, Papa”. I tell him. “Adieu”. “Come back when you will, cher”, he says..”next time we will speak more”. Once more I travel home to my bed. “Jebus”, I think…I really need to stop with the travel. This time when I settled down, I fell asleep. Once more at peace, dreamless and awoke refreshed this morning, with the need to write it all down so that I may go back and reflect later.
tempête parfaite
What are you afraid of?
I’ve been reading a little today, trying to make sense of recent loss and find a center for myself. The week will be helpful since I am on staycation from hell and I can just relax without any added stress. I do this alone because it’s familiar territory for me, not because I can’t reach out to those who could and most certainly would help me. I find that I am stronger for it, this retreating to the shadows.
I have been perusing groups and the feeds on the social media and one posting caught my attention. Mostly because of the subject matter. It reads as follows:
Never be dependent upon anyone
in this world
Because even your own shadow leaves you
when you are in darkness.
I do not agree with this statement exactly. while I am a true advocate for independence, sometimes one can go overboard in being stubborn and not allowing others to help. I am guilty of that sometimes myself. I have done so much on my own because of necessity or even because of these pesky control issues I have that I have trouble allowing others to join in and help when and where they can without waiting for the other shoe to drop, i.e. “what do they want in return”. But its the part about the shadow that I totally disagree with. Your shadow is a part of you so how then could it disappear? For myself and those who often seek the darkness to seek solace, healing and respite, our shadow is often wrapped around us like a cloak keeping us warmed, protected and shielded from those who would still seek us out for whatever reason. My curiosity is piqued when people have a real aversion to all things shadows. What are they afraid of? I’ve seen more things that can freak some the fuck out, and yet most of those have been out in the open and in the light. Maybe its because they have some deep rooted fear of the dark and all things that go bump in the night that they cannot get past. Or perhaps its their preconceived idea of good and evil, good=light, evil =dark. For whatever reason, if one begins speaking of shadow world, or beings found there, you invariably get those sideways glances as well as a distancing from people. Maybe its because they have not experienced as myself and others have that they do not feel the warmth there. Just because one is alone, does not mean that one is always lonely. Sometimes that aloneness is required to find balance, seek instruction from those who guide us or just escape the chaotic mess of the mundane. So for those who will try almost anything to stay out of the shadow…I say..c’mon in , you will never know what you may find. What are you afraid of?
Loss
Some would probably scoff at me today. But I care less. Today I lost my little gift Zoe as she tried to bring life into the world. She was the sweetest thing, only 6 years old.She had the most sweetest temperament and loved me with everything she had within her. the feeling was mutual. She was the one I could talk to when everyone else was busy. When Robert was sick, she was the one who waited patiently at home for me and cuddled close as I cried out my frustrations. I received her from my sister as a birthday gift the same year as Braelyn was born and the two became fast friends. She learned to crawl and walk by following Zoe. It was amusing to watch them both play, both holding a special place in my hearty. She taught me a lot did my friend. That love was supposed to be unconditional and family was most important rather than what others thought. She loved me no matter how imperfect I am .
So tonight I bid farewell to my little friend. May her passing be peaceful wherever she may be going. I will miss her little face and those cuddles. Je t’aime Zoe. Je vous souhaite la paix
crazed assumptions
Sometimes people’s assumptions can make one more than a little crazed. I post all sorts of things on FB. Mostly those things that strike me as amusing, things that remind me of my friends or things that make me think. But not all of what I post is a true reflection of who I am. For instance, I post a lot of alcohol jokes. Now one might think as a person reared in a home of an abusive, often violent alcoholic, I might not find this an amusing subject. And if I were living and had not left it behind over 30 yrs ago, I might agree with that statement. But I have lived through it, and moved past it .So I guess it would be safe to say for those who do not know me well to “assume” that I must like to drink…a lot judging by what all I post right? Yeah, that is how I live my life..mhm. When I get responses like “Do you drink EVERY day”, or “don’t you drink til oblivious when you don’t have child care duty”? I want to smack people. First, just what business is it of theirs when or how I drink let alone how much? Secondly, does the alcohol police go around for every person and determine if they can drink with a child in the house? I think not. So just because I often joke about drinking, dont assume that I am in fact drinking as I post it(although I could be).
The thing about growing up in an alcoholic home, one can go couple of directions. You can either continue the cycle of abuse and drink yourself(which I did in my teens) or break that cycle and not drink, something I did as I got older. Then I found a happy balance for myself. I limit myself to two drinks whether I am home or out with others because I find that after 2, I tend to not appreciate others sense of humor. It can get ugly …fast. I also imbibe in ritual settings, which is not the same as drinking socially. I have been known to empty the bottle of rum during a working and while I wake up tired the next day, have no other ill effects of that kind of drinking. It doesnt make sense I know, but then that is the beauty of magic.
For those who assume to know me, my personal habits and want to comment with some retarded shit…best advice: DONT. I am not amused, and it can cause an irreparable rift in our “friendship”.
SLAINTE’
CLEAR AS MUD
I have sat and watched with interest lately at some of the labels, and conversations around people’s various paths and knowledge of them. And I am trying to see where they are coming from, but its a little muddy.
So the first one I see is someone who came into a group I frequent, who labels herself as a High Priestess of a Satanic organization as well as a “dark” pagan. And yet when she came into a pagan group not known for swallowing bullshit, she posted generic McWiccan elemental spells as well as directions to make a witch bottle for protection. Now I am not too sure what tenets her organization adheres to..it’s a “secret” society but it advertises for new members on FB..social media. Yeah..I couldn’t exactly get my head wrapped around that either. So I looked at her name to give me a clue as to what she is about, because names are important..gives me starting point of reference. The first part was Baphomet. Now this name creates a lot of controversy even in the pagan world as to the origins, with everything from the Knights of Templar, the Freemasons as well as Elphias Levi’s “Dogme et Rituel de la Haute Magie“ written in 1897 that became a standard for reference in modern occultism. While it certainly has a LHP bent, it doesn’t really have a lot to do with satanism as a whole, although some groups use the symbol drawn by Levi as a way to differentiate themselves from anything remotely connecting them to other parts of the occult such as wicca . The second part of her name is Sekhemet. Sekhemet is an Egyptian goddess. Her name means “powerful one”. She also carries the name, One before who evil trembles/ Now I ask you…would any self respecting satanist saddle themselves with such a name? I think not. Most, if they choose a name to work with ritualistically do not make it public outside their group. I know several people involved in satanist groups, some Luciferian, some part of the LeVeyan group. In fact back in the 60’s, Anton LeVey formed the church of Satan that still carries on today today in some form or fashion. He in fact was not truly a satanist. He didn’t believe in deity at all, but then as now in some cases, the group pulls in money, celebrities and the sex is good. Satanist groups as a whole have differences in beliefs much as pagans, but to use the names she’s gifted herself with as well as speaking of the “devil” which is actually a christian construct rather than worshiping Satan or Lucifer(two different entities) speaks volumes at their lack of knowledge. They can’t even claim to be a theist because truthfully, I am not sure even they know who or what they truly believe, since they’re tossing out generic spells, that can be found online on many wiccan sites. As for “dark” pagan, I’m going to go with that it includes that which deals in chaos magic and LHP(left hand path) kind of thing. In truth, one needs balance, so pagan is universal without assigning any form of light/dark to the verbiage imho. If one is a chaos practitioner, or even hermetics, then that would be a label for the path that majority would recognize. It’s just a little difficult to understand what the description “dark” encompasses since there are many pagans who practice differently and some of us are just as apt to pull in rootwork for practice that others who wont cross that line would find “dark” and yet we do not define ourselves as such. But when questioned as to origins of said path, said “HP” pulled her posts and packed her altar then left in a huff because all comments directed were “malicious”. OMDayum..a sensitive “satanist”! That is a rare bird indeed. Most know their history, their beliefs and are not shy about letting you know how “young” your path truly is…kind of arrogant, but that’s their way.
The other conversation I became aware of this week was in another group. I was part of it, then left because some of their admins have a way of deleting threads if they get too “hot” for their tastes..I smh over this because, 1. We’re adults, and are supposed to be able to stand it. And 2. it’s the internet ffs! One can always walk way from the computer, click another page..whatever it takes to ignore some asscricket. But I have some on my friend lists that frequent this group and I find the stalker feed amusing at times to read what they are commenting on.
So the conversation started off general and then somewhere in the middle, one made a comment that Wicca and voodoo were similar. I almost spit tea all over the laptop(not first time I might add). WTF? Do you really mean what you just said? Apparently he did because he then stated that he had a few drinks one night with someone who practiced voodoo and they compared the similarities. ~Headdesk~Now there was someone knowledgeable about Vodun in the conversation itself and he tried to dissuade said individual that this made no sense because voodoo itself depending upon the part of the world its from has many components, has been around forever and Wicca is a made up religion about 50 yrs old or so. The argument was Wicca is similar to Voodoo. The source that is immanent in all things, is too vast for humans to comprehend in its entirety. Since it is incomprehensible, it is approached as a God and Goddess, male and female, so that we can build relationships with them in a way that our minds can comprehend. The rebuttal was” We comprehend God just fine; we just view God as being that which is upholding and reworking creation, too vast to be distracted by individual people needing to bug Mama or Papa for things like a new job.
We believe God created the spirits and the Angels to serve us as we serve them; we give prayer and glory to God, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty he’s given us department managers instead of the CEO’s phone number.
There is no similarity between the religions in that regard.” (Many thanks to Matt for his clear answers). So having a drink or two with someone who may or may not have experience in voodoo may or may not be the best way to judge similarities of paths. In fact, There are many differences that would keep some from following either path, but that really comes down to personal taste or connection to deity in my opinion.
Whenever I see those who make statements such as those above, or see people gift themselves with names, labels or claim expertise as “teacher” without putting forth the effort to truly learn, I want to smack them on the back of the head and tell them that they are part of the problem. “What is pagan” is a question often asked and its a convoluted mess to try and answer for those who do not comprehend.. We’re all different to be sure and as such will arrive at different destinations as per our experiences, but for those who come behind us seeking, why cloudy up the water and churn it into mud? Why not leave a clear marker of where you’ve been, showing what worked for you, what didn’t, what you learned from both examples and why you moved on? To me that makes much more sense than trying on the emperor’s clothes while he isn’t home. They don’t fit, make you look like a clown and you have no right to them.
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Betrayal
Life is full of quirks isn’t it? We honestly never know when something is going to slam us unexpectedly from out of the blue. Our challenge is how we deal with it and find a way for us to set our feet.
Sometimes we just get too complacent about using our tools that have served us well.The ability to read, see others for who they really are, has always been one that I’ve been able to use even when I didn’t know what to call it. My only blind spot was with family or those I let into my inner circle. I have a tendency to let them slide sometimes. I know when they’re lying to me, I just don’t always call them on it. Sometimes its just to keep the peace that is sometimes a work in progress intact or sometimes the issue is minute and I don’t care to expend the energy on it. I tend to pick and choose my battles these days. But what does it do to my inner self if I continuously let this slide? I stop looking within those I think I know well and ignore the obvious..that often leads to a betrayal. Some would consider that a harsh word, but truthfully, what would you label it ? Those who profess love and concern for you, do not tell you things that affect you intimately, keeping secrets because “they don’t want to hurt you”. I’m calling BULLSHIT. If you were truly my friend, then total honesty would be one gift you would bestow upon our relationship. I do not ask anymore from the people in my life than I ask of myself. Sometimes, for whatever reason, they cannot rise to that level and I understand that its not always in their make up. So I’m willing to give a little slack on some issues. But one thing I DEMAND is loyalty. If you cannot have my back and tell me truths I need to be aware of then how can I trust you? I no longer can take for granted that what you say or do is truth anymore. Even on the little shit.
So today I get slammed with a truth about something that affects the heart of my family..one I should have been made aware of. I find out that some people we have in common on a list in social media knew of this. Now some have been on my list for a few years, and they joined her list for some apps. All well and good I guess, so maybe a little leeway given. But one specifically hit me because I know the person in a personal way. They knew things and did not speak up and yet to my face on a daily basis portray themselves as a friend. This is not a friend..this is one who likes having a good time with you, will take any help offered for their personal crisis, but cannot see that the worry you may have had over a situation could have been alleviated if they had said something. This is almost as painful as the betrayal of the original situation. I had a knee jerk reaction and culled half of those we had in common..won’t miss those since we didn’t interact anyway, just on apps, and I don’t play them anymore. But its the others that will take some thought and some reads to decide what to do about. As for the one that is personally attached…that one will take some real decisions since it not only affects the social thing, but the mundane as well.. yeah yeah..life goes on and all that shit