What are you growing in your garden?

I read…a lot.  Either here online or actual books.  It’s always been a way of escape for me, stretching the boundaries of my mind, entertaining me, educating me.  Sometimes though, the things I read or see just floor me.  They fill me with a sense of confusion.  What are we doing?  Just what type of humanity are we cultivating? As a gardener of sorts, and having watched masters growing up of grandparents who paid attention to the land and their crops, I make sure what I put in my little plot of earth actually will thrive and make the area a better place.  So it is in our personal lives.
I’ve watched the news where yet another shooting has taken place..this time at a Sikh temple, killing 6 and the shooter being taken out by a police officer. 7 people losing their lives because of hatred and ignorance.  Sikh’s are often associated with Islam because of the dress, but they have different view points. The reasoning for this tragedy hasnt shown itself yet, but will as the dust clears. So. much.ignorance.

There was also a news story I’ve read, and also watched on the local news of a predominately white church that a black couple attended would not allow them to be married there.  Wait.  what? You won’t allow two people who attend the church(but are not members) to be married there even though the preacher you paid agreed to it because of their race?  Do you not realize what year this is? Do you not realize what this does to the faith you profess? Even after they were married at another church down the road(the south is littered with churches at ever street corner) by the pastor of the first church, the pain and humiliation caused by those who claim to be of a faith of love will be hard to erase.  It’s been said that as a white woman I would not possibly understand..perhaps not..but I sure know stupid when I see it. I can see how human beings are denigrated and reduced to less than human.  I have eyes to see the fear, rage, pain, sorrow on the faces and in the hearts of those forced to undergo such ignorance.  I also read energies and can feel that pain.  So while I may not have endured that particular point of stupidity, do not insult me by telling me I don’t understand.  There may be injustices in MY world you wont comprehend on anything more than an intellectual level either, but I wont discount your right to feel empathy for another human being and reach out with a hand of kindness.

The more I look around me at the hatred spewed by those who profess love and faith, it always amazes me that its the exact opposite that comes across.  It isn’t the majority but the select, prolifically  vocal who tilt the view askew, making it seem like one is looking through a kaleidoscope and nothing seems as it should be. Do they not read their own book?  In Isaiah 61:3 it tells them to become as the tree of righteousness in order to glorify god. To be righteous, would be to follow the edicts of their faith, that includes the main commandment to love their fellow man as themselves in order to reflect the love of god.  Seems more than a little contrary to some of the messages I have been hearing as well as seeing around me.  I know that many in the pagan world do not follow any such rules, but how about if one is claiming to be a connection of universal energy…could you not make a case of treating your fellow humans with respect .  That means if they choose to not live as you do, believe as you do or even look like you, you treat them as you wish to be treated.  Even if one doesnt follow a christian path, that one commandment transcends any faith..We are ONE race..HUMAN.  and as such should make a directed effort to act accordingly.  If your mama didn’t teach you any manners, try cultivating some.  You don’t like your neighbors skin tone, either accept that they are different or move the hell out of that particular place.  But dont expect others to respect you if you arent willing to reciprocate.  Life is short.  Try experiencing it without judgments, racism or ignorance.  You might actually find it more peaceful.

 

The Summons

Things can get a little weird when you are not lucidly dreaming and messages are given through others to shut up and listen.  Today I was summoned back to the library.  I’ve been there only twice before and each time I was escorted by those I know well and trust implicitly.  I wasn’t really sure if I could find the way on my own, but when one is given a direct summons, then how can one turn it down right? So, I begin my journey, pulling my cloak around me, not really to ward off chill, but as a way of centering, lowering that frieze of near panic that sits low in my belly and crawls up my spine.  Why am I being asked to present myself?  The first time there, I acquired a place to work, in the shadows of the back, the most recent time I was studying with George who was quite the task master.  I soon find myself standing in front of the nondescript shop front with the slightly askew sign hanging above swinging crazily in the sudden breeze that has begin.  I see nothing amiss, so open the door in front of me.  The bell above rings to signal the shopkeep, as if the crow that begins to caw loudly wasn’t enough to alert him of my presence. “Come in, come in”, he says cheerily.  “I trust your journey  was uneventful”? I nod and wonder to myself as to why he acts as if he does not recognize me.  But I soon see the reason for his spacial aloofness.  She was seated upon a stool just beside the check out counter.  Dressed in what could only be construed as the garb of royalty.  I am taken aback.  I was not expecting to see anyone else since the last time I was here George whisked me out of sight as if I was not to be known to frequent these parts.  My confusion must have shown on my face, because the woman spoke to me gently.  “I’m sure you are wondering why I asked you to come here”, she said.  “My apologies for it being so abrupt”.  “I know that you were here the other day when I needed a book on script for an event I am holding, and I wished that I had gotten to meet you then so that you would not be so taken aback now”.  “My guardian thought it best to keep me out of the way”, I said quietly.  “I have no idea what it is you need to speak to me about”.  “No, m’dear, I am the one who should apologize for my abrupt summons”.  “And where are my manners?  Come, let us retire to the tea I have ordered and we can converse in a more hospitable setting”.   I look above my head at the crow who seems to shrug as if to say,” fuck me..I have no clue either”.  I almost laugh but bite my lip to stifle it as I follow Her Ladyship through the library towards a table in the back that has seemingly been transformer into a rose arbor.  It contains a beautifully sat table with two chairs as well as servants who stand at attention awaiting our entrance.  At once they jump into motion, pulling out our chairs and bringing in tea, sandwiches and tea cakes.  I move to push back the hood of my cloak and as I do so, she smiles. “You are appear younger than I imagined”.  “With all that I had hear, I’d imagined you as an old woman, with gray hair, and yet you are neither.” I laugh.  “I’m not sure how to take that really.  I am ancient as I like to tell my friends…older than most of them, yet not as old as you pictured me obviously”.  She smiled.  “I am so glad you accepted my invitation Shae..may I call you Shae? I want to learn all I can about those who can help when I need it”.  Wait..I think…help her do what, and this was more than an “invitation“.  My confusion had to be showing because she spoke again while pouring our tea as the minions/servants filled my plate.  “I am planning a wedding…It must not be interrupted for any purpose, and I have spoken with one of your compatriots previously and they agreed to help, so if I should need it, can I also count on you as a back up plan?” FOR FUCKS SAKE! I know the compatriot of whom she speaks, have been privy to part of this conversation from their perspective.  How in the hell am I to help if her plan A doesnt work out? “Ma’am “I begin, “I am not certain that I have anything to offer on that front if my friend finds herself unwilling or unable to help you with that”?  She smiles.  “Don’t sell yourself short Swamp Witch”.  “Your guardian assures me that you would be most helpful should I need it, and you are willing”.  That last part was almost said grudgingly by Her Ladyship and this time I did allow the smile play around my lips.  So George was going to give me an out after all.  How very human of him after all.  the thought of George human almost was my undoing and Im sure if he ever found out, I’d never hear the end of it, but it allowed my nervousness to disparate and to see things as they were.  Her ladyship had an event that MUST take place for whatever reason and she was calling in reinforcements to make sure that happened.  “I will be happy to lend whatever assistance I can”, I tell her. She smiles and claps her hands.  “Oh good.  I was hoping you would do so”.  “Please, help yourself to more food”.  I had not even realized that I had eaten any.  As I look up, I spy a familiar rainbowed furry leg among the leaves in the rose arbor.  Oh.  I guess I didnt eat after all.  “No thank you”, I tell her I am fine”.  She continues to eat and speak of the upcoming wedding, about how she herself had personally written the invitations out in a flowing script and had them hand delivered.  She sounded so excited that I couldnt help but think that this good deed of hers..yeah would definitely have a price tag attached.  Ispent several more minutes with her, then she looked at the watch that was pinned to the front of her dress as a jewel.  “Oh my goodness..time just seems to get away with me.  I must leave, but thank you so much for this visit and your help”.  I stood as she gathered her belongings .  “Goodby m’dear.  I hope to see you again”.  And just like that, she was gone.  I shook my head.  “You can come out now George”, I tell him.  He shifts downward to the previously vacated chair wearing a sheepish grin(if such a thing can happen with a spider).   “So …let me see if I can wrap my head around this shit.  First you pull me out of sight before I can see her and tell me stay quiet, now you’re volunteering my services? Is that correct?” George nods.  “I wanted to scope things out first before I allowed the connection.  I know you know others who are connected to her, but this is different from your side”.   I shake my head.  “You owe me lunch you know,”I said as I gestured toward the table.   He laughed and soon the table was laden with all sorts of things.  “I could not allow you to eat just anything without knowing if it would harm you”, he said.  I knew this, and was grateful that he had my back even if I was still a little ticked over the manipulation.  Ah well..it’s not like its the first time nor likely to be the last.   So I ate my lunch and listened as George explained some details and went over some of the formulas he had me study before.  Soon it was time to return home, and George walked back with me because as he said, the shadows were gathering.  I dont mind shadows much, but if it made him feel better, was not going to argue.  We reached my door, and George stopped and looked at me..”You always have the choice Cher, don’t forget that”.  Out of my head spider,lol…”I know”, I tell him.  “But thanks for caring enough to remind me”.  He nods then disappears.  I have GOT to learn how to do that I think. I make my way inside and lie down on the bed to think things through.   This could either be damned interesting or a fucking train wreck. Either way the energy is going to be damned intense.  I need more rum and or sleep…either order works for me.

Because I can?

It’s been noted that at times I say things or ask questions that others will not say or ask for themselves.  Why is that?  Maybe it’s because I am an opinionated witch and I usually have an opinion, or maybe its because I am not fully invested in the topic at hand and so have nothing to lose by asking, or maybe I get tired of seeing others treated like shit, so will speak for them.  Whatever the reason behind my doing so, I seem to be able to ask or say the hard questions that others want to know the answer to.

I choose to be vocal for those who cannot or will not speak for whatever reason.  It’s part of who I am.  Doesn’t always make me popular, but hell I’m used to that status.  I choose to allow my voice ring out to rail against injustices done, prejudices levied against those who through no fault of their own are different that those who  voice their ignorance.   That doesn’t make me any sort of hero, martyr or sadist(cause yeah some of those vocalized discussions can get a might ugly at times).  What it does mean is that I am trying my damnedest to do what makes me a better human being.  By  becoming all that my guides demand of me, and in the process helping those I care about find some answers of their own. So will I keep on speaking up.  Yeah.  I will.  Because I can.

Responsibility and our part in it

So I’ve been watching a few conversations lately and its gotten me to thinking about responsibility and what part our actions take in it.

So the first convo was from the stalker feed today.(it really is a later convo than the other, but shorter so it gets to go first).  In it a woman who has divorced, is wiccan and does not follow the whole of the rede has made her own version up.  Basically its all the love and light crap, following the rule of three..which as we all know is bullshit…She believes that the goddess returns any harm and she does not nor will not retaliate for any wrong committed against her.  FFS woman!  what kind of door mat are you anyways? NOWHERE in the rede does it suggest that you allow others to wipe their feet upon your back and push your face down into the mud.  It does say that you return as you have been given.  So one might ask, why should we care that she likes being pushed around by the universe and others here in the mundane?  The other person involved was abusive, and odds are that it will continue..with someone else.  So if one had the opportunity to drag this person kicking and screaming to a “come-to-jesus” meeting where their attitude was “adjusted”, why would you not take it?  Patting yourself on the back because you successfully got away and they can do no more harm to you is all well and good, but what about your responsibility to the world at large?  It’s like loosing a demon…may not come back to kick your ass, but it will feast on those not in the know of your deed, and that have no protection or warning.  So I am of the mind set that we are responsible for what we loose into the world, whether its in the mundane or elsewhere.  Its our responsibility, and if you want to live in a cotton candy cloud of ignorance, keep deluding yourself, just dont expect those of us who get our hands dirty to give you a hand when shit comes back to kick your ass.

So now on to the next convo which actually took place last night.  It involves the event of people scarving up to support others who cover their heads, either for religious preferences, or when working.  It came about as a white woman was harassed for wearing one.  she uses the scarf as a sign of respect for the deity she observes.  I have no problem with this since a great many faiths also do the same.  What I had the issue with was that  POC (people of color) were not actively included.  It was just assumed that those who walk a pagan path in the community would step up and be included without a personal invitation.  WRONG.  Many felt slighted because nobody actually invited them or any groups that they might be affiliated with.  Why is that?  Oversight perhaps or maybe its because in truth, people are people with their own bias, and sometimes it still falls within the racial scope of things.  Lines drawn, walls built as if they can only be included in historically faiths that came from slave days brought to this country. So when it was brought to the attention of those pulling the event together, the ignorance of speech came out.  some could not see the “big deal” because those working on the event were doing so without remuneration, had families, jobs, lives outside of the event.  Well…..isn’t that special? Life has a way of intruding when he have plans ya know? The one phrase that had my jaw hitting the floor? I was told that I could invite my “colored” friend.  WTF?!?!?!? I live in the south.  I know only too well the ramifications of that word which has not long been gone from signs separating  lunch counters, water fountains and bathrooms here.  NOBODY I know would even use that term because it actually is akin to the other word that does not bear repeating, as if they are second class citizens.  So…poor choice of verbiage to be sure, but truthfully I have found that many  POC in the pagan world are really a minority within a minority and are often overlooked.  I’ve not met a great many within the confines of community, but those I have , I’ve  found to be more than knowledgeable about their paths and not afraid to help when asked.  So where does the responsibility come in?  It is our job to assess our walk.  Too often Ive heard from those on pagan paths about the persecution they feel because of certain faiths, and yet they pass that same ignorance and hostility on others based upon race, ethnicity or sexuality.  We need to be checking ourselves people.  We cannot in good conscience say that we are “open” if we still allow these things to come in and impede what we are trying to accomplish.  There is only ONE race..HUMAN, and its high time that we check to make sure we are abiding to that idiom.I know we’re human beings, coming from different perspectives, but that is the beauty of it.  We all come to the same table and have different things to offer. One cannot have a sumptuous smorgasbord if you are going to limit what is placed upon the table.  It’s our responsibility to make it right.  If you see things going on that is wrong, speak up.  It’s our silence that allows it to continue. You have a responsibility to be an active member of the human race…be a damn good  example of what truly should be.

 

vous êtes responsable

Behind the mask, or as I like to call it..admitting a few truths

So I post a lot on other social networks, and often times its just silly sarcastic stuff.  But every once in awhile, something comes that can start thought provoking conversations.  Such was the occasion today.  The post was of a mirror and the question asked was : Imagine if a mirror has the ability to show you as you really are..would you dare look? Most of us would want to look, but how often are we willing to see the real us beneath our masks? We always show a side of ourselves to others, to the world at large, even to those who think they know us well.  But when presented with having to acknowledge a part of us that might not be so pretty or that could be acknowledged as destructive or unproductive, would we be strong enough to look and conceded that there might be some things that need tweaking.

We all wear masks.  Its our safety net, if you will,to protect us from those who presume that they know us better than we do ourselves.  Sometimes we even wear them when we are doing our “soul searching”.  It’s hard to admit to even ourselves that there are things that  we are not perfect.  That what we do or say has consequences and repercussions in our daily lives.  For instance, “why can’t I find a guy who loves me for myself”..Perhaps its the company you keep…you know the ones who stay in the bars, dont pay their child support or hold a steady job.  If they didnt do that with the mother of their child, what makes you think they will do so with you? Why not aim for a higher class of guy. . .say perhaps, one with a job, a vehicle and likes hanging out watching movies with you because he likes the way you laugh at his corny jokes.  Damn…must be boring huh?   I often get frustrated with people who refuse to admit their value and settle for less. What made you think when you got married, you would be the one to provide the total support of the home, the care of the children, the slave to his every whim? that isn’t marriage..it’s a form of emotional abuse. and nobody deserves that.  I see people who refuse to speak up and put an end to that.  It makes me angry because I see their value.  But its not my choice.  I cannot make them change. Even if what I see would change their life for the better, or make them happier.  It is not my choice. I cannot stress that enough.  I have enough problems with the truths of my life which is no where near perfect.  It’s not that I don’t try to make it that way, but I am honest enough to admit that sometimes I suck at it.  But at least I get a new start every day so that’s always a plus.

We also wear masks and blinders in our paths as well.  I mean if we do so in the mundane, why not the spiritual ,right?  Sometimes people have the strangest idea of what we should be doing to keep us from being harmed, in their view, by the path we walk.  But I have to question their sincerity.  Is it really for our benefit that they choose to wield power to correct that or is it theirs?  Is it their power trip of playing savior that causes them to question the validity of what we do?  Sometimes we do  tend to get caught up in the shineys and other things that others before us decree we “must” have in order for the gods to hear us. When in truth, we just need to stand still and listen as they begin to tell us what they expect from us.  Wow..what a simple concept..listening.  Only we don’t always do we?  We hear what we want to especially when it is not what we want to hear.  We are alone in finding our own way on whatever path we choose to walk. We cannot and must not allow the arguments and persuasion of others sway us from what is truly our destiny.  they are not deity.  they do not have any power beyond the veil to change things for us.  That is between us and any entity we work with.  Any changes that occur are ours to make.  Nobody else’s, even if they wish it to be different. For others to speak and tell us that they could do so, or that we are wrong in our approach really pisses me off actually.  It’s not their life.  Not their path nor are they in charge of our destiny.  It is not their choice, nor do I need to allow them that privilege.

So its time to take a good look in that mirror.  A good hard honest look.  We don’t have to like what we see under that mask, but we do have to be honest at what is there. Is it time to let some things go?  Is it time to tweak some things here or there to make how we live a little more productive? Whatever we see, its time to be truthful to ourselves.  We deserve that. It is time we value what is truly us…that true woman or man that is worthy of respect, love and honesty from those in our lives, and most importantly from ourselves.

enlever le masque et de recevoir votre vérité

 

Wake up and smell the ……rum!

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.

a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creationof a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing amoral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
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.

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?