The 4th Abysmal Witch episode of Pennies in the Well is now up. In it I share one of my personal workings, in this case, my personal altar. Since visual aids are helpful:
If you want to know more about it, you’ll need to listen to the podcast. 🙂
Saturn.
This post was inspired by Episode 29 of New World Witchery in one of those random statements leads to random thoughts leads to curious wondering moments.
There is a lingering idea in the world that “a curse won’t work if you don’t believe in it”. Not all people or even practitioners adhere to it, but I still hear mention of it now and again. In the above episode, Cory, Laine and their guest discussed the impact of healing magic on animals and young children, young enough that the child wouldn’t understand what was happening. In both cases it’s obvious that the healing, which was witnessed, could not have been the result of positive thinking.
What then occurred to me was that perhaps the mind could impact the situation in a negative fashion, rather than a positive one. We know that magic is driven by our will and focus, powered by our passion. Now let’s assume that the recipient of the healing or curse is adamantly opposed to the magical possibility. Not just a laissez faire attitude towards magic but a complete and utter repudiation of it.
Or in other words, they put their will, focus and passion into the certainty that there is no magic that could possibly touch them.
If they were strong enough in all these components, could they counter the affect of the magic coming towards them?
It would be a form of counter-magic (making it extra funny given that it would require the same tools as magic does).
If this is the case, it could account for the ‘you have to believe in curses for them to work’ statement. Except that the phrase has leapt to the wrong conclusion. It’s not that you have to believe in them, but perhaps if you repudiate the very idea on a deep, strong, passionate and consistent level, it could form a natural shield that might protect the anti-believer.
What do you think?
There was a time, many years ago, when I was young, my body unbreakable and there was no such thing as the internet, that it was relatively easy to scare the muggles.
See, even that has changed. Back in the day we called them mundanes or cowans. Now popular culture has infected us, not the other way around, and the non-pagans of the world are now muggles.
But I digress.
Back when, it didn’t take much to spook these people. A little mention of magic here, a little spellcasting mutter there, and suddenly that seat on the bus was all yours. You could make room in lineups at the movie theatre, get the last bottle of booze on the shelf…okay, that’s probably stretching it, but the idea is still there. We were unknown, mysterious, creepy. And there was no point in going into the differences between types of pagans. Who would understand?
Then came today.
There I was, in the grocery line, buying a used copy of Skeleton Key (ask Cory & Laine at New World Witchery for all the hoodoo details that are in it) and frozen pizza and I end up chatting with the guy in line behind me about the movie.
Now being me, I couldn’t bring myself to refer to the practice in it as Voodoo when I’m pretty darn sure it’s Hoodoo. Sure, it’s a teeny detail that wouldn’t matter to a muggle, but still, I felt the need to be precise in my statement. It’s possible he misheard me, but I don’t think so, and he didn’t blink at all over the word usage and he understood what I was talking about.
In fact, he joked about having never tried that [hoodoo]. I suggested everything should be tried at least once in life. He agreed. And then we both acknowledged that the conversation had travelled to an odd place.
The mystique, it might be gone, or at least lessened. The subtle unspoken nervousness that could be generated by a well placed word, gone. The sideways glance, the shifting away, gone. I know we’re going for greater understanding and acceptance from society at large, but, but
I think I miss scaring random strangers.
Hello! Yes, I feel very excited about sending out a greeting. Perhaps I spent too much time on my own these past several days. Perhaps? Okay, fine, I obviously did. Further evidenced by this arguing of my multiple personalities.
Right, back to the blog post.
I’m adding a new semi-regular blog topic: The Stoner Report
It will highlight certain stones that I’ve picked up over the years, some that are simply pretty, some that I use in more magical ways. To kick this off I’m starting with a pretty one. Oh, so pretty…
This is a rutilated smoky quartz, I believe. The inclusions at the bottom strongly resemble reeds in a marsh and the flaw (or whatever the proper term is for the plane of visible crystal) about a third down from the top can resemble a dragonfly hovering over the reeds. The piece has been cut and polished from its natural state and is about 4 inches high.
Magically it would be easy to work with this piece for connecting with or working with some aspect of marshes, the quiet, the life-filled land, liminal boundaries, fecundity. I haven’t worked with it magically as of this time but I have it in my living room window and look at it on a very regular, enjoyable basis.
This Stoner Report has been brought to you in part by the wonderful selecting abilities of Stone Haven Gems, which is where I purchased it.
~Abysmal Witch
Mason, my handsome grey brat of a boy cat, has this way of falling asleep on me that I adore…and feel just a tad envious of.
He doesn’t just stretch out across me. It’s like he throws himself into the most flaked out, relaxed, expansive position across me that he can.
His limbs are draped over mine, limp as noodles. His body is flopped between my calves with a leg draped over my ankle and another over my knee.
I don’t think he could be more relaxed if he tried. But more than that, he has entirely relaxed into his space. It’s not just that his body is limp, it’s that he’s so utterly at ease within the entire context of his world. Or in other words, he ain’t passed out from drugs or a knock to the head or a desperate need for sleep, he’s just that completely, utterly comfortable in his skin and where his skin is.
He has put himself into the moment with sheer abandon and no concern for when the moment may end.
Lucky brat.
~Abysmal Witch
p.s. I just had to share this other picture. He loves this little sleep tent so much that he’ll sleep in it, on it and occasionally he’ll crawl in under it. Yes, voluntarily. I certainly wouldn’t try putting him there. As you can see, even his brother thinks he’s a tad nuts.
Note: this post is NOT to elicit sympathy, concern or expressions of support (no, seriously, I appreciate any such thought but really don’t want or need to hear it). I’m sharing because some days are bad days and there is something to be learned in them.
And yes, today is a bad day. My stupid freakin back is acting up enough for me to be incapable of ignoring it or pretending its just a blip. While I have held to a general state of calm and positive thinking, somedays fear surges up and all the horrible possibilities start doing a whirly twirly dance around me. Bad days are really good for letting the fear in (the fear in this case residing in how long will this injury last, will it outlast the really good medical leave at work, will I ever get back to normal, etc.).
What’s interesting is that sadness also leaks out on days like this. Is it just anger twisted inwards? Fear turned sideways? Or is it true sadness?
I honestly don’t know. It’s just a sea of heart-break, waves slipping long and deep across my inner sands. It wells up and subsides in a rhythm only it knows.
I don’t know what’s being released through this. I can only accept it as part of myself that needs its own acknowledgement, its own space, its own share of my attention.
And what I’ve found in the past is that when deep sadness or pain is lurking just below consciousness, one of the best ways for me to finish drawing it to the surface and release it is to watch an emotionally intense movie. There are some guarantee to make me cry scenes here and there, but let’s face it, you want a movie to wring you out, why not go with What Dreams May Come? After all, almost everyone is dead within the first ten minutes and the remainder die by the end anyways 😀
We’ll see what else may come tonight. Okay, anyone else think that sounded dirty?
~Abysmal Witch
Our rite this night began with the “Rite of Her Sacred Fires”, a celebration and invocation of Hekate that can be done by anyone and really at any time, though people are asked to do it across this waxing moon to share in a global group experience.
Our circle casting was simple and efficient (with that much practice, its not too surprising!) though in it I used the red drum I made with Nikiah of Red Moon Musings. Its voice has deepened and reaches far on our behalf.
And then we worked with our Ancestors, in particular our spiritual ancestors. While I cannot speak of the ritual and our experience, I will say that it was an honour, periodically fun, and has left me glowing with the love of a night well spent.
Let as many as can release their fears, become All, become None, become One and thus find our Selves.
~the Abysmal Witch
This Beltaine my covenmate and I hightailed it, okay we ambled casually, over to Queen E park in Vancouver.
A beautiful place and highly welcoming. The nature wights of the place were actually a bit confused as to why we’d bother to ask permission to do ritual there. Don’t get me wrong, they appreciated the courtesy, but they’re so welcoming they just never worry about such things.
And yes, spring flowers were certainly the bloom of the day. The number of hyacinths was remarkable, sending an intense wave of sweet scent over the whole park. I love getting up close and personal with flowers, I’m guessing that’s obvious by my picture style. In one case I got so close I was inside the flower:
Being Vancouver there were the odd markers of recent rain:
Now it wasn’t all flowers, all the time. There were plenty of trees for us to commune with. Many tall, straight and fair. And some of them curlier than…well, the phrase that comes to mind is a bit rude and gives also the wrong impression so without further ado, one of the curly trees.
After touring the grounds and doing our magical thing, we headed into the Bloedel Conservatory which is in the middle of the park. There was talk about closing it last year as part of a series of budget cuts, but so far it’s still there. Inside there was another stream, a lot of tropical plants and trees, well labeled actually which was lovely, a display by the local orchid society and a selection of tropical birds.
There was some truly remarkable orchids, but I think my favourite were these ones. First because of the colour and second because they made me think of two high society ladies discussing passerbys.
As we were heading towards the door we were greeted by yet another bird, this one who was kind enough to let me take his picture while he kept his eye on us. Right up until the little kid came wandering up and then he was out of there!
And that, my dear lovelies, was the end of our ritual day. From there it was lunch, a little metaphysical book (mostly window) shopping, and then a lacsidaisical drive home through the gorgeous sunshine.
Happy May Day to all! And to all a great night.
a.k.a. the Power of Cuddling.
On real joy of being stuck lying down for months is the amount of cat cuddle time I’ve gotten in. Particularly with my oldest cat, she’s 14, sweet and so neurotic she’s on Prozac.
The hours we have spent with her curled up on me during the bad months. I’m sure she slept on my for 3, 4, possibly more hours on individual days during the worst of the pain.
She prefers to be up high on my chest so that the back of her head, her neck or her back is up close near my chin. Many times right up against. Then there was the odd day where she would be across my chest with her legs outstretched on either side of my head. Okay, sure, there was fear that if there was some loud, startling noise, that she’d slice my face right open as she fled from it, it was still really sweet and cute and cuddly.
And ultimately soothing for me. Keeping to a happy state of mind has had its rough moments over the past few months. I also had to keep from getting too bored or frustrated or annoyed with my incapacitated and horizontal state. I believe my sweetie really helped with that
Touch is powerful. It is extremely personal. It reaches straight through to our inner selves. And it’s not just touch with other people. It’s connecting with our pets and our environment, from our clothes, to bedding, to anything that our skin comes in contact with.
If I had more energy left I’d go on more, but instead I’ll leave the topic there for the time being and only add:
Go get your cuddle on!
For all of you who keep checking in on me, so much love your direction! I know I’ve been very quiet. Vewy quiet, though I haven’t been hunting wabbits, I swear! In fact, yesterday I was accused, oh so sweetly and gently, mind you, of becoming a hermit.
A semi-fair accusation, I must admit. Given that I’ve been trapped on my couch (I’m sitting up as I type this because lying down and typing is an exercise in aggravation) and up to so little, it’s been pretty easy to put off blogging and, realistically, all kinds of human interaction.
Add in the brain mush that resulted from all the pain and drugs, and I really didn’t feel like blogging. After all, what was I going to say? That I’m still recovering? Still suffering pain? Oooh, I’m off drugs now? This is not the type of thing I find interesting to share. So I’ve stayed quiet. (As for the friend anti-socialness, that’s probably a result of all of this plus the mindless distraction of reading & tv. Easier to vegemetate than to interact with real, live humans.)
I think my brain is coming back. Sssshhhhhh. We don’t want to scare it away. 🙂 So hopefully you’ll be hearing from me more often. Hope. It’s an enduring yet elusive thing. But that’s a topic for a different day.
Instead, the topic of the day is something I tweeted this past weekend. I asked “To become your dream self, you have to say farewell to who you are now. Is it worth it? Would you do it?”
And I got some great replies. Ranging from others who are asking themselves this type of question to the other extreme of being content with their current self and feeling no need to seek out their dream self (as that would be too much like living in a movie ((a fabulous comment!)) ).
The origin of the conversation arises, naturally, from my own personal contemplation. I’ve had a large amount of time for such thinking endeavours (though less than it would seem given the limits to said thinking), some of which I’ve actually used. The specific that triggered this instance of this train of thought (I’ve had it before) arose from dealing with my food issues.
I lost a dozen pounds during my incarceration (sounds better than illness, doesn’t it?). Turns out that you can counter a complete lack of exercise and even movement by an even larger lack of food. Between the pain and drugs I just wasn’t hungry, and it hurt too much to get food, and so I lost weight. Then I was able to move again and got off the drugs and rediscovered the joys of tasty food. Okay, so I was treating myself. 🙂 And the weight went back on. It’s been a see-saw which ultimately led me to contemplate my issues with food.
But that isn’t today’s topic, per se. Instead I’m focusing on a particular aspect of the situation that generalizes to many other aspects of life.
Obviously I have something of a preferred ideal in mind when it comes to my weight. I also have a preferred relationship that I would like to have with food. But my reactions to food are too often emotionally based which, as you may know if you’ve ever tangled with your own emotional demons, are nasty trixy things to combat.
So I have this idea/dream/preferred (yes, all ranges apply) version of myself when it comes to food. There’s that version of me. And then there’s me. There is distance between the two.
There are a select number of dream me’s that are at some distance from my reality. And the gap between the two would seem to be a simple matter of choice, will and effort.
Ha!
Behind all three of those things lurks desire. And deep within desire is our emotional history and all the other desires that conflict with the supposedly easy and obvious one of becoming the person we dream of being.
And the more hidden the desire and emotional history is, the harder it is to overcome with any other more conscience desire that we have in mind.
Ha! again.
Desire that we have in mind. Desire doesn’t lurk in the mind. It may be informed by it, but desire is in our blood, our sinews, our bones and in our emotions and thus in our subconscious.
I believe that our cultural focus on the mind limits us in matters of the heart and soul. But that’s just my opinion.
Anyhow, there is this gap between who I dream of being and who I am, that is ultimately supported by some internal need of mine to continue to be the me I am now. This need can also be fear based, because changing from the known to the unknown (after all, we only have a concept of what that dream self in that dream life is like) is scary, so is the act of leaving that which brings us some strange level of comfort or satisfaction (if it didn’t,we would have ditched the behaviour ages ago).
And then there is the death of the I-of-now. In an easy, happy world, the change towards the dream self is gradual and you just look back one day and realize that you are not the person you used to be. But sometimes the change gets so focussed in that to go from old to new requires a release of I-of-now, a death as it were, and that, that is very hard indeed.
Thus leading to my original question “To become your dream self, you have to say farewell to who you are now. Is it worth it? Would you do it?” We are very attached to who we are now, and rightly so! This is who we are. Where we find our loves, our joys and our sorrows. Not easy to simply leave behind. It’s easy to talk about, just like it’s easy to talk about switching jobs or packing up and moving away. But the actual doing? That’s a horse of an entirely different colour.
Great kudos and power to you who are doing just that! I’m still a-struggling, but that’s part of life, too.
Well, that’s my $10.50 on the matter. For today. Apparently if I don’t vent thoughts now and again, I burst out with a profusion of inanity.
Much love to all.
Blessings of the deep and wild to you and yours.
~Saturn, the Abysmal Witch.