So Friday evening I had a wild ride and a spot of adventure, and I really don’t want to go into all the details but let’s just say that the overriding theme of the evening is “Trust”.
Which is one of the things I have the damnedest of times doing.
I don’t trust anyone. People. Gods. Dogs. Nope. I’ve been burnt too many times to openly trust again. You want me to trust you? Prove yourself trustworthy to me. Continue reading
Every time I set out to get my [dream version of the] wand back from the Path of Teth, something always fucking happens, and I am either kicked out of the process or prevented from even starting in the first place.
This post serves no other purpose than to profusely bitch about it while laughing because the Path of Teth is the Strength card in the tarot’s Major Arcana. You know…
Which is exemplified by an enduring resolve, and the unwavering commitment to the goal/process despite all setbacks encountered and all discouragement served by others.
So, while it seems I haven’t made any actual process towards the Path of Teth, I would like to posit that I have been on it from the day I committed to following through.
Unlike my other Tree of Life endeavors which have been all in “meditations” (and shit), this has been playing out in the waking world day by day, in a thousand boring moments when I realize how much I have not done, how much I am actually capable of doing, but still decide to continue doing the thing anyway.
And isn’t that fortitude?
When you look at the odds and the amount of work to be done and you do it anyway?
I’m doing it.
Don’t know how. But I’m doing it.
I was the proprietor of a small witchy/occult/woo supply store that had all the usual stuff you’d expect and some stuff you wouldn’t expect and some stuff that if you had to ask if I had it, I didn’t have it, but if you knew I had it, it was for sale as long as you could meet the price.
“50 milliliters of demon’s blood. Please.” Continue reading
Rummer John ran his fingers over the one token I must wear at all times. The mark of [the one] that crowns me. The one god that actually owns me.
“So, Girl. Tell me about [certain future plans]. Are things still going to go as you think they are?” Continue reading
He dipped and he twisted as he hopped around in the dark hut. I watched impassively as the straw garbed man managed to keep his balance despite the unwieldy wood mask covering his head. The long beak reminded me of Pacific Northwest emblems, but the eyes of the bird mask were of a toad while the straw was bound to it to resemble the spikes of short wet fur.
I was definitely interested in what myths led to the creation of that mask. However, what the hopping man had desired to happen, didn’t. Continue reading
I have been up since one in the god damn morning. Not because of the delightful thunderstorm that shook the foundations of the house overnight. No, that was a lullaby for me. Because the other occupants of the house had lost their everlasting mind upon being reminded just how loud weather can be for the first time all calendar year.
About three in the afternoon, I finally was able to sneak away for a nap. Immediately upon descending into sleep, I felt desperate hands gripping me while my shoulders shuddered from uncontrollable spasms. Something wet and foul was squirming in my mind and I was crying out from the pain of the possession.
Possession? Continue reading
In the House of [the Moon], I submit a formal petition to the [Lord of the Moon]. To his annoyed chagrin, the [Lord of the Sun] enters to join the proceedings.
Me: “I’m filing this petition for [Action]. I request that it be approved for [these reasons that are a mix of logical reasoning and emotional egotism]. Yes, I’m aware my feelings are wrapped up in this, and am making the attempt to distance my feels.”
Lord of the Sun: “Aw, isn’t that cute. She’s actually asking permission!” Continue reading
The mists part as I start to come to awareness. Dressed in Traveling clothes, I recognize I am dreaming the moment I open my eyes. How else could I explain the wall of glass before me. On my side of the glass was swirling wisps of shadows and drifting tendrils of darkness. From such stuff are the dreams worlds made. On the other side of the glass was a well lit room. Books were opened on the table as a person consulted the diagrams on the paper before reaching up to make wax marks on the glass.
He did not see me, but I saw him. He was muttering to himself about making sure the seal was just right so “that bitch can’t slip through the cracks”.
I smiled and the darkness smiled with me. Continue reading
Ares the opera singer paces his training for maximum effect. He does not push his voice to reach the notes at the edge of his skill at first, but instead trains his lungs for endurance and stamina by practicing holding low notes and learning how to control his diaphragm.
Ares the opera singer does not engage in voice shattering dares and is written off by his fellow students as a stick in the mud. But he has a goal, and destroying his voice for a drunken dare will not bring him any closer. He surprises himself and his peers when he explodes in anger and makes the hall doors reverberate as his tone sobers the flippant youths around him. Continue reading
Not feeling good today, so I went to lay down to take a nap. A last second impulse snatched the rosary from its bag as I passed it in the room. I didn’t realize I had grabbed it until I literally slapped myself in the face with it as I adjusted the eyeshield. (Years of nightshift trained me to equate its presence with deep sleep.)
Too comfortable to put the rosary back on the table. Fine. I’ll just lay it here on the pillow just out of drool reach. Continue reading