No more excuses. I need to start tying up loose ends before I get caught and strangled by them. I reached out to [Merciful Mother] Mary and asked permission to enter Binah for a proper run across the Path of Daleth that she described as ascending the holy mountain to meet her husband. (She is, and she is not Mary, and there’s a lot that I understand that I am not willing to talk about in public.) I had made a half-hearted attempt the other day, and I deserved the standstill I was brought to.
But because reasons, I understand this is much more important than I understood at first, and if I am going to proceed with other important goals in my life, I needed to complete this one along the way.
I entered her sphere and admitted my intentions. She pointed out the things that were keeping me from taking advantage of my gifts and asked what allowed me the grace to continue. Continue reading “Another Knot in the Path”
The “new” rock sings when I hold it. It makes the nerves in my hand and arm vibrate gently. Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-02-18.01”
A resident just brought me a rock from where he went on vacation. I had asked him and had explained why it was a thing for me. He understood, promised discretion, and that he would take only what ever rock or pebble reminded him of me.
I only had one restriction for him. No lava rock. Because I haven’t pissed off Pele, and I’m not about to start now.
He brought me a water rolled black rock that fit perfectly in my hand.
It was several hours before I realized just what kind of black rock he brought me. I called him and challenged him.
“Yes, it’s a lava rock but not a fresh lava rock. There’s a stream that cuts a channel through an old lava flow and spills into a secluded pond. I got that rock from that pond. [My family and I] were swimming there and I put my hand down under the falls and you came to mind so strongly I thought you were there with me. That rock was under my hand when I thought of you and every time I pick it up I get the feeling it was yours the moment you asked me [for a rock].”
He doesn’t do woo. He read between the lines and asked if I was a “back country woman”, to which I had answered “of a type”. He said he would have risked a greater anger from “whatever was watching” if he didn’t take the rock than the bad luck of taking a lava rock.
Maybe it’s the warm fuzzies of being considered. Maybe it’s the rush of getting what I wanted. But for the past couple of hours I’ve been buzzed to the point of distraction and I realize it started the moment I was handed the rock.
If Gordon White’s podcast “Talking Magical Realism, Curanderismo & Empire with Jesse Hathaway Diaz” had dropped this time last year, I would have flung the phone out the window and sulked off to as savage an anti-Christian position as I could physically and emotionally get. Continue reading “Spiritual Journal: 2017-02-10.01”
Shit is getting to the point where all I’ll have to do is post the word “bitch”, and you’ll know that Keri/Weaver got her ass spiritually ganked and thrown in the spiritual boot again. Continue reading “Spiritual Journal: 2017-02-05.01”
I’m not Catholic. Hell, I’m not even Christian anymore. So why am I holding on to a broken rosary? (Again.) It’s cheap as fuck, of shitty quality wood on a shittier quality yarn that self-shredded itself inside of an unopened cloth bag closed up in an unopened interior purse pocket. I don’t keep junk. And I have already replaced it. So why am I keeping it? Continue reading “Spiritual Journal: 2017-02-02.01”
Earth acts upon and through earth, and we can hear it from a distance. See also, the landslide and the earthquake.
Water acts upon and through water, and we can hear it from a distance. See also, the raging river and the choppy sea.
Fire acts upon and through fire, and we can hear it from a distance. See also, the wildfire and the hearthfire.
Air acts upon and through air, and we can only hear it when it acts upon something not air. Standing on the ground looking up at clouds passing a scant hundred feet over my head, pushed with obviously vigorous winds, and I realize I don’t hear anything. Continue reading “Spiritual Journal: 2017-01-28.01”
I usually avoid listening/watching recordings of rituals, because historically, such recordings make me feel… uncomfortable. Maybe I pick up on spiritual echoes that ring me like a tuning fork. Maybe the years of shit I have survived and intentionally forgotten resonate in the mental caverns where my fear lairs. Maybe my lack of self-esteem made me feel dirty for watching undoubtedly genuine experiences that I did not have a right to observe, even though they were released explicitly to be observed.
I took a risk, and listened to an audio recording of a specific ritual that was published explicitly to be listened to at minimum, and to participate along with as standard. (What the fuck is time to spirits, amirite?)
Spoiler: I came out okay. Invigorated, even. Continue reading “Journal: 2017-01-05.02”
Spirits: You need to learn The Thing.
Ancestors: The Thing is a good way to interface with us.
Random Divination: The Thing is mutually pluggable with you.
Rummer John: You know what would help? The Thing.
OG: I’m inserting myself into your life explicitly to participate with The Thing.
Friends: We could see you being all in The Thing.
Me: There is no one to help me into the pool. I don’t know how to find The Thing, how to learn The Thing, or who I could scrape trust to even begin to learn The Thing. And even if I could begin with The Thing, what the hell am I going to do with it?
Fam: Hey Keri, what’s this shit on me?
Me: It looks like The Thing, smells like The Thing, and tastes like The Thing. If only I knew The Thing and could directly help deal with this shit.
In much the same way the name I once called the Antler Crowned and Green Masked Figure by is not his name, so to are the markers and name I know a certain Broker of Information by, not his. Continue reading “A Thorn By Any Other Name…”