Tallied up the feeds I’m tracking with Google Reader. 68 blogs. And I read each and every post they release. Good thing they don’t all post every day. But because I do read them, I’d like to promote them, or at least admit that this plebe can handle the occasional hard word.
~looks at Blogroll to the right~
Hmm. I don’t think listing 68 links there is going to do good.
I considered using a plugin to pull the links from my Google Reader account, but all those I looked at will only feature those that have recent updates. Which pushes those that publish only monthly (or less) in the the nebulous background.
I’m somewhat sleep deprived (again), so I’m going to blather Plan A here. Dwell on it for a few days, then charge forward.
Post all the links on a static page. ~points up~ Next to “Keri’s Q’s & A’s”. Reduce the “Blogroll” to one link that will take you to the static page.
That lets me group the links in a more orderly fashion than one long scrolling list here.
No, you can’t volunteer to be link #69 unless your website is about cooking, magic, interesting, or a combination of those three.
(I haven’t forgotten the Uruz bindrune combo. Uruz + Ansuz + Sowilo. Just haven’t had time to sit and play with it, yet.)
Waking up this morning, I felt like I had lived through a Twilight Zone marathon. All that was needed was Rod Serling, nursing a cigarette, narrating the end to tie it all together. While some of the episodes have a flow to them, where one obviously follows the preceding, some seem absolutely random. Even still, I’m not sure how to take them as a group. Continue reading “Five Scenes”
It was easy to get to the foot of the Tree. Above me, the canopy blotted out the stars as it held heavens upon heavens in its boughs. Below me, the roots spread far and wide before descending into the rich earth. I spied little holes here and there. Some were the dens of animals. Some were the entrances to other worlds.
Nearby was one of the pools. I looked at it with a twinge of regret. It was there the Norns had explained my thread to me. In doing so, my past was made clear. For this, I am thankful. But they also showed the trend my thread is being spun around. For this pain, I am also thankful. It will be hard to overcome it, if I choose to try and change it. But that is for another writing. Continue reading “Claiming The Fire”
It’s dark. I’m stumbling around. I know I’m dreaming, but I have no control here. I try to jump to the various “staging” areas of my dreamscapes, but I’m stuck fast. There is an up and a down, a semblance of gravity that holds me to the unseen ground. But there are no compass points, no directions. There is only Here (where I am), and There (where I am not). Here is a small space, so dark, I can barely see myself. There, is much larger, and I am frightened by what could be over There.
I misplace a step and twist my right ankle. I crumple into a heap to keep from falling hard against the ground. I feel no broken bones, no bleeding gashes, but I know I’m not going to be able to walk any further. I attempt to shift form into something more habituated to the dark, but I’m stuck fast as plain human me. Continue reading “Dream: OMG Snake!”
Dear Person castigating me for (re)turning to “low magic” & “demigod enslavement”;
Who the fuck are you to tell me how to orbit?
If you’re so high advanced as your email pretends, then you’d know we all have to travel through shit before getting to the temple.
I am where I need to be in the moment that I’m in. I’m going to live this moment to the fullness of it, until I am drunk from the experience.
And if it takes the heel of a demigod for me to get through my issues, then so be it. Wouldn’t want a high adept with ego issues, would we?
I have enough trauma to deal with from priest-king fuckers that tried to bend me into their ideal shape. Not adding yours to it.
So, dear Concerned Frater, take your 93/93s, your “fatherly concern”, and your poisoned barbs and talk to Choronzon! Bahlasti! Ompehda!
Signed with Sincerity and Vicious Smiles, A Star.
(There were enough clues in the email to reveal the “Concerned Frater” was a reader of both blog and recent Twitter streams. Originally posted on Twitter, but reposting here in case he slept through my outburst.)
I’ll talk about myself until the sun sets, rises, and sets again. But when talking of someone else, I am hesitant. Even more so when death is involved. I have wondered if I should put this post behind the password wall. Or even if I should post it publicly at all. The identity of the other person has been scrubbed. But I can’t leave him out of my words entirely. His death has had a direct impact on the person I have emerged to be today. Continue reading “Burning The Jersey”
Funny the things you find when you read the back pages. Or in this case, server logs.
Someone found my site using these words in Google: “What are three different ways to describe Loki” I had a quick chuckle, then proceeded to more important issues. But the question stuck with me. And of course, because I was catching up with my Twitter feed for the day, I had to answer the question there.
“To the kid googling “What are three different ways to describe Loki?” for homework. “Slippery. Sensous. Salacious.” You’re welcome.“
The question is still bugging me. I feel a familiar presence over me. So I should probably explain myself. Warning. Unverifiable Personal Gnosis (UPG) ahead. Continue reading “Because Someone Asked: “Three Ways to Describe Loki””
As some of you may know, I have a… rocky… relationship with my mother. Things have deteriorated to the point where I have to assume anything that comes from her hand has a hidden trap ready to spring and draw blood.
It was during one of our more vicious interactions I was made painfully aware that most of the jewelry I was wearing were (willfully given and unprompted) gifts from her. For me to continue wearing them, she said, was a hypocrisy. After all, if I rejected her values, why was I still wearing her trinkets?
Challenge, accepted. Continue reading “A Drop of Opal”
Many years ago, I worked in a train yard. One night during my probationary period, I was tested in what was supposed to be just a matter of stubborn will. I had to pick up a crew from this train over there and be given conflicting directions by the conductor and engineer to see how I responded.
To get to this train, I had to cross the “main line”, the railroad artery that all trains had to run on to pass through the yard, including a certain passenger train. To dodge the keyword triggered bots and scrapers, we’ll call it “AlwaysLate”.
Of course, I didn’t know I was being tested. Or I would have been even more confrontational than I was. The conductor told me to hurry up and take the crew back over the tracks to return to the yard office, even though the night’s AlwaysLate was nearby and closing in. The engineer told me to wait until AlwaysLate passed. A polite argument ensued, that I ended by telling the conductor that I would take the Safe course of action, as suggested by the engineer, and wait for AlwaysLate to pass before attempting to cross. Report me for insubordination, I dared, I wasn’t moving until the other train had come and gone. Continue reading “Just One Lie”
“Leilah Publications” posted this post and comment last night on Facebook. I still had Ravenwoman in the forefront of my thoughts, and the mess of contradictions she had presented. His words pierced the darkness she left behind.
During ordeals of psychological, physiological, and spiritual fitness, the soul finds itself with nothing, utterly stripped and naked; it can do nothing because it is stripped of all manner of power sitting in its own infinitude of nothingness. This powerlessness felt by the initiate in his conjuring at once deprives and transcends the senses.
The more intimate these experiences are, they grow supersensible to the point of mystic silence imposed upon the senses, as the soul soon feels placed in a vast and profound solitude; this is often symbolized by oceans or deserts in the writings of Illuminati Hermits. Many Adepts soon successfully pass these ordeals and find themselves living in actual desert settings or rural areas. In this abyss of true love and wisdom the soul gestates, awaiting rebirth by drinking from the well-springs of agapae.
“… by the initiate in his conjuring …”
I read that to mean the initiate being conjured from Here to There involuntarily. Suddenly, Ravenwoman makes a little more sense.