Tag Archives: witch

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Litha…Party Of Two

The rest of MoonShadow Coven’s members had other obligations and that was okay. Usually, I would host my annual Mid-Summer Faerie Ball, but this year I just kept putting off working on the details until it was no longer feasible to put it all together and pull it off in the flawless fashion that I demand of myself. When Sarinea commented that if I really wanted to host this bash, I’d have had the menu planned months ago, I realized that calling it off was a wise choice. It was going to be a much quieter Litha.

Dianthus had no other plans  and still wanted to come to Madison so she arrived Saturday morning. After a round of hugs and a trip to the guest room we made our way to my favorite Asian buffet and sushi bar with my husband, Randy in tow. The only other stop was going to a thrift store that we like, due to its nicely organized stock of really interesting items. It’s run by Lutherans, and for some reason they seem to have a knack for parting with some very unique knicks.

We played a game of ‘what the hell is that’ with an elderly lady in a brightly colored head wrap and kept her entertained with our old married couple banter. I picked up something that appeared to be a twelve inch tube of fabric stuffed with beans that had a loop on both ends. “What’s this thing…a husband beater?” The lady could be heard laughing two aisles over. “I gotta see this”, she said as she rounded the corner. My husband took it away from me, partially to keep me from using it and also to demonstrate what it actually was. He draped it around the back of his neck and said, “you put it in the microwave to heat it up and then put it on your sore neck”. By then, I was off to the next moment of discovery. Dianthus found a framed print for her kitchen and some stone finished coasters and we left empty handed, deciding there was nothing we couldn’t live without.

Back at the house, I poured myself an ice cold cucumber infused vodka martini while Di opted for her flavored water as we found ourselves on the deck to see if we’d become mosquito bait.  We slapped ourselves senseless for a bit, but for some reason the pests soon Magically hummed off.  We talked about our radio show, Hocus Focus,and gardening, birds, spiritually and more gardening as the birds, ground squirrels and rabbits played and ate in the yard below.

Di had requested the recipe for my mother’s famous carrot cake and I agreed to give it to her with the stipulation that she never defile it with frosting. The cake is so heavy and rich that topping it with the ubiquitous cream cheese goop would be both an abomination and render it inedible like when they have to douse an already sweet desert with sticky syrup. I get a toothache just thinking about it. This cake is dusted with powdered sugar and that’s sufficient as well as simple and elegant. As a surprise, I made the cake so Di could eat her fill and take what was left home to her husband. In addition, I also made some pastel colored sugar cookies…it’s a well known fact that Faeries love sweet things…and so do we.

Two cookies and a piece of cake later we made our way to my inner sanctum, affectionately known as my ‘broom closet’ to listen to a couple of our shows that are now in archives. It’s always fun to do that when they’re not as fresh in our minds because we can critique them with the same mindset as hearing what our audience hears. We like what we hear. http://www.blogtalkradio.com/moonshadow92/2014/05/25/hocus-focus-radio-topic-table-talk-and-divination

The mosquitos were beyond the practice round launched earlier on the deck and were now forming battle lines like Celtic warriors and we had no desire to meet them head on so our plans for a bonfire were scrapped in favor of calling it a night. Di wanted to get an early start for home Sunday morning so plans for hitting a local breakfast buffet were also amended to coffee and a few more cookies.  Tentative plans were made for me to head up north to record more shows since they flow better when we’re all together as opposed to using Skype. More hugs and she was heading down the road while I settled in a chair to savor the experience.

Sometimes the quiet grace of time spent in the company of the dearest of friends is exactly what is needed. Perhaps next year the fervor of a riotous romp, costumed in Faerie wings, will be too enticing to be written off as easily as it was this year. Dianthus and I agreed that we both needed this…time to talk, unwind, and enjoy a bit of Nature in the yard.

So, as the Wheel of The Year turns another cog, Solstice past, we are heading into the dark times now. No sadness comes as a result of this, only the contemplation of being in harmony with it all and the gentle acceptance of each season as it rolls out its own carpet. Be it lush green grass, gold and scarlet fallen leaves or crystalline snow, I will jubilantly dance upon each one.

 

 

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What This Witch Learned From A Weed

While pulling weeds from my garden, I discovered the same one  that I keep trying to eradicate from the same spot. I cut off the top part, but I know that’s not going to make it go away.  Irritation takes over as I go ‘Norman Bates’ on it, plunging my garden knife deeply into the soil in an attempt to get the root. I pull out what appears to be pieces of the root, but I know the main part of that sucker is still deeply buried. What will it take to eliminate this baneful stalk of foliage once and for all? I want to avoid an herbicide because my family of Ground Squirrels lives in the rock wall and tunnels freely and although it might not hurt them, I don’t want to take the chance, especially if they eat parts of this plant.

‘Tenacity’, was the word that popped into my mind as I removed the weed once more. When the urge to abandon goals that are slow to be realized and manifestations are lagging behind my deadline, I will come out to the yard and see how that weed is doing. I am willing to bet that it will be there, refusing to be eliminated, concentrating energy at its root so that it can come back even stronger. Thank you, weed.

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Not My Child

Before you call for an exorcist or ground the little darling for life, let me explain a few things.  Number one,  It could be worse. Number two, it’s not at all what you’re thinking.

Let me address number one. If your kid is exploring the practice of Witchcraft in the way that it was intended to  be practiced, know that it does not revolve around looking Goth, vampires, or putting a hex on aunt Mildred. If that is what they are exhibiting, then that is not Witchcraft, but rather something that smacks of role playing games. If that is the case, rest assured there will come a time that they will grow out of it or go through life being really weird or just get beat up a lot. Being like this past their 20’s pretty much assures that they will spend their lives asking, “do y0u want curly fries with that?”

However, if they are indeed involved with the practice of The Craft, they will be completely responsible for their actions. That means, there is no devil or sin to blame when they do something that they shouldn’t. Knowing that all things are circular, involves the consciousness of the concept of the law of return or the scientific principal of cause and effect. That being said, it is required that one live conscientiously and in harmony with all of life. Being responsible for one’s actions is accepted without question. It’s not the parent’s fault, the school’s fault or the fact that they may get picked on. All actions are based upon a conscious choice. Whether that choice proves to be right or wrong, the responsibility lies with the person making the choice.

So, if your kid does something that has a negative effect on someone or something, they should be aware that they will need to face the consequences for the part that they have played. Most likely, the path that they are exploring is Wicca, which dictates, ‘an it harm none’. That means that they cannot ,with a clear conscience based upon intent, walk past litter without picking it up, not  hold open a door for someone, or fail to assist life-kind in whatever means possible to allow for the comfort and life sustainability of that species. There is no place for entitlement here. This is a place of service to all of life. That means that they also must respect good parents and express gratitude for the gifts of life and sustenance and willingly give back. Household chores done in a joyful manner  are a means of giving back. Expressing respect for honorable elders is required. Doing one’s part to live in harmony with Nature and ensure that She endure, is prerequisite.

If your kid expresses a desire to practice The Craft, seek a teacher and mentor who understands and adheres to the principals of the teachings. Money should not be the focus of the lessons, nor should your lack of involvement. Working together should be encouraged so that you know and understand the curriculum of the study. Above all, if you are uncomfortable with anything, you have the right and the duty to have your concerns addressed. No one that is qualified to teach The Craft will teach a minor without parental permission so your child will not be instructed in a religion or ‘faith-based’ path or baptized without your knowledge or acceptance under the guise of ‘Bible camp’ or any other means by which to lure your children ‘for God’.

Number two, Witchcraft, has nothing to do with evil intent of any kind, spooky stuff, or most likely anything you may have seen in the movies or on TV. Magick is real, but if it is done to the detriment of life-kind, one is held responsible. This is not about hexing or cursing, in that  any Magickal working is considered to be the physical manifestation of ‘prayer’ in the same way that a candle is lit or prayer spoken  on behalf of someone in a mainstream religion.

All things vibrate with energy.Certain things have what is considered to be correspondences. In the same way that a frequency corresponds with a specific energy path to allow interception with a particular radio station, is the same way that certain elements in Nature vibrate with a similar current. Witches study the various correspondences and means to connect with a specific vibrational current of energy and we work with them to bring about a change. Doing Magick for one’s self is always acceptable as long as it doesn’t disturb the vibrational frequency of others unless they give their permission to do so. That means, if you want to do a work of healing, that too requires permission, in that you are manipulating the energy of another person, even though your intent is admirable.

So, don’t get upset if your kid is exploring Witchcraft or Wicca as a spiritual path. Yes, it’s one of those alternative things out there that other people won’t understand. It takes a strong character to pursue this path and it’s not for those who cave to peer pressure or are willing to sacrifice their integrity for the sake of being popular. It means that your kid won’t be inclined to do drugs, being that it harms the body, or be disruptive or fail to study to the best of their abilities. They might wrestle with their conscious a bit more than average and even question things that you do that may seem to contradict the standard of ethics that you are requiring of them.

Later in life, they may strive to help others at the expense of their own comfort level. They will be inclined to live consciously and live in harmony with Nature. Your kid might forsake the trappings of conventional life in order to focus their attention on something that will benefit all of humanity. They might forgo cheating on their taxes, steal on the job, or do anything that they might consider to be at odds with their conscience or sense or their own code of honor.

So, you see, it could be worse. Your kids could be involved with things that are self-serving. They could be self-absorbed and feel that they are entitled to everything exactly as they want it regardless of how it effects others, including you. If your kid professes to  be a Witch and is any of those things, they are role playing and this phase will pass.

However, if they are really pursuing the study of The Craft…expect stray animals and donations to charity. They might want to become vegetarians and spend time in Nature. They might express an interest in a career in science or epi-genetics or ways that will enable them to help people. They’ll suddenly be more interested in giving back than getting. Yeah, they could do worse. And so could you.

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A Bird Of A Very Different Feather

Most days I try to ‘map’ some expectations and include something so incredible and unusual that I will know when it occurs that it is confirmation of my ability to manifest via my connection to ‘The Universe’. This frequently involves being attuned with Nature and working with my guides who serve as omens. Yesterday, however, I decided to simply allow things to unfold and see what would happen. This seemed like the obvious choice to make since circumstances warranted that the plans I had made the previous night needed to be altered. I didn’t get out to my garden at all as I had expected. I had planned to spend most of the day out there cleaning things up in preparation for Spring, when I plant like a mad woman so that when it’s all done, all that is left to do is a bit of maintenance and relaxing in it’s beauty.

After doing some running to look at a new combination smoker and grill that my husband would like and another trip to the grocery store for steaks, it was well after 2PM and my energy was lagging. I figured that after dinner I’d just get my bird feeders filled and sit in the yard allowing the Earth to envelope me in Her nurturing embrace as I listened to the fountain splash. Wild Violets, my favorite flower, are scattered throughout the lawn wherever the Great Mother had tossed them and never fail to make me smile.

I came around to the front yard and headed toward my griffon bench for a front row seat, as the chorus of bird song was just warming up. There, on the ground beneath my feeder pole, laid a male Red Winged Blackbird. Whatever occurred had just happened prior to my arrival because he had not been there on my first pass through. I bent down and scooped him up in my hands and he began to show signs of fear, but was too disoriented to do anything but accept my interference.

Gently probing his feathers, I didn’t detect any obvious wound from a bird of prey, but he was too far away from my window for me to assume that he had hit the glass. I held him, speaking softly to him while stroking his soft little head and he began to relax. His eyes became less glazed and he started to make a move to escape. At one point he took advantage of my loosened grip and jumped to the ground. He seemed unable to take flight and hopped the length of the side of the house until he entered the back yard. Anyone who doubts a bird’s ability to outrun them should try chasing one.

He reached the rock wall where he came to a stand still. There was no way that I was just going to leave him to his own devices since in this state, he was a ‘sitting duck’. I picked him up again and returned to the bench with him. My husband came outside so the two of us began to play doctor, offering him water, which he drank one drop at a time off the tip of my finger, and simply letting him rest in my cupped hands. He’d open his eyes and make a break for it again, but still was not able to take flight.

Finally, it was time to go inside, so we exchanged ideas as to what to do with him overnight. With three very inquisitive Cats in residency, it was obvious that creating a make shift hospital indoors was not a wise option. I put a cushion at the bottom of a garden carry-all and found a ‘cage’ fashioned from hardware cloth. It was carefully placed over him so he was confined to a smaller, but airy space. A small dish of seeds was placed inside with him and another garden pillow served as a lid for the cage and the device was carried through the house and placed on the deck off the upper level so he would be high enough to protect him from predators.

I proceeded to do some things around the house while my husband gave me updates. “He’s ok. Just sitting there peering into the patio door wondering how he can get the hell out of there”. With darkness falling, there was not much else to be done until morning.

So, it’s a bit past 5AM and still dark so I am anxiously awaiting some daylight so that I can see if he’s ready to be launched back into life as he knew it before whatever it was had altered it. Come to think of it, my life was altered too. As I sat there attempting to provide what he needed, an overwhelming sense of having to nurture flooded my senses. How appropriate for Mother’s Day weekend. My daughter and her husband have to attend a birthday party for a ‘godchild’, so I will be spending Mother’s Day sans child. My own 93 year old mother is going out to dinner with one of my brothers and since we were not asked to join them, I really would feel like an intrusion if we made the hour and a half trip to ‘visit’. Having my husband take me out for dinner seems a bit odd because, as he has pointed out in the past, I am not his mother.

Getting out in the yard to do yesterday’s gardening will be a fine way to celebrate. After all, what a better way to spend the day than to be in the presence of the greatest Mother of all, in service to Her by having a ‘day of beauty’ in the spa… plucking weeds, and adding some color and polish.

Ah, I see the light of day has made things out the window visible and recognizable. A Grackle is already having breakfast, probing the peanut feeder for a nut to fly off with. A funny spin on the end bit of that line takes over my brain in the form of mounting the broom with a fellow crazy Sister Witch. The goofy shit my mind takes and twists just enough to leave puzzled faces in the wake of my sudden impulse to share them scares me. The closer I get to being 60, the more bazaar those things become. Oh well, I’ve been politely described as “eccentric” all of my life so the stiletto granny boot fits. And yes, I wear them, adhering to my sentiment, “if the shoe fits”, as in comfortable, “it’s ugly”.

Well, time to check on the patient. I guess I’ve been stalling because as eager as I am, there is that twinge of fear that I will find that he has joined the friendly skies on the other side. In the words of Wayne Dyer, “Excuses Be Gone”.

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He’s Mad, I Tell You!!!

There’s still time. Be the March Hare.  Let your mind run through the vast meadow of your wild imaginings. Just watch out for the hole.

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I Say Ostara…

My mother’s stares of amazement were punctuated by heavy lidded blinks of reality. It began when she wondered out loud as to what Rabbits and Chickens had to do with Easter. “Well, mother”, I began, “it’s an ancient Pagan fertility thing.” I explained the reasons for the season and when I finished, she responded with a very surprised, yet respectful exclamation of, “really”.

She’s well aware that her only daughter is a Witch, but she never talks about it, at least to me. The times that she does bring it up are rare, but this often leaves me with a feeling that not only has she accepted it, but there seems to be an underlying knowing that this has been my calling all along. Like the time when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she inserted the words, “You wanna do something about it?” into our conversation. This threw me for a triple loop because it was as if she was acknowledging that she believed that I could. Never doing anything Magickal for anyone without their permission, I accepted this as her request. The spell was cast and she just celebrated her 93rd birthday cancer free.

Just last week another comment was made, this time by my sister-in-law. We were in the church where my mother’s youngest brother’s funeral was taking place and I was using the time before the service to talk with my oldest brother and his wife. I was remembering when I was about 4 years old, visiting my grandparents on my mother’s side, who lived in an ancient monument of a farm house. As soon as the car came to a halt I’d run through the house and out the door that lead to the back porch. There I’d call Emily, a calico outside Cat that I had managed to tame and name. Off in the distance, I’d see the grass in the fields move as she soft pawed her way toward me to eat the combination of milk and day old home made bread that I offered her in the bent tin dish.

Apparently, Emily got around because every year she’d produce several batches of kittens, extremely feral and hidden. Every year I’d find them, usually in the barn or the woodshed. Eyes glowing in the darkness of their make shift den, they’d growl and hiss, but I would tame most of them to the point that I could hold them and they followed me around like the piped piper. My grandmother called me ‘katze mutter’, which was German for ‘Cat mother’ and I’ve lived up to that reputation ever since.

I was reminiscing about how I’d take the small wooden blocks of scrap lumber that got burned in the wood stove and set up ‘alters’ and ‘pulpits’ on the back stoop and there I’d play ‘church’ and preach to my congregation of assorted sizes of felines. My sister-in-law laughed and said, “you were doing it even then…you must have known”. I settled back in the pew and her words struck me as they rattled around in my head. Again, some means of acceptance interwoven with the knowledge that I was a Witch who teaches and preaches and was somehow meant to.

I’m not sure if it’s because I was an odd child who became an even odder adult that it is readily taken in stride that I should have come to this. Perhaps it was my vivid memory of being an infant in a crib or the time when I was 5 and was suddenly overtaken by dread that manifested in the form of loud wailing and screaming. The great-aunt that lived with us and served as a ‘nanny’ to my brothers and me was visiting friends. It was after dark, she was on the other side of Milwaukee and traveled by city bus which was not the safest thing to do. My parents tried to comfort me by saying that she planned on staying over night should it get late and that’s why she wasn’t coming home. The crying and screaming persisted because I knew something was terribly wrong. Soon the phone rang with the news that Aunt Alma had been hit by a car and was in the emergency room. As my parents got ready to go there, the phone rang again with the news that she had died.

This was the first of many psychic experiences that I came to dread as I was growing up. Not only were they always linked to tragedy, but in the classrooms of my Lutheran school I was told that the ability to do this was linked to the devil. I can’t help but wonder why the threat of Satan is acceptable, but exposing children to the realities of life is considered traumatic. It’s this kind of questioning that got me in trouble all the time…even then.

As Ostara approaches I am made aware that another holiday is shared by those who ‘borrowed’ much of their traditions from mine. The Bunnies, eggs and baskets of cellophane grass line store shelves along with the ridiculous chocolate crosses and ‘Jesus fish’. Another holiday that I will celebrate alone in spite of the tandem practice of the other. Ostara is also the birthday of MoonShadow, the Coven I created over 20 years ago. Members came and went over time, but the ‘family’ that remains is truly that which was formed of perfect love and perfect trust. You know who you are and you know that I love you.

I’ll explain what the Spring Equinox is to many ‘grown ups’ who only know that it’s the first day of Spring because the weather man said so. There I go again…teaching and preaching. Maybe I’m not the only one in the family who had psychic tendencies when it came to knowing that following the beat of a different drum was something that I was meant to do… in devoutly constructed circles of light.