Tweaker Role Call
Jade F26 EPTx 915

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@isismardukosiris
Tweaker Role Call
Jade F26 EPTx 915
“Yes, of course I’ve hardened, of course I have had to change to survive in this unforgiving world. But somewhere inside me, there still lives a little girl who once tried to invent a time machine, just to go back in time to save Vincent Van Gogh from his sadness when she heard he ate yellow paint to get the happiness inside him.”
— Nikita Gill
Yellow...
Soñé que me querías… y cuando desperté lo único que pude hacer, fue llorar.
🌲Cannabis Witches🌲
🌲Clean your bong, fill it with fresh water and let it charge under the full moon! Moon water bong=peaceful puffing!🌲
The Red Meal
The Red Meal’s implements are not an offering to the spirit.
The bread, and the wine, they are just a way of connecting to the spirits, giving them life for what they must do.
And what they must do is secret.
What they must do is eat away at you, not the bread and wine.
They eat you, you become the meal. They whittle you done to the bones, and bring out the Fire.
Christ did it, and showed his disciples how to do it. The Norse did it with their elf blots. Tantric Yogis do it with their bone pans. The Inuit magic users would do it by dreaming of their bones. The witches do it by drinking poisonous drinks and returning to the Sabbat.
It’s all there to bring the sorcerer to the awareness of One. The point of All. Where all dualities, tripalities, inifinites, and ends become One and All.
Within you, dear reader, is the Light, the Way, and the Truth. Like the Hanged Man, you must sacrifice yourself upon the Tree under which you have laid your offerings in order to obtain that which you seek.
When you partake in the Red Meal, when you hold Houzel, you are made holy, and all those that you are with are also made holy (made whole) within the circle of your fellowship. You are made less of this, and a little more of that. To become Red and White. Living and Dead. Here and There. Other and Not Other.
There are many different rites that look like the Red Meal, and many ways to perform it from the simplest to the most complex. Here is one method: Take yourself to a holy place. This may be a small shrine you have erected in your backyard, or within your home. Perhaps it is under a sacred tree, or within a graveyard. A cross-road is also a place of holy liminal virtue. Have with you a bit of bread and a red wine.
Light before you a candle, or a flame of some sort, and say these words or words to this effect:
“I light this flame in the name of All that Is, That name within which all is conjoined in One The Most Ancient Providence, Which is in all things.” Over the bread, draw an equal armed cross, and bless it in the name of the witching gods, however they may be known. Do the same with the wine. Eat of the bread, and as you do so, say these words: “I eat of this bread by the unknown name, With fearful dread and great terror For they are that which dies, But is never dead.”
Drink a little of the wine as you say:
“I drink this wine in the Lady’s name, For she shall gather me home again.”
Then give the offerings unto the ground:
“For the gods and ungods, ancestors, and familiar spirits, I give this unto you. For there is naught of me that is not thine, And naught of thee that is not mine, My blood is your blood, And your blood is mine. Here is shown the Mystery.” Extinguish your candle, and leave the way you came. It is done.
Love is a fire raging through our lives,
Fascinated by the flames, tempted, we reach out
Only to be scorched, blackened, by this untouchable force we desire
Love is a flame, and we burn, rising from the ashes,
Liberated by the pain
Never A Forever
Let me for a while suffocate in the dilemma once more as my thoughts fall off like autumn leaves only to spring again. Perhaps, knowing a tomorrow awaiting me on the shore is what keeps me from reaching it, but gift me a handful of seconds until my next breath decides to be crafted around the dew your presence lends only to let the cold bruise my veins again. And maybe ‘forever’ is only a seven letter word fighting a losing battle against ‘never’ which is brutally the most realistic picture bound to wash everything hope wish happened…
Anxiety
When your anxiety is overdrive, and you feel like there is something happening with your son…
but you can’t do anything about it, because nobody tells you anything going on with him, and he is so far away,
because there is no sense in the world, and people are way too cruel
I will cry for you everyday
flowers. to think in flowers until honey seeps from my pores. i am finding i have become my own sweetness.
Pollen // Jamie Oliveira (via wovenbirds)
Sweet
Love says: I’ve seen the ugly parts of you, and I’m staying.
Matt Chandler (via purplebuddhaquotes)
Love it!
I love it!
I never wanted to be
lost in your memory;
Or worse-
just a foreign body,
long forgotten.
I love it!
You reminded me of the color grey. It reminded me of the way smoke would fill up an empty room because of you, smoking a packet of cigarettes during a Friday night. It reminded me so much of your cold and heartless personally and your hurtful words, which is like a broken record, stuck in my mind. It reminded me of your black and white, lonely world, where you would push people away. The color itself reminded me of your abstract art pieces and the tattoos on your arm. But maybe that is why we went on our separate ways, I was a bright lilac sky but you, you were the a dark gloomy day that cries heavy teardrops in the sky.
Ana Mekaela // Grey. (via anamekaela)
Love it!
House of Worth
“Grief is more than five easy, one word stages you can count on your fingertips. Reaching the promised land of acceptance has left me empty handed and heavy hearted. Do you still carry the body of a dead girl in your chest? I know I do.”
— J.
#grief