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This site is Retired
This site is Retired
The work of this page has been redirected to a broader project Nolaesoteric.com Astro Sync posts the last Wednesday of each Month with regular posts to the Astro Sync Facebook page. This site is officially retired. thank you Christy
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A swift flooding. Swallowed up, from seemingly nowhere. The veil dissolves. A wash over my face. The collective lung. Grieving for what once was. The last gasp for air. Screaming, for anyone who can hear us. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to scream for help. Oh, sweet destruction. The abyss and deluge of sorrows. We have met in forgotten times, uncountable times. I thought you had passed. I wished you were quite dead. Hades, my friend. Saturn my commander. Connect us again. Through this numbed pain. Remind us we are one. A need to know our common grounds. We all need help. It’s okay to ask for it and anything else you need too.
What if all the things you spoke, were real? Well, aren’t they though. What if, the curses you used, actually cursed as you intended. They do. Why not speak gratitude instead. Highlight the things in your life you appreciate. Call down the comic forces, to make things a little easier. Now, more than ever, the reality of what we project, through our vibration and our words, attitude and hologram itself is hyper-aware of each nuance and change. Roll with it. Rock it. Ghost yourself into the mirror and don’t just project what you want, see it. It’s not “what if” it’s “this is”. You are I AM. You are not “eh, may be”.
The air of water. But on a whole a mist. A shackle released. What if? What if there is anything at all. Simply look around, it’s there. What if this is it? A shift. This warming, this causation of confusion. A head a boiling. The gelatin boils up. The pot overflows. Grey goo and proteins. Hey hey, DNA.. Awakening, like steam from the brim. Buns in the oven. A witches brew. Cauldron of cackles. Just smile. Chaos reigning until 2022. Fucking retrogrades. Get used to it. Be glad you’re able to see the gap from the old you and now you. A new era dawns. A new morning, yawns. If there is life. If there is hope. If there is you. Are you truly ready for this? Are you still complaining about change? Sit down. Watch and listen.
There is a microbe across the floor. See, life. Sea, the life of our consciousness. What a world. Standing up for what we believe in. Asking for our souls to be freed. Chains jangle jangle. Keys on the floor. The eye opens:
Tree branches outreaching their roots. That spirit of nerves, connecting to sky and soil. Far reaching and communicating between themselves. Supporting, taking nourishment from their surroundings and frequency. Mushroom mycelium, our psychic connections. Reaching and communicating, an internet of flavor and talk. These, interlaced with the soil and sky. The sky which is our blood. Keeping our air clean keeps our channels open. Clean soil, clean air. The animals, they are our life forces, our family energies. They are here to observe us as volunteer eyes to our spirits. To protect us, guide us. Their existence is our signal, channel, path. The weather, it is our moods and existence. The clouds, rain, storms. We can cleanse with the like of like. We can charge with the opposing forces. The weather is our gift of shift. All the answers are within, without.
The spiritual element of awakening. We shower in the morning: we shower to open thine eye. Those who have. Those who, have not. Tapped into the molecule of the ground. Listened beyond the screaming and cries for help. The water of our life. The water of our spirit. The aqua-era. This aqua-aura. This new age. It is, the air of our breath. It becomes everything and nothing. The soul of Aquarius. The era of our spirit that is this, we carry each other. In this small bucket. The tiniest cauldron of life. This pale of our moments. We call it existence. This time that defines us, it is nothing. Gauging, the age of our bodies. And we wonder why we cry. We wonder why we wait or call out the loudest, for true love standing in the pouring rain. No one else is on the other side of the mirror. It just you honey. We know we’re waiting for it. But have we been ready for it? Fall in love with yourself. Thanking the moment for the cleansing each time we shed a tear. The water of life’s intuition and mercy. The water of our consciousness. As we scream and cry together. We all need help. For everyone, for each other. Little webs and lasers from my fingertips. Connecting me, to you:
Releasing the last few grams of the pain and judgment. Knowing each step is a collective jump ahead. Compassion, take action. Live it. We all need a little more love. Everyone else, is us. Our family. Except those dying eyes which deny. A choice of hell. Stay strong and move on. The beauty between us. Humanity as the earth envisioned, embodied. We curse another. We curse ourselves as to judge, as to hate. This affliction of nails on the board. This sharpened tongue. A nail in the temple. The hate, now we wash. For to see, to see. For seeing the future. Foreseeing the future. We need each other. This lesson of life, we live and learn.
A kiss, a sweet kiss. Close yet so very far. Like swinging on a vine. It comes and goes. Ebb and flow. This radical denial of connection. All the gods please help us, we’re so disconnected and finally realizing it. This land we call Earth. Our respect for others. Does it exist?
A cloud in the sky. A large, soft form of light and dust. Carrying a rain filled puddle of clouds. The rain falls. We know the light will come, the light will fade. The moon will rise and sink again. What we have is always lost. But what we’re gaining is so much more. Letting go to prepare for the deeper journey. Stop cursing your temple. Stop hexing your magick.
A witch preparing magic mushrooms. Within the delicate, formative stages of major departures into the unknown, there is encountered an extraordinary task and lesson that detains you a long while. It becomes self-evident that it is everything that comes before that makes the difference. There must be a fully attuned, magical sensibility to make the future possible. Coming to this requires arduous discipline and elaborate ritual, internal initiation. This becomes such a labyrinth of discipleship and apprenticeship that you wander through the maze discovering everything you ever needed to know. All is played out within. There is no need to make anything happen on the outer. You are assigned to empty yourself out, to strip everything away, to become invisible. And if you excel at your craft, so many ventures and initiatives will be seeded, that this inner planes total mobilization will prove to be more fruitful and productive than any premature thrusts of outer mind, no matter how impressive or seemingly necessary. The entire path lies well within, and needs no surface success to substantiate itself.
From Inside Degrees by Ellias Lonsdale
Sweet, wounded womban. How far into the future can you see? What’s the point if the future isn’t now. Setting goals and expectations of plans. Sitting on the edge of delusion and a triumph. How soon is now? Expanding in order to realize we’re just, poof. It is, what it is. Have a giggle to get by:
Ego blasted to the dark mountain and back. Our doom knows no limits. Our fear therefore, no boundaries. The opposite therein, must be equal. Calling back to 1994. Where are they now? Calling back to 2006. Where are you now? Where were you then. A cycle within a cycle. Things are ending. People dying. Bells are chiming as a reminder. The time, somehow passes. Your contracts never die.
Rendezvous with the devil. What’s on the table this time. Dinner on us? Dinner on me, says she. Picking up the tab and noticing the edges. Frayed and moldy. Powders of power, on your fingernails. Finely worn away with use. Numbers telling the tale. Fear on the stale breath. Lips, teeth and saliva of shit. Coffer of gold and steel plate. Chalice of steel, plated in bronze. One will wear to shine. One will wear to tarnish. Which shall you be? Enshrine.
Run-deja-vú. What’s on the table this time? Dinner for us. All of us for us all. Jolted from the comfort of static. A buzz. While the old withers away for the new buds to root. A dark, rich rose in mid bloom. Waiting for the moment to burst forth and make her essence known. Intention, ritual. Life is what you make it. Actions and reactions shaping the essence of your existence.
XxX-
Christy
It’s time to take the stinky eggs out of your basket. You know the ones. The hate egg. The complaining egg. The jealous egg. Fill your basket with good eggs. Watch the abundance roll in. With the state of current affairs, all we can do is wish. So wish hard af. This Mercury Rx is all about that positive growth.. and being grateful for all the road bumps that bring it along. When you feel grumpy, laugh. If you feel disappointed, let it go. Life is about gracefully dancing your way home. Stop taking it so seriously.
P.S. We’re in a 9 year. On Sept 9 we’ll have a triple 9 code. It’s a magickal day for mastering your craft. If you’re a Virgo, or have any inner planets in Virgo (think Venus, Mercury etc) that especially applies to you.
Written August 2016. All rights reserved.
Little webs and lasers from my fingertips. Connecting me, to you A swift flooding. Swallowed up, from seemingly nowhere. The veil dissolves. A wash over my face. The collective lung.
Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.
Robert Brault (via youcleverfox)
Witch Banner Lapel Pin by SoliloquyJewelry
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Frida (2002) Directed by Julie Taymor
Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (2001)
Longing, illness to travel in a cup. But the water never got warm enough. Crunchy noodles and soggy carrots. We wanted the 24 carrot cup. Always disappointed. Seeking a magick that drills it’s way into our brain. Yet sick to the core and bored as hell. Dehydrated. Eating shit with our energy and kale in our salads. Duality of bullshit.
The seeker. Pandemic of pandora’s box. Clever cats with catchy names. Dancing to their own beat. But grinding into acceptance. Like me. Please, like me. Studying geography to find ourselves. Using the stars as a map to find our way home. Logic, then the attempt to disprove. Aha! Then, ahno! Following no like it’s the best leader. Basically scratching a hole through our eyes to the other side of the Earth. Anywhere but here. Any time but now. The answer is everywhere but off radar. wtf.
Sickness, all our own. But truly. Shared like mayonnaise, spread across soft bread. Seeping through the yeasty bubbles. An oily coating you cannot escape. To live in the moment is terrifying. So we eat the mayonnaise and say grace. We are #blessed. Making excuses for why we never change. Then thanking God for the punishment. Explaining disasters and death like we have something to be ashamed of. As if guilt is actually holy and necessary. We deserve better. Doing the same thing, expecting different results. World over decades over years. Come on down to crazy town, where the laughs never end, and the jokes aren’t funny anymore.
Enchanted carpet rides that end in a fiery crash. Swindled from the impending promised adulthood genie that will visit sometime soon. Granting our dreams and cursing our foe. Creating the exact life we want, without us doing jack shit. It’s real. The career that you now hate. The religion that promised you the world. The person who led you into the vampire kingdom. Soaring, exploring. Engulfed swamps long for you to visit. But while we wait, there’s music! A tune all our own. It’s called, delusion.
Sagittarius Moon, twice full begins. Mars pushing red neon in retrograde at hand. Hello there. Long time coming, old friend. What say you this bitter end. Putting on the rainbow colored glasses. Hiding the stains from crying. Smiling through the palpable pain. Death rides a red horse. Death brings new seasons. The flower moon tells us about our potential. When in doubt. Just die already.
All the Clairs, come to play. Clairvoyant and audient. Sentient, too. These things are not separate. They are you. Bloom. Explode with the magick that only you know. Everyone is waiting.
Expanding from the crown. Letting the old stars fall where they may. Controlling the helm. Smells that serve to drive our vivid memory. Foods of our cells. Minerals. Water. Everything we are. What is the ultimate goal. Where are we even going. The EYE opens and we can see more clearly. Clouds in our space vision. Clearing up some confusion. A storm comes in the night. Unknown, begging for a temperature drop. Cooling the fire of despair with work. Generating more fire while despairing with rainclouds. Hoping for the best, but shunning optimism.
We know the way. But we don’t always follow the path. Drums play, formation. The act of creating or making. Structural ties.
Our father, who aren’t in heaven. Hear us cry.
Where in hell have we been? The question of the week. The year. The century of, whenwhatwhy. Realizing shit isn’t as funny as it used to be. And the things that were serious, are now suddenly hilarious. Why wait, laugh now. Just charge it.
Chaos assumes the position. Our eyes banded shut. Our mouths stitched closed. Line up for the quad please. 20|2o can’t come soon enough. Cover your face with your hands and repeat after me. I can change, I will change. I am only here because I choose to be. I am only stuck because I refused to evolve.
For some of us, exploration is no longer the answer. Cosmic mindfucks beyond consideration. Once it’s all figured out another slam of renouncing our faith. A wave no one ever escapes. So long as the question remains. What is the point of this beautiful mess? Why all this shit? What’s the reality of life? This dream. Now waking up to walk. To keep seeking, to keep finding. This really isn’t always enough.
We are tired. We need a boost. Grab it. Go for it. Champion your way into a better flow. Finding a connection through social interaction. The real kind. Where there is less talk, more action. Less typing, only voices. Downloads on loop. A ghost of happiness drifting by in the wind. The connection of spirits.
Travel from your computer. Away from your computer. A photo for reference. That memory of lives gone by. In your bed. Of your soft, feeble mind. You can fly. You just believed you couldn’t.
The bitterness drips from our lips. Tiny drops of citrus fruit rolling down a mountain. They didn’t turn into candy. They rotted and became dusty with white and green mold. Sunken and gooey. A sour flavor when everything is over. Passed off as something we really wanted. Moldy moldy. Pick, me. Pick me. Gaslighted into believing we didn’t deserve freedom. The guilt almost killed us. But so did the chains. Let it go. You can die every time you want to escape. But you can’t stay the same.
What other lies did you buy into? Selling our souls for a box of dry, reduced fat cookies. Or a brand. A label of who we were becoming. A label someone else created for us. Disappointed our entire lives. Because we expected growing up would mean something else. We thought it’d be easier. We expected, freedom. We ran into the arms of responsibility then cried for our mothers. As adults we are not always stronger.
Instead of our MASH mansion, we’ve lost friends. Instead of success, we’ve lost familiars. We’ve seen our mentors go six feet under. Many dreams along with them. We want a refund on our cookies. We want to pick a different label. But the time for that is now expired.
Void of time. Alone now. Faux cookies and we. Downloads never come free. What’d you buy into? Lessons learned. No one said they’d be real. They just said you had to pay for it. No one promised you’d like it. They just wanted the exchange. How much was your purchase price? Selling out yet again. Wondering why shit never changes. You. You don’t let it. Break free from what owns you. Expanding to escape it’s shape. A flower blooms.
Realizing now what’s worth it and what is not. Rising just enough above the surface to croak with the frogs. Every moment, a breath in suspended animation. We are going . We are going to. We are going to croak. All of us. In unison. The song of the pond creatures. The reflection of the moon on scum. It’s still so beautiful. A symphony of bugs and amphibians. Each in it’s proper tune. The monkey year smiles upon us. Trickster of the primates. Laughing at us all. Because the joke is, we’re already dead. Croak, ribbit. Leap year. Sing along.
Don’t give into denial or retreat. Choosing to run is a fools answer. True expansion never comes by escape. The network grows by connection. Be interested. Stand with your own feet. On your own will. Let your former skin slide kindly away. The branded one, the one with your slave label on it. Those little hooks and hexes don’t control you anymore. Grant yourself the freedom to change. Then do it.
You answer to no one. You are your own. You can touch base. Kiss face. Make space. But always and forever keep moving on.
The wheel. Rolls. Around. Always expanding as a result of it’s motion. A flower in the cosmic circle of life. Be blessed.
Xo, C
The only way to win, is to expand and overthrow that which controls you. By allowing yourself to be free, you create freedom for others. Be free so that others may all be free. Speak truth. Share beauty. Cultivate compassion. We refuse to be compacted like garbage any longer. Bloom with it. Bounce with it. Blessed be.
Unchained Flower Moon Longing, illness to travel in a cup. But the water never got warm enough. Crunchy noodles and soggy carrots.
hello friend.
Mirror in the lowland. Eclipse flash and how quickly we forget. Begging to wipe specific memories. Standing in line to donate in bulk. Useless hard drives. Old software. Warranties long expired. We need service.
Libra, the greatest altar to the Sun. Seeking balance and restoration with it’s self. The ultimate goal. The truest lesson. Learning to live now. Now.. Now.. Creation magick. Access to all lives and dimensions. The better half, that’s you. The best friend, you. Mirror mirror. You too. You are whole. You’ve already probably done it all. Can’t you remember? Grab a brochure on the way out.
This is the end of the line. Energy bodies with ions of pain memories. Vortex spinning endlessly in rounds and ovals. Loops and dizzying spells of high and low. Each sacred shape. Taking form.
Through my eyes are all my memories. Who am I . Who are you . Define yourself without using societal projections of identity and worth. Truly, define yourself. Altar to the Sun. Seed grown in time. Libra chants for confirmation. Through your eyes I can see myself clearly. Through my eyes, you find your voice.
Your value isn’t determined by someone else. You aren’t up for debate. You can feel free to exist in the sheer comfort of your own arms. Do what you need to feel safe, nurtured or sitting in love. Understanding deep peace. In a small round couch nook with a gently arched back. Lighten up a bit yeah? May be a smile of self acceptance later. When you feel okay with it.
Nothing you’ve done was a mistake. You are stunning. You are perfect because the cosmos are perfect. Stars don’t miss their mark. Planets don’t go retrograde out of time. Comets fly by in pair. Hello again friends! We’re all here together. Dancing. Ready to let it all in and let it all out. That’s the god experience. Energy in it’s rawest form. A golden altar of light to the Sun. Sitting in center of ourselves. A seed of potential in a fragile frame. Spinning like a constant explosion in the night.
Pagan fire worshippers dancing. Trance states. At home in psychic realms and other realities. The self abandoned to the tribe–to the sweep of the moment, to the energies that arise. On fire with longing and poignant, bittersweet reflections. A throwback, a native, a primal soul. Emotional, depths-centered, superphysical, you are energized tremendously by special occasions, extraordinary meetings, unexpected miracles and tragedies. Expectant and waiting for something wild and unknown to break through. Mediumistic, vicarious, and charged with a life-force that must be followed out. A certain distinctive fate to be at times disappearing and gone and at other times resurgent and mighty–all depend upon the tides of fortune. And it will always change in unpredictable, exciting, disorienting, and multiple ways.
From Inside Degrees by Ellias Lonsdale
A fine mist crawls over a field of wheat. The cycle. Intuition peaking. Spirits rising. The dead walk. Witnessing every foretelling, vision and dream in real time. Check point. Some of our wounds are last decade’s headlines. They won’t be coming back into style.. Ever. Evacuate! It’s time to let it go. Cleaning out every corner. Bags on bags to recycle. Wiping the piles of rotting bugs and scum. Mold and a fungus that doesn’t heal. Fix it. Clean, dispose, repeat.
Beware vamps and emotional dump trucks.
XxX, C
True liberation. Empty caverns creeping in to be refilled. Universal fuel. Speaking the truth or creating a curse. Be careful. Spell well. Recoil and let the fangs withdrawal. Sucking out the poison. Serpents spinning. Kundalini rising.
Libra Full Moon + Eclipse Mirror in the lowland. Eclipse flash and how quickly we forget. Begging to wipe specific memories. Standing in line to donate in bulk.
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