#walking the path

[1introvertedsage]

Spirit team always has my best interest at heart. Even if I don’t see it right away.

[haggishlyhagging]

“But too often women who assure me fervently that their greatest passion is to change the world and who are well along in their internal revolutions are still not living with full integrity in their own personal worlds. They do not want to think today about making the changes they know they must make; like Scarlet they plan to think about it tomorrow.

But tomorrow will never come. So it is critical to live now as we know we should: scrutinizing our personal relationships for damaging emotional clutter and cleaning it up; resisting acquisitiveness by not piling up the "mountains of things" Tracy Chapman sings to warn us about; performing such simple and transformative acts as recycling everything recyclable, conserving water and other resources, walking and bicycling whenever possible, and generally simplifying our lives; discovering and claiming our full spiritual selves; respecting and listening to other women; honoring our bodies by eating correctly (an immensely political act—if not being totally vegetarian, for instance, then at the very least refusing to eat meat from commercially-raised animals), getting enough rest and exercise, laughing often, and—particularly—breaking addictions to such destructive substances as nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, sugar, marijuana, antidepressants, and tranquilizers.”

-Sonia Johnson, Wildfire Igniting the She/volution

[winterdeepelegy]

Prompt #2: A Songstress’ Fear

Ciel fought to breathe and clawed at her throat while writhing on the trampled earth. She could neither get air into her lungs, nor let it escape, and uttered no sound other than the futile sputtering and choking she managed to force. The Amalj’aa chieftain still have an iron-ringed stave in his hand, the very same which struck the bard in such a way that panicked surety had her believing her airway had collapsed.  Her mission to stop the summoning was a failure this time, someone had discovered the plan and identified her to the lizard men, and they prepared accordingly.  Her world blurred and dimmed, until the last thing she felt was the dust after she fell forward. She awoke with her hands bound and her bow and arrows missing, but she was alive, and amazingly enough she was breathing after how her capture unfolded.  Looking around the chamber, she knew what to expect next. She had freed captives intended for Tempering before and knew this was but a temporary holding area.  More likely than not, the Amalj’aa were out seeking more minds to enslave, and all she could do was wait until they had a number of potential slaves to satisfy their infernal master’s whims.  Her Echo was such that it didn’t afford her much in the way of strength, and her nimbleness could only serve her just so far. They must know what happened by now. Her partner, a former Walker of the Path, was waiting to lend his aid in case anything went amiss but had arrived too late to prevent her from being hauled off.  But then again, “Big Jerk”, as she had affectionately dubbed him for his gruff behavior, had seldom been the most reliable of partners, and she almost never looked forward to working with him again.  And yet, there they were... Ciel tried not to move lest the pounding in her head and the ache around her neck become any worse, and she dared not force her voice until she could see a healer.  The very thought of losing her voice was more terrifying to her than being Tempered.  One who built her life around music and singing would surely cease to exist. Beyond the tunnels and to the north, she heard a commotion.  The few guards who remained in chamber rushed out to join the sudden battle, and Ciel smiled after them.  Her comrades had arrived to search for her and finish what she started.

[eglentyne-morven]

Eglentyne Reads "Witches in America"

I have read too many scathing reviews of this book, describing it as exploitative, muddled, and insensitive. Because it ruffled the feathers of so many pagans, I absolutely had to give this book a read to see what all the fuss was about. I don't necessarily trust the opinions of most Witches, for their abundant sensitivity and quick to judge attitudes. As a Witch, I can only trust my reception of a story.

This book is nothing more than that, a memoir and personal story. Anyone who came in with the perception that they'd learn of the many permutations of magick and occultism in America were probably disappointed. This is one woman's account, and like any single perspective, it will be limited, biased, and not in line with the reader's. Accept it; it's not your story, it's her's.

Alex, a journalist on the mission of creating a documentary, finds herself enamored in the subject she is meant to remain impartial to. How can you not? Witchcraft is alluring, and the Old Gods have power. So many people live their lives yearning for a release from the doldrum, an innate knowing there must be something more to this shit we put up with. That's the motivation of so much religion. We cling to hope that there is a Truth that will bring meaning to the chaos of our existence.

Alex spends a long time being skeptical. It is her right as a rational and successful person. How many people achieve a kind of success only to find they still lack fulfillment? Who through their hard work come to find they are so out of touch with themselves? I see Alex as a typical American. For all our technology and big cities, we still live in a vast, rugged landscape. Exploration and self-sufficiency is embedded into the cultural experience, the birthright of every American. Our's is a unique and almost laughable struggle, for in this individualistic society we are clawing for place and purpose.

It is through her journalistic exploration that she gains the privilege of encounting some very exclusive circles within Neo-Pagan America. This will not be like most Pagan's exploration, the homegrown sort of experience where we read books and meet the locals. Our stories of this shared adventure are boring from the outside, even if our personal narratives hold great meaning for us.

And I think that is where the public revulsion of this book begins. Alex has a very intimate view of the inside that we country dwelling pagans will never get to experience. She should feel grateful, she should be unquestionably swept away by the beauty of what is available to her, the secrets that she could access if she would only stay the course. I'm sure a few feel this way.

She goes to Pantheacon and rubs elbows with the elder Gards who were there to play a role in the illustrious Long Island coven that seeded so many others. She befriends a Priestess that devotes herself to the Morrigan and attends to this worship with unwavering zeal that has the potential to create an army of devotees that are called to the Divine cause. She meets Goddess worshippers at Pagan Spirit Gathering who built families of second- and third-generation Pagans, the truest kind of continual lineage we can ever hope to fulfill in Her honor. She is taken on by another Priestess who is willing to bring her into the ways of the wild Feri Tradition, an ecstatic and shamanic form of a true, American kind of witchery. She meets a necromancer of the highest caliber, one so shameless as to rob graves, exhuming the heads of forgotten souls to work his bidding, his calculated approaches fascinating in the most repulsive sense of the word. Through it all, she concludes none of this is for her.

I consider that position valid. I believe it is her respect for these paths that cause her to conclude that they are not meant for her. She has the self-awareness to understand she would disrespect the people of these these heartfelt ways if her own heart couldn't be in them. She would damage the friendship with her friend Morpheus, the Priestess of Morrigan, if she were to hop on board. She severes her mentorship with Karina, the Feri Priestess, when she discovers this is not the rituals she should involve herself in when she's receiving a very different message. It is noble to step away in that scenario, for it would be a waste of time for everyone should she continue out of a sense of false obligation.

Most compelling were her forays into an OTO lodge in New Orleans, with its romantic adherents and the liberating, taboo nature of its ritual. That city is a beautiful backdrop, and this is where Alex finds a genuine calling. I understand the pull. My own tradition is built on those similar Masonic style of initiation, the ceremonial framework of ritual, the worship of our own veiled and voluptuous Queen of Heaven. I get it.

Her initiation into Minerval grade is gritty, laborious in a way only the Louisiana landscape can deliver, and capstoned in true initiatory fashion. It was a thrill to read, for I understand the disorientation, that forced submission, and the fugue state of afterwards where you can't quite wrap your head around what just happened. There are parts of my own that I can't even remember (which I hear is normal). This was where, despite the wild terrain and very foreign method, I related to the psychodrama of her ordeal. She experienced the realness she sought, and in that final conclusion I felt satisfaction for her.

Some end their dismissal of this book with its guiltless exploitation of secrets. I wonder if the people spouting that are the ones who would consider that information secret are unwittingly confessing that those are secrets to them. None of the information presented can't be found on one's own, no initiation required. The events Alex involved herself in were open and available. Her Feri foray for a weekend Samhain retreat was an outer court event. Alex changed names where she needed. She gave none of the names of power that she earned access to. She presented some real experiences, and remained respectful to all of them. Her misgivings had more to do with herself than the validity of the participants she encountered. I daresay she was jealous of the ease of their convictions.

I appreciated having a chance to peep into other traditions through the words of another. It thrills me that there are people in this diverse expanse of a continent that are having real experiences, and evolving them, pushing the limits and carrying on the work. It gives hope for me, where I find spiritual scarcity in my own neck of the woods. It can be lonely in some parts of the Bible Belt. Poverty, mental illness, disability, and religious fundamentalism can be isolating factors. The degradation of the American South has us wondering if we too are being swallowed up, if we are simply relics with no future. We'll be lost to so much kudzu.

I felt pangs of envy for all these accounts I dream of having. But for all their vibrancy, they do not eclipse my own. My narrative is my vital brand of "you can't make this shit up." I don't need it fed back to me in order to feel validated. I didn't want an account that speaks to my experience. I appreciate hers.

[taraunderstars]

Initiation and death and guiding people (and animals, and stuff)

In all initiatory traditions I know of, there is a pivotal moment where the practitioner must embrace the symbolic of death to pursue their evolution. It can be literal life-or-death situations, or a spiritual death, or even, simply, the will to let go of the self.

I went through several of this cycles. In my work with horses, first, nine years ago. In my work with spirits in general, three years ago. And in my relationship with Lesho, eternal sunshine of my heart and impossible guardian, last year. 

Of these experiences I came back with sentences I would like to share here. I have framed them so I see them every morning and every night. They are important for me, because they contain the key I need (these days) to do my work, in the spiritual and with horses. I hope their translation from French is not too awkward, because the phrasing is symbolic (and somewhat poetic in French).

“To reveal is to give birth again.”

This one is pretty self-explanatory. It’s Phoenix symbolism. Change of paradigm. Focus shifting. As if you’re birthing your true self. It can be painful, it can be difficult, but to shade light unto the parts that were left in darkness before is not only killing something, it’s making space for the new unto life.

I keep it in mind when I’m helping someone get through a passage in their technique at horse-riding. It humbles me, helps me remember I have the responsability to have created the means for this shift of paradigm.

“Being a pathway to the next step demands you don’t hold back.”

It primarily applies when aiding someone through an initiation, be it only helping a baby to make its first steps. When you’re the means through which the other will learn, you have to let go yourself of the control you have over the situation. You have to let the other go through, and when the time comes you have to let go of their hands (figuratively or not). 

I use it almost everyday. With horses, for example, it helps me remember to follow their cue, to know when I have to let them think. And also, it gives them the opportunity to find by themselves how they feel great in their body and dressage becomes so much easier when the horse wants to do it for himself!

And, in spirit work obviously, it is very useful for me to keep in mind. Especially when helping spirits cross over. 

I’m only sharing this in regards to my own experience. I know I don’t know a lot, and I’ve experienced little, but hey it’s my blog and I write it in the hope someone will take benefit from what I share.

If you want, I have two others of these, but they are more tricky to explain with clarity I fear

[pagansquare]

Update on My Wandering Uterus

It is almost a year after the initial conversation that sparked the crazy idea to write a collection of women's stories and call it "My Wandering Uterus" (for more details on that journey, please reference Byron Ballard's blog here:

Read more...

[schoengeist-academy]

our cold feet get warmer the closer we are to the fire that burns our old stories to the ground.

the soles of our feet black we walk through the ashes haunted for a while but freed for ever.