All of creation is found in the beat of the drum
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@taigawitch
All of creation is found in the beat of the drum
Inheritances
Today is the anniversary of my Mom's passing.
It's been some years now. Time has lent perspective, synchronicity and natural magic have woven their spells and I have had time to think about inheritance.
I look around and see her dreams continue though me. I am called to working and understand this is 'our' way.
She always dreamed of a cottage in the country and here I am in that whitewashed stone built house that's old enough to have a 'new stove' that's probably 70 years old.
A place that has a name close enough to one she loved in fiction that it could be mistaken for the same.
She foraged and gardened all her life, loved the feel of her hands in the earth, whispered to plants and knew their ways and histories and as I walk the tracks and woods I find myself hearing her point out flowers I had no idea I knew.
Other things she carried for her time have come too. Though she was not given to being open about her ways she told of some things - obliquely, cryptically. Those tellings, I understand now, were enough - She knew that just as she had inherited 'the ways' so would I in my turn and then I would understand; and in the same way I find myself telling my own daughter fragments that when the time comes will be enough.
It's the reason for the title of this blog - it's acknowledging lineage - We have always been a witch.
Dreamworking
I dont know how it is for others - but its a thing for me. Sometimes its messages, sometimes its workings, sometimes its a teaching.
Its not always the most comfortable of things, and a real serious working dream usually means waking at 3 am soaking wet, ravenously hungry and with a raging thirst.
I think though its easier to talk about it descriptively, rather than try and talk about it as a structure.
So: A dreaming - a message from a person who had passed.
I'd worked with the woman before she passed. A few weeks after her funeral I was called in dream to a cabin in a very lush wooded area. Inside I realised that she was present, though I could not see her. (This is how it works for me - the deceased who have crossed over remain out of direct sight in dreamings, as though they are standing right behind me.)
She had an open suitcase on the floor with a Tarot Deck visible in it.
She asked me to tell her daughter, granddaughter and great-grandaughter that if there was anything they needed to ask they should ask her. That if it was possible to give an answer she would.
I recorded it in my journal and I did as asked. When I finally managed to get in touch with her granddaughter (who lives on the other side of the world) I sent her a pictue of what I'd seen. She let me know that she 'knows that place, I go stay there all the time'. And apparently the suitcase was like the blue one her greatgrandma had. And she reads the cards and knew which deck was being referenced from the colour.
The circle was closed.
to other folk witches: how do you engage in protection magic?
I've never been a heavily warded kind of person. if something is coming my way, I often dream about it, and get told the protective measures to take. if I feel off, I'll divine about it, and react accordingly.
I thought I didn't ward particularly - then I looked around. Elder, hawthorn, rowan and beech on our boundaries. Ritual sweeping, a collection of talismans that are continuously moving to where they're needed most, a red hair tie for protection when my wires 'go off'. A very particular pendant that I wear all the time, Allies who watch for me, good relations with the land around and it's many peoples. Smudges twisted from herbs grown on our plot.
Its an intuitive tending process, -and similarly like you mention - I usually get given what will be needed beforehand, a clear sign something is coming is an ally presenting or an object presenting itself.
A working for the Fae
I was called to work by the Fae just before the last winter solstice. I've hemmed and hawed about telling about it, so I asked permission - and it seems it is ok... Actually they seemed amused by the idea.
I've not had much dealings with the Fae, though they are very much present in this land. So this is really an exploration of my experience. Caveat : I'm old enough to know there is no one way in anything. This is just a 'how it was'.
Buzzard made it known I was to make a journey. I won't go into the detail, that's a tale in it's own right, but heeding the message I journeyed to meet Buzzard, who just kept dipping in and out of sight, leading me to the Faerie Realms, passing through their places until in a place of stone where horses were stabled, where buzzard perched on the gauntlet of the master of the hunt. Instinct had me look sideyways, not 'straight at', and in so doing perceive past the glamour. Even so the urge to run like prey before the hunter was very strong, but that is his nature I realised. He is the hunt. I declaimed 'i am a daughter of the mother, there is no chasing me anymore than you can chase the earth - what is it you want?'
What is your name he asked, so I replied 'i am sometimes known as (...) using a name given to me one time.
Very wise shaman he laughed. Then let me know that a 'way' had been blocked by human disturbance of a stone circle and this needed to be put right as the hunt needed it at the winter solstice. I agreed to open the way, honouring the agreements we have, and in return asked that the hunt observe the boundaries of my land. A bargain had been struck he said, so I opened the way and noticed for the work to be completed I would have to go there in the real.
Back, i jumped on the internet and called up the ordnance survey maps of our area and - there was marked a stone circle just where I had been shown. I looked it up, 'only a few stones by visible, the rest buried. I drove over and found it and indeed only a couple of stones visible, the rest buried in the field, and markers next to it showing recent work had been happening very close. I completed the ceremony then.made my way home.
The solstice was a wild night, racing clouds and yet within our boundaries, quiet, undisturbed.
A few days later I was intrigued enough to look up the name (internet can be so helpful) I had been given to use. It isn't a name as such, it's a word in a language I don't know but has some very, very ancient ancestral connection -and it means 'shaman'.
edit: I posted this last night. This morning I walked out to the place where I'd asked permission to tell of the working. There was a Buzzard feather.
A working for the Fae
I was called to work by the Fae just before the last winter solstice. I've hemmed and hawed about telling about it, so I asked permission - and it seems it is ok... Actually they seemed amused by the idea.
I've not had much dealings with the Fae, though they are very much present in this land. So this is really an exploration of my experience. Caveat : I'm old enough to know there is no one way in anything. This is just a 'how it was'.
Buzzard made it known I was to make a journey. I won't go into the detail, that's a tale in it's own right, but heeding the message I journeyed to meet Buzzard, who just kept dipping in and out of sight, leading me to the Faerie Realms, passing through their places until in a place of stone where horses were stabled, where buzzard perched on the gauntlet of the master of the hunt. Instinct had me look sideyways, not 'straight at', and in so doing perceive past the glamour. Even so the urge to run like prey before the hunter was very strong, but that is his nature I realised. He is the hunt. I declaimed 'i am a daughter of the mother, there is no chasing me anymore than you can chase the earth - what is it you want?'
What is your name he asked, so I replied 'i am sometimes known as (...) using a name given to me one time.
Very wise shaman he laughed. Then let me know that a 'way' had been blocked by human disturbance of a stone circle and this needed to be put right as the hunt needed it at the winter solstice. I agreed to open the way, honouring the agreements we have, and in return asked that the hunt observe the boundaries of my land. A bargain had been struck he said, so I opened the way and noticed for the work to be completed I would have to go there in the real.
Back, i jumped on the internet and called up the ordnance survey maps of our area and - there was marked a stone circle just where I had been shown. I looked it up, 'only a few stones by visible, the rest buried. I drove over and found it and indeed only a couple of stones visible, the rest buried in the field, and markers next to it showing recent work had been happening very close. I completed the ceremony then.made my way home.
The solstice was a wild night, racing clouds and yet within our boundaries, quiet, undisturbed.
A few days later I was intrigued enough to look up the name (internet can be so helpful) I had been given to use. It isn't a name as such, it's a word in a language I don't know but has some very, very ancient ancestral connection -and it means 'shaman'.
S.D. Schindler, illustration for Whuppity Stoorie
Whuppity stoorie, A folk tale that turns on the power of names in dealings with the Fae.
Why 'Witch'.
There are words for a person who does what I do in the language of my mother's people. They are now usually translated into English as 'shaman' - but that is a new thing. Before the words used by the colonial powers were "witch / sorcerer". Used pejoratively, colonially, oppressively, persecutingly, murderously.
So I claim Witch as an act of conscious decolonisation, a deliberate act to heal the witch wound my ancestors carried, that I carried.
it's ridiculous how overcomplicated big online spiritual presences like to make witchcraft and magic. there's always a new "you're actually doing this ABSOLUTELY WRONG and that's why you're a HORRIBLE UNSUCCESSFUL LITTLE BITCH WITCH", and I'm so tired of it. I look to personal experience, my family's experience, and the knowledge passed down in folklore and old grimoires, not some random content creator
True.
From my journal. It's a real tree - a sweet chestnut somewhere between 350 and 400 years old and possibly older. I'm told even even 300 years is improbably ancient for a sweet chestnut. It's hollowed out under the buttressing roots, space enough to sit or lie down inside.
I've been visiting this ally since I met it when I was 12.
It stands about 1/4 mile from an old pilgrim route.
Gifts from Spirit
Sometimes we get a very obvious thank you for what we do.
I was asked by a person to help with an entity that had been foisted on them in an act of duplicity. In journey they present as a bear spirit person. The work was done, the attachment was undone.
The next morning a bear had been left on my garden wall.
An other person came to me in dream. They presented as 'zebra' and lamented their situation. Not knowing who it was at first but recognising an urgent 'ask', I got me out of my bed at 3 in the morning and set to. It was not pretty, a devious one who claimed 'a contract', mis-sold to a vulnerable dupe I would say. But the work got done.
The next morning (late morning, I'd slept in) I got a call from the person, to say they just felt they 'had to let me know they'd got up that morning clear headed and written music for the first time in two long dark years'.
I went outside and a zebra had been left on my garden wall.
I still have them.
Disturbing Vision
I get visions. I've heard others describe being a witch/shamanic practitioner/ channel / as being a bit like a taxicab driving around with a 'for hire' light lit up - at least until we learn how to manage it- & spirit/spirits/souls will just 'grab the nearest cab' to hand when there's something to be done. So I don't feel it's a special talent, it's 'being available'.
Usually visions are just something / someone asking for my attention in a matter that is bothering them and it quickly becomes clear what is asked.
This one was different - I've been sitting on it since, unwilling to speak of it or lend it any reality. But given the way things are right now the symbolism feels relevant.
-Mid april 2022 I was watching the clouds rolling across the skies on a typically windy evening. At some point I tranced.
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I saw a great eagle flying, criss-crossing the world pouring fire from its wings onto the helpless on the ground wherever it pleased.
An oriental man stood by and watched it.
The eagle however was burning up inside unnoticed and became stricken and fell to earth in flames. It's great carcass burned, flames licking through it's ribs. The earth was poisoned, the seas were poisoned, the young were dead in the womb, deformed, their skeletons twisted, a great miasma was abroad, and the skies were dark.
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I've not had a repeat and I don't know what it portends to. But I'm glad to not be holding it inside any more.
The most fantastic textile artist Eva Ek Scheaffer
This picture is special to me.
When this calling made itself known it came with a lot of knowings, but I had no context.
I came across this image, and as I looked at it I felt a 'mexican wave' of understanding rolling through my whole life. I heard a woman whisper softly in my ear 'ahh, this precious knowledge is not lost'.
My mother's people.
Grief, it seems to me, is an affliction of the living.
I keep journals, which I (sometimes) illustrate with what I see. This is from one of my journals.
The top is the appearance of a deceased person's spirit still 'on this side' as an orb. I can say that with confidence because I was called to work with this particular person's spirit later (when they asked for help crossing over - another story), and I'd not long woken from a 'working dream' where I had met them. (It is a rule -for me at least - that in dream state I cannot see the deceased who have 'crossed over' - I can be in their presence, but they will remain out of sight).
I sat in the dark watching the orb streak past as they took their leave.
The lower picture is how I see the signature 'wake' in the air afterwards, turbulent and wavy. It's like looking through a kelp forest in a storm.
One of the hardest, but most sacred things that I get called to do is the work of ritually helping a dying person who is lingering with their transition into death. Calling upon the psychopompic aid to help a person die has always felt surreal, and sometimes even conflicting, but I think it os a precious and invaluable part of the work I do as an Otherworld Intercessor.
"One of the hardest, but most sacred things"