The Word On The Astral

Since last February, I've spent many nights beside my altar rock with my eyes on the sky. Not that this was at all unusual previous to that, but as it was more and more clear that the grasp on consensus reality was becoming wobbly, my inclination for observation and note-keeping took hold. 

After all, what is the sky but (to paraphrase Yoko Ono) an old friend who is always there for you? If nothing else, you can depend on the positions of the stars. 

 

When you spend so many hours in silent vigil, you notice things. Changes in air temperature. Small errant breezes. The patterns of clouds as they gather and disperse. These are things detectable with the 5 senses. Next come the things that are disputable by those means. That whisper - was it a faint voice or the sound of leaves? Those flitting shadows, the mysterious shapes in the smoke from your fire? Do these things have significance in themselves or only in our interpretation? Here we emerge into the territory of the witch and the mystic, and as strange as it is, I am comfortable here. 

Then there is the third level, where the realm of the astral merges with the conscious mind. While just about everything that occurs here is up for debate to the rationalist, the mystic must trust that her experience is true. 

So what comes of these nights spent with the stars and my maps and conversations with ghosts? 

The word on the astral is that things will never be the same.

You may not notice, though. They've always already been forever changed. 

Let Me tell You Something About Magic...

This may be the only lesson I will ever give, so listen close.

Magic is like water. If you put your hand in it,  it will disturb the flow. If you have a light touch, you can guide it. if you are too forceful, it will splash and go where you don't want it.

That's the thing that no one bothers to tell you about magic.

Before Sunrise

One thing that's been a little different this summer is my morning ritual. In the quiet time just before daybreak  - most days, anyway - I make a small fire in a certain place, out of juniper and whatever other herbs that might seem to fit the needs of the day. It clarifies things. It brings focus. 

This summer has been one of successful witchery - so successful that I find myself confronted with that nervousness that comes so often in artwork, when your project goes from being nothing into  becoming something...a moment where you either press on or crumble in the face of fear.

I suppose it's good, to have that feeling - it means that whatever I make of this is up to me.

Moon Mirrors and The Rites Of Spring

Tomorrow is the first day of spring, and while this one comes with a full moon, I found these lovely crescent mirrors at the dime store and couldn't resist.

The land is turning green again (or greener, at least) and while I haven't posted much lately. I am  happy to report that I am still alive and have made it through another season.

It's been a time of changes and leaving things behind. On occasion it's been a little tough, as it's my habit to look back at the past. A family friend died recently, and there's the compulsion to think of all the places he once was and will never be again. Spasms of grief that can fetch you away. But there are dangers to making maps of absence. Especially now, when the future is a blank page.

Tomorrow I will carry out my rites and rituals, making the most of this new phase. I have my south-facing window, the newly verdant trees, and most of all the blank page. The road rises up to meet me; there was never a day that my wish was not true.

Finally, the time comes for the opening of the ways.

Witch's Market

Last night we went to the Witch's Market. I had my fortune told. Normally, I don't go to professional readers as I can do it myself for free, but this reader had such a warm and friendly aura that I decided to give it a try.

 Attika K. Bast, tarot reader

She used a Thoth deck to do a past, present and future reading, as well as a pendulum forecast as part of the bargain. The cards are the kind I've been drawing in my own readings, though being Thoth, having somewhat more intensity.

The card representing the past was balance - meaning, she said, that a situation that had long been unbalanced had recently come into balance, allowing me to move forward. (True). Present was Lust, the Thoth's version of Strength - though connoting more of an energy and passion. She interpreted this as currently trying to find the thing I was passionate about, a purpose in life. (Also true - I've mentioned this a few times recently on this very blog.) And then there's the future card - Indolence, reversed. Uh-oh.

Indolence is the 8 of cups, though of course much more grim. An almost fatal laziness leading to hopeless disappointment. My card was reversed, though, so she said it was a toss-up whether I would give in to the hopelessness and fatigue or fight against it despite the enormity of the struggle.

Being that depression, anxiety, fatigue and lack of confidence are profound influences in my life, this was also a likely truth. Not one I'm proud of, but one I have to face all the same.

We used the pendulum part of the reading to expand upon this question posed by the final card. Despite the tricky bits of the reading, we ended on a good note.*

Afterward we talked a little shop - always nice (and a relief, really) to do with another experienced tarot reader - and then I went on my way.

My family did a bit of shopping among the vendors, as well. Beeswax candles for protection and to invoke the Green Man, fancy handmade soaps with herbs and spices. Not pictured are my husband's "sexy man" scent blend and teen son's magical lip balm. We all smelled AMAZING on the way home, let me tell you.

Also I bought a corset. No, there is nothing particularly magical about a corset, but it was there and I've been wanting one. For my posture, you understand.

It was a fun night with a good atmosphere and we hope to return soon.

*I know very well this is a classic part of the fortune teller's game - you never  never, never let a client leave a reading with a bad taste in their mouths. You never let them leave without some sort of hope - to do so is irresponsible. We both knew that was a crappy card, and she helped me find solutions around it like a good reader should. 

Hagstones

A common item in the witch's box of charms, hagstones - stones with naturally occurring holes in them - are said to cure a myriad of conditions and protect the bearer from evil. The small ones can be strung like beads on a length of twine or just kept in your pocket. Larger ones can take a place of significance in or around your home.

This one lives in the rock garden out front. It serves its purpose well, I think.

Charms

A while back, I finally got around to tidying up my old apothecary chest. Though it might be hard to tell. 

There were certainly some interesting remnants at the bottom. A sort of witchy confetti. 

At the year draws to a close, it's always good to have your house in order.

Altar And Spring

 Life among these old stones

Evil Eye

Votive tree

Amulets to ward against the evil eye. I have the feeling we need all we can get.

Midsummer's Eve

Tomorrow is the solstice, so I spent the evening making flower garlands. Magic lives in the edges of things, and here is the margin between light and dark.

Witchy Weather

Recently, I went out to the cemetery where my ancestors are buried, to leave an offering and ask their advice. I'd been seeing such a falling apart of things, a rapid decay of the world around us, that surely they would have something to say about it.

If the world is falling apart, the cemetery was no exception. While the place had changed little in the 150 years previous, it had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Sinkholes had appeared, gravestones toppled by their own weight, statues and vases broken beyond repair. Even many of the enamel portraits marking the graves as seen here had fallen apart completely. It did not look like the work of vandals, but a sudden, unexplained deterioration.

After leaving my offerings, I walked around while awaiting an answer or a sign. I tidied up the best I could, replacing broken tiles and angel's wings. In the west corner, a sandpiper ran down the mounds of dirt, fluting wildly. We are far from the shore, so this was a surprise. I thought it must have a nest there it was trying to protect, but when I tried to investigate, the bird began to make such a noise and flail around so that I gave in and followed. Afterward, I remembered how my husband had once dragged me away from that same corner many years ago, having been overcome by the feeling he must get me away from there immediately

When the sign came, it was a little hard to understand. It was definitely the sign, but what did it mean? I took a couple of days for it to click.Then I understood, much more than I ever realized.

Today I went out to work the spell, in the bright and sunny afternoon. It was a simple spell, of course, because that is the way my ancestors worked. It was so hot and dry that I watered the plants first, and wetted down the area I was working. The ground was as dry as a bone and beginning to crack. Such is the way of things at the edge of the desert.

I was just finishing when the storm blew up, with a black sky and howling wind, so fast I barely had time to gather my things and get the laundry in before it was soaked. I rushed in to check the weather report, but I already knew what it was. There'd only been a 10% chance of rain. You might think a storm coming up during a spell might be a bad omen, but I know my ancestors and I know me. No, it was a roar of approval, a sign that it had worked just the way it should.

The map bore out my theory. According to the time-lapse radar, the storm had developed suddenly, just about the time I'd started, just over the south side of the county line. Right over the cemetery where my witchy forebears reside.

Just a few minutes later, the sky was sunny again, and ground was no doubt thankful for its brief drenching. As for me, I was delighted. It's always nice when the old folks come to call.

Walpurgisnacht

It's the 30th of April, Walpurgisnacht, witches eve, and my husband's birthday.

Even though Saint Walpurga offers protection from witchcraft, we don't feel the need. It's not witches that worry us, it's regular old misfortune and malfeasance that keep us up at night. So grabbing on to the energy of the evening and the thinness of the veil, we walked the boundaries of the land and asked for protection for ourselves and our loved ones in the coming season. As we did, a cool fresh wind kicked up and the katydids began to sing.

It seemed as good a sign as any.