Story Time: Past Life , Present Consequences

When I was around 20, I had a very troubling experience. Until today, I really never understood WHY it happened. This is going to be a long post, but – I want to tell this story. I’m not sure why, but I do.

To really understand why this event I’m going to talk about happened, I need to go back to both my childhood, and then I need to go much further back – which is why this will be a long journey – I hope you will be patient with me. I will also admit, up front, that some of what I will say will sound fantastical – especially if you do not believe in the new-age theory of Otherkin. I’m ok with you not believing. It has no impact on my perceptions of the facts.

But let’s start with this world, and we’ll get to the nuts and bolts of the stranger tides later.

The body I currently wear was born in New Zealand. In the very early 80s, America was going through one of the most extreme nursing shortages in its history. Even the shortages felt today are not as bad as they were back then. In desperation, companies began to hire nurses from other countries to try and fill the gaps in coverage, and they were willing to jump through any hoops necessary to incentivize foreign nurses.

Both my parents were nurses at the time, and because my father had recently left the ANZAC, and my mother had two very young children, and New Zealand did NOT have a shortage of nurses, both of them were having difficulty finding employment. New Zealand also did not have a very strong economy, so money was short, and they were worried all the time.

When Nurse Finders contacted them, both of them lept at the chance. Nurse Finders offered them a contract – NF would provide work visas, and put our entire family on the fast track for green cards and permanent resident status. In exchange, my parents would work for the company, go wherever the company needed them to go, for the next six years. The company would pay for us to move to America, and they would provide a sign-on bonus that would make sure that we could buy furnature, food, clothing – anything that would need to be replaced because it wouldn’t be coming with us. They also found us a place to live, and provided the capital to purchase reliable transportation.

After three days on a plane, we landed in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, where we would live for the next three years. My father worked in the emergency room, my mother worked in mother-baby – aftercare for women who needed training once their babies were born.

It was… well, a bit of a culture shock would be the understatement of the millenia. We went from living in pastoral farmland to a place that was at least partly desert – and we went from a village to a city that was rife with gang violence.

My father saw more gunshot and knife wounds in the first week on his new job than he saw in the three years he flew as med-evac in Viet Nam. It… left a lot of stains on his mind. To this day, my father has a terrible issue with racism – and it started with that hospital.

We stayed in Pine Bluff for nearly three years before Nurse Finders let them know that the hospital was well-covered now, and that there was another hospital with shortages which had contracted them to fill the positions. It was in Arlington, Texas – and my parents didn’t take two minutes to think about the move.

We stayed in what will forever in our family be termed the “roach motel.” The temporary apartment provided to us (while the new sign-on bonus was used as down-payment on a house in Fort Worth to be built in a new subdivision going up) was so full of roaches that they were in the plumbing, and in the fridge. To this day, roaches throw me back to my five-year-old self, and I want to cry, hide, and beat it to death with the nearest object handy, all at the same time. I am probably NEVER going to be able to be rational about roaches.

It was while we were in Texas, while my parents were working in the hospital in Arlington, that my mother made her first real friend. She’s a lot like me… she’s friendly, but she never makes the first move – so really, it was more that her first American friend decided for them that they would be friends, and my mother went along with it.

Rena had two children. I don’t remember the girl’s name – but I remember the boy. His name was Seth. Rena pretty much adopted my mother for the time we were in Texas, and made life much easier for my mother – Rena acted as a guide, a mentor, and a bridge, and helped my mother flourish in this new, and strange, land – something we ALL needed, desperately. Cut off from family and old friends, adrift in a sea of strange customs and language (and yes, you Americans have TRULY butchered the English language – for which I salute you), Rena gave us context, and helped us truly settle.

We stayed in Texas for ten years, while my father went to Med School to become a doctor, and my mother worked at the hospital and supported all of us. It was… nightmarish. Dad was never home, Mum was only home for breakfast – and two children who were eight and nine and had very little adult supervision (the neighbors were asked if they could be emergency contacts, and if they would check up on us occasionally – which resulted in them doing precisely NOTHING for us) were not very good at raising themselves or each other.

Eventually, though, dad finished medschool, and gained his internship, and we moved to California. Once he’d finished his internship and residency, my father signed on to the US Airforce as a doctor – his contract was six years in exchange for the USAF paying off his student loans in full. He became a citizen, and they moved us to Delaware… where I discovered a deligtful internet cafe (back then it was dial-up, but they had six computers, plenty of coffee and muffins, a D&D game running almost all night, people playing Spades in the opposite corner, VtM kids doing LARP on the cobblestones outside, and witches all over the place. It was like coming home.

And out of some strange twist of fate, Seth was at that coffee shop the first time I walked into it. It took less than 20 minutes for me to call my mother from the phone behind the counter, for her to call Rena, and for them to set a lunch date to catch up.

I didn’t like Seth. Truthfully I’ve never liked him, but our antipathy for each other seemed to have grown over the years – for no discernable reason – I hadn’t seen him in ten years, nor thought about him at all… but just the same, our mutual dislike was intense.

That didn’t change the fact that Rena and her children were family. We owed them a debt.

It wasn’t too long after I became reaquainted with Seth before things suddenly became truly dramatic. Not between Seth and I, but just the same. Seth was working, at the time, at a tuxedo shop, as a manager. There was another young man who worked there – his name was Pat.

Pat wasn’t liked at the coffee shop. I really have no idea why he kept showing up – except that he was an absolute social outcast, and the coffeeshop was absolutely the place for outcasts. He had a number of faults, but his true fall came because of greed. Gavin wanted Seth’s job. Everyone knew it… but there wasn’t much anyone could DO about it.

He somehow managed to become friends with the tuxedo shop’s owner – and eventually asked for a job. Seth was fired the next day. He walked in one morning, and without warning, his livlihood was gone.

The first thing he did was head to the coffee shop. He needed his friends. I think that within five minutes, every regular there knew what had happened, and we were all… So, SO angry. The undertones of a stirred up wasp’s nest were everywhere.

When Pat walked into the shop that evening, he walked into a mob. It took him less than a minute to decide to find a room with fewer of Seth’s friends around…

I read tarot at that store. Tarot, for me, requires low lighting and a little bit of privacy. Not much – a little distance, fewer people, goes a long way. At the time, I had an aura that gently nudged people with the idea that this room wasn’t terribly interesting – if I was reading, that is – which kept the traffic to a minimum. Pat escaped into MY room… and then he had the NERVE to ask, “What’s everyone so upset about?” I think it was the smirk at the end of his comment that really set me off.

I turned to him, and looked him full in the face… and suddenly, he couldn’t move. I could tell he was freaking out, but I was SO angry, I didn’t care. I sat there, pinning him with the force of my will, staring into him until the discomfort built to agony and he blurted out, “What are you LOOKING at?”

I smiled. It probably wasn’t a nice smile. “You. I’m looking at YOU.”

And then, he said the magic words. “What do you See?”

So I told him. In that small, dark room, surrounded by all the people who hated him, as trapped in the moment as I was, I laid him bare – I flayed him, peeling back layer after layer after layer. I told him about all the pieces of his broken soul, and how they came to be. I told him how he was perceived by other people, and why. I told him who he was, and I told him why. I told him about his mother and his childhood. I told him everything I saw. The world was dark, and only he existed, and I had him in my jaws, and because he asked, he had to hear, every bit as much as I had to speak – and I WANTED to speak. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to hurt. There was no right or wrong – there was only answering the question. Most times now, I can temper it when it happens – soften it.

But Gavin was the first person to trigger this particularly terrible gift in me – and I was angry when he did it, so I let the darkness take me, and I spoke with no gentleness, because he didn’t deserve it. He got someone who was my family (no matter my personal feelings about Seth, he IS family) fired – and he had the nerve to SMILE ABOUT IT.

When it was finally over, and we had both been released from it, tears pouring from his face, he ran. I never saw him at the coffee shop again.

It didn’t take too long for what had just happened to really sink in for me… and when it did, I was horrified. I was ashamed. Gavin wasn’t always a good person, but his life hadn’t really given him any opportunities to BE a good person, and while he was absolutely an adult and therefore responsible for his actions and the way they affected others, what I did was, in my eyes, deliberately cruel and a horrific mis-use of my gifts. I didn’t even stop to hear his side of things. I let my anger use me, and he paid the price.

Until today, I carried that shame. I worked really hard to either prevent people from asking that question, or I worked really hard to be as delicate as I could be when it was too late, and whoever had asked had taken the choice from me.

Two years after this first incident, I ran into Pat while he was working at the local walmart. He looked like a completely different person, but I knew right away who he was. I was still so ashamed of my behavior, I tried to turn the other way before he saw me. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how meeting him after that horrible night would go, so I panicked… but he’d already seen me, and was walking towards me. All I could think was – whatever happens, I deserve it. It was an accident, but I could have held back, and I didn’t.

“Hi, Raven.”

“Uhh… Hi?”

“Do you remember me?”

“Ummm… no?” Maybe if he really thought I didn’t remember him, he’d give up and go away and that would be that.


“It’s me, Pat. From the coffee shop.”

Well, shit. “Ahh. Hi. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah. Well… I wanted to thank you.”

My eyes got really wide… “You… what?”

“You were the first person to ever tell me the truth… and it changed my life. Because of you, I’m a better person. I’m who I want to be, now… and I’m happy. So… Thank you.”

He tried to hug me. I kid you not, this crazy person that I had essentially psychically violated in the worst, most morally reprehensible way possible, was HUGGING ME. It was like… some weird one night Stockholme syndrome thing.

I awkwardly patted him on the back, said a few cliched congratulatory comments, and then he went back to work… and I very carefully walked out of walmart, deciding that I really didn’t need soap that bad.

For most of my life since then, I have dreaded someone saying those words. I never know what will come out once they’re said. Sometimes, it’s a kindness. Sometimes, it’s brutal. Sometimes I can mitigate. Sometimes.

But today, I finally understand why this ability exists. Why it’s triggered by that particular question.

Which brings me to a past life so long ago, so far away, that distance and time are absolutely irrelivant.

Once upon a time, there was a winged cat. I was fast, I was strong, I was just. I had a tribe. I had an sister with a new litter, whom I doted on, as I had no cubs of my own. I had a village, and every life there was precious to me. I led, I followed, I loved, I provided, I defended. My family, my village, was everything to me.

Until one day, it wasn’t.

I was a member of my world’s police force. While I was off planet, the being that I hunted found my home. To this day, I can remember a scene so horrible that I cannot give words to it. The thing that truly destroyed me was my sister’s cubs, caught hiding in my den by the beast. Looking down at their little bodies, knowing they had gone to the home of the one person they were sure would save them, knowing that I had failed them. Failed them all.

I found the monster who had destroyed my world. I hunted him down… and then I became the butcher… but there is a price for every action. While it was determined that I wasn’t precisely sane, and therefore I would suffer no consequences for my actions, the very fact that I was so unstable made continuing my chosen carreer impossible.

After being released from service, I began to wander. I think I was looking for wonder – something to spark me, bring me back to life. It was a dark time… and as all people going through such times, I was not as aware of the worlds around me as I should have been.

And then I met HIM. He was so powerful. He was charismatic. It felt like the answer to everything was in his eyes. For the first time in so long, I felt like I’d come home. He was passionate, he was an intellectual, he was vibrant and rash… and when he smiled, I felt like flying again.

I took the Familiar vows – I’ve always been a good amplifyer, so it felt like the Call from him was destiny. I had met my soul mate.

It should have been beautiful… but we were so unequal.

I don’t remember much about my time with him – it was the ending that really stayed with me. I know that I felt him slipping. I know that I ignored the signs – something a familiar is absolutely not to do – but I loved him, and it blinded me. I made excuses. I looked the other way.

And then, in one single moment, everything changed.

We stood on a planet, and he raised the sun. He changed a solar system… and he did it just because he could. He was showing off to me. I watched that sun in absolute horror – I watched him smile as he destroyed the worlds around us – and I knew. Billions of people snuffed out because a madman wanted to impress the being that brought him to that height.

I didn’t think. I ran. I didn’t stop running – and he didn’t stop chasing. I was his, and he was destroying everything in his path to find me. Whole universes collapsed in his search for me – in his madness he couldn’t stop – and in my terror, neither could I.

Eventually, though, the destruction and the losses were so great, my guilt and shame at abandoning my duty to him, and my horror at what he continued to do, became too much for me to bear. I went to the Library for help, and I struck a bargain. They would give me the knowledge I needed, and I would end his life (and my own).

However, there was a greater price to pay. I had wronged the multiverse. I hadn’t seen the warning signs… and when they grew too great to ignore, instead of doing what needed to be done, according to my vows, I ran – and there were so many dead at my feet from that failure, there will never be an end to the debt.

When I finally caught him, when I finally ended him, when I went to my rest, I went knowing my task had only just begun.

Five little words – and they hold such power over me. I had once refused to see – ignored what was right in front of me. I owe the dead – so when someone says those words, I have no choice. The shadows come, and my mouth speaks the truth. I say what I see. I say what they need to hear – and when I speak of these things, they must listen.

Never again will I be permitted to willfully shun my duty – and never again will those I run across who have even the slightest potential towards power addiction escape my words.

I got off lightly.

So… that’s a past life memory – and the consequences.


Heavy, But Not Heavy

I’m changing this section of the blog around. For now, the section on Dark Shamanism will mostly be dealing with what I’m working on, right now.

That includes work with demons.

If you’re not comfortable with that, please, feel free to skip reading more from this section of the blog.


World of Warcraft and Mental Health

About four or five years ago, I went through something that turned my life, and my head, completely upside down.

It started with, of all things, a migraine.

I was used to them. I got them all the time. I had them for days at a time. I pushed through. I got things done. I ignored the pain, and mostly, that worked. Admittedly, as things progressed, the amount of days I spent enduring migraines lengthened, until I quite possibly had less than a week out of every month where I wasn’t in pain… but it happened so slowly that by that time, I had adjusted. I persevered.

Until one day, my body decided enough was enough.

I had a migraine so severe I was screaming in pain. We rushed to the hospital, where they struggled to help. Eventually, the pain faded, and we went home… where I couldn’t forget what had happened.

The anxiety and fear of both the pain, and not knowing what had happened to me, or why, eventually led to another screaming migraine.

And another.

Finally, I was in such a state of constant vigilance, I couldn’t cope with even my normal migraines. I started having dreams of dying.

I had a dream of walking out into traffic… and I woke up completely numb – I felt nothing about it. I understood, my subconscious was speaking about my desperation. I wasn’t suicidal, but when you’re experiencing trauma coupled with pain, your brain does a funny thing. It grabs onto any idea for relief.

When I was a child, I was hit by a car, and I died. While I was dead, I experienced not light, but darkness. Pure, empty darkness. There was no pain, there was no fear, there was no hate, there was NOTHING… and it was the most beautiful, quiet experience of my life. When they brought me back, I cried for days, because I didn’t want to leave that peace for a life that was nothing but horror.

So of course, when I was again experiencing something I couldn’t cope well with, my brain remembered what it was like to be dead… and suggested, through dreams, that solution.

This is actually quite common in trauma patients. This does NOT mean they are suicidal. It means that their subconscious is reaching for a way out. That doesn’t mean they have any intention of acting on it… it just means they’re nearing the end of their endurance.

Realizing what my dream signified, I knew I needed medical assistance to get my pain under control. I had my mother take me to the hospital, where I TRIED to explain to multiple medical professionals about my pain, and the dream, and what I needed.

THEY decided I was suicidal, and stopped listening to me. They sent me to an inpatient psychiatric facility for a week, where I experienced even more psychological trauma. The only person I met during that week who DID understand was a paramedic who was an Iraki war veteran. He had shrapnel in his head. He lived with pain daily. He understood the difference between wanting to die, and your brain trying to find solutions to situations.

The end result of these experiences was an anxiety disorder, severe depression, and PTSD.

I sat on the couch for two years. I barely spoke. I wasn’t really aware. People spoke to me, and I honestly felt everything they said meant nothing. Their questions were all obvious, and clearly rhetorical. I stared at the world, and felt nothing, thought nothing. I was empty, at the bottom of a deep well. The world was very dark, and I didn’t care. The only time I experienced any emotions, I would be having a panic attack.

Eventually, we realized that the hospital’s solution of drowning me in medication I didn’t need had exacerbated my situation. My doctor took me off every medication she could.

I was unmedicated for a little over a year…. and slowly, I started to live again. I wasn’t my old self, by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t think I’ll ever get that person back. She died – that’s how I look at it. We found out that I have a sensitivity to sugar. I’m not diabetic – it’s a different issue. If I have too much sugar, I get migraines. We also found out I needed glasses, which clearly contributed to my issues. Dehydration and forgetting to eat definitely contribute, but the main cause is sugar. I stopped drinking gatorade, which I had been drinking because of chronic electrolyte deficiencies, and got an app for my phone that reminded me to drink, and to eat. My migraines and my anxiety both cause me to become very scattered and forgetful. I needed those apps.

Because I was home, and unwell, I had a lot of spare time. I read a lot, but even someone for whom reading is a passion can become tired of reading when that’s ALL you do… so I started playing games from Google Play. I played mystery games – games with a story line, where you would have to find objects, and use them to complete tasks to get to the next section of the game.

I bought a LOT of games. It was becoming expensive.

My husband suggested I try creating a character on WoW. When we first met six years ago, I had tried to play, but I had this tiny Vista hybrid laptop. It had a flip around touch screen, and the latency on the thing was so bad, I couldn’t see what had killed me… It was so bad, that I got very frustrated and just decided that I wasn’t a gamer. I didn’t blame my tech… I blamed myself. After all… I’d played console games with friends. I knew I was bad at games. Shoot – I died during RPG’s.

However, he convinced me to give it another go. I had a newer computer, and he’d played on it. It wasn’t awful, so he thought I would be able to play. He was right, for the most part.

Because I have a lot of social anxiety, I didn’t run any dungeons. I just quested. Despite that, I leveled a toon to 100 in under four months. For a new player, that’s pretty good. He bought me Legion as a present, for making it that far.

The thing about Warcraft is that it gives me goals. Small, achievable tasks, for which I gain rewards. Slowly, my mental health improved, because my confidence in my own ability to solve problems grew. I started running dungeons with my husband and his best friend. I joined a guild and ran some content with them.

My new laptop couldn’t handle Legion. I had latency issues. I had lag issues. Loading into dungeons and scenarios took too long, and I frequently dc’d and spent a lot of time catching up to groups… and dying.

We started saving for a computer that could handle Legion. I got The Beast as a Valentine’s Day present this year. I LOVE my Beast.

After I got The Beast, and realized that a large part of my problems WERE in fact technological, I started feeling confident enough to pug dungeons. We moved to a higher population server (we’d been on Moonguard, which is an RP server, and not really our style) which was progression based, because I finally felt ready to move forward. To challenge myself.

I found a WONDERFUL guild. I can’t even begin to express how helpful and understanding they’ve been. I was clear from the start about my issues, and the reason we click so well is that they are a group designed to support people with my health issues.

Because of Warcraft, and a strong support system, I’ve begun to enjoy being challenged. I still get frustrated if I die a lot. I feel like I’ve failed my team. It just pushes me to learn more.

I’m working, right now, to gear a new character, because I want to get into the higher level dungeons, the mythic plusses, and into the Nighthold Raid. I want to run the heroic Guldan battle, and get my Ahead of the Curve achievement.

I want to be ready for when Tomb of Sargeras comes out. I want to be in the front lines. I want to be part of the team of guildies who run mythic challenges for the guild weekly.

A friend dragged me into battle ground scenarios last weekend. It was the first time I’ve done real PVP stuff. I didn’t die as often as I expected. It was chaotic, and confusing… but I learned a lot. I think I’d like to do more, because I know things about my toon I didn’t know before.


I have gone from someone who, when I couldn’t log into my bank account, ended up curled in a ball under a coffee table, completely hysterical, to someone who is actively looking to challenge herself. To push. To grow.

World of Warcraft saved me. I am reborn, and I am ready to face the World… and the world.

Thank you, Warcraft, for teaching me that I Can. And thank you, my husband, for insisting I try it. You’re right… it’s cheaper… and a lot more fun.


An Ending

For years, I believed that you did things because it was all you knew. I thought you showed me how much you cared when you sent me food, cat toys, clothes, books, blankets weighted specifically to help with me with my autistic anxiety attacks, because you didn’t know any other way to show me – and I excused that because of how far away from each other we were… Even stranger, in the beginning when I kept telling you not to do these things, because I felt I would owe you something in return (because everyone always wants something in return for their charity), and because I felt that anyone who buys me things was attempting to buy my love (because it’s happened so many times before) – you told me not to worry about it. None of that was true about US. WE were DIFFERENT.

When my illness became so bad I couldn’t communicate anymore, you waited for me to answer your texts – even when it took months, even when my answers simply never came. Of course, you took me to task for my negligence of you, but you were always been the first to admit you are needy and greedy – and I always assured you that wasn’t the case. I agreed that I was the negligent one.

When I was so sick, I simply wanted to die, and you would tell me I wasn’t allowed to die until you were ready to go, yourself, I told myself that you were being loving… the truth is, telling someone they can only die on your schedule is cruel, and grasping. It is not caring when they’re experiencing what I went through. It’s just more emotional torture added to the experience.

In exchange for all of this perceived care, you received from me acceptance, and excuses for all that you were. I accepted the things in your life, and the things about yourself, that were out of your control, beyond your power to change. I accepted those things about you over which you DID have control, and yet still would not change. I occasionally discussed with you what I thought about how your choices, and lack of choices, were affecting your health – spiritually, physically, and mentally… but I never thought of it as judgment, or a request for you to change… I accepted you, wholly. You were who you were, and that was more than ok… it was wonderful.

While you were going through your separation and eventual divorce, I dealt with your constant  criticism of my relationship with my husband, and your frequent oblique references to your ex, as if my husband was cut from the same cloth. I always told myself that your negativity towards R was because you were so hurt… I realize now that there were other issues you had with my happy relationship – one was jealousy… our relationship is significantly healthier than yours was, and I am happy with my husband. The other issue was one of ownership. Every time I mentioned a problem I had, your immediate response was to tell me to run to you, come live with you and be your only person… you never included my husband in your offers unless I brought him up. In your mind, I belong to you, and with you, and shouldn’t be happy anywhere else, with anyone else. When I look back on conversations where you talked about my husband, I feel very manipulated, emotionally. That is not something a friend would do. 

When you expressed an interest in my husband, I was open about it. I know what happens around you when you want things and have to be sneaky, and that is not what I wanted for any of us. When, to protect myself and my relationship with my husband, I laid your desires on the table, you were angry. Part of it is that you enjoy sneaky theft, but a larger part of it was your deep, abiding fear of rejection. Seduction works for you. Bluntness leaves you too open, too revealed. It terrifies you. 

Of course, you and your therapist decided I was a raping raper who pushed you towards things you swore afterwards that you didn’t ever say you wanted. You looked good from that angle… and I took the fall like a good dog. 

When I agreed to take a stronger roll in my own life and power, and in yours, I asked for one thing from both you and the Universe. I asked that I no longer carry the blame for those things that are beyond my control… and you failed to keep your oath.

I experienced something I did not understand, and I came to you for help. You laughed at me, and then you told me that what I’d done (even though it was something beyond my control) was stupid, and that it was going to cause you harm, and that maybe next time I found myself in such a predicament, I should take a moment to think about the larger picture, and all the facts, before I do something like that again.

In other words… you blamed me, and you chastised me. 

You seem to think you gave me information I was unhappy to learn. I was glad to learn what my power had done. I was happy to understand. What pissed me off was your attack of things I had no control over, your blame of me. It’s like yelling at cats for having hairballs or shedding. They have fur – to expect them not to have trouble with their fur from time to time is irrational, and to hold them accountable for their troubles is unreasonable and cruel. 

When I found myself in a situation where I was doing things, but didn’t know what was happening, or even WHY, and I came to you for help – you lorded your superiority over me, and told me, once again, that I think I’m just SO smart that I can do anything I want, because I’ll always find a way out of it. Except that you know that’s not true, and that’s not how I think. This is not the first time we’ve had this EXACT discussion… or even the 90th.

The truth is there are moments in my life where I am fully aware of everything going on around me, yet I am not the one in the driver seat… It appears to everyone else that I am in complete control of what is happening, and yet THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY ME. I move, speak, change the world, and everyone sees my face, my mind, my hands; everyone hears my voice. It’s still not me. I do agree that I’m fully conscious in those moments, where time and the multiverse seem to take a breath, before a sudden wave of power and will changes everything completely… and the epicenter is absolutely me, but I am still not the architect – and saying that I am is like saying I’m to blame for the sun rising.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I say this to you – you refuse to understand it. No matter how many times I tell you, “I wasn’t thinking anything at all – there wasn’t an opportunity for me to think, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t do this,’ or ‘Wow, the ramifications of this action make it inadvisable…'” – you STILL insist that because I was there, and the action happened through me, that somehow I could have stopped it, could have changed it… and that next time this happens, I should take control and make it NOT happen.

All this, while also telling me that one of my biggest issues is that I try to control everything (though of course anyone who consistently has their life turned upside down by a puppet master universe would OF COURSE have control issues) and that I should stop “insisting that the system behave the way I want it to,” WHILE you’re simultaneously telling me I should have more control over myself.

The final straw, I think, was that when I asked, you, no… BEGGED YOU to PLEASE attempt to see what was happening to me from my perspective so that you would understand why blaming me for this type of shit is so hurtful, ESPECIALLY COMING FROM SOMEONE LIKE YOU WHO HAS BEEN THERE, TOO… 

When I said to you that you do not seem to understand when I tell you with words, or when I write it down, or when you see it happen to me, but that you seem to ONLY learn by doing, so would you please ALLOW a flow of information to SHOW YOU, BY YOU DOING IT YOURSELF, and you told me I was asking you to be raped – more than that, you told the world that I WANTED you to be raped, that I insisted on it… despite the fact that both of us have been in situations where we were not in control of what happened to our bodies, and neither of us would EVER wish that on ANYONE, EVER… that accusation was just it for me. 

The moment you said that you were not interested in experiencing my world for yourself, I said, OK. I stopped asking you for what I needed, and tried, ONCE AGAIN, to explain IN WORDS what I go through, and you called it a lecture, and then you threatened me – and then you followed that with some incredibly passive-aggressive bullshit.

That was the moment I realized how toxic you are.

I find it interesting that when I won’t do my job, I’m a horrible person, and when I do my job, I’m to blame for the things that happen through me. You call what I asked you to try and experience “Rape.” This essentially means, when you asked me to take back my power, you were asking me to accept rape… and now you’re blaming me for the results… and telling me I’m a rapist because I asked you to attempt to view things from my perspective. What I hear you saying is that it’s ok for me to be raped, and for you to blame me, but it’s not ok for you to emotionally, spiritually, or mentally support me while I endure what you have asked me to endure.

All the gifts in the world don’t make up for you calling me a rapist because I asked you for understanding – asked you for something EVERYONE NEEDS. All the food in the world would not make up for you being ok with me experiencing what you consider to be rape, and also being ok with blaming me for the results. All the pretty dresses, all the plush toys, all the blankets in the world, don’t make up for you greedily telling me that I don’t get to die on my own schedule, but yours. All the visits to organize my medical care, all the offers to pay for various therapies, don’t make up for you lying to me about so many things, and then blaming me for not knowing anything. 22 years of friendship doesn’t make up for you continuing to blame me for shit I cannot help, while doing your damnedest to remain as pure as the driven snow.

That’s about as pure as the shoveled shit. You have betrayed me, abandoned me – every time I have become homeless it has been because of you and your choices. Every time I’ve moved across country, except for the very last, it has been to suit your desires – to either have me, or to throw me away because you found something better for a little while – and the one time I have moved by choice, and for my own reasons – the one time I’ve managed to maintain a stable life for an extended period – when you finally realized what you had chosen over me wasn’t going to work for you anymore, you began trying to emotionally blackmail me into changing my decision.

Do not reply to this post. Do not call me. Do not email me. Do not send me another single thing in an attempt to make yourself feel less guilty for who and what you are, and all the betrayals you have heaped on me over the years. I do not want you – in my life, in my power, in my future – we are not family, we are not friends… and I don’t care enough to even want to be enemies – because you’re not even worth THAT kind of energy.

I have forgiven you, accepted you, loved you… and you have lied to me, accused me, blamed me, betrayed me… and all of this, for the last time. I’m done with you.

 I’ve blocked your phone number and your emails. We’re done. I got help and removed my power from your family line, untwisted our fate, and separated our godhead. We are now two, on two separate paths. I have paid you what I owe, and washed my hands of all of it. 

Thank the gods we’re over. That was the silliest 20,000 years of my life. 


Pain, searing and sharp, awakens me… and I know, there will be a storm today. It’s 9 AM. My neck burns, the very bones grinding, the muscles bunched up like fists to yank my shoulders and my hair out. The base of my skull sends ice picks into my forehead, jagged and pulsing. I stagger out of bed, unable to see, the very AIR of the pitch-black room glowing, resonating… brain throbbing like I’m a bell well-rung. Reaching for the pills, I fumble, blind and clumsy, shaking fingers sliding on the paper backing, unable to fold the corner up and peel it away from the plastic shell.

“Help me… help me get this open,” I plead. Someone hears my whimpered request, and the paper curls under my questing fingers, and my savior leaps out of its protective cage and into my palm. Letting the packaging fall to the ground, I reach for the second bottle, and, using my whole body to press the lid against the side of the dresser, turn the bottle until it pops. The lid falls to the floor, and I jerk the bottle roughly, two pills dropping into my sweating palms.

Leaning down to pick the lid up off the floor, my head swells like a balloon and the nausea rises as blood floods my brain and vertigo ensues. Suddenly I’m on my knees. I suck in a breath against the helplessness. I WILL NOT CRY. I WILL NOT. When I’ve mashed it down enough that I can stand, slowly, like a woman twice my age, I drag myself up by the edge of the dresser, and replace the bottle of Tylenol in its usual place.

Grabbing my Gatorade and praying that, just this once, I will be able to swallow something without gagging, I moisten my mouth, and then swallow, carefully, the migraine pill. I follow it with the Tylenol. This time, even though my throat rebels, I keep it down. I lurch into the kitchen and place the migraine pill bottle, now empty once again (always too soon, never enough of them to get through a month anymore), next to my computer. No point in refilling it today. It’s not due for another two weeks. My eyes get a little wet, finally, despite the fact that I know it will make my head hurt worse. No pills for two weeks. How am I going to get through two more weeks of this? I struggle to breathe for a few minutes, and then get control of it. “You can’t help it. There’s nothing to be done. Just accept it, and cope. You have to cope. There’s nothing else. Just cope. Just breathe. You don’t have a choice, so just breathe.”

The house is dark, I know, the black-out curtains are doing their job, and Hubby always turns the lights off before he leaves, just in case. It doesn’t help, but I don’t tell him that even in the dark the very AIR still glows. Halos everywhere. A three-dimensional world, full of colors that don’t exist, radiating at the atomic level, vibrating, singing, shining, abusing my eyes, my skin, my soul… If the pain that came with it wasn’t so earth-shatteringly ruinous, it might actually be beautiful.

I pick up my phone, and push the button to wake up the screen. The light is blinding, and I wince as another set of knives find my optic nerves and set them on fire. I grit my teeth, and open the texts up, click on Hubby’s name…

“Sick. Going back to bed. Don’t call at lunch. So sorry. Bad one today. Not going to get anything done. Love you. Turning the phone off now.”

Sent, I follow up… and lay my sleeping phone down next to the computer. I think of coffee, but I know that sleep might help, and coffee will make sleep impossible, so instead, I go back to bed, and grab the Benadryl. Two pills, another drink of Gatorade, and then I bury my head under the blankets, under the pillow, and pray.

For the next four hours, I drift, dreaming but not sleeping. The pain waxes and wanes. Sometimes I’m feverish – my skin prickles, my aura burns, my channels on fire. I finally get up at 1. I take another migraine pill. First time this year I’ve needed to take two. It’s overcast outside. I take more Tylenol with the migraine pill, and get up.

The cats need fresh water, and their litterbox needs cleaning. Crow has been crying outside the door for an hour, “Let me in. I know you don’t feel good. A cuddle will help. Mom? Why won’t you let me in?” I stumble into the kitchen and start the coffee. The stench burns my nose, and I back away. So sensitive today. Should have known this was coming yesterday. Sparkles all day, and I could smell that man’s cologne from across the room at the doctor’s office. Wish my anti-nausea medication had gone through. Can’t believe I have to wait until tomorrow for YET ANOTHER PILL to add to my daily regimen. Yet another side-effect conquered, probably only to cause one more. But at least my hands won’t spasm and jerk anymore. No more breaking things. YAY. I’m not really enthused. It doesn’t help me today.

I wash out the water bowl, and change the cats water out, watering the plants with the old water. Nothing wasted. I scoop the box, and tie up the baggie so hubby can take it out later… the hallways are all too bright. I can’t go out there… even my sunglasses won’t help. I’m wearing them in the dark apartment and the air is still shining like it’s daylight. Thank you telekinesis, for letting me see atoms. I can’t move a penny, but wow is it SO helpful during a migraine. More stuff to see glowing. Really. Oh Joy.

The coffee is ready. I disguise the smell with sugar and milk, and drink it as fast as I can. I wait a few minutes for the caffeine to hit my system, and make another cup. I do a few other little things… I’m dragging my skin around, everything burning, everything aching, my head bobbling on the inside like a doll on a dashboard, my brain swollen and complaining with every step I take – skull full of water, bruised and broken. My nose is running from the pressure inside my head. I slam the second cup of coffee, and try to read my email. It’s bright, but I just… need something, ANYTHING to take my mind off the pain. I have to push, have to keep going, have to function.

I stand up too quick, and my head spins. I make it to the bathroom just in time. The toilet glows in the dark. I don’t think I missed. My diaphragm attempts to rip its way out of my throat, bile and coffee burning all the way up. I heave until my muscles burn almost as much as my eyes. The whole time, I’m sobbing… my eyes are dry, but I can’t help the gasping. I know it doesn’t help. When it’s over, I sit, resting my head against the wall next to the toilet, too spent to even flush. I shakily wipe my eyes with my hand, thankful that this time I didn’t pee, too. The tile is cool. I lie my head on it. When I can stand again, I flush, and brush my teeth. I don’t brush the back ones, but I still gag on the brush. Listerine is my friend.

I get online, and I chat with a few friends, trying to take my mind off of everything… It doesn’t really work… we end up discussing my headaches. Hubby calls. I tell him I probably need to go to the hospital, and log out of chat. I’m forgetting things again. When he gets home, we finally talk about all of this – we talk about the seizures in my Medulla. We talk about the migraines. We talk about the memory losses. We talk about my fears, and my family history of strokes coupled with migraines, and the fact that my nose runs every time I get a migraine now, and a lot of times it’s bloody.

I nearly start to cry. I tell him that I’m scared. My nose is bleeding again, and I didn’t get the dishes done. There’s nothing pulled out for dinner. I tell him I’m sorry – so sorry… I’m such a weak and broken mess… all psychic all the time, all weird, all sick and helpless… I know I’m out of his depth and I’m a burden… I should have told him all of this sooner, but I was so afraid… saying it out loud would make it more real… And I was COPING, dammit! I really thought I was.

He shushes me. He tells me that I make him a better person… that I show him a different view of the world, the Universe, and it makes him a better person, more compassionate, more aware, and that it doesn’t matter that some of the places I go, and the things that I know, are a little out of his depth… He knows they’re real, and he loves me, and he needs me, and we’re OK… and he holds me while I shake, and finally admit to him… my grandmother and my mother both have strokes – my grandmother has mini-strokes all the time. My mother had a massive stroke before I was born. We all have migraines. I am afraid. I almost break down again. I almost cry. But I just… I can’t do that. I can’t cry again. No.

I know it was years ago. I know it’s silly. But we all have our programs we can’t overwrite. I don’t cry. Even in front of people I trust, it takes a mountain of trouble to make me cry. It takes my body breaking down, it takes utter helplessness to make me cry… and even then, I never forgive myself for being so weak. I DO NOT CRY. Other people cry, and I think it’s amazing, that they can be so strong, so open, so revealing. But I just… I can’t. I can’t do that. I haven’t cried except under EXTREME duress since the seventh grade, when a boy slammed my head into a brick wall for crying… and the teachers and principles took his side. “No, not him… he’d NEVER do that to a girl. He’s just a big, sweet teddy bear!” Blood was running down my face. There are lessons that, once learned, you cannot unlearn.

Hubby and I talk about going to the hospital, but decide to call the doctor’s office instead. They’re closed. I make a note to call again tomorrow. I’m on too many medications… we don’t know if going to the hospital will even help. I’ve never had one bad enough to need the shots until today, and I don’t know if my medications have any contra-indications for the shots. The idea of being exposed to that much light, to that many smells, to that many people who are sick, and dying, and messy and emotional… NO. I just… I can’t face that. I go back to bed, in the dark. Hubby does the dishes for me, and then he comes to bed himself.

When he finally falls asleep, his breathing is slow, soothing. I listen to his breath, matching mine to his without thinking, and my body floats. The pain comes and goes. I want to remove my head from the neck up… I’m holding my head in my hands again, rocking. Trying not to cry. I don’t want to wake him. I muffle the moans in my pillow. He’s got to work in the morning, and he needs his sleep. I don’t want to worry him more. He dreams of work and cries out, and I pet him and tell him that it’s just a dream, and that he should dream better dreams. I tell him to dream of the river. He mumbles “I love you,” rolls over, and drifts back into a more restful, peaceful slumber.

Finally, the storm I’ve been waiting for comes. The thunder is the first clue – a growl that vibrates the bones and sets the blood singing. Then the wind begins to pick up. My cells pulse, my aura sparks. The air sings. The wards writhe, runes flowing like water, shields dancing under the onslaught of power. I open to the energy, letting it wash through me, because fighting it just makes it hurt worse. Lightening flashes, my hair stands on end, and my nerve endings come alive. Adrenaline flashes, cells on fire… the wind lashes the trees and the rain hisses against the earth. Light plays through the air – every atom glows, and the spirits and entities, bound and unbound, dance in the Power. I open up the lines, and let anything that craves it soak up the energy, for later use.

The light show is fantastic. There are colors humans have no words for. The wash of brisk, dynamic, exhilaration that flows before and during the storm sends sparks through the walls of my home. The trees bend and cavort, tossing their leaves in wild abandon. The house shimmers and shakes, as the wind, water, and lightening have their way with the earth.

If it didn’t hurt so much… I’d be in awe. Instead, my hands wrap around my skull, and I hunch over my body, and grit my teeth while I pray for a quick passage. I used to love them… their wild chaos, their strength, their power, the amazing interplay of elemental zing… Instead, I go and throw up again, weeping at the rebellion of my body, at the total loss of control, fighting helplessness while in the grip of a shell with a will of its own that has NO DESIRE to follow the rules I’ve set for it. For the third time in a single day, I wish I wasn’t human – that I could cast off this stupid lump of broken clay and be FREE again.

Eventually, I make it back to bed, utterly spent, so physically exhausted it’s a strain to BREATHE. I lie there, listening to the rain on the earth, the wind that plays through the leaves of the trees outside before whistling through the windows to sing hello. I hear the sky grumbling and growling its fierce joyous primal song, and watch the occasional flicker of lightening escape the edges of the blackout curtains to flit through the room… a reminder that I really need duct tape.

Finally, THIS storm passes. The ache settles back into a dull throb in my neck… just to let me know… we’re not done yet. We’ll be back, our torture of you is not over. I know. We’ve done this before. We do this every time.

The world outside feels fresh and clean. My house shields are fully charged and singing quietly to themselves their joyful bell-like tones. The runes have faded back into quiescence, and ceased their dance. The wards are burning brightly. Even the Devil’s Trap seems to have been whitewashed.

I, on the other hand, feel SOILED. The pain meds didn’t do their job… and instead of being pain free and dreamlessly somnolent, I am clogged, choked, poisoned. I can feel my thoughts scattered by the drugs – emotions unbridled and irrationally flipping through channels like a bipolar schizophrenic on meth. My energy is sluggish and slow, vibrating in lower frequencies, disturbed, swirling sickly through my bodies, drowned by the chemicals I HAD to use to get through the day. I can feel the hangover, the “medicine head” swelling, floating, disconnected, scattered, not-in-pain-but-still-hurting numbness, like someone’s, just for a moment, switched off the connection between my head and my spine. Even my blood is thick and unweildly.

I stumble into the bathroom and take the risk of turning on the nightlight. I look ghastly – huge black circles ring dark pain-filled eyes in a face the color of a graveling… the only color on that corpse-white reflection is a splash of dried blood under my nose. I wet a wash towel and wipe the blood off my upper lip, thanking several Gods that my nose has stopped bleeding finally, but my throat is raw from the blood I’ve swallowed throughout the day, and my breath smells like camel dung. I brush my teeth again, still avoiding my back molars. I take another dose of Tylenol, and I wait…

Because my body is right…

It’s not over yet.

There’s another storm coming.

The pain is building again.

I used to love them so. But crying doesn’t help. Grieving doesn’t help. We are what we are. And every Gift has a price. This is mine.

It’s OK, though. In a couple of days, I won’t remember any of this. It’ll all just be a blank blackness. Hubby will be extra-attentive, treat me like broken glass, and I won’t know why.

I used to love storms. I miss that love. I don’t quite hate them yet… but OH, do I GRIEVE for their loss.

Spotty Cell Service

So Robin was able to call me at lunch time. By the time he was off work and on his way home, the tower was down again. He called me several times. My phone never rang.

He gave up, and tried to call AT&T about it… the call got dropped and they couldn’t call him back.

They say they’re working on it. Tomorrow is NOT memorial day, so they have no excuses… but they don’t know when they’ll have the tower back online.

If I lived in Farmington, we’d be able to talk. Who knew ten miles could make such a huge difference? 😦

Anyway… I still sometimes have texting. It’s not completely reliable, but it’s better than nothing…

When I know something good, I’ll let you know… Until then,
I love you…

Taurus New Moon Meditation

Sit comfortably, with your back straight, making sure that your arms and legs are not crossed. Rest your hands in your lap, palms down.

Now, imagine that you see a golden ball of beautiful, warm light surrounding your feet. The golden ball of warm light brings peace and total relaxation. Wherever the ball of light goes, tension departs. Let it go, and as it goes, feel your feet filled with the warm, golden glow of peace and total relaxation.

Now allow this ball of light to rise up your legs and up your torso. Then allow it to go down your arms to your fingers, and finally up your neck and into your head until you are completely covered with the warm, golden glow of total peace and relaxation, and all tension is gone. If you notice tension anywhere, send the ball of light there and the tension will vanish.

Take three deep breaths, from the womb, from the root. Breathe in the ball of light. With the first breath, forget your body. With the second breath, the mind and heart relax so completely, all is silent. With the third breath, you become pure soul, your god-self. You remember the moment you stepped through the mirror in your temple – you remember it so clearly, you experience that moment all over again.

You remember that a breeze moved through the temple, and the surface of the mirror rippled. Your hand sank into the flowing, liquid metal, and grasped the hand of your soul’s true self. Without thought, you stepped into the mirror, and as you did, your true self stepped into you, blending two into one, one soul, one mind, one heart, one body, without meaningless imperfections.

You remember becoming your God-self, and looking around you. You remember seeing the world, seeing each person in this room, seeing the truth… that we are all one, and that we are all perfect. No flaws, no injuries, no sickness, no sorrow. We are God.

You turn to look behind you, and see the mirror you stepped through. In its reflection, you see the other side of the temple – the old self, the old life, the side you left behind – and you are filled with joy at who you have become – so filled with happiness that you have to share your pleasure in the world around you, and its perfection, which echoes your own. You face the mirror, and blow on its surface.

It ripples, and the image of the life you left behind disappears. In its place you see your new self, your God-self. You blow on the surface a second time and the image of you changes – as the Goddess once looked into her sacred mirror and saw the God, and drew him out of it so that she would no longer be alone, now you see before you, and draw out, your own perfect and equal opposite.

You gaze into your other self’s eyes, and again are overcome with joy and love for your two selves – so filled with it, you clasp the hands of your opposite self and begin to dance – using movement to express what words cannot.

As all creation Gods and Goddesses before you, as you dance with yourself, your opposite, everywhere you step, flowers spring up – and you know that these are the seeds of your intentions, growing up in your life. You are overwhelmed with the exquisiteness of your creations – and even the plants in the shadows, created by your negativity, teach you something, and have their own strange beauty. You dance, and dance, laughing and in love, full of joy, of possibilities, and hope, all around the room, covering the room in all the things you have created for yourself in your lifetime – until breathless, both your selves come to a halt, once again before the mirror.

Your female self stands before the mirror with her back to it, and face your opposite Self. The male half of you kneels before the female half of you. He kisses her right foot and her left foot, saying “Blessed be thy feet, which have brought thee in these ways.” He kisses her right knee and her left knee, saying “Blessed be thy knees, which shall kneel at the sacred altar.” He kisses her womb, and says “Blessed be thy womb, without which we would not be.” He kisses her right breast and her left breast, saying “Blessed be thy breasts, formed in beauty.” He kisses her lips, embracing her length to length with your feet touching, and says “Blessed be thy lips, which shall utter the Sacred Names.”

Then he kneels before her again and says, touching her right breast, left breast, and womb twice, ending at the right breast again, “I invoke thee and call upon thee, Mighty Mother of us All, bringer of fruitfulness; by seed and root, by bud and stem, by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love do I invoke thee to descend upon the body of this thy servant and priestess.”

Still kneeling, he then says “Hail, Goddess! From thy blessed womb pour forth thy store of love; I bow before thee, I adore thee to the end, with loving sacrifice thy shrines adorn.” Kissing her right foot, he says, “Thy foot is to my lip, my prayer up-borne upon the rising incense-smoke; then spend Thine ancient love, O Mighty One, descend to aid me, who without thee am forlorn.”

He stands up, and takes a step backwards, still facing her. She draws the Invoking Pentagram of Earth (from the top to the bottom left, to the middle right, to the middle left, to the bottom right, to the top), with her right forefinger, saying “Of the Mother darksome and divine, mine the scourge, and mine the kiss; the five-point star of love and bliss – here I charge you, in this sign.”

The ritual of Drawing Down the Moon is complete, and now he and she trade places, moving clockwise, so that you may draw down the Sun.

She gives him the five-fold kiss, saying as she kisses his right foot and his left foot: “Blessed be thy feet, which have brought thee in these ways. She kisses his right knee and his left knee, saying “Blessed be thy knees, which shall kneel at the sacred altar.” She kisses him just above the pubic hair, saying “Blessed be thy phallus, without which we would not be.” She kisses his right breast and his left breast, saying, “Blessed be thy breast, formed in strength.” She kisses his lips, embracing him length to length with feet touching, saying “Blessed be thy lips, which shall utter the sacred names.”

She steps back a pace and kneels before him, saying, “Deep calls on height, the Goddess on the God, on him who is the flame that quickens her; that he and she may seize the silver reins and ride as one the twin-horsed chariot. Let the hammer strike the anvil, let the lightening touch the earth, let the Lance ensoul the Grail; let the magic come to birth.” With her right forefinger, she touches his throat, left hip, right breast, left breast, right hip, and throat again, forming the invoking pentagram of fire. Spreading her hands outward, palms forward, she says “In her name do I invoke thee, mighty father of us all – Lugh, Pan, Belin, Herne, Cernunnos – come in answer to my call! Descend, I pray thee, in thy servant and priest.”

She stands, and takes a step backwards. He makes the invoking pentagram of fire before her with his right forefinger (from the top to the bottom right, to the middle left, to the middle right, to the bottom left, to the top again) saying “Let there be light.”
The two halves of your Godself clasp hands, embracing length to length, and you become One again – and know the power of your own Godhood.

Knowing your power, knowing that you are the Creatrix and Creator of your life, your reality, your destiny, knowing now that you are a Power to be reckoned with, that you are One, and you are GOD, you know it is time to bring that knowledge into consciousness.

You take three deep breaths, and begin to awaken. The first breath awakens your soul to this reality. Your second breath awakens your heart and your mind to this reality. The third breath awakens your body to this reality. You take a final deep breath, and open your eyes, knowing your own power and greatness, knowing you are Goddess and God, in one body, in one soul… knowing your true self.


I don’t know what to say to you.
You do not know me yet, and yet you think you love me, and you want me to love you too.
You leap off that cliff with such sheer abandon, I could never do the same.
I stand there, frozen in the headlights, trapped by my issues, while you yodel off into the atmosphere, and all I can think is, "No." 
Don’t mistake me – I WANT to love you. 
You’re good for me. 
You’re good TO me. 
You do drink like a fish, but you’re not an alcoholic. 

That’s a little scary.

You’re quitting smoking because I don’t smoke. 
Don’t think I didn’t notice that one. 
You call me every day, on your break at work, just to see how I’m doing. 
You actually expect me to participate in this relationship. 
I admit it… you scare the crap out of me. 
Then again, I scare the crap out of me, too. 
What if… 
What if I CAN’T love? 
I’m drowning, you know. 
It’s not like I show you… 
I don’t show anyone… 
It’s true anyway. 
Grief so powerful, so overwhelming, so enormous I can’t breathe through it… 
Can’t cry it out, can’t do anything but sink… 
And you can’t save me from that. 
You know, when ships sink, there are bodies that wash up on shore that have bruises on their shoulders… 
It’s because sailors, in absolute terror of the death before them, would stand on the shoulders of other drowning victims. 
It didn’t work… 
Which is why I don’t tell you about it. 
You’d only be hurt. 
I may not love you… just yet. 
I may not be able to.. ever… 
But I care enough not to want you to go down with me. 
Then again… 
If you don’t talk about it… 
Can you ever fix it?
Someday, I’ll trust you enough to be the rock I can cry to. 
I wish it was today… 
But I’m just not ready yet. 
This is too new… we’re too young.. 
Someday, I’ll trust you. 
I promise. 
Of course, before that ever happens, I will fuck this up. 
Some how. 
I don’t know when or how, but somehow… 
I will fuck this up. 
It’s a universal constant. 
A given. 
You can set your watch by it. 

To Protect Children – Magickal Correspondences

To overcome a bad childhood: Plant – Valerian; Goddess – Atlanta

To recover from a bad childhood: Color – Pink; Stone – Pink Calcite, Rose Quartz 
To protect the happiness and welfare of children: Goddess – Sasthi 
To protect a needy child: Goddess – Akonadi 
To comfort sick or distressed children in crisis: Goddess – Yemaya 
To help children after accidents or trauma: Plant – Sweet Potato 
To increase a child’s emotional security: Charm – Teddy Bear; Potion – Chamomile Tea 
To protect small/young children: Plant – Fava Bean; Goddess – Artemis, Kwan Yin, Yemaya; God – Legba 
To defend children: Goddess – Boldogasszony 

To protect children: Moon; Animal – Bear, Cheetah, Musk Ox; Stone – agate, alum, amber, coral, malachite; Metal – Gold, silver; Plant – Angelica, Dill, Flax, Putranjiva Seed; Goddess: Artemis, Athirat, Bast, Boldogasszony, Brigid, Cairene, Hariti, Hecate, Isis, Kishi-Mojin, Sasthi, Sekhmet (The Great Cow Who Protects Her Child), Ursula, Yashoda; God – Acat, Bes, Chang Hsien (Protector of Children), Jizo; Evocation – Hariti 
To protect children from bad influences: Stone – Citrine 
To protect children from danger: Stone – Coral 
To protect children when they leave home: Goddess – Abeona
To protect children while sleeping: Plant – Garlic; Goddess – Cardea 
To protect small/young children: Plant – Fava Bean; Goddess – Kwan Yin, Yemaya; God – Legba 
To protect teenagers: Stone – Citrine 
To save a child’s life: Goddess – Isis; God – Maximon, Thoth 
To take care of children: Goddess – Renenet 

To prevent child abuse: Goddess – Isis, Kali 
To protect against child abuse: Goddess – Kali, Sekhmet 
To prosecute child abuse: Goddess – Isis 

To avenge abuse: Goddess – The Crone; God – Bran, Hephaestus 
To protect against abuse: Color – Black; Stone – Jasper, Lapis Lazuli, Obsidian, Smoky Quartz; Plant – Dragon’s Blood, Frankincense, Laurel, Saffron 
To recover from abuse: Plant – Onion; Goddess – Rhiannon


Libra Full Moon (Seed Moon) Meditation

Take three deep breaths. The first breath relaxes the body. The second breath relaxes the mind. The third breath relaxes the soul.

As you release your third breath, you awaken to find yourself standing in the nest of some bird, on the very top of a high, craggy mountain, with the sky above you, and newly budding forests below you, both stretching as far as you can see. Clouds drift by, and many birds cross the blue expanse, below a full moon. This is the seed moon, a time of conception, fertility, new growth, and new beginnings. All the trees below you are budding out, in blossom and in leaf. Daffodils, crocuses, and tulips abound in newly grassed, sunny vales, and the sounds of the nesting birds fill the forests and the air around you.

Looking out at the world, your attention is caught by the energy of the full moon above you. Your mind is suddenly filled with a desire for your own new beginning. You can feel the energy of the moon above you, and you reach for it, drawing it down into your body, from your crown to your root. The yellow energy you draw into your crown feels soft, breezy, feathery gentle, and as it touches you, it changes you. As it cascades through your body, from the crown of your head down your spine and into your feet, you erupt into feathered glory, becoming one of the great eagles of the heights.

With your new eyes, you see so much further than before… and something catches your eyes, far away. It is a Grecian styled temple, and you are drawn to explore it. Flinging your wings out into the breeze, you cry a piercing call as you launch from the nest into the air. Within moments, you catch a warm rising current, and begin gliding towards the temple in the distance. As you feel the air ruffling your feathers, you know yourself supreme – every other creature, on wing and on the ground, exists below you. Your eyes catch them all – rabbits coming out of their burrows to eat the new spring greens, robins building their nests, fish in the rivers, returning to spawn… you see every sign of the new season below you, and even feel the storm that will soon bring drenching rains to feed the new growth.

When you have drifted close enough to the temple, you know it is time to land. You mantle your feathers, pulling your wings close to your body as you lean into the wind, towards the earth, and plummet in a controlled fall towards the structure below. At the very last moment, you back-wing as your feet pull forwards, and you land on the ground before the entrance. The moment your feet touch the earth, your natural shape returns. You are bird no more but the memory will last a lifetime. Taking a moment to thank the air for the gift, you stand, and walk, naked, into the temple.

As you pass through the entrance and into the pillared hall, you notice a huge silver mirror standing in the center of the shadowy interior. You are drawn towards it, and when you look within the mirror, you see yourself as you are now – all the imperfections, all the flaws you believe of your character and your body – but the false images do not last. Your reflection shifts, as if the mirror is made of mercury, and a new image begins to form – the image of your true self, your God-self… and just as your hand rests on the glass before you, so does the hand of your true self.

A breeze moves through the temple, and the surface of the mirror ripples. Your hand sinks into the flowing, liquid metal, and grasps the hand of your soul’s true self. Without thought, you step into the mirror, and as you do, your true self steps into you, blending two into one, one soul, one mind, one heart, one body, without meaningless imperfections.

Take the time, as your God-self, to look around you. See the world, see each person in this room, see the truth… that we are all one, and that we are all perfect. No flaws, no injuries, no sickness, no sorrow. We are God.

When you are ready, take three deep breaths. The first breath awakens your soul to this reality – still your God-self. The second breath awakens your mind to this reality, still your God-self, as you bring your true self into one with your mind. The third breath awakens your body, still your God-self, you know your body as perfect. When you are ready, open your eyes, and see the world as new.

I Hope It Rains.

I long for torrents, dream of drenching drizzles.
I wish for nitrogen green, thunderous black, striking white…
I pray for dreamy reflecting wet, pebbles on the windowpanes, drizzling damp decorations… 
I desire cat-and-dog weather.
I seek sheets, showers, falls, floods – a monsoon of momentous proportions…
Please, may it rain.

*written because I am out at the parents’ place. Hadn’t seen R. in a few days, and if it rained, then he wouldn’t be able to do the yard work for his parents, so he’d come see me instead. I didn’t get any weather, but I did get my wish – he got done with work early and drove all the way out here to see me. Turns out he missed me as much as I missed him. Ain’t it grand. 😀


This poem is mine. If you like it, you’re welcome to share it, as long as you acknowledge it as mine.

Your body is a poem
A storm in a foreign language,
A tangle of tongues,
Swift sibilant heat,
Your body is a poem
A strong line that holds mine
Generous in nature,
Fearless courage
That brings the walls down.
Your body is a poem
That tumbles me thoughtless,
Crashing into wordless wonder.
Your body is a poem
To shatter minds
And make the heart to beat.
You speak the song
Of my own.

K. Christmas

Wiki on Patrons

Patron (or Tutelary) Deity 

A tutelary (also tutelar) is a spirit or deity in the position of a guardian, patron or protector of a particular place, geographic feature, person, lineage, nation, culture or occupation in polytheistic or animist religion. Both tutelary and tutelar can be used as either a noun or an adjective. An analogous concept in Christianity is the patron saint, or to a lesser degree, guardian angel.
Contents [hide]
1 Tutelary genius, protecting spirit, familiar spirit
2 By culture
2.1 Near East and Mediterranean
2.1.1 Ancient Greece
2.1.2 Ancient Rome
2.2 Asia
2.3 Americas
2.4 Africa
3 See also
4 Notes
[edit]Tutelary genius, protecting spirit, familiar spirit

This section may require copy-editing.
Pierre A. Riffard[1] defines a tutelary spirit as either a tutelary genius (present ever since birth) or a protecting spirit (that can help in times of trouble) or a familiar spirit (a mate, who is a double of self, even though totally different).
a) A tutelary genius is a strictly personal deity or demon who has presided over the destiny of every man or woman, ever since birth, until the time of his or her death, when the spirit eventually disappears. Since childhood Socrates had been hearing the voice of his personal spirit or daimonion, prohibiting him doing things. "You have often heard me speak of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign I have had ever since I was a child. The sign is a voice which comes to me and always forbids me to do something which I am going to do, but never commands me to do anything, and this is what stands in the way of my being a politician" (Plato, Apology of Socrates, 40 b).
b) The protecting spirit (guardian spirit, spirit helper) is a force, a soul, or a deity that helps the shaman or the magician. It can be an animal, a plant, a mineral or the spirit of ancestors. It can either be collective or individual. According to Michael Harner (The Sound of Rushing Water, 1968), among the Jivaro (Shuar people), "the tsentsak, these spirit helpers, or darts, are the main supernatural forces believed to cause illness and death in daily life. To the non-shaman they are normally invisible, and even shamans can perceive them only under the influence of natema [a hallucinogenic drink]. Shamans send those spirit helpers into the victims bodies to make them ill or to kill them. At other times, they may suck spirits sent by enemy shamans from the bodies of tribesmen suffering from witchcraft induced illness. The spirit helpers also form shields that protect their shaman masters from attacks. According to Jivaro concepts, each tsentsak has a natural and supernatural aspect. The magical darts natural aspect is that of an ordinary material object as seen without drinking the drug natema. But the supernatural and true aspect of the tsentsak is revealed to the shaman by taking natema. When he does this, the magical darts appear in new forms as demons and with new names. In their supernatural aspects, the tsentsak are not simply objects but spirit helpers in various forms, such as giant butterflies, jaguars, or monkeys, who actively assist the shaman in his tasks."
c) A familiar spirit is the double, the alter-ego of an individual. It does not look like the individual concerned. Even though it may have an independent life of its own it remains closely linked to the individual. The familiar spirit can be an animal, also called "familiar pet". A witch can have a black cat, or a toad, an owl, with which she exchanges information and signs. The medicine-man, in Australian aboriginal societies, also has his familiar spirit (his personal totem), which can be a snake, for instance. "A usual method, or explanation, is that the medicine man sends his ‘familiar spirit’ (his assistant totem, spirit-dog, spirit-child or whatever the form may be) to gather the information. While this is occurring, the man himself is in a state of receptivity, in sleep or trance. In modern phraseology [spiritism], his ‘familiar spirit’ would be the control [control spirit]" (A. P. Elkin, Aboriginal men of high degree, 1945, 48).
Mircea Eliade : "The Goldi [Nanai people in Siberia] clearly distinguish between the tutelary spirit (ayami), which chooses the shaman, and the helping spirits (syven), which are subordinate to it and are granted to the shaman by the ayami itself. According to Sternberg the Goldi explain the relations between the shaman and his ayami by a complex sexual emotion. Here is the report of a Goldi shaman.
‘Once I was asleep on my sick-bed, when a spirit approached me. It was a very beautiful woman. Her figure was very slight, she was no more than half an arshin (71 cm.) tall. Her face and attire were quite as those of one of our Gold women… She said: ‘I am the ayami of your ancestors, the Shamans. I taught them shamaning. Now I am going to teach you… I love you, I have no husband now, you will be my husband and I shall be a wife unto you. I shall give you assistant spirits. You are to heal with their aid, and I shall teach and help you myself…’ Sometimes she comes under the aspect of an old woman, and sometimes under that of a wolf, so she is terrible to look at. Sometimes she comes as a winged tiger… She has given me three assistants-the jarga (the panther), the doonto (the bear) and the amba (the tiger). They come to me in my dreams, and appear whenever I summon them while shamaning. If one of them refuses to come, the ayami makes them obey, but, they say, there are some who do not obey even the ayami. When I am shamaning, the ayami and the assistant spirits are possessing me; whether big or small, they penetrate me, as smoke or vapour would. When the ayami is within me, it is she who speaks through my mouth, and she does everything herself’." [2]
[edit]By culture

[edit]Near East and Mediterranean
Further information: Cities of the Ancient Near East and É (temple)
[edit]Ancient Greece
See also: Twelve Olympians
In Greek polytheism, Athena was the patron goddess of the city of Athens.
[edit]Ancient Rome

The walls of the city she protects are represented by the crown of Cybele
Tutelary deities who guard and preserve a place or a person are fundamental to ancient Roman religion. The tutelary deity of an individual was his Genius, or that of a woman her Juno.[3] In the Imperial era, the Genius of the Emperor was a focus of Imperial cult. An emperor might also adopt a major deity as his personal patron or tutelary,[4] as Augustus did Apollo.[5] Precedents for claiming the personal protection of a deity were established in the Republican era, when for instance the Roman dictator Sulla advertised the goddess Victory as his tutelary by holding public games (ludi) in her honor.[6]
Each town or city had one or more tutelary deities, whose protection was considered particularly vital in time of war and siege. Rome itself was protected by a goddess whose name was to be kept ritually secret on pain of death (for a supposed case, see Quintus Valerius Soranus).[7] The Capitoline Triad of Juno, Jupiter, and Minerva were also tutelaries of Rome.[8] The Italic towns had their own tutelary deities. Juno often had this function, as at the Latin town of Lanuvium and the Etruscan city of Veii,[9] and was often housed in an especially grand temple on the arx (citadel) or other prominent or central location.[10] The tutelary deity of Praeneste was Fortuna, whose oracle was renowned.[11] The Roman ritual of evocatio was premised on the belief that a town could be made vulnerable to military defeat if the power of the tutelary deity were diverted outside the city, perhaps by the offer of superior cult at Rome.[12] The depiction of some goddesses such as the Magna Mater (Cybele) as "tower-crowned" represents their capacity to preserve the city.[13] A town in the provinces might adopt a deity from within the Roman religious sphere to serve as its guardian, or syncretize its own tutelary with such; for instance, a community within the civitas of the Remi in Gaul adopted Apollo as its tutelary, and at the capital of the Remi (present-day Reims), the tutelary was Mars Camulus.[14]

Lararium depicting tutelary deities of the house: the ancestral Genius (center) flanked by two Lares, with a guardian serpent below
Tutelary deities were also attached to sites of a much smaller scale, such as storerooms, crossroads, and granaries. Each Roman home had a set of protective deities: the Lar or Lares of the household or familia, whose shrine was a lararium; the Penates who guarded the storeroom (penus) of the innermost part of the house; Vesta, whose sacred site in each house was the hearth; and the Genius of the paterfamilias, the head of household.[15] The poet Martial lists the tutelary deities who watch over various aspects of his farm.[16] The architecture of a granary (horreum) featured niches for images of the tutelary deities, who might include the genius loci or guardian spirit of the site, Hercules, Silvanus, Fortuna Conservatrix ("Fortuna the Preserver") and in the Greek East Aphrodite and Agathe Tyche.[17]
The Lares Compitales were the tutelary gods of a neighborhood (vicus), each of which had a compitum (shrine) devoted to these.[18] During the Republic, the cult of local or neighborhood tutelaries sometimes became rallying points for political and social unrest.
Chinese folk religion, both past and present, includes a myriad of tutelary deities. Exceptional individuals may become deified after death. Guan Yu is a well-known tutelary from the Three Kingdoms period.
In Korean shamanism, jangseung and sotdae were placed at the edge of villages to frighten off demons. They were also worshiped as deities.
In Shinto, the spirits, or kami, which give life to human bodies come from nature and return to it after death. Ancestors are therefore themselves tutelaries to be worshiped.
In Hinduism, tutelary deities are known as ishta-devata and Kuldevi or Kuldevta. Devas can also be seen as tutelary. Shiva is patron of yogis and renunciants.
Thai provincial capitals have tutelary city pillars and palladiums.
Tibetan Buddhism has yidams as tutelary. Dakini is the patron of those who seek knowledge.
Native American religion, (see also Animism, Shamanism) has extensive and varied systems of zoomorphic tutelaries, (also known as power animals). In Mesoamerica these tutelary power animals are called Nagual in the Aztec language and Uay in the Maya language.
In many of the animistic African religions, tutelaries appear in a variety of forms. The Binou cult of the Dogon people of Mali have totems around their villages.
[edit]See also

Look up tutelary in Wiktionary, the free dictionary.
Look up tutelar in Wiktionary, the free dictionary.
Animal spirit
Familiar spirit
Genius (mythology)
Genius loci
Patron saint
Power animal

^ Pierre A. Riffard, Nouveau dictionnaire de l’ésotérisme, Paris: Payot, 2008, 114-115, 136-137.
^ Mircea Eliade, Shamanism. Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy (1968), Princeton University Press, 2004, 72, quoting Leo Sternberg, Divine Election in Primitive Religion, Congrès International des Américanistes, 1924, 476 ff.
^ Nicole Belayche, "Religious Actors in Daily Life: Practices and Beliefs," in A Companion to Roman Religion (Blackwell, 2007), p. 279.
^ Ittai Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion (Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 104–105.
^ Michael Lipka, Roman Gods: A Conceptual Approach (Brill, 2009), pp. 20–21; Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion, p. 116.
^ Frank Bernstein, "Complex Rituals: Games and Processions in Republican Rome," in A Companion to Roman Religion, pp. 231ff.
^ Jörg Rüpke, Religion of the Romans (Polity Press, 2007, originally published in German 2001), pp. 132–133.
^ Lipka, Roman Gods, pp. 23–24.
^ Gary Forsythe, A Critical History of Early Rome: From Prehistory to the First Punic War (University of California Press, 2005, 2006), p. 128.
^ Rüpke, Religion of the Romans, p. 132, citing Macrobius Saturnalia 3.9.
^ P. G. P. Meyboom, The Nile Mosaic of Palestrina: Early Evidence of Egyptian Religion in Italy (Brill, 1995), preface (n.p. online) and p. 160.
^ Lipka, Roman Gods, pp. 126–127; Clifford Ando, "Exporting Roman Religion," in A Companion to Roman Religion (Blackwell, 2007), p. 441.
^ Lipka, Roman Gods, p. 123, citing Lucretius, De rerum natura 2.606–609.
^ Ton Derks, Gods, Temples, and Ritual Practices: The Transformation of Religious Ideas and Values in Roman Gaul (Amsterdam University Press, 1998), pp. 100, 105, 108–109, noting that "local elites … were well aware of the mythological tales connected with the various Roman gods, and in the choice of a tutelary god for their civitas or pagus opted deliberately for a deity who, in all his aspects, was most in keeping with their own perception of the world."
^ Valerie M. Warrior, Roman Religion (Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 28–29.
^ Martial, Epigrams 10.92, as cited by Warrior, Roman Religion, pp. 29–30.
^ Geoffrey Rickman, Roman Granaries and Store Buildings (Cambridge University Press, 1971), pp. 35, 52, 57, 313–314.
^ Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion, p. 11; Robert E.A. Palmer, The Archaic Community of the Romans (Cambridge University Press, 2009), p. 81 online.

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Reading – 3/11/11

Amethyst Runes – Element Spread 

Lay out the runes with Spirit in the center, Earth being above you, Water to the left, Fire below you, and Air to the right. 

Spirit – You Now 
Othala (Prosperity)"We inherit ourselves." Othala deals with the inheritance of a household or estate – the prosperity of family wealth. However, on a deeper level, Othala talks about what we inherit from the people we love, the wounds and strengths we gain from our families, both from genetic wisdom and from nurturing. 

This suggests that I am in a place where I know myself, my strengths, my weaknesses, what I’ve gained from my family and how this informs my nature – and I am happy with who I’ve become, even if there are still some things that need work. 

Earth – Physical Lessons

Hagalaz (Disruption) Radical change for the better. 
I’ve made a decision – I had a choice, to live in fear and be consumed by it, or to live in hope. Just as I once had to choose to focus on the negative memories, and be miserable, or to forget them all and only retain the positive and be happy, this decision will create some disruption, but choosing to control my fears, choosing to really live, will be a change for the better. 

Water – Emotional Lessons 

Sowilo (Self) Soul Guidance, Success in Meeting Goals, Revelation that Leads to Wholeness. 
"You control your emotions. Fear is an emotion. Control your fears or they will control and consume you." The tarot reading was pretty blunt, and it really hit home. This revelation led to a choice – I will not be consumed by anything or anyone. I will not be consumed by any negative emotion, and definitely not fear. I’ve been down that road, and it doesn’t make me happy. So, from now on, if it makes me nervous, I’m going to face it, head on. 

Fire – Unfolding Destiny 

Gebo (Gift)"The Sacred Marriage", Magickal Exchange (esp. Sex Magick), Divine Visions, Giving of Oneself from Within 
Just as courage is the compliment of fear, love is the result of fearlessness. Having made the decision to conquer my fears means I have also made the decision to open myself up to true sharing – to truly give a gift of myself. But Gebo is not a rune of giving without return – a true gift implies a responsibility to receive in equal amounts. That this is my unfolding destiny suggests that I’m in the process of learning this right now. 
Air – Future Wisdom 
Tiwaz (Victory)Justice, Sacrifice
Tiwaz literally means balance – justice ruled from higher rationality and the sacrifice of the self for that higher wisdom – building spiritual will and developing sound judgment. It is also a victory of the soul over the ego, where true honesty replaces self-deception. 

New Tags (Some Stolen)

I haven’t backdated yet, but I have a new tag, stolen from May (TYVM btw) – Note To Self. 
I keep getting these incredibly insightful messages about myself and my life, and because I’m a fritter-head, I keep forgetting them. So I’m fixing that, here and now. 



Other tags that are new include: Rants, Neighborhood, News, Links, Lolz, Desire. 
Tags planned for later: Faerie. 


I have a question for you, valiant readers… it’s a small question with a long answer. For you, what constitutes family? 

Over the many years, I have reevaluated this word many times, and I still am not quite sure how to explain it, but I’m going to try. 

Family is the word I use for the people I love. Not necessarily those I’m related to, but the people without whom I could not be myself. I would be lessened by their loss. That you are perusing this suggests that you probably are a member of mine, or I yours, or both. (I hope it’s both.) 

I can see the faces of my family in my mind.
My sister and best friend MB from Boarding School when I was 13.
My sister and best friend KF in High School. We once planned to raise our kids together, commune like.
My almost-best-friends DR and RH, also from High School.
My friends from Delaware, who were with me for the worst part of my life – T and R, RO’N, DP, my sister TB.
My sister and best friend from TX, GMS, and my sister and best friend here in MO, KB, and S and J from the meet-up group, and finally, my student and almost son in St. Louis, M, and my friends in the apartments I live at – B, and TH.
It’s not a long list, but every person on it is part of my family.

We’re not blood relatives. There will never be a family reunion (outside of FB) where we all gather and catch up on what those crazy cousins did last summer. I will never give you a kidney and have it match, but I’ve given you something so much stronger and more valuable. I’ve given you my heart and my trust… and you have given me yours. 

No, we’re not blood. My blood and I have an uneasy relationship – for more years than I can count, we’ve often wished each other different, and only recently have begun to simply accept. Friends are the family you choose for yourself, and I know I’ve chosen well, and when I’ve needed you most, you’ve been there… and I hope I’ve been able to return the favor. With all the rough spots my blood and I went through, I owe you my sanity, and I owe you big. You’re the reason I still hope, and still love. You give me courage. 
Of course, there is the chance that you are reading this but we share no love. I appreciate the curiosity that motivates you, and I hope someday to change your mind. Or to be courageous enough to let you change mine… but I’m perfectly willing for that time to be as far in the future as it needs to be, to evolve naturally. 
Until then, and as always, we are… 
Love unfinished.

So – What constitutes family for you?

Reading – 3/9/11

The deck I used was The Quantum Tarot. 

The layout is called The Uncertainty Principle Spread. It’s 5 cards, laid out however you like. I laid them out with card one at the center, card two below, card three to the left, card four above, and card five to the right. 

I didn’t ask a question, just shuffled, but I had a card fall from the deck while I was shuffling, and it turned out to be the question I needed to be aware that I was asking – the question the deck was going to answer because I most needed it. 

The question is: "What group dynamics have I successfully created and maintained?" 
(fell from deck) 10 Pentacles – A disparate group united by a common situation. 

I am adding to my private family of friends, and I’m not quite sure of the new additions yet.

1) Wave – How you are being affected emotionally.
3 Wands – This is a time to think big, and formulate plans based on your biggest, truest dreams. Your dreams are calling you.
This one is fairly obvious – I had a dream, and it changed the way I felt about certain things in my life. I tend to listen to my dreams – they know more than me – and this dream said, "Relax, you’re safe now."

2) Particle – How you are being affected practically.
7 Wands – I am caught up in a serious conflict that will require all my energy and focus to win.
In spite of my dreams and their emotional reassurance, I am still fighting with myself over trust issues, and this fight is all-consuming.

3) Uncertainty – What can be changed.
King Cups – This is the ability to control powerful emotions without being overwhelmed by them.
I have this ability to stop being overwhelmed by emotions, to stop feeling (using strength, focus and self-control), at any time, allowing logic and reason to take over. I can use this ability to control my fears. I have a choice to make here – I control my emotions. Fear is an emotion. Either control my fears, or be subject to them.

4) Planck’s Constant – What cannot be changed.
Queen Cups – I have an uncanny knack of reading others’ emotions, and a highly developed sense of empathy.
I need to let go of my need to protect myself from those sources of information, and begin to pay attention to the deep feelings I’m sensing in others.

5) Probability – Potential outcome.
MA 11 – Justice – Justice brings balance and understanding to confusion and muddle, facing you with a clear vision of the truth.
Controlling my own emotions, and sensing the emotions of others, allows me to look at the situation honestly, and arrive at the correct conclusions, so that I can charge ahead bravely.

Clairvoyance, Telepathy, Empathy

I love validation of psychic phenomenon. When a dream comes true, or a vision becomes a real event. When I see something in your head and tell you, and you say, "Yes, that’s it exactly!"  I’m never jaded to that indescribable tingle down the spine, all hairs on end. I kinda live for it.

A window into understanding, comprehension of a person’s real self. It’s like a billion secrets in my head… Even when I’m careful to leave a person their privacy, it’s more a matter of ignoring what I "hear" more than anything.

Think on it – were you not enamored of me, how would you feel if I told you, your feeling of privacy is an illusion. I see your thoughts, your emotions, clear and close as my own mind, and the distance between us only exists because I pretend it does.

People like their secrets. They need that feeling of separateness. Most people… if I told them everything, they’d run away. Most of them do.

That’s why I’m so careful about ignoring most of what I hear. I’m so good at it that I actually have to stop a moment, and really focus my consciousness of that constant flow of information, really pay attention, to hear anything anymore. I’m still receiving it, but I’m really good at pretending until it’s almost real that I don’t.

However, have you ever noticed… the deeper I tap into you, the more you see of me? It’s reciprocal.


I wanted you to know, the more I speak with you, the more time we spend together, the more you make me laugh and comfort me, the more I dream of the full course meal. Not that I’m at all ready for dessert, or will be any time soon, but I am really enjoying our times together. 

Yesterday, I awoke from a dream of you. The dream was not complicated, it was brief, but in it, we woke together, as if we had done so for years. It was very comfortable, right. Comforting. Friendly. It felt wonderful, and made me smile, even though I woke alone. I haven’t felt that way in years. 

I’ll admit, before falling asleep, I was so happy to know you, to be becoming friends with you, I had trouble putting you out of my mind… and that might be why I dreamed of you right before waking the next morning, but in all honesty I have to admit that I do not really think it was just a dream.

I do try to keep people out of my head, so I don’t invade their sleep, but we are so much on the same wavelength that it’s difficult to do so with you. 

I told you, the first time I saw you was in my black mirror. When I saw you, I saw you in me, and me in you – the image flickered between our faces, as if we were one head with two faces that were almost the same. Sometimes I could not tell the difference between the faces as we morphed back and forth. 

I do not love you yet, but the vision and the dream suggest to me that I will. 

However, a dream does not mean you and  I don’t or won’t have other loves. We do. I have many old friends whom I love deeply, who love me in return – and sometimes I regret leaving them so far away, because I must now love them from such a distance – and each of them is a flower in my heart, my loves a many-petaled bouquet, and I the vase.

You have spoken to me of your other loves, those people you consider to be your best friends. I have two best friends here, and many best friends who live far away – some are flirty friends, like some of yours. 

I feel compelled to say to you that, if we were ever to become something to each other, beyond friendship, I promise… I will never ask you to give them up. I will make them my friends, too. I hope that my friends become yours, as well. 

Life is a road of discoveries – I am walking the beginning of one with you. What it will become, I do not know, but I do know that I am enjoying our friendship, now, and that you are helping me overcome some of my wounded reactions. 

Thank you for being you. 


Think of your house. Choose a room. Picture it in your mind. You know that the room is real. You know it to be solid and there. 

Now picture a sandy beach, warm unending ocean flowing towards it, little frothy beach-combers climbing the golden sand, only to fall back, fall back, and soak no more. 

Do you know what glamour is? Glamour is the art of altering reality so much so that both the ocean and the room are true. They occupy the same space, at the same time. It’s not illusion – it’s not a lie. It’s absolutely real. 

When I wear my glamour, what you see is someone small, insignificant, powerless… not worth your effort or bother. It’s not perfect… those of you who really know me suspect that there might be more to me than what the glamour projects, but for the most part, people see me and pass me over. That’s the way I like it – I got tired of being challenged by the latest fluffy bunny who thought they had something to prove, a long time ago. The glamour keeps idiots off my back so I can get on with what I really want to be doing. 

I won’t explain what you would see when I take it off – suffice it to say I become more myself, more the creature of chaos, light, spirit – and things have a habit of.. warping around me – but both the glamour projection and the thing I am without it are truth. Both are 100% real. 

Mind boggled yet? 

Faeries warp reality. They change it and make it true. Their world is constantly shifting, restless mist, waiting for form. Their world is in the Astral, which explains part of the dreamlike existence the mists have, but as the Astral shifts with thought, Faerie not only shifts with it, but warps to become solid. Astral reality trickles down to earthly reality in a process that can take up to six months. Faerie shifts in a matter of seconds. 

Like the Astral, Faerie is all around us – and like Astral, it’s invisible to most people. Glamourie keeps people ignorant. Part of that is for protection, but most of it is that faeries value their privacy. 

Glamourie also allows them to hunt as they will. And just so you know… if you’re not afraid of faeries, you haven’t been paying attention. They’re not cute. They’re not Tinkerbells. They’re not Flower Faeries. They’re tall, human tall or taller. They’re powerful. And according to all the research I have found, they hunt and feed on humans. Granted, most of those myths are post-Christian writings – and everything suggests that Faeries are both Gods and Ancestors – dead that become deity. However, they’re still not pretty, for all they’re stunningly beautiful creatures. 

All the myths of monsters that exist the world over – vampires, werewolves, ghosts, even the Chupacabra – all can be found in the legends about the Fae. That’s where they have their roots. 

There are two main courts of Fae, each with four rulers. Those two courts are the Seelie and Unseelie – that is, a nice way to die, and a horrible way to die. Seelie feed on sex. Unseelie feed on memory, or youth, or beauty, or joy. Both courts drink blood. When a faeries begins to feed, they will feed until there’s nothing left. They might leave you alive, but you seldom stay that way – you either rot, or you take your own life through the madness they’ve created. Think – a faerie feeds on you, they take your youth. You go from 20 to 90 in moments. And then you see yourself in the mirror. You’re horrified, and your grief consumes you while they watch and laugh. They’re called The Kindly folk in hopes that they will be, but they seldom are. 

They like to give gifts to humans that particularly please them, but all the gifts come with a huge price tag. One man was given a staff. As long as he held the staff, each of his ewes gave birth to twins. He became very wealthy. One day, the Faeries took the staff away, and threw it into a river. The man’s land flooded, and all his sheep were drowned.

Faeries, as one of my meet-up guests suggested, are only happy to reward you when you’ve given them everything you have, and promised them everything you will ever have. 

Another friend stated –

Faeries are charming. They’ll charm your clothes off your back and chase you into the woods to die in their sacred groves. 

And a quote from Terry Pratchett says: 

“Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.
No one ever said elves are nice.
Elves are bad.”

They’re amoral by human standards, but then, so is a tiger. As humans see cows, Faeries view humans. That galls, but the truth is, they are creatures of pure spirit – just as the Djinn are creatures of pure Air, or humans are creatures of Earth (I can’t help but think of Djinn as being Fire, and Faeries as being Air – but research has proved me wrong many times). As all true and pure elementals, they just are. Humans cannot expect Faeries to obey the rules we’ve set forth for our behavior, because they’re not human and never were. They are a force of nature, a natural spirit, and as such, they have the rules that such forces are governed by – just as we have structure and law because we are earth, they have formlessness and chaos because they are spirit. Such creatures have no rules. 

I am a cusp. I have a human shell, binding and imprisoning me, making me subject to human law – not necessarily the rules of law and order, but the natural laws that govern these creatures. However, I am also Fae – and my soul is governed by those rules of chaos and light. Sometimes… it’s a wild and crazy ride. Things happen around me that are inexplicable, and unexpected… things that bend reality to just short of breaking. Part of the reason I wear such heavy shields and such a strong glamour is to minimize such events. Telling lighting where to strike out of a pure blue sky and having it obey is a really great way to get yourself burned at the stake. 

There is one difference. Most humans with faerie blood or faerie soul tend to be creatures of light. They tend to be almost angelic in their loving and caring natures – which suggests that, no matter what is told about their cruel, cold, predatory, almost demonic natures, no matter how they feed on humans like we’re cattle, it is entirely possible that… 

None of it is true. 

I’ve been in Faerie a lot this week. I’ve had a lot of nightmares, none of which involved Faeries, but being in Faerie, while neither it nor its denizens were frightening, is truly beyond explanation. It’s possible I had no real problems with Faerie or the entities that call it home because they’re as saintly as I aim to be. It’s also possible that I find it homey because I’m mostly Fae. It could be a great big trick.

I do not know, so my jury is still out.