Kin by Blood, Kin by Soul

We all know that the packaging doesn’t say everything. We all know, but people seldom look beneath it, anyway. Once you get to know me, it’s easy to put me in a box marked "Cute, but kinda crazy," and forget about it. Don’t talk about the meat and bone. Don’t think about the shell as simple wrappings which, when shed, means ultimately nothing. 

It’s all a dream, anyway… some day you’ll wake up, and this life you’re dreaming won’t really mean anything, no matter what you are, underneath. 

Other-kin. 

Inhuman. Non-human. 

Which matters more? The shell that you don and shed, draw on and cast off, like the clothes you wore yesterday? The shell that you wear, wash, recycle, or the thing the meat and bone disguises? 

Just because it looks sweet, doesn’t mean it will be.  

There are two kinds of other-kin, did you know? Those by blood, and those by soul. 

I happen to be both. 

Look at the oldest myths and legends. We all know that at the heart of the story there hides a kernel of truth – and all those myths tell the story of a race of magickal creatures – call them angels or demons, call them faeries, nature spirits, or daemons, call them Lemurians or Atlantians, or whatever you’d like, but remember they were Powers, and for whatever reason, they bred with what passed for humans way back when, and thus imbued what would become the human race with some of their much-vaunted gifts, and created by this interbreeding a new species. The psychic man. 

So now you have generations of the mixing of gifts and bloodlines, the constant loss and gain of powers – some that breed true, some that breed out, some that skip around the genetic pool like frogs hopping in the rain, but all ultimately creating in some poor schmucks some pretty crazy results, and warping perceived non-reality all over the place. 

Thanks. I just love the results. Couldn’t you have just given us something less dangerous and sanity-destroying, like faster-growing toenails? 

And then, there’s that which for lack of a better word we call soul. 

Did you think that this was the only planet with life? The only planet with souls? Did you think that this was the only dimension, the only reality? Or were you open-minded enough to recognize that there are billions of planets in this dimension alone, and untold numbers of dimensions, where other creatures who also possess soul, or are purely soul with no form, might exist?

Did you think that, if reincarnation exists, perhaps not every soul is reborn to the race it was first engendered by? Did you wonder if you were really just a human – never mind the fact that even humans aren’t all really human, thanks to a genetic drama that’s been going on for hundreds of thousands of years?

It’s something to think about, any way. 

And which am I? Which are you? Are you really human from the bones out? If you’ve any gift of perception, probably not. 
And what shape does your soul really take? 

Are you other-kin, like me? By blood, by soul, by both? 

We always know our own kind, you know. One look and I would know if you were just a human, just a dead head, or if you were something else… something more. 

Not better, no… not better, but different. 

And would you be OK with that? 

Just because it looks sweet, doesn’t mean it is. When I discovered I was living the lie (inhuman, non-human), I have to admit… I didn’t cope very well with the information. I went a little nuts. I warped reality a dozen different ways, and not all of them good.  

And then, one day, I woke up. I told myself, it doesn’t matter what you were, it matters what you are. This life is the important one. And in this life, I’m wearing a human suit. 

Call me what you will – one label works as well as another. Call me demon, call me angel, call me faerie, call me succubus, call me feline, call me human, and I’ll tell you that you’re right. It’s all the same. 

But do you really want to know? Will the shifting sands of reality drag you under? Will you drown in the knowledge that you’re not like the others, or that you’re nothing special at all? What will you feel, when you know? 

Chances are, you already know. You know us when you see us. You know either that here stands something different, the other, the hated, or you know that here stands one just like you… and either way, the knowledge gives you no peace, no joy. 

Some day, like me, the information will just be. It won’t matter anymore. It’ll just be another piece of you, a part of the whole image, but nothing special that you think about. 

Some day… if you don’t look too closely.

But probably not today. 

Advertisements

It’s Never That Simple

What happens when you hire an uneducated ex-felon ex-meth-head with brain damage from repeated overdoses of said drug, who can barely read or write, let alone do basic math as your apartment maintenance man? 

To give him credit, he really is trying to live a straight and clean life, and as far as I can tell, is succeeding. But while he shows up every day to work, on time (mostly), and really does try really hard, he still just doesn’t have the necessary skills or intellect to do the jobs he gets asked to do here. 

For example – first, my garbage disposal started making a weird noise. Then, when a new one was put in, the dishwasher wouldn’t run, and three plumbing leaks resulted. I had to call S. to come and fix the mess. 

Then I asked for the lint traps in my dryer to be cleaned. Maintenance boy has come three times, and not once has he actually cleaned the lint traps out. 

I asked for a toggle bolt to be put into the ceiling so that I could hang a houseplant. He drilled into a stud, made a god-awful mess, had to patch the hole four times, and then thought that spray-painting the ceiling to cover the mistake was a brilliant idea. My house stank for a week, and the smoke alarms now go off at random intervals, for no reason whatsoever. Oh, and the spray-painted patch of ceiling doesn’t match the rest of the ceiling. 

Safety codes require all ranges in apartments for seniors and disabled peoples to be anchored down so that no risk of tipping the stove onto yourself exists. Don’t ask me why, but it’s true. The stoves in our building were not anchored down. When he came to fix the problem, we discovered two bloody great big holes cut into the wall behind the stove, which leaked a large quantity of cold air into my house, the holes being in the external wall. Instead of using a drywall patch, he covered the holes with metal plates, achieving no solution for the cold air. Then my pipes froze. 

I have a place on the edge of my carpet where the carpet has frayed. The damage goes back a good foot from the border. I complained. He came out today to fix the problem – and while I was asked to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to let him in, he didn’t actually show up until I called the apartment manager to ask where the hell he was. When he did finally showed up, he ripped the carpet up, and then left it unfixed, because the problem proved to be too big for him to cope with. If he’d listened to me before he lifted the carpet and pulled out the nails, we wouldn’t be waiting for Carpet One to come out and fix the problem – he could have just patched it with carpet and glue. Now I’ll be waiting for another week before I can vacuum my floors, because if I vacuum with the carpet ripped up all along the edge, I’ll destroy the carpet and my brand new vacuum cleaner. 

Every time he’s come to do any kind of work on my apartment, either the problem has been too big for him to be able to solve with his mediocre skills, or he’s made the problem worse… and I’m not the only one who’s having an issue with this.

Two weeks ago, there was a really bad leak downstairs in the hallways – and he used salt to dry up the stain, which means now the carpet has to be replaced. This guy makes idiots look smart.

A month ago, doing some work in a neighbor’s house, he actually asked her to read and explain the work order, because he couldn’t read it himself. He also asked her to help him fill out the work order completion form, because he couldn’t write. If you can’t read or write, how the hell are you going to know how to manage even the most basic repairs? 

Two days ago, he was cleaning out a neighbor’s water heater – we have very hard water here, and it has to be done every three months. He made a god-awful mess and she’s still trying to clean it up… and all this begs the question… why is he still working here?

Here’s why – the company who manages these apartments is cheap, and because he’s an ex-con, they get a tax break for hiring him, and they can get him for minimum wage, the bastards. 

I don’t think there’s enough tea in the world to make this morning better. I’m seriously pissed – this was definitely not how I wanted to start my day. 😦

Self-Loving

Some of you are married, and this won’t sound like it’s something you need to think about much, but whether you’re single like me, or you have a significant other, it’s important to remember yourself in your accolades of affection, love and devotion. Love isn’t just for gods and others, you know – and if you don’t take care of yourself, how can you expect to have any love left for anyone else? I admit, I’ve often made that mistake, especially when I’m seeing someone – I lavish so much attention on the relationship, giving all my devotion towards that other person, that I forget myself. I’m working on changing that – even if only because I have no one (except my cats) to call my own. But I’m very much a serving kind of person, so of course, while I did something today to support myself, I also did something to serve others. I cooked dinner for some friends. 

But this blog post isn’t about my relationship mistakes, or serving others through cooking. Nor is it about how many kisses I got from my cat today. It’s about supporting yourself with love. 

I recently discovered that I really love to cook. I didn’t know that. Honestly I actually thought I hated it. It stressed me out, because I always felt, with S., that I couldn’t be a better cook than he was, being professionally trained. In fact, I was so caught up in the idea that S. was a better cook than I was that I lost the savor of it, even though he lavished praise on me and frequently ate twice as much as I. It got so bad that after a while, I just stopped cooking at all, and so I have only lately rediscovered this passion – oddly enough, through a dream where my Shadow-self and I were cooking dinner, and I was really loving the experience. The dream was so positive, and I awoke feeling so wonderful about it, that I gave it a shot. 

The dream was actually true. I love to cook so much, I go out of my way to find excuses to get me into the kitchen. I cook for myself and my friends, bake on a regular basis, and thrill with joy every time I make a smile on someone’s face, even if it’s just my own. But we’re talking about being self-loving, which requires an action beyond practicing a hobby – which is why, to foster this new appetite, I took part of my tax returns, and bought myself new pots and pans – decent heavy ones… and I’m positively aglow about them. T-Fal pots and pans, over $100 worth, and a joy to cook with, each and every one of them. Even heating. Non-stick but not that cheap crap that peels off. No-heat-transference handles. Thick metal so nothing burns. Oh, My Goddess, I love these things. I made my first dinner with my new toys tonight, to celebrate my love of cooking and support this new hobby magickally… after all, today IS all about love, even if only the crass commercial kind. Chaucer must be spinning in his grave.

The other thing I did was buy a new cellphone… what is love, without communication? And we all know how much I positively live to talk. Hopefully this one will survive longer than my others. 

So… how have you been loving towards yourself today? 

Curtains for Me

Or not. Not even in the fun way. 
I have, gods help me, historical windows. And they leak air in historical proportions. So, upon discovering that most blackout curtains have a backing on them that blocks out temperature as well as light, I decided that when tax season came around again, I’d get some. So, when I got my rent credit check in, I headed to the local wally world to buy them. 
However, when I finally got the damned things home, they were the perfect width, but were three inches too short, lengthwise. 
So I took them back to exchange them. 
Guess what. 
Wal-mart doesn’t have any in stock the right length. 
So I tried Lowes, instead. Where they were three times as expensive, but there were none in the color I needed. 
So I’m going to have to buy them online at Walmart.com. 
Grrr. 

The Science of Truth and Lies

We all know that truth is stranger than fiction. We know this, but we seldom believe it. When I tell you the truth, your first reaction will be "Oh, you poor, sad, deranged little girl," because it’s easier to say that I’m unhinged than it is to believe me. So when I say to you, "I’m sorry. I blended my essence with that which is not me, and now I am different than I was;" in fact when I say to you "This attraction you feel, it came on suddenly, and now you explore passion with me, because I am ubi, not because I am Kat;" you think, it’s a nice allegory, a pretty piece of fiction. A way for me to say, "You’re not really attracted to me," because I have low self-esteem. 

And if it helps you to do so, I would let you. I truly would. Because I know people have desired me before, and will again. Before February of last year, people desired me, even if I didn’t notice. But I have to ask… if you still desire me, has anything about that desire changed? And if you didn’t desire me… do you now? And is it because I am, even if not strictly, partially Ubi?

I would let you believe the lie. I would love to – because I fear the hate that truth can bring. Except for one thing. 

I promised myself, when I blended my essences with my guide, the Incubus named Desire, that I would not eat my friends. Being fed on is, by design, addictive… and with limited food-sources, it can be deadly. So, I feed in the Astral, and I never feed on the same person twice in the same week. 

I made a promise, and I thought that I had kept it… 

Until the day I realized the hunger had made a liar out of me. 

He’s a friend. And he’s lonely. And when he shared the things he was most passionate about, I didn’t always understand, but I accepted them, because he is my friend. 

And for almost exactly one year, things have been different. It seems he needs me more now than before… even he admits his feelings are different. February 16, 2010. That’s when I changed. And the next time he and I contacted each other, so did we. 

A month ago, I finally felt it. I realized what was happening. I realized the broken promise. 

I admit… I felt horribly guilty, and afraid. I wanted to tell him – but I was sure he would think I was nuts, and reject me. I tried hints, but they were too subtle. I told him again and again that he was sharing his passions with me, that I was drinking in his desires… but I can be a very poetic person, and he took my words as metaphorical. 

Finally, today, I said it – I got it off my chest… I wrote him a poem, first – a last ditch effort to explain… 

Passion is food and drink –
the finest wine –
it falls into the well of my hunger,
it soothes that emptiness…
desire,
made into the strongest shield
which I hold dearest to my heart,
for it is my survival. 

And then I told him what it meant, that it was pure truth. But I also told him when the difference happened, and how I felt, when I realized a month ago that I was feeding on him – how I was afraid to tell him, afraid to be hurt. I told him everything. 

His reply? "Again, I submit, blissfully." 

And you know what? It didn’t matter that my friend had become an addict. I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as my gift to him, because when he’s sharing his passions with me, the things he desires, he feels less lonely, less alone – he feels wanted, needed, desired, accepted, and all those things are true.

My hunger broke my promises, made me a liar. 

And I don’t regret it one bit. 

But tell me, dear reader…. 

Are we different now, too?

Rules for Bronchitis

So you’ve got Acute, or Chronic Asthmatic Bronchitis… welcome to the disease that makes you vomit and pee at the same time.

Rule #1 – Keep a bowl handy. It’s possible to cough for so long, and so hard, that you vomit. In fact, if you do so, you’ve definitely got Bronchitis. Also, coughing spasms can actually make every muscle in your body clench, so go to the bathroom every fifteen to thirty minutes – even if you think you don’t need to. Coughing so long and hard that you pee your pants is incredibly embarrassing. If you’re a girl, crossing your legs while experiencing a coughing spell might save you from such an embarrassing accident. If you’re a guy – sorry, I don’t know what will help you. Also – since during the night, you’re sleeping and NOT going to the bathroom every 15 minutes, if you are waking up a lot at night with really bad coughing spells, you may also want to put a towel under you while you sleep… Just in case. 

Rule #2 – If you get too hot, you cough more. Over-heating will actually bring on a coughing fit you cannot control. Make sure you dress (or undress) with this in mind. You may wish to take a few blankets off the bed, or stop using the electric blanket for a while, for the same reason. 

Rule #3 – Keep your throat wet, using fluids that are slightly acidic. While peeing every 15 minutes is a pain in the ass, keeping your throat wet will help you have less coughing spells. Hot drinks, like honey and lemon tea, and fruit juices low in sugar are best for this purpose, and sucking on those nifty vitamin C chewable tablets helps, too. Avoid cough drops, as well. Cough drops and most juices have a lot of sugar in them. Sugar aggravates your throat. Milk products make you produce more mucus, which also aggravates your throat. Lastly, try gargling with Listerine. The original kind. I know, it tastes horrible and it burns like a sonuvabitch but gargling for 15 seconds kills all the germs on the back of your throat. You will recover much faster if you can do that several times a day. 

Rule #4 – If you have a coughing spell that fluids doesn’t stop, try blowing your nose. In fact, blow your nose as often as possible anyway. Mucus on your throat actually encourages the coughing reflex even if your lungs are clear. Your nose connects to your throat, so if you have a stuffy nose, you have a slippery, itchy throat. Try not to sniffle, as this sends more mucus to your throat – and your lungs, which will make the problem worse. 

Rule #5 – Mucinex is God. Nothing works as well as Mucinex for bronchitis. Start taking it as soon as you realize you’re going to get bronchitis, if you can. 

Rule #6 – When you sleep, elevate your head. Adding an extra pillow while you’re sick can lessen the coughing spells that wake you in the night. Keep those fluids, and tissues (I really like Puffs with Vicks Lotion) handy at night-time, too, so if a spasm wakes you, you can blow your nose, moisten your throat, and go right back to sleep. 

Rule #7 – If you can, breathe through your nose as much as possible. While a stuffy nose might make you breathe through your mouth, this will dry out your throat, no matter how much you drink, and a dry throat gets ticklish, causing bronchial spasms – in other words, coughing spells. Saliva does not moisten the throat – in fact it dries it out more. Also, talk as little as possible – talking will irritate your throat, too. 

Rule #8 – Take it easy – even if you’re at work, try to rest a lot. You have bronchitis, which means you can’t breathe as well as normal. Exercise can make you dizzy, or it can make you too warm, bringing on a coughing spell. Try not to operate heavy machinery. If you can’t stop coughing, or if you get dizzy a lot, you’re not safe to drive. If you start to have either reaction, stop what you’re doing immediately. 

Rule #9 – Do not expose yourself to the weather, no matter how well you are wrapped up for it. Bronchitis can turn into pneumonia at the drop of a hat. Also, don’t expose yourself to particulates – even cigarette smoke will aggravate your bronchitis, and cause you to have more violent coughing spells. Reduce your exposure to airborne particulates, and if you smoke, do your best to cut down on the number of cigarettes you smoke, as much as possible. If you don’t smoke, stay away from people who do.

Rule #10 – Eat. Fluids aren’t the only things you need – healing takes energy. Keep the fires stoked. 

Rule #11 – Stay away from the bathtub, as this will raise your temperature and cause severe coughing spells. Taking hot showers, however, can help clear your sinuses, and the steam can sometimes help reduce the spasms in your lungs. 

Rule #12 – Work with your doctor. Tell him if you think you have bronchitis (a simple listen to your lungs will confirm this), and take the medications he prescribes. Listen to everything he says, and follow his advice. There are two forms of bronchitis. The most common one is viral. Antibiotics do not work on viral infections. Viral bronchitis can take up to three months to resolve. The other form of bronchitis, while more rare, does respond to antibiotics, because there is a secondary infection, like walking pneumonia. The major symptoms can be gone within a few days on the antibiotics… but even if you feel fine, you need to finish those antibiotics because there’s still a chance for reinfection if you don’t… and the second infection may be resistant to medicine. If your doctor thinks you have the viral infection, he will not prescribe antibiotics, because they will not help, but also because taking antibiotics that you don’t need can actually create "super-bugs" that create health problems that are harder to cure. 
When talking to your doctor, mention if you are in any pain from the coughing. Bronchitis will make you cough until it hurts, and then cough some more. It is possible to tear muscles in your stomach with the force of your coughing spasms. Your doctor can prescribe this really wonderful cough syrup with a pain reliever in it, formulated to relax your muscles and helps you get all the crap out of your lungs at the same time. 

Rule #13 – Bronchitis is highly contagious. People with compromised immune systems are particularly at risk, but anyone you expose yourself to during the course of your illness can catch it. Do your best to reduce the chances of contagion. Wear a mask in public, and around those individuals who are at risk for secondary infections, such as infants and the elderly, cancer patients, etc. Try to stay away from those people as much as possible. Cover your mouth when you cough, and wash your hands, with soap, every time you cough, and every time you blow your nose. If you prepare food for other people, wear a mask and gloves, and change your gloves and wash your hands frequently. Flush or burn your tissues, throw them away in a sealed bag – make sure other people cannot come into contact with them. These actions will also help keep you from reinfecting yourself, something that Bronchitis is wont to do. 

Rule #14 – There is no vaccine to prevent bronchitis, and there is no cure for the virus that causes asthmatic bronchitis. If you have the viral form, even when the symptoms go away, you may still have bronchitis – some viruses can go dormant until the right conditions are met, and then flare up. It is a permanent condition which flares up almost every time you get sick, even with just a simple cold. Do your best to reduce your exposure to anything that will aggravate your condition, and keep an inhaler and mucinex in your medicine cabinet at all times. 

Rule #15 – If you get dizzy a lot, you need a trip to your doctor’s office, or the ER, for a breathing treatment. They suck, they taste foul, but trust me when I say this – they are very effective. Deal with it. If you can’t walk ten feet without needing to sit and catch your breath, you’ve got a problem – pay attention.

Rule #16 – Apply common sense. Some of these rules are tricks that help. Most of them, however, are simply good reasoning. If you want to get better, you’ll need that.

Finally, you should know there is hope – acute bronchitis only lasts for a few months, less with correct treatment. If you’ve got Chronic, or Asthmatic bronchitis, well, at least you’ll get a handle on other aspects of your life – like running with scissors, chainsawing while alone, and hiding behind a lit wall of dynamite. I wish you a quick interment for an interminable problem. 

Dinner (by Starlight) is Served

I paced the room, as I always do, like some kind of caged animal… back and forth, back and forth. I’ll look out the window, walk away, only to return and look again, as if I expect anything to be different. This time, I look out with a flash of victory – for the first time in over a month, there are stars. Hundreds. Thousands. Countless stars. Dinner is served. 

I may look human, but I’ve never been one – not truly. I wear a human suit, here, but my soul is of different make, and the blending of many kinds means the existence of many hungers. But, as you have said about yourself many times, I am not strictly Ubi. Or Fae. Or anything else… and because of this, my hungers are many – I did not lose the Fae hungers when I gained the Ubi, and I must feed both to survive, so I hunt in Astral for food that calls to both the unseelie and the carnal lusts, but I also feed here.

What exactly do I eat? A nibble of some causal shared lust here and there, offered up by a kind friend, and then the stars, and if I cannot reach them, the storm, the trees, the grasses. That part of me that hungers for the freedom of the night, the freedom of the sky, cannot be fed by any other way – only starlight can fill that particular empty space within me. Humans cannot fill it, nor animals – it is a thing of wild open spaces, vast reaches, solar and lunar emanations, and humans are none of those things anymore. That, and to the Fae, even the unseelie, humans taste disgusting – even when the Ubi lusts call for it, the Fae in me searches for better, and humans are, from that perspective, nothing better than junk food – that which one eats to still the hunger for a moment, but not a true feed unless the gift of a meal is offered freely with knowledge. 

Sometimes, the hungers become confused… the unseelie passions rule my lustful hunger, so that the more dangerous the prey, the more I want to fuck it – but I cannot feed the Fae hunger by such means.

When I saw the stars, I immediately began to gather up my coat, to dig out my shoes from the suitcase, to prepare to go out and feed. Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple, because I had begun to go through a classic human experience… my shell had come down with a cold. Of course, my healers were working on it, but while they can lessen the symptoms, and effect a cure in a couple of days, there are certain things that… make their job… difficult.

Such as taking a long walk under the stars when it’s 4 degrees outside.

“You realize this will slow down the healing, that this is a mistake?” came the flash of red and black… always so quick to point out when I’m about to do something… foolish.

“Desire,” I sigh, “if not tonight, then WHEN? We haven’t seen stars in a month, and tomorrow the clouds will be back, and I will still be starving. I need to feed.” Wisely, the voice was silent, and I finished my preparations, and decamped from the house in short order.

There is a price to going so long without feeding, even when it’s because there’s no other choice. Thus, it wasn’t until I was nearly to the road, fully 5 acres away from my parent’s house, that I was able to finally feed. I had to get far enough away from all the metal – when you’re as low on energy as I am, even in a human shell, your resistance to cold iron, to the metals of man, becomes significantly less, until it interferes with even the natural functions like feeding… having to walk so long in the cold was going to come back to bite me in the ass, later, but for now, I walked under the stars, until finally, that part of me that fed on starlight released, opened, relaxed, and from one moment to the next, filled – like gravity, like grounding, the energy from starlight simply filled me, the moment I unclenched that starving hole within me. I took time to revel in the feeling of the night, sharing that appreciation with the elements that fed me as a form of thanks, and finally, I turned and walked back towards the house.

The glittering snow, the glittering stars, my glittering eyes… all at peace, all full and happy, that trapped, caged, pacing part of me calmed… for a while.

It was totally worth it… Even if, the next day, I woke without a voice, for my pains.

Well, That Says It Exactly…

Two warnings… this is really heavy, and it’s spoken words, not sung, so you may not like it. I’m not even sure that I like it – I prefer musical lyrics… but the song is exactly what I wanted to say – sometimes I’m angry, sometimes I’m sad, but if tearing myself apart at the seams, losing my heart and my soul, is what’s required to keep safe those that I love, those under my protection, then that is exactly what I will do, with almost no regrets, especially if, later, I discover it really was worth it. 
Second warning… the video takes a little while to load. Pause it until it’s done loading so you don’t have that annoying pause every few seconds. 

Spook

I can feel it lurking, there in the dark, rank corners… 
This fear that is all I have left…
You say that from the moment you heard my voice, you couldn’t stop thinking about me.
I do not want to hear this.
I don’t want to hear your need.
I don’t want to hear about your messy divorce.
I don’t want to hear about your thoughts on fate.
I don’t want to answer your personal questions.
I don’t want your interest, your attraction, your obsession. 
I don’t want to meet with you. 
I don’t run a dating service.
My charms are not for sale here. 
I’m not your security blanket, your balm for your manly pride.
Just because I’m pagan doesn’t make me easy. 
Come to the meets – I know what it’s like to lack community. 
Enjoy the conversation, we’re low-key here. 
But please. 
I’ve only your word you’re not like the others.
I’ve only your word about anything. 
And you might be telling the truth…. 
But your word’s no good here. 
No one’s is. 
Back the fuck off and leave me the fuck alone. 
I’m not interested. 
I’m only my fears. I’m only my issues. I’m only my inability to trust. 
Please. 
Go away. 
I’m spooked.

Not So Simple

Started talking to an old friend yesterday. It’s been over ten years. Ten years and I have not much to say, because there’s just not much to tell… or maybe it’s just that I don’t know how to say it. But I made the effort. I told her what little there was to tell. That I have a son being raised by my parents. That I don’t work, but I do Work – though it’s not really the same thing. That I have a diagnosis of Bi-Polar with psychotic features. 

That part hurt to say. Especially as I don’t believe it, not completely. It’s just not that simple. 

I told my doctor recently – when you’re raised in Haiti, it’s a normal part of your culture to be a Horse – for Gods to ride you for your people. When you’re raised in witchcraft, you grow up believing in magic, and in unseen things. You grow up knowing about psychic gifts, and they are as real and solid an experience as the things that normal people can see and touch. 

In our culture, in this country, the majority do not believe in magic. They don’t believe in psychic abilities, regardless of what physics tells them. They don’t believe in the unseen. Even the Gods, even their Christ, is not completely real to them. If They were, if He was, they wouldn’t behave the way they do. 

So the DSM-IV tells psychiatrists that my experiences are a form of schizo-affected disorder, regardless of how practical, orderly, and functioning I might be. The fact that I sense emotions and sometimes thoughts, the fact that I "hallucinate" weather three days before it happens, the other myriad experiences I have that cannot be measured, are normal for me, but because they are not normal for the society I live in allows psychiatrists to label me as abnormal. Instead of God-touched, I’m crazy. 

What can I say to that? Nothing. There is, unfortunately, no convincing a doctor that there might be a different view when that doctor has made up her mind. 

Saying it, like I agree that a label belongs in me, hurt – even if I stated afterwards that I personally think the diagnosis is nonsense, and just a way of saying that I’m more psychic than sometimes I can cope with. 

Knowing what my old friend might think hurt more… after all… psychic is often an excuse – a way of denying reality… a part of the psychosis. 

I didn’t lie. 

I just didn’t say that it wasn’t that simple. 

Perhaps I should have. 

Snippets

 He used to come to me, cling to me, like I was the last solid rock in a stormy ocean. I never thought "God, what’s wrong?" Instead I thought "God, get OFF!" In the end, I was so tired of being the strong one. I wanted someone to be strong for ME. To this day, I don’t know if that makes me selfish or not. Am I just too selfish to offer love – or was I just sick and tired of always being the one to shovel the shit out of the way? Probably a little bit of both. In the end, we fail. In the end, when you’re too damned tired to try, everyone fails. Hearts die. Love dies. And sometimes, it never comes back again. Sorrow tastes like ash when you’re holding the burning memory of every failure in your soul… but I don’t know how to let go. Acceptance and forgiveness are not the same thing. I am too much of one, but none of the other. When your compassion and love can be bought, it stops meaning anything anymore. 
I am The Voice. Messenger. Courier. Revolutionary. Teacher. Guide.
Forgiveness isn’t in the job description. 

Oblivious

Perhaps it shouldn’t be a state of being for me, but it’s true. If you could have any guarantee in the world, it will be that I will be oblivious to your attraction. I will miss it so completely that eventually, you will turn away and give up, assuming that I’ve seen your attraction, and have better at home – and I’ll probably miss that, too. 

It’s a shame – I have this horrible feeling that I’ve missed out on a lot of good people in my life, simply because I never noticed them noticing me. If you’re reading this, the likelihood is that you were just… more determined than most. Or that, years later, you found me on FB. I have lost track of the number of people who’ve found me and then given me the highest compliment I could possibly receive from them – that I said or did something that meant something to them, so much so that years later, they remembered me and looked me up, actually SEARCHED for me, because I affected them so… and the whole time, I was clueless. 

They tell me how kind I was, how giving, and to be honest, I’ve never thought of myself as a good person. I’ve TRIED to be one, but I always felt that I was a bit of a failure at it. I don’t love enough, I’m not gentle enough, I’m not kind enough, I’m not sympathetic or compassionate enough. I’m not open enough or trusting enough, I never let people in, I don’t let them touch me – and I can turn everything off and walk away any time I like. I frequently worry that I’m a narcissist, that I have no affect. The only good thing I thought about myself was that I’m a natural pacifist – but even that I thought was a bit of an idiotic thing to be, unrealistic and possibly deadly. Oh, and I’m passive-aggressive and co-dependent. 

However, you are my judge and my jury. And what you have said, when you’ve found me again after all those years, hit home. I am not what I thought I was. I have succeeded in being a decent, compassionate, giving human being. Thank you for telling me. I feel better, now. I’m learning to believe what you say… you are changing my mind about me – and I’m becoming a happier person because of you. 

So… if you’re reading this, I just want you to know… I’m sorry I didn’t see you, when you saw me. Thank you for the compliments – I know you mean them. I’m starting to believe them. And I’ll try not to be so blind from now on. 

Dream: 12/16/10

I don’t remember how the dream started, but I remember that a lover and I had separated, and he knew magick, and was accidentally sending me negative energy, because he was so angry about the separation. There was so much negative energy that it started attacking people around me and hurting them. It killed a little girl.

I really feel that this relates back to what’s going on right now – I‘ve had two visions so far, yesterday and the day before yesterday, in the morning during my morning devotions, where two angels have tried to hire me, and my Gods and I have turned them down, the first time in a rather violent way… Check the entry entitled Not for Hire, if you haven’t read it yet (except for May who HAS read it). I think that this is referencing that in a very clear way, and suggests that someone close to me is going to end up hurt because I’ve walked away from Working within that framework.

They do love to threaten when sugar won’t work, don’t they. *sigh* I’m not giving up, I’m not going back, no matter what. My Gods have made a decision, and you know what, I’ve made my decision – I agree with my Gods, and I’m sticking to it.

Not For Hire

When I wake in the morning, there are four things I try to do before I get out of bed. If I’ve had a dream, I try to write it down. I am not always successful, and I don’t always remember my dreams, but I try. Then, I say a mantra: "I greet the All within me. I greet the day with joy in my heart, for I have everything I need." Then, I greet my God and Goddess – a moment before their thrones in my hall. Finally, I visualize walking my path. Once, it was a rainbow through emptiness. Then it became a hunting track in a deep forest. Now, it is a path of stars, moving through the endless depths of space, surrounded by more stars. The path moves forward as I walk it, like those single-level escalators at airports. More often than not, even though it carries me forward with or without my own actions, I choose to walk it. 

The room where I meet my Gods is square. In the center of the room is a stone pillar with a stone bowl on it, at waist height. Within the bowl are coals, and on the coals are green branches – bundles of herbs. On the left side of the room is a black throne. On the right side of the room is a white throne. I say throne because they are huge stone affairs – far bigger than a chair made for my own needs – perhaps a little bit larger than a reclining lift chair made for the largest human you can imagine. My God, Hades, when he chooses to appear, sits on the black throne. My Goddess, Themis, sits on the white throne. As long as I have been meeting Them here, I have never seen Her throne empty. There is a door set deep in the wall directly opposite me. I have never crossed the room to open that door and look beyond. I have never seen it open. 

When I greet my deities each morning, I add a bundle of herbs to the stone brazier, and bow to each of them in turn. I open myself up, and listen. Sometimes, what I hear/feel is just a sense of being loved and appreciated. Other times, one of them, usually my Goddess, will have something specific to say. 

Today, I woke extremely early, dreamless, wide awake, still tired. I simply couldn’t get back to sleep, though I tried. Finally, I got moving, and when I greeted my Gods, there was something new. I entered the room where I meet my deities to find a white pile of what looked like feathers and sticks on the floor, between the thrones. I turned questioning eyes towards my God, only to find that Hades’ face was… rotting. I was shocked. Without asking, without thinking, I immediately began sending him healing energy. It was an instinctive response – see someone sickening and send them power to heal with. Surprise still very much my main emotion, I turned to my Goddess to ask what was going on, and that’s when I felt it. 

My Goddess was pissed. No, not with me – she made that quite clear. No, she was angry with my God. I was surprised again… It probably should have occurred to me before, given all the legends, the myths and stories of Grecian Gods and all their petty bickering, but it never once crossed my mind that they might have disagreements, or even fight in front of me. Naturally, I asked why. 

My Goddess directed my eyes to the pile of white sticks, bits of cloth, and feathers in the center of the room. It took me a moment to realize what I was seeing… and then I felt a little sick. It was still moving, still alive. Immortals are like that… you can damage them, a tremendous amount, but they keep on ticking. I look back at my God. "Lord…. what is this?" 

"He came as a messenger. His God seeks to hire your services again. You swore you would never work for Him again, and when We took you on, We vowed the same. I did this to protect you." 

Another blast of rage curled through the air, as Themis spoke. "He could have simply sent the messenger away. This way may mean War." 

I looked at the still-twitching pile of abused angelic flesh, and though I had a moment of fright, wondering if the entity, obviously an angel, was one I knew and loved, I had to agree with Hades. "Lady, this will send the right message. And we are Pagan… according to the majority of Christians, we are already at war. What’s one more to the list? I remember what was done, and were I approached before you, I might have done the same. Who is he?" 

If you don’t remember, a year and a half ago, I discovered I was under contract to heal an oath-breaker’s soul and restore his faith. The contract was for the Judeo-Christian trinity, and they used a middle-man. When the job was nearly completed, and I learned about it, the client’s God broke the contract, and wiped all records of it, so He wouldn’t have to pay me for my efforts, my time. The contract kept me bound to the client, essentially walking through hell with him, for seven years. And then his deity tried to cut and run without paying me. Over an oath breaker. And They used a middleman so They could hide their perfidy, and then They let Their middleman pay the price when They got caught. Needless to say, I was a little pissed. I fried the person who came to tell me they no longer required my services… burned him to a pile of ash, throwing power through him, back to his Maker, in a deliberate form of offensive backlash. I swore I would never work for Him again. No matter what. No carrying messages through astral. No working with people IRL. Nothing. Ever . 

When I contracted to my new Patrons, they agreed. So when He sent an emissary to request my services, Hades, knowing my history, had… a bit of a strong reaction. 

"He won’t give his name. He won’t even say what the Job is. He wanted Us to hire you out to his God, without any information… you would have to go to His throne room, and receive the Job there," My Goddess snapped. "We don’t trust the lack of information, but this was not necessary." 

I looked at Her, and then at my God. The rot was gone. She was calming down. "Do we call his God and send him home? Or do we clean up the mess and let him leave on his own steam?" 

"We call Him. We call Him and let Him see our answer. We show that We are not His, that you are not His, that you are not available for him. Ever," said Hades. 

"Fine," I said. "I’ll call the Son. He won’t be quite so… irked." When They nodded assent, I spoke the Hebrew name three times. 

He came through the door in the wall, and when He saw the angel on the floor, went straight to it, and drew it into His lap. "Why have you done this?" He asked. 

"Your Father tried to hire me again. My Lord took offence. I called you to come take the message back to Him." 

"This was not necessary," He said, looking at my Gods. 

Themis looked at Him and said, "Hades believed it was. I’m beginning to agree. But you have seen the message. Should you request it, We shall heal what has been done, and You may take Your servant home, whole and hale. But mark Me now… You will tell Your Father of this incident. You will tell Him of Our answer, of Our price, and of Our Mercy. And You will tell Him ‘Stay away from this, My Daughter. By Our vow, she will never work for You again.’" She gestured towards the angel, and then me, as She spoke. 

He met Her gaze, and then looked at his messenger, broken, bent, twisted, in His lap. He looked at Hades. And then He nodded assent. 

I walked into the center of the room. I took the hands of my God and Goddess. I raised the power, braided with Their own, and poured it down upon the servant, healed the damage, returned it to wholeness. And when Y took His servant home, the vision released me. 

Why All the Readings?

 In case you’re wondering, it’s a project for the Meet-Up group I run for pagans in my area. Our topic for discussion for the next meet is Tarot spreads, so I’m going through all my books, and laying out every tarot spread I can find. You’re only going to see half of the spreads, though, because I finally asked for help, and K. is helping me by doing half of the spreads, and I only have to do the other half. However, it’s 24 spreads. You might want to ignore my blog for the next week. I’ll be doing three a day from now until the 11th, the day of the meet. 
Or you could keep reading all the spreads and learn some really interesting things about me. I’m one of those readers who can’t do a junk spread – every spread is true, from the first card to the last… and all of them are uncomfortably deep. Enjoy the window… it’s wider than usual. 
Bright blessings… 
Selqet the Kat

Crew

 Sometimes, it’s easy to get lost in the crew of characters I work with, so I’ve decided to make a list, in the hopes of lessening the confusion. 

Gods (in order of importance): Themis, Hades, Quetzalcoatl (sporadic), Dian Cecht (sporadic)
Guides: Karl, Marie, Nathaniel 
Guardians: Desire, Gabriel (sporadic), The Wicked Truth (sporadic), Michael (sporadic) 
Healers: Marcus, Bryan, Mike, Guage (temporary)
Pet: James the Brand

  • Quetzal guards portals in my house and my Hall, so could be considered a guardian. 
  • Karl helps me in dealing with the dead, especially crossovers.
  • Marie is a Librarian and co-worker who deals in information.
  • Nathaniel is my own Librarian – he is in charge of my own Book of Lives. 
  • Gabriel was a personal protector for a time when I was carrying messages that needed to be protected. He is currently assigned elsewhere, but we have an option to rehire at any time. 
  • Wicked and Truth technically belong to another practitioner, but They’re not always needed there, so we tend to trade back and forth.
  • Michael has been my Family’s guardian for a very long time, and as such occasionally pops in to let me know when something I need to deal with is going to happen but my precognitive Gift hasn’t been triggered. Such visits are at His discretion, not mine.  
  • Marcus is the lead healer, and Mike’s teacher. He’s actually only been on my crew for about a year or so, and was hired during an emergency. He did so well, and fit in with the rest of the crew so seamlessly, we chose to keep him on. 
  • Bryan is actually a deceased blood-relative who was a doctor IRL, went to school after death to learn more about astral medicine, and came back to work with me in that capacity. He’s been with me for many years.
  • Mike is an apprentice – in other words, he’s still in school – we’re his Practical Experience Job. 
  • Guage is a specialist we hired for a temporary job. We probably won’t work with her for more than a couple of years IRL time. 
  • If you’ve been following my blog, you know about James. I still find it hard to deal with him – the majority of my problem with him has actually been fixed, and he’s finding a place of strength in my Household, but still not with me. My healers are working on that. 

Please note that these names are not necessarily True names, but simply the… nicknames that my crew go by. I’ve never asked about True names – while I don’t believe that True names give over power, I do feel that it’s rude to ask for them or share them, especially without permission. Nicknames I have permission to share, True names I do not.

Marry

Ancient alchemical term meaning (among other things not listed, being not pertinent):

Nautical To join (two ropes) end to end by interweaving their strands.
To unite in a close, usually permanent way.
To combine or blend agreeably.
To combine, connect, or join so as to make more efficient, attractive, or profitable.

There’s a blog in here that discusses this, but doesn’t go into depth about it. I thought I’d take the time to clear things up. 
This would be that blog.  I suggest you read the comments, because that’s where I discuss that blending. I also recommend that you read the two previous blogs and their comments, and possibly the blog posted directly after it. If you want to know. You’ve probably already read them, though, so you don’t really have to bother if you don’t feel like it.

First point to clear up – the goal of marriage is to literally take two people and make them one entity – one heart, one mind, one soul – the only thing this little bit of magick doesn’t do is to take two bodies and make them one. The reason the ancients were so into controlling sexual reproduction was because they truly believed, as people these days practicing Western sex magick or Eastern Tantra believe, that sex united body and soul, heart and mind; that the only path to God was through the body of a woman during sex; and that sex with too many partners fractured the soul. It was best to only have one partner, and that partner be the one you would want to be bonded to in such a way for the rest of your lives. 

I do believe that sex creates a kind of bond that is extremely difficult to excise, though not quite as strong a bond as the ancients thought it to be. I also believe that marriage, when done right, may do exactly what the ancients intended… and I honestly have enough people from my past lives, and this present one, that I am bonded to in strange ways. I have no desire to bond myself to another person, marry our souls and make ourselves one being with two bodies, ever. I find the idea personally repugnant, though I can see that it works well for twin-souls and other forms of married partnerships. For myself, I prefer loose relationships that allow me to have my spiritual freedom. If marriage ever becomes a question in my life, which I highly doubt, you can rest assured I will be extremely picky. I have grown up, somewhat, in this respect – or perhaps just become more cynical.

Blending myself with someone else’s essence is not something to be undertaken lightly, and if there’s something about you that I see as unpleasant or I cannot stand, it’s not going to happen – with three exceptions, I have held to this belief my whole life. Those three were my first husband, who was threatening the life of my best friend unless I married him; my second husband, because I was pregnant with his son and wanted the child to be born honorably, no matter the way he was created; and Desire, with whom I bonded for several reasons, but truly without thought for what it might mean later.

Weirdly, I do actually believe in marriage for life. I don’t believe that divorce could be an option unless there is abuse or some other action that completely destroys trust forever, such as cheating. Barring those events, there’s no trouble that a true partnership cannot overcome together. If I ever found someone that matched me well enough that I would not be adverse to blending essences with them, and if Desire, the entity I have already blended with had no objections, it’s possible that marriage would be an option. Of course, it wouldn’t happen at all unless everyone knew the score about my spiritual life, and found it all acceptable – I’ve already been told by one lover that my relationships with Gabe, Truth, and Desire during our affiliation was a form of cheating. However, my current feelings about marriage are along the lines of finding something on the bottom of my shoe and feeling rather irritated that that nastiness now has to be cleaned off, Desire notwithstanding. 

I am finding the blending with Desire to be… what a blending should be, and seldom is, and I consider myself truly fortunate in him. It may be that this will be the only marriage I enter into this life. I am not unhappy with this possibility. 

I Cried

I cried when I thought you were dying. 
I cried when I knew you would live. 
I cried when you just kept on taking
All that I had left to give. 

I cried when I got so much stronger, 
And my strength was a rock for you – 
I cried when you acted like I wasn’t there,
Like I didn’t need help from you, too. 

I cried when I said it was over, 
I cried when I walked away, 
I don’t cry any longer, 
And that’s all that there is to say.

It’s not often that I ask for help. It’s certainly not often that I get so angry that I almost cry. It’s even more rare that I wake up the next day, still pissed off, and depressed. Can I be moody? Certainly… and at certain times my hormones make me a royal bitch, and everyone runs for cover. This isn’t one of those times. 

When you call me and say you need me, that you really need a hug, even though I don’t like touching people, don’t like letting them into my aura, don’t like the information overload that happens when someone touches me, even to shake hands; even though you KNOW all of this, you ask anyway, and because I’m the nurturing, caring, forgiving type of person that I am, I say OK. I am your rock, I am the last iceberg on a storm-tossed sea that is your life, and you cling to me the way a drowning sailor will cling to the person underneath – but I never sink. So you cling to me, and I make life stable, make it bearable for you. For a moment, I even make the consequences of your own choices silence their voices. 

What have you done for me? 

You have brought me chaos and pain. Your choices, your actions, and the consequences cause only suffering, and when I finally break, and ask for help…. you’re not there. You’re too high to care. Your words are so slurred I cannot understand them, and you can’t understand what I’m saying, because you can’t remember how the sentence began. You talk as if you are drifting off into dreamland… and you are. 

I am always there for you. Why aren’t you there for me? Why is our relationship, our so-called friendship, so one-sided? WHERE ARE YOU? 

This is not fair. It is not right. Come get your shit, get it out of my house. Give me back my own things, the books, movies and games you have borrowed, and get the hell out of my life. 

We’re done. We’re really done.

I broke because of you… and when I ask you to tell me what’s real and what’s not, when I ask for your help, when I need proof that my storm-caused delusions are real or unreal, you’re so deep in your own chemically induced happy place, that once again, I’m there for you, but you’re useless to me. 

That’s not a friendship. 

That’s you, using me. 

And I’m done. 

I’m done crying. I’m done being pissed. I’m done being used. 

Get your crap, and get out… and don’t come back. 

Don’t call. Don’t write. Don’t come over and visit… because I’ll be pretending I never knew you, and thanking all the Gods in the heavens that you are gone from my life, that I’m completely alone, that I don’t have to be strong for anyone, anymore, except me.

I cried my last tears for you, 
I cried in my rage and my pain, 
I put a few holes in the walls of my room, 
And I’ll never see you again.

Screwball

Note To Self – 
Do not ask the drug addict to help you sort out your mess.
Do not ask to tell him the crazy you discovered because of him.
Do not try to show him the rabbit-hole of the last year and a half.
Do not expect, or even hope to get, an outside opinion on the veracity of your life, or attempt to get various people in your head to talk to him. 
He will be too high to follow this sentence from beginning to end.
He will pick a fight.
He will be a dick and a jackass, 
And tomorrow he won’t remember any of it. 

I know Desire is real… But the rest is up for grabs. 
Will someone corporeal please tell me I’m not nuts? Will you offer me proof?

Two Readings: 11/17/10

 I’m posting these late – got caught up in Holiday stuff and forgot to post them. I cast the readings to find where my path was going with regards to a new friend (LR) who had asked me out on a date. 

First Reading: Basic Layout, Shaman’s Oracle Deck 

1) Cave of Earth – Breaking Out: "Dancer of Beginnings" — 
Working with Crew, especially Desire, has brought me blessings in new enterprises, uplifted me, shaken me out of stale routines, and made me more than human, giving me a renewed understanding of the world, and helping me turn the fire of longing into the accomplishment of my dreams. 

2) Cave of Rivers – Emotions: "The Hunter of Death" — 
Working with Hades has brought me new directions and new possibilities – not breaking or destroying my old life, but building and restoring me to myself, bringing me back to the place where all potential awaits me. He has shown me inspiring ways of changing my old life for a new one. 
Death to old ways, death to negativity – the cessation of old worn-out ideas or beliefs – the transformation of life into something new. New vistas, new choices, new pathways toward an unmapped future. Awakening, Breaking Old Patterns, Leaving Outworn Paths, Transformation. 

3) Cave of Hearth-fires – Gifts: "The Spirit of Truth" — 
Stripping away the veils of self-deception and walking the straight path of honor, my steps are always fueled with purpose, and a determination to penetrate to the heart of any matter. As I walk my chosen path, Truth helps me measure my progress accurately, usefully punctures my self-delusions, and gives me a truer understanding of anyone en route who might offer me false security or seductive rewards. 
Clear-sightedness. 

4) Cave of Winds – Change: "The Ancestor of Exile" — 
This is basically a "reason d’etre" card – There is a deeper kind of exile than the exile from home or country – an exile from the self – and I stand ready to help lost people find that way back to their place of belonging. Exile can extend to one’s sense of self – perhaps denoting a loss of self-worth, self-understanding, or self-love. 

5) Cave of Ice – Purification: "The Ancestor of Knowing" — 
I am the embodiment of all knowledge, and I show people the way towards a proper understanding of everything around them. I enable people to see past surface futures, penetrating beneath them to arrive at a truer wisdom. 

Final thoughts: my place in this young man’s life is one of Guidance – I am to be his teacher…. I am actually pleased with this, because while I do like him, I do not feel any desire for him except in the path of friendship. 

My second reading confirmed my sense of needing to remain separate, emotionally, from him, because he is a Job, like other Jobs before him – and I am meant to be his teacher and nothing more.

Queen’s Spread, Legacy of the Divine Tarot 

1)  The Root of the Problem or Situation: The World — You have completed your journey, and have gained a different perspective. You return to the beginning in confidence and clarity of body and spirit. What you have needed to experience, needed to become, you have experienced and become. Lessons have been learned, and you are now ready for whatever the next level may be. You feel a sense of synchronicity and fulfillment – you feel your place in the universe, you feel your own divinity. 
Fairly straightforward – having dealt with other clients successfully, I have no doubts about being able to take on this new case. 

2) The Situation: The Tower — A sudden and violent change – old forms, structures, and belief systems are instantly cleared out. A major breakthrough, the lightening of spiritual comprehension destroys error and ignorance. A destructive force clears the way for the new. You have the choice to be the force of change, or be subject to it. 
This is both how I operate, but also a comment that getting involved beyond the scope of being his teacher would be a mistake for both of us, for reasons I may not divulge here. 

3) The Past: 7 of Coins — You have labored and put in your effort – in doing so you have some control and influence on the outcome. However there comes a point where you can do no more – it’s in the hands of others, the hands of fate. You have done your best, but the outcome will take the time it needs, in spite of your impatient optimism. A reevaluation of a necessary slavery. It’s time to reassess and reevaluate your progress. You may feel that progress has been slow and the full potential hasn’t yet been realized. The rewards have been honestly earned, even if they don’t live up to expectations. This may be just the first reward in a much longer-term project. Evaluate if the work is worth the reward. 
Again, fairly straightforward – you can plant all you’d like, but once planted, there’s nothing to do but wait. In my Job, most of what I do is planting, and then I leave the crop to ripen, for someone else (mostly the person I’m working with) to harvest. This is discussing my last Job and suggesting it’s time to leave, stop mucking with it, and let it ripen. 

4) The Future: 9 of Coins — A lofty retreat, inaccessible to all but a privileged few – a place of private solitude and escape. You’re finally living the life of your dreams, and it may appear to others as though you’ve become an overnight success, but you know how long and hard you worked to make it look that way. A retreat from the "real world," into a private world of pleasure. The environment is harmonious and comfortable, and it allows the focus on intellectual and spiritual pursuits. Beautify your surroundings. 
It’s OK to take a short break before starting the new Job, for study and relaxation. Just remember you can’t stay there forever. 

5) The Advice: 8 of Coins — Perseverance is the key, a commitment to learn, to practice, and with trial and error, to finally master. Whenever you choose to craft something valuable, you must take your time and give it the care and attention it deserves. No significant endeavor bears fruit without contemplation. This card is about being competent, diligent, and detail-oriented, getting a great deal done by focusing on one task at a time. There is pleasure and profit in honest work. Practice makes perfect, and you can learn from the experience you gain. 
This new Job will take time, as all Jobs do – teach carefully – you have the skills you need already.