And oh, the Wheel turns...

 It's been ages, literally, since I wrote here. The sun is bright this morning, as though it knows today is the Vernal Equinox and we all need it to be warmer and brighter today, of all days. 

4 years since I celebrated this turning in a world forever changed. 

4 years since we locked ourselves inside our homes, hoping to never have to do that again... and eventually hoping we could do that again. 

4 years. Millions dead. 

And the sun rose this morning as it did yesterday, and the day before, and as it will tomorrow because we believe. 

Some call today Ostara, based on a bald faced lie about a goddess we have no real information on in an effort to rise against Christianity in this country. 

I celebrate today for what it is, the turning of the sun, a marker of the year where the sunrise comes sooner and the sunset comes later. I celebrate today with friends, with my plants, with a wedding ring on my finger and a reminder that 2 years ago today is when we announced our engagement. I celebrate today clearer headed than I have been in years, since the hectic times of planning a wedding and the year of coming down from that rush. 

I planned a wedding while the world argued about vaccinations, while we watched our loved ones become ill and watched few become well again. I made my dress, we did tastings with staff in masks, I added hand sanitizer and masks to the items to order for the reception and prayed for good weather so we could be outdoors for the whole thing. My greatest fear for the day was that someone would come down ill with Covid. Many brides in the last 4 years probably shared that fear. There is no support group for that. But no one got sick from my wedding, and that's the best blessing I could ask for. I came away from the day with too much cake and married to the man who had been my partner for the last decade. I could ask for nothing more. 

I will admit that today snuck up on me. In the past I've dyed eggs, made a lemon raspberry pudding pie, I've had a feast ready for dinner. Today... I didn't even look at the calendar in time to know that I'd scheduled dinner with a friend tonight on the feast night. I won't cancel the plans, my husband will not begrudge me a night out, but it will be different. 

The pandemic isn't over, people still die needlessly, and the land may never recover but we celebrate anyway, our small holy days, and we live our lives because that's all we can do. 

Trying something new

I speak to you on an irregular basis, but I'm trying something new...

I am now offering tarot readings through this link:
Tarot Readings

I will read for you 5 cards, from one of the following deck types:
 - Traditional
 - Oracle
 - Fae

If you would like a specific question answered, I can do that too. It is an additional charge to the standard reading. I will turn three cards from your requested deck.

You will receive a photo of the spread and a translation of the what the cards have to say.

Blesings

The Mother, when you're actually an Aunt

I've been down for a while, sorry dear readers (who have likely gone but ah well)...

----
I have started a post about the being in the time of Mother about 20 times now. Frankly, it's hard to look at this objectively as I approach my 40th birthday.

It's no secret - I have no children of my own and I never wanted any. I'm not going to go rush out now and have some either. I'm in a loving, committed relationship with a man who has a wonderful daughter. She calls me step-mother, and that warms my heart.

I look like a mother. My body is soft in the way women who have given birth often have soft bodies. My waist is not tiny. My belly is not flat. My chest is not perky. I am nearly 40 years old and I have not had an easy life.

I have nephews and nieces, both biological and chosen, and they love me as I love them. I've comforted them when they cried or got hurt, and my body likely reminded them of their mother - soft and caring and warm. That makes me happy.

---
To be in the "Motherhood" of your life means to know that you are now there for others in the way that once a woman older than you was there for you. It took me a little to get used to this, and I still rebel against it because "I'M NOT OLD, I'M NOT A MOTHER" but yes, I am. I am going to be 40 - that's older than 2/3 of the people in my company. I could be their mother, and not by getting pregnant at 16. Legitimately, I would have been in my early 20's. It's a thought that is hard to think, and it doesn't go away.

I mother many things - my plants, my niblings, my friends and loved ones when they're sick. I mother my office sometimes, in a "den mother" sort of way, and also look them dead in the eye and tell them to grow up and clean up their own dishes because "I'm not their mother" - which is what they need to hear.

I am the old woman in the office sometimes. I am the oldest woman in my office, by 15 years at least. It puts me in a weird position, but one that I'm coming to understand.

See, at my office I sit in a row of my own in the office. In the central area are all the general staff. Around the perimeter, in offices with doors, are the senior staff. And in-between is me - a wise older woman sitting and keeping watch over everything, not in either space completely, part of both but part of neither. People who come to my desk have to come here specifically. It's easy to forget my desk is here on their way to one of the senior staff's offices.

I'm the woman at the hedge, learning to be the wise old woman in the woods.

It's not just at my office either. When I look back across my path (and if this isn't something you've done I highly recommend you do) I see the transitions I couldn't when I was looking forward. I see the gentle curve of my path as it wound away from the Maiden, away from the wonder of being young, and toward a path where those who needed a mother figure could find one.

I didn't realize that by not having my own children I left myself free to be like a mother to many who needed someone like me. I'm the other sort of mother - I'm the Aunt.
---
Aunts are free to be things that a Mother isn't - we're more mobile. Our schedules are freer for many reasons, not the least of which is that we have time to ourselves, and so can choose to share that with whomever we wish. Being an Aunt means that at a moments notice a Mother can call you can say "I need you here NOW" and you can drop things and run, because that's how your life works.

It is a liberating role, and not one to be taken lightly. To commit your time to being family to someone who isn't your blood is no small thing. It requires patience and understanding. It required giving up some things sometimes, and it requires saying no sometimes too.

----
If you are an Aunt, treasure it. Be happy and love your niblings and be mother to those who need one.

Too much time

All my thoughts these days have been "there's not enough time, there's not enough time." I feel like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, constantly staring at my watch, running headlong into whatever.

And then I stop and look around, and you know what I see? I see projects I cannot finish because I cannot start them. And the longer I wait, the harder it is to start them. So they never get started...
and then I'm rushing to finish them by the deadline and I feel sick the whole time. I'm facing that now and Goddess willing, I won't screw it up.

---
Composing my time is like composing art. You have to plan it. I haven't planned effectively and it shows to anyone who actually knows me. It's easier to hide these days and again - not great.

So I started journaling and you know what? I'm not missing time. I'm not running out of time. I'm running out of mental space and just like when you don't clear things off your phone, my brain is screaming that I don't have enough free space and it's not letting new things in. Except, unlike your phone, I can defrag my brain.

Meditation. Time at the altar. Time with my cards. That's how I'm defragging my brain. I'm not letting the tasks overwhelm me - once they're written down, I don't have to think about them until it's time. The clock tells me when it's time. Defragging.

---
Short post, I know, but I'll leave you with this:

it's easier to start the next project if you don't wait too long after the last one. The longer you wait, the harder it is. Even if what you do is small, don't wait. Just don't wait.

Another short breath, another painful scream, another shuddering sigh

Since that horrible night in November of 2016, the lives of many people have consisted of crying, of screaming, of fear. I have no idea how they get through these days. I'm not sure I know how I get through these days.

See, I'm white. I'm female. I present straight despite the honest truth that I'm bisexual. But to the world who doesn't know me I'm just some nice white girl living with a nice white boy in what is basically the suburbs. They don't know I have an altar in the kitchen, in the garden, and in my bedroom. They don't know about the women I've dated long term. They see nothing amiss - and even on Halloween when I sit in front of my home in all my witchy splendor, goblet in my hand, hat on my head, multiple carved pumpkins around me and lit up by the beauty of the night... they think I'm playing pretend like their toddler who is dressed up like Elsa.

I don't walk down the street in fear of ICE. But my neighbors do. Their families do. My coworkers do.

I don't walk down the street in fear of the police. But members of my community do. Some of my friends do.

I do walk in fear of men sometimes. And of women sometimes. I've been assaulted. I know what the warning signs are. My fears are different, but no less there.

But even for all my fears - I know that no government agency will bust down my door or shoot me during a traffic stop or rip me from my family. I can use my whiteness. I can use my privilege. I have to - it's the least I can do.

So how do I do that? I vote. I talk to my neighbors and friends and find out how I can be an ally. I write letters and call and sign petitions to my Congresspeople. I do what I can from where I am to better the lives of those who have no voice. It is the least I can do.

Magically I work too. HectateDemeter, in her wisdom, has channeled the power of ancient rites into modern workings. It worked for the witches then, it can work for us. Her latest post is here, the Magical Battle for America for 5-28-18, and I highly suggest you join us. It goes back for months, but it's not necessary to go backward and do them unless you want to. Join us now and keep joining us moving forward. The more we have at the battle front, the better.

Remember to breathe. We have to keep breathing. Ours needs to be steady to comfort those whose cannot be. And if you are the ones I'm working to help, then know that I won't stop working for you. We need to help each other. It's the only way we'll survive.

---
Even as this was written, a friend of mine put out a call to help save a National Park Service Historic Site... the memorial at the USS Arizona in Hawaii. Yes. A place so visited, so hugely popular a tourist destination shut its doors indefinitely because of a lack of funding. A memorial to the men and women who died in a surprise attack that rocked the nation is in danger of closing.

What does this mean? It means our government is crumbling. Our land and our history are being wiped away in favor of greedy contracts. There are men and women alive today who remember the day that is now a memorial that becomes more visible and more painful with every tide and they read today that the government doesn't care enough about the suffering and lessons of that day to keep that memorial open and running by funding them as they should be funded. Can you imagine what their feeling? Can you fathom being told your suffering was insignificant? Many can. Maybe you can.

We have to funnel the pain and hurt and anguish and rage we're feeling into action. We can't let it overwhelm us. We'll all drown like those poor souls on the Arizona. We're already drowning.


My wish for you as we move into the hot, muggy, heady days of summer is this - remember the fight but don't wallow in the fight. Celebrate. Make love. Hold your friends and family near you. Keep your counsel and use your voice when you can. Be kind to yourself when you can't. No one can fight all the time, but the fight won't stop if we all fight when we can.

Also, drink water. :)

I'm Wicked through and through

I've been listening to the soundtrack to Wicked a lot lately, it's one of my favorites. Over the years I've shared this with a lot of people, mostly in the car as we all sing along on our way to wherever. It hasn't always had the best memories for me though.

I was on a roadtrip with a guy I was seeing, and I got to pick the music. So I turned on Wicked and sung along- I was driving, it was my turn. He's not singing along, but he didn't know the musical so I wasn't surprised. We wind our way through the whole thing, all the ups and downs, all the revelations and realizations and end up at the finale as we always do, mournful and knowledgeable. I sighed, as I usually do at the end, and laughed a little, and made the offhand comment that I was way more an Elphaba than a Glinda.

He screamed at me. He ranted at me for nearly 20 minutes about how I needed to be my own person and I needed to grow up and it was immature to think that I was like some made up character and why couldn't I be my own person... I didn't say anything. I tried, I started to rebut his argument logically and with fact and reason and I got screamed at again.

I shut up.

That whole interaction stayed with me for a long time, and I stopped sharing things with him that I cared about. The relationship ended soon after, and it took me another 6 months to completely escape his attentions, and another 6 months after that to leave the state completely. It was the shortest and most painful of my relationships, and the one with the most lasting damage. Thankfully not all of it was irreparable - thanks in large part to my family and true friends.

Listening to the soundtrack again the other day, it dawned on me why he was so pissed that I was more Elphaba than Glinda - Elphaba lived her own life. She didn't listen to anyone else. She did her own thing, made up her own mind, chose her own path and was wicked - not because she was mean spirited, but because that's the role she was shoved in to, fit best in to, fell into and couldn't escape. She was wicked because the world wouldn't give her a chance. They painted her the villain from the womb.

He hated that because he wanted someone who would do as she was told, no matter what, no matter how or when or why. He didn't want a woman to think for herself. And so thinking myself in line with a woman who changed the world? That was right out.

----
It's spring again, and my garden is awake, and the magic comes easier these days. I find my comfort in the Spring and Fall. Beltane was lovely this year, and I look forward to the upcoming feast days with a smile, knowing I'm in a place where my magic and my heart can reside easily and safely.

A lot of my practice these days includes giving thanks for my life as it is now. I'm thankful for the pains I've gone through as well - they've shaped me, maybe not changed for the better, but changed for good. I can say though, that I am better off for the changes I've gone through.

Go into your magic with a smile, find your path, and walk it. The sun is up.

A crackling in the air

and POOF!

I love those moments.

.................. it's no secret the last few months have been HORRIFIC for me. Constant stress. Constant inability to sleep well or rest, upset stomach all the time, rumbling GI tract... all the villainous stress wreaking havoc on my body and mind.

Then, slowly, the light comes again. The stress lowers. The clouds retreat and look a little less threatening.

I can breathe again, and it doesn't hurt as much. There's still pain, but the hard times are not over yet.

How can I tell that things are getting better? I have that itchy "someone's coming" again. I didn't for a while, a long while, and it bothered me that it was gone - like losing the ability to feel one of your fingers. Now that it's back (and wow is it back) I smiled all afternoon. I got more good news this afternoon too and yeah... the shoulders are a little easier today.

---
Recipe time! I am a kitchen witch after all.

Ok, so today I'm laying on you a recipe I've tried a few times with great success: REAL Irish soda bread. (yes, i know it's past st. patrick's day. no, i don't care)

So the stuff you buy in the store all chock full of caraway seeds or raisins or some rubbish is tasty, but crumbly and not actually soda bread. Too many ingredients, see? Think about it - Soda bread by definition isn't a yeast bread. You need something to make it rise, and you need those ingredients to be easy, cheap, and available. Flour, Buttermilk, Salt, Baking Soda. That's it. Nothing else.

The Irish were making a quick, no rise, straight bake bread that was hearty, filling, cheap, and easy. No knead. In fact, the less you stir it the better off you are. I did a little researching (and talked to a few of my Irish friends) and yes - this is the soda bread they know and love. The other stuff? Eh. Not so much.

Ok! on to the recipe. I made this on St. Patrick's day, and left the window open for a while while I made a ginormous pot of potato leek and bacon soup to go with the bread. (yeah, that's the right order. try it, I recommend it highly) I also recommend leaving a small saucer of buttermilk out for the Faerie over night... you know why. ;)

Old School Irish Soda Bread - this will take you off to their website and I recommend you pin it or bookmark it or print it out and save it forever because you will always want to make this bread.

and, because I love you guys... Potato Leek Soup, Irish style

Eat well, thank the gods, and rest.

My skin is covered in bark

Unless you're a fan of Lord of the Rings, trees are very static things. Trees don't fight back, they don't wage war. They stay, and watch, and listen, and wait. Trees let time pass them, and don't worry much about it.

The Magical Workings that the brilliant HecateDemeter is leading us through as we work for the bettering of America brought trees to the forefront of my mind recently. (as in, the linked post recently) She bids you sit, listen, and find out what the trees have to tell you.

I did so - I did as I was bid and walked through the meditation. The trees welcomed me as they have in the past, but this time one step further. One step closer. I was brought inside.

It's odd feeling the bark on your skin, or more accurately AS your skin. The leaves not just in your hair, but coming from your hair. The soil in and under and through your toes. Light is so much brighter, so much cleaner, and so much more warming. It's not hard to see why trees like to grow so tall. It's snuggling up to your favorite heat source.

There's a smell that comes with all this, a deep scent that is equal parts inviting and repulsing. It's sort of sticky, you'll smell it for days after you wash it off and I get it every time I go into my garden. It's rot and birth all in one. Trees smell like that when you go deep enough. Parts of them are dying while other parts thrive. It's a cycle. We have to remember that.

The wind doesn't feel the same through leaves as it does through hair or fingers or eyelashes. It tickles your nose, but trees don't have noses to tickle. Wind, against a tree, is a dress or a scarf or a shroud. A gentle breeze is a loose silk skirt dancing around the bark, touching and caressing and playing with the leaves as they fall. A gale force storm is a heavy boiled wool coat smacking and gaping and being thrown around against the trunk, ripping leaves off their branches like hair caught in a brush or a car door.

The best part though? Is the sound. Trees may be silent to the vast majority, and from the outside it's easy to mistake their quiet as complete. But quite the contrary. Their always talking. There's always movement. They cannot contain the sound but we have to slow down to hear it.

You may go, you may gain entry, you may want to stay forever but that is not your place. You are not a tree. You may visit, but you may not stay.

If you go, and try, and cannot gain entry, don't cry. There are other places for you to go, to visit. Perhaps the stars have messages for you, or the water is waiting patiently to show you secrets. Perhaps the stones have notes to leave you, or the animals wonder what is taking you so long to find them.

So sit, meditate, and see if anyone is waiting to talk to you.

Raining, raining, raining

I moved to Massachusetts for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the weather. 

See, I visited here once, for a scant 3 hours, while on a road trip from New Hampshire back to Delaware. It was an amazingly beautiful fall day and we went to the only place we could think of in our pre-smart phone days... Boston Common. I was armed with a film camera and enough money to buy lunch somewhere reasonable (which never happened, but that's another story) and instead of stopping at all, we walked like crazy people around the Common and saw everything and nothing, and one of my all time favorite travel pictures (which hangs in my house now) is from the fountain, the only decent photo I got all day. 

I wanted to stay longer. I wanted to see more of the city, to learn more about the place I'd seen on screen, to listen to the people and take in the culture. I wanted to see the water and have lobster and grab a pint somewhere. None of that was to be and for another almost decade I didn't set foot in MA again. Then, well, it all changed. I moved about 10 times, bouncing all over one state before branching out into other states, and finally landed up here. And trust me, I'm not leaving. 
_____

I'm a water sign, and a fire sign - cusp babies are often conflicted sorts - but for all that my zodiac says I'm fire and water the only thing that really calms me is earth. The smell of it, the feel of it. Growing things in black soil gives me a smile like no other. 

I know, however, when the stars have decided something for me. See, I was ill to the point of the ER last week. It's taken many days and I'm still recovering. I've been cleaning the house more and more as I grow stronger and feel more like myself and apparently the weather has decided to cooperate. We're in our second day of rain here in New England, and today is rain in buckets and sheets, as though a waterfall has taken up residence over us. 

I am totally on board with this idea. 

See, there's a quote that I come back to a lot. My mother has it on her fridge, and has for a long as I can remember. It's quite simple: 

"The cure for anything is salt water; sweat, tears, or the sea." - Isak Dinesen

So close to the water, and we are only 1 mile from the bay here, I know that some of the water that's falling has come from the ocean. I know that some is fresh, and it's all cycled through the air. I know heat plays a part, and I know that some of it was in the earth at one point. Rain, to me, carries all the elements together when it travels. 

So much falling, running in fat streams down the house, across the trees and through the grass and bushes, soaking everything it touches... it's carrying away, into the earth, the impurities it touches. It's washing everything. 

Imbolic is coming. My winter greenery is still up and I can feel that ticking clock counting down. I have a guest coming into town though, so I'll leave it up for a few days more. I don't always wait, but when life gets in the way of plans, well, these things happen. There has been a lot of injury and illness at the house lately. We need some cleansing and healing time. 

May the rain be cleansing for you, and if dry is what you need to heal I hope it comes softly, warmly, and quickly to you. 

Thoughts in the Dark

In October, just before the fullness of Samhain, I left my job. I realized that I was appreciated not for my abilities but as a whipping boy and that was not ok. It was hard, but it pulled me into lean times, into a space where I was better able to meditate on the passing of the year. That wasn't my initial intent, but it worked out nonetheless.

That meditating took me back to times in the past where I'd sat at the hem of the Goddess and listened to the stir of the Cauldron. If you've never meditated that, I encourage you to do so now - we're in the Crone's time right now and she has lots to tell us. People are always excited to run out to the Maiden in the Spring, to sample her delights and listen to the sounds of life returning. People always listen to the Mother, she's Mother after all. Who listens to the Crone? Us witches, that's who. And so I sat at her hem again, and listened for what she had to tell me.

She reminded me of who I am - an artist, a creative, a listener and a learner. She reminded me that I'm wasting myself when I'm not being expressive, when I'm not being myself. She reminded me that it's ok to leave abusive situations even if it means being without a paycheck for a while.

She was chatty. She wasn't done talking.

A few days later I had a new job, something creative and physically demanding. I didn't have time to think or dwell there - I had a job and I had to do it. It was absolutely wonderful and exactly what I needed. It was lucrative too, even though it was seasonal. It was still perfect.
~-~-~-~-~
Now the stillness of our first major snowstorm of the season is upon us, and people everywhere were frantic yesterday trying to get prepared. I was out getting things done, but not frantically. I mean, the snow didn't start falling till this morning for pete sake. Yesterday was a clear, crisp winter day. It was beautiful. This morning is a deep grey sky with bright white puffy flakes of snow falling steadily down. It is also beautiful.

No life happens without something dying. This is a truth we all know, sometimes too well. This snow, this is the sort of snow that brings life in the spring - a good, thickly insulating snow after a proper cold snap. This is the sort of snow that keeps the ground nice and cold, insulating it against the sun that will return as the clouds part. Insects will die, bulbs will flourish, and life will renew in snows like this. People are sad about the freezing temps. I'm not. I'm thrilled - it means we're having winter the way winter was supposed to happen, killing off what we don't need anymore and making way for the new life to come.

So remember, as you sit by the Cauldron in the dark of the winter storm, listen to what the Crone has to tell you. She's wiser than you know and isn't done talking yet.

Witchin it up in the Kitchen...

My love of cooking wasn't always so strong you know. I sort of liked it for a while, mostly when I got to cook with my grandmother. It was ok at my house, but it wasn't quite the same. I blame that on my inexperience. I was nervous about it tasting bad. (I got over that after I made a tuna noodle casserole and used condensed milk instead of 2% milk... it carmelized. We ordered pizza.)

I came across it slowly, and once I was truly out on my own I started getting experimental - after all, no one was eating it but me. If it sucked, then I was the only one who had to suffer through it. Eventually I got better, and what I was cooking made its way into my workplace because there I had people to cook for! One by one I got feedback, and little by little my confidence grew.

There were setbacks. Not everything worked so well. But whatever! That's life.

Then I brought my practice fully into the kitchen. I didn't relegate my magic work to the altar or the forest. I brought it full on into the kitchen. I set up an altar on my counter. I wove spells and cast circles at my stove. I set my "cauldron" (see: crockpot) to bubble low and slow all day, the scents of it filling the house like a song.

And everything clicked. I felt more at peace. Everything made more sense. My practice seemed whole somehow, that this was the last piece that needed to fall into place for everything to work.

(I still order pizzas on nights when the recipe just didn't really work.  No one's perfect and pizza is good.)

~
Most of the tools in my kitchen I bought for myself. I was gifted some things, and some things that I had as hand-me-downs are now gone (stolen) or fell apart. I don't think too much about those things anymore. They were what I needed at the time. I've upgraded some since then.

I have bowls from my Grandmother and from my Great-Grandmother. Those are sacred things. I have many things from my mother. Those are mostly sacred. I have things from my Grandfather too, I don't use them though. They're for remembering. I have Jello molds and plates and dishes and silver from my ancestors. I don't use them much either - they're also for remembering.

I have heavy cast iron that I bought for myself and have clutched in joy at a perfect dish and in fear as a weapon. I have knives that have seen me stand defiant at the door, ready to defend myself.

Everyone should have these things.

~
On the side, I sell kitchen tools. If you're interested, I invite you to follow the link. If you're happy with your kitchen tools, no worries.

https://pamperedchef.com/go/EndofSummerSaleShow 

A beautiful day full of worries

It's lovely outside. My garden is thriving in the humidity and I'm going to have tomatoes and beans a plenty soon. Maybe even an eggplant or two! The strawberries are blooming again too, but I'm letting them go to seed instead of picking them - I want a bumper crop next year instead of a few this year.

All this beauty, from the leggy mint on my back porch to the strawberries by my front door, is not enough to change the worries in my heart. They're the same worries we all have - money, success, security. We look for more and varied ways of attaining those and so today I'm going to talk about the difference between some of the more magical options.

~
There are no shortage of spells that claim they'll drop thousands in your lap. Bay leaves in your wallet. Green stones on your altar. Green candle wax in a storm water jar stuffed with intentions sealed in green wax and bay leaves, then buried at (insert time and date and lunar position here).

Do these work? hmm.... let me check my account balance.... *crickets*

That's not to say that these won't get you in the right mindset though, and that's where the magic truly resides. Magic work is mental, physical, emotional. It charges through you and you just know that something is happening. So why isn't it raining $100 bills on your in your sleep?

because that's not how this works.

To truly access the magic we need to get done what we need to get done, we need belief in the following:
1 - yourself
2 - your ability to work
3 - your plan
4 - your friends and family (blood or chosen)

Sounds impossible? Maybe. But think for a moment. You've done other rites and had exactly the results you want. So why not here? Why not in the one rite that will most directly impact the mundane necessities of life?

Well - think about what you're asking for... are you asking for unlimited wealth, or just what you actually need to get by? And are you expecting the answer to be as loud and obvious as that thunderstorm that hit at JUST the right time or could the answer be coming as a small shift that brings just what you need to you at just the right time?

If you're asking for thousands of dollars and not offering up a plan on how to do it, think about the deity you're talking to? Are they really like that? Do you honestly think you're going to get it without working for it? Nothing comes without a price.

So: You. Believe that YOU can do what you need to do to get what you want.
Your Ability to Work. Believe that YOU can work in a way that will be productive to your goal.
Your Plan. Believe that YOU have a plan for how you will gain your desires and that your plan is CLEAR.
Your Friends and Family. Believe that YOU will not waiver from your path because of them, but will take their kindly meant advice under consideration and leave their criticisms and attempted derailments by the roadside in the dust.

So, go back. Look over your rites. Look carefully at your wording and think about what you're really asking for in the long run. And be clear - are you looking for long term or short term? Do you know?

Be clear, or you might not like what you get. "I want it to rain money on me!!!" (gets pelted in the head with random change when someone's purse tips over on a balcony above you. not quite what you wanted, but totally counts as "raining money on me". clear? ;)  )

Blessings!

oh my dearies...

How have these days found us? How is this the place that we've arrived, crying into the void and sweating under the sun of high summer?

I don't know. I know my garden is singing songs of ripening fruit and blooming herbs, and I know that song soothes my soul.
~~

These are the days that bring me to a few weeks of freedom, when I can be a more me version of me than I can be day to day in the grind of an office. See, I found this weird group of people that sorta camp for two weeks every year out near Pittsburgh. And there, among thousands of people, I found a lovely creative outlet. It's very helpful to me, in resetting my clock in time with the sun and moon, in getting back in touch with me and my whole self. I've celebrated Lammas there almost every year for the last 16 years - sometimes with a roaring fire, sometimes with just a candle, and sometimes with a group... sometimes alone. It's always magical, and always extraordinary. The stars... oh, the stars.

So as I prepare for Lughnasad, I think about where I am in the Wheel. I think about where my family and friends are, and I think about where our country is. If all that is too much, I retreat till it's more manageable. The point of this is not to stress out. We do what we can. That is all the Gods ask of us.

I will sit at the hem of my Goddess and listen to what she has to say. I will ask my questions. I will ponder what answers she chooses to give me.

As you approach this turn in the Wheel, consider the changes in your life over the past months and think about where you want your life to go. The harvest is a time of work, but the best clarity comes to me when I'm consumed with a task.

So may it be for you.

That feeling when...

The rains have arrived in New England and I appreciate them. They're doing a wonderful job of wetting down my raised beds.  We had a stretch of sun the last two days, and I took the opportunity to plant my tomatoes properly, and support them. It's a nice feeling to get things in the garden accomplished.

....
I've been away. I know. I've been mulling things over about the responsibilities of being a hedgewitch in times like this. I've been working with other witches to better the situation in this country - if you haven't, I suggest you go start reading hecatedemeter right now. She has wonderful things to say, and they need to be heard more than ever. She's doing good work too, and she needs all our help.

They say the book you need to read finds you when you need to read it. So it's been for me, and who found me but the most excellent Catherynne Valente and the Fairyland books. Reading her prose is like reading your dreams, and if you've never had that honor I highly recommend you start. (I'm doing a lot of that, but in times such as these it happens.)

.....

A lot of people have a lot of thoughts, and it's impossible to know all of them at once. So don't.

Overwhelming seems to be the word of the day lately. I think my taking time from this blog was to help deal with that. Consider me renewed. (garden soil is good for so many things.)

There are many witty ways to close a blog, and I've tried quite a few... so for now, let me just say this.



Breathe.

Kitchen Witching in the almost spring

My seeds are going positively mad- I planted on Ostrara and the pumpkins are bursting out of the tray! I fear they won't wait for the frost to pass and I'll need to pull them out into pots inside... New England springs are not know for being reliable or mild. But still, my seedlings reach for the sun and even in the rain of a dying March they know the sun grows stronger.

I feel a lot like my seedlings lately- struggling, growing, changing, opening. I feel the sun though I can't always see it. I know the moon though clouds come in the dark. The ceilings close down on me, and open just at the last moment. It's a tumultuous existence, but one I'm glad I have. I feel closer to nature, I feel the seasons more acutely when I'm tending plants to maturity. It makes me want to start seeds all year long.

So many raise children, and their magic lies there. My magic comes to me from the soil, the rocks, the trees- and I am better when I remember that.


So as the days lengthen, as the sun grows, as the air warms, remember where your magic comes from. Celebrate it. Learn from it. Find your strength in it.

and Grow.

A love affair with the Atlantic Ocean

Life lately has been rather overwhelming - so many responsibilities, so many worries and troubles and causes to fight for... all worthy, all necessary, but overwhelming nonetheless.

The stars aligned and I was able to escape it all for a weekend, completely alone, into the wild of Acadia National Park. There is an amazing bliss that falls over you as you walk alone through the woods. When all that stares out at you are trees and sunlight through dappled clouds, and all you breath in is pine and sea spray. It's worth it, even in negative temperatures. (and it was, for the whole trip, negative temperatures. this past weekend was one of the coldest this winter for Maine - lucky me!)

It's emotional too. When you're alone with your thoughts - and I mean really, really alone (no cell reception helps) - it's hard to ignore them. You think all the thoughts, feel all the emotion, and when you're alone in the woods you can cry and you don't have to explain it to anyone. You don't have to have conversations with strangers who wonder why tears are streaming down your face in a place so amazingly beautiful. You can simply let the tears come, feel the emotions, and work through them till you come out the other side, smiling and happy and lighter for it. You can hear the voices of your ancestors more clearly once you've worked through the emotions that were keeping their voices hidden. It's like taking the heavy blanket off the speaker - suddenly it's easier to hear everything, and it's not so painful.

I went through a lot of tissues.

Tears aren't the only thing that Acadia spurred in me though - it's a wonderful place with so many photographable views that it's impossible to say I've captured all there is to capture. I wouldn't want to either though, as I know I'll be going back many times, and the view will be different each time. New trees, new flowers, differences in the ocean... it's ever changing as much as it's the same. There are many places I wasn't able to go too, because the roads were impassable because of snow, ice, and downed trees.

~~
There is a stillness that you find in the forest, and us witches know it well. We wrap it around ourselves like a cloak; the familiar weight of it is a balm to us. Acadia is no different. The stillness there is old and kind, wild and violent, quiet and calm. It is all things at once, but feels like home all the same.

It's easy to speak with the Goddess in a place like that, no wires or cars to break your concentration, no unnatural lights or doors or walls. One bare hand on the mossy forest floor, your eyes dancing over the landscape, the scent of the ocean deep in your lungs, your other bare hand on the heat of a rock in the sun... it's so easy to find the elements there, all together in perfect harmony. The Circle came like breathing and the Gods came naturally, and spoke with clarity. There were no obstacles.

It was pure and beautiful. I felt whole in that moment, and connected to everything, everywhere.

~~
I don't think my experience will be the same in July when my family comes with me. They're wonderful, and I cannot wait to show them the wealth of treasures I found in the park, but it will be summer - the busiest time for the park - and we will not be alone. The park will be full of people, full of activity and movement and breathing beings on two legs crashing through underbrush as they hike backcountry trails, scattering pebbles as they rush toward the ocean, chattering and clicking and talking and laughing and screaming in the spray of sunlight through the trees. The park will be happy then too, for it exists for those like them and those like us. It will not be sad that we're there again, unable to find the stillness like before. And I won't be sad either. I'll be one of the clicking, chattering, laughing beings on two legs, holding saplings aside for my young niece and nephew so they can see the fresh moss, helping them down the rocks to gain a chance to be sprayed with saltwater.

That will be a blessing too. To see the marvel on their faces as they see the ocean without smog or filter - to stand at the edge of the rocks and have nothing between them and the horizon but air.

It is all a blessing, and I carry it with me.

So may it be for you.

When you just can't look...

The last few weeks have been difficult as the man "elected" to be the next President of the United States as filled my social media feeds to the brim with lies and bull shyte. Debates have raged, Democrats have wailed and gnashed their teeth, and bared them in attempt after attempt to get the decision recounted, revisited, and all but reheld.

It's everywhere. It's on the comedy that I watch. It's on the news that I try to pay attention to. It's on the conversations I hear from coworkers.

His image makes me sick to my stomach. His voice grates every nerve. We cannot escape this.

Goddess help us.

~~~~
I sit before my altar these days. I ask the gods for guidance, for strength for the battles ahead, for patience to listen to his words, and the words of the people he's appointing as leaders.

It's hard for me, forcing myself to listen to voices that rally against all the things I hold dear. I am bisexual, I am a sexual violence survivor. I have dear friends across the spectrum of marginalized groups. We are all afraid.
~~~~~

Now, on the eve of the transition that will shatter for decades the progress we've made, I sit among like minds and knit hats in pink yarn. As I work the pattern I speak blessings and protections into the stitches and I pray the Goddess keeps the women who will wear these safe. One is my sister, the other a dear family friend.

We have to keep looking. We have to keep paying attention and we cannot just hide from this because to do that is to let them steamroller over our rights, our freedoms, our lives.

Ever vigilant. I thought I knew what those words meant once but now I know it was only a small taste to prepare us for what's coming.

Blessings on us all.

Solstice, quiet and calm

A lot of us think about the holydays and we think about the evenings when our days let go and we really feel like we can celebrate. Yet, how many times do those holy moment really fall at night? Take the Winter Solstice for instance - the actual moment is around 5:45am on Wednesday morning. I, for one, was very happy when I found this out.

Now, I'm not a morning person but let me tell you why I'm happy about this. Wednesday is going to be a very, very busy day - we leave this week to visit family, and will be away for a bit. We have cleaning to do, packing and prepping, gifts to wrap.... the list is oh so very long. Add to this that I'm working longer hours this week to prep for the time I'll be away and at the end of the day it all adds up to the usual equation of Lots to Do and Very Little Time to Do It.

So, knowing as I do that the moment of the Solstice is a mere 15 minutes(ish) earlier than I usually wake up during the week, I now have a built in window for meditation and reflection that just had 15 minutes added to it. My morning schedule is this:
Wake up to my alarm
Lay in bed and breathe deep for a moment
Get up, stand by the window, and watch the morning
Meditate - connect and renew and prep myself for the day
Get ready for work and head out into the world.

Tonight I'm prepping my kitchen altar for ceremony. Tomorrow, my alarm will go off 15 minutes early. The coffee will be brewing (yay programmable technology) and my offering will be waiting at the altar. I'll have 15 minutes extra to greet the Solstice, to meditate and make my offerings and hold my rite.

It doesn't sound like a lot, but knowing that I have time now set aside for this in the morning before the stress of the new day starts building and delays and setbacks change my timeline for the day, in the morning after a good night sleep has released the stress of yesterday... it means that I can truly celebrate the return of the light, the beauty of the Solstice, and take that calm with me through the day.

My offerings are simple, the ceremony will be short, but I will have time to reflect on time, on light, on the Turning of the Wheel and what that means to a hedgewitch and her land base in New England.

May the Solstice bring you joy!

It's coming... I think the winter's coming!

I see a toe, I see a curl... I listen to Wicked a lot. ;)

It's true though, when you think about it. You see the limbs of winter before you see the body of it - you see the fingers in the frost on your car in the morning and the toes in the light snow that seems to stick around longer than it seems it should be able to. These are the small thing that herald the full body of winter, and they're beautiful to me.

You need to remember - I chose to move to New England. I chose to move to a climate that a scant year after I arrived saw record snows, that give me snow falls that covered my New Beetle whole. (not drifts, falls. yes. think about that.) I chose to move to a place where summer can be so sweltering that you escape to the beaches (of which we have many) or to ponds made famous by voracious writers.  (that'd be Walden)

Of course, I say I moved here but honestly, sometimes I wonder if I was called here and if I actually had any say whatsoever in the matter.

~~
You've heard me talk a lot about landbase, and what it means to connect. I hadn't heard that word before, but I knew the feeling, and it took reading the brilliant mind of hectatedemeter for me to know what I was longing for. She's wonderful, and insightful, and you ought to be reading her if you're not already.

Lately, since the world has gone sideways in the worst sort of way, I've been connecting more and more with my landbase. I do what most kitchenwitches do - I wake up, I make coffee, I stare out the window at the slowly freezing landscape of my backyard and I meditate with the rustle of leaves and spread of the frost. I watch the ivy, now frozen still like the stone wall it climbed. I watch the Rose of Sharon as it turns to the stick bush it will remain till the snows of winter are done and it can leaf and bloom once more. I collect seeds from that bush and give them to my nieces and nephew, as my grandmother did for me.

As I leave for work in the morning I run my fingers across the evergreen, looking up into the branches to see the bird nests there and am thankful they feel safe nesting near my home. The blue jays are so fat now, and the cardinals are plump little red balls and I love them all. I think of the cooking grease I'll need to put on the bird feeders again soon to keep the squirrels at bay. I've whispered things to the dirt that I have never told a soul, and the earth has kept my secrets and let me be free of their burden.

As we head deeper into the winter, look around and smile at the little death that comes to the world. Remember the blooms and leaves on the other side of the dark months and look to the holy days to help bring your spirits light. Our next one is Yule - Burn the candles, light the night and keep them lit into the dawn, celebrate with drink and rich meals. Be near your family, blood or otherwise, and relish the feeling of them around you. Know that your light burns brighter as the days lengthen and the night recedes.

But as the days grow longer and we move into the coldest and most confining time of year, also look at this time as a rest. The earth rests, and rejuvenates, and comes forth in the spring with renewed vigor.

May it be for us all.

Simple Spells

I'd say I don't know what it is about this time of year that gets my magic up, but I totally know. It's the season!

Pumpkins line my kitchen counter, apples are stacked high in a brown glazed bowl, squashes of all forms rest among the bowls and pie plates and knives. There are sides of pork and beef in my freezer waiting for the cast iron pot they'll cook slowly in, soaking in cider and spice and yams or mixed with cardamom and dried cranberries and pecans. I have very medieval views on how to prepare a piece of meat.  Skewing is high on that list, as is pie crust.

~~
The glory of this season is that unlike the summer months where the last thing you want is a hot kitchen, the winter months bring the revel of the warmth that comes from running the oven all day and the scents that imparts on the whole house. Where in the spring it's all we can do to serve bright and sweet dishes full of soft colors, in the fall we serve rich, deep dishes full of savory flavors and strong contrasting color.

So here's a few tips to bring your magic into the kitchen this fall and winter....
*Keep squashes on your counter. They're a quick, savory side dish when topped with butter and garlic, or a warm, sweet side when topped with maple syrup and thyme. Additionally, squash represent the resilience of the harvest so use these when you need to up your stamina to deal with the weather. Savory for calming, sweet for happiness.

*Garlic is your friend. Whole cloves are the best way to go, and they store very, very well. Raw and straight off the ground keeps the longest but if you use it as much as I do then you'll go through it faster than it can go bad so it's not a worry. Roasted garlic is a scent we all adore - don't be scared about making this at home. Take one head of garlic and DO NOT PEEL it, cut off the top so you can clearly see a good bit of the actual clove and set it in a piece of tin foil. Be super generous with the olive oil. (hint - if you have a small brie baker that has a lid, use this instead and do two heads of garlic. The oil will collect easily and you can then jar it and store it in the fridge to have roasted garlic olive oil for ANYTHING.) Close the foil up around the clove loosely. Put it in the oven to roast for about 20 minutes at 350deg. You'll smell it when it's done - and the garlic will have started to pop out of the head. Wait for it to cool and then either spoon out or squeeze out the garlic cloves into your recipe, or a jar to store in the fridge. This really has to be refrigerated if you're not using it immediately.  (I suggest adding it to mashed potatoes)

*Look up winter vegetables and use them. Carrots glazed with brown sugar, honey, butter, and ginger are excellent, easy, and a wonderful use of spices that help bring clarity of Sight. Cloudy visions? Not anymore.

*Take the down time you find on those snow days to really clean all your kitchen implements. Use salt and sage to clear out the energies built up around your kitchen and dining room, and then do the whole house. This is the time where we can use the quiet of the dark to really clear out the old of last year to make room for the new of next year.