Category: Articles

Calendar of the Sun for November 15th

Calendar of the Sun

15 Blutmonath

Nidhogg’s Blot

Color: Black
Element: Earth
Altar: On a black cloth set several bare tree branches in an earthenware vase, a horn of mead, and the figure of a dragon.
Offerings: Pieces of wood with the name of a missed duty scratched on them.
Daily Meal: Tree fruit such as apples or pears or cherries or peaches.

Invocation to Nidhogg

At the base of the great World Tree
Dwells a black dragon
Whose name is Nidhogg,
Whose sole task is gnawing
At the roots of Yggdrasil.
As quickly as it gnaws away,
New growth comes forth
In a never-ceasing spiral.
At the base of each soul
Dwells a black dragon
Whose name is Conscience,
Whose sole job is gnawing
On our blithe thoughtlessness.
As it gnaws and forces us
To do what should be done,
It clears away our disorder
And allows for new growth
In the tangle of our lives.
Teach us, gnawer at the roots,
How to listen and decide.

Chant:
Roots of the Tree,
Hidden, mysterious,
Reveal them to me,
Dragon of Earth.

(Each person shall snap a twig from the branches on the altar and take it with them, laying it under their pillow to remember Nidhogg and their own consciences. The mead is passed around and shared, and the remainder poured out as a libation to Nidhogg.)

[Pagan Book of Hours]

The Witches Spell for Nov. 15th – Breaeaking an Unwanted (Love) Spell

sam9

Breaking an Unwanted (Love) Spell

This can be altered to fit any type of unwanted spell, or to zero in on one specific spell.

Perform this only if you are certain you are under a spell that is not in your best interests. It is wise to perform divination beforehand to see whether you are and whether that is the right course of action to take.

Incense: Frankincense, Sage or any appropriate cleansing/purifying incense or one that is personally empowering.

Timing: As needed, during the Waning Moon, at or just prior to Midnight.

Items Needed:

A candle (black for banishing or white for purity, cleansing & freedom)

Appropriate anointing oil

Unshelled pistachios

9 in number (or any number that is great significant to you personally).

Ritual:

Anoint your candle if desired, light it and the incense, set them in appropriate burners, visualizing yourself being freed.

Take one pistachio. Forcibly break it open, visualizing the unwanted spell breaking as the shell breaks. The more emotion you can put into the breaking of the shell, the better.

As you do this chant: “So may it broken be/ Any (love) spell cast on me/ That was cast not by my hand/ As I will, free and clear I stand!”

Continue this fashion until all 9 pistachios have been shelled. Eat the pistachios, knowing that you are now free.

Let’s Talk Witch – A Full Moon Lunar Potion

Moon & Witch Comments & Graphics
Let’s Talk Witch – A Full Moon Lunar Potion

The power of the Moon can be utilized in many ways. Not sure where to start? Consider trying your hand at some easy to learn, yet challenging to master lunar potion making: you’ll gain a foundation of experience and understanding that will kick start your Moon magick. Here is a basic formula to get you started for the upcoming Full Moon. You can also consider adding herbs, oils or stones to personalize the recipe; just take care to use the potion only externally.

Here’s a versatile brew that can be used to create resources and reveal opportunities. Choose a symbol, sigil, or word to represent the thing you wish this potion to manifest. For example, if you want to manifest money, you might decide to use a dollar sign or a pentacle. Paint the symbol on the side of a clear glass jar while imagining the jar filled with the essence of your desire. Fill the jar with water and a handful of soil, then place it outside beneath a Full Moon. Gaze at the Moon and notice its expansive, creative energies. Ask these energies to enter and charge the water.

Sit quietly for thirteen minutes while the potion absorbs the moonlight. Swirl the jar clockwise thirteen times while visualizing the thing you wish to manifest, the fulfillment of your magickal goal.

Use this potion to charm objects and places related to your goal. For example, if you want to manifest a new car, you might anoint your key ring with a bit of this brew. If greater creativity in your artwork is what you crave, sprinkle a few drops of the potion on your studio or on your art supplies.

FRIDAY – The Day of the Love, 
The Day of Venus

Days Of The Week Comments
FRIDAY

The Day of the Love
The Day of Venus

frigedaeg or frige dag (Anglo-Saxon) freitag (Germanic) dies veneris (Latin) sukra-var (Hindu) juma (Islamic) vendredi (French) kin youbi (Japanese)

This is traditionally the sixth day of the week. The name given to this day in ancient Rome was ‘dies Veneris’ as is was a day dedicated to Venus. Later the French named the day ‘Vendredi’ believed to have derived from the same origin. In northern countries the closest equivalent to the Goddess Venus was ‘Frigg’ or ‘Freya’ with the day becoming known by the Anglo-Saxons as ‘Frige dag’, later to Friday. Traditionally associated in many parts of Europe with misfortune as this was believed to be the day when Christ was crucified at Calvary, and also that this was the day that Adam was tempted by Eve with the Forbidden Fruit. Within the Roman Catholic faith Friday was traditionally a day of abstinence. Today it is a still viewed as a day for some private act of self-denial (For further information see Mystical WWW Easter). According to tradition there are some practices that should be avoided if possible on a Friday including, births, weddings, the sailing of a ship, cutting your nails or starting a new job. This is indicated in the following rhyme:

‘Whoever be born on Friday or it’s night, He shall be accursed of men, Silly and crafty and loathsome to all men, And shall ever be thinking evil in his heart, And shall be a thief and a great coward, And shall not live longer than to middle age.’

A contradiction is expressed if a child was born on this day in ‘Days of the Week’, which indicated a more favourable omen. And indeed it is said that in 1492 Columbus set sail and sighted land on a Friday. In Hungarian (Europe) folklore it was believed be an omen of bad luck to be born on a Friday although it was believed that the onset of misfortune could be avoided or removed by placing some of your own blood on some of your own old clothing and then burning it. The criminal underworld have an old belief that ‘a burglary committed on a Friday will probably result in arrest’ as perhaps a sign of divine intervention and retribution upon the criminal, and if you were bought to trial for any offence on a Friday it was thought to be a bad omen. In the British Isles and USA Friday was the customary day to carry-out hangings and so was sometimes referred to as ‘Hangman’s Day’ or ‘Hanging Day’. (This perhaps is connected to the Christian belief in a Friday being the worst day of the week, as this was the day identified with the Crucifixion and the death of Christ). If it rains on a Friday an old rural belief (UK) was that it indicated the forecast would be fine on the following Sunday. If you dreamt on a Friday night of an event or people and then told the content of the dream to someone in your family on the Saturday morning it was more likely to happen. In Scotland (UK) and Germany (Europe) according to an old belief Friday was thought to be a good day to go courting (dating). Norse men traditionally saw this as a positive day, the luckiest of the week. ‘Black Friday’ has been regularly used to label days of significance within the British culture. This was the name given to December 6 1745 in the British Isles. This was the day that information reached London (UK) that the Young Pretender had reached Derby (UK). The threatened General Strike was cancelled on 15 April 1921 affecting the stance of the British Labour Movement (UK). The Government (USA) flooded the open market with gold to bring down prices on 24 September 1869 ruining the livelihoods of many speculators in USA. Mohammedans believe that Adam was created on a Friday, and so the day is seen to be the Sabbath. It is also believed that Eve tempted Adam with the Forbidden Fruit on this day, and that later both died on a Friday. Friday is believed to be a day of misfortune too for Buddhists and Brahmins. ‘Long Friday’ was another name given to Good Friday (For further information see Mystical WWW Easter) by the Saxons. It is thought that the name derived from the fact that this was a day of abstinence. According to the English historian Richard Grafton certain dates of the month were unlucky as published in the ‘Manual’ in 1565. Days throughout the year were identified and of course could have related to any day of the week. The date was the most important point to consider. The work was reputed to have some credence with support given by astronomers of the day.

(For more information see Mystical WWW Mystical Time : Mystical Months).

The Witches Correspondence for Friday, November 15th

Moon & Witch Comments & Graphics

The Witches Correspondence for Friday, November 15th

Magickal Intentions: Love, Romance, Marriage, Sexual Matters, Physical Beauty, Friendship and Partnerships, Strangers and Heart
Incense: Strawberry, Sandalwood, Rose, Saffron and Vanilla
Planet: Venus
Sign: Libra and Taurus
Angel: Ariel
Colors: Green, Pink, Aqua
Herbs/Plants: Pink Rose, Ivy, Birch, Heather, Clematis, Sage, Violet and Water Lilly Stones: Rose Quartz, Moonstone, Pink Tourmaline, Peridot, Emerald and Jade
Oil: (Venus) Cardamom, Palmrosa, Rose, Yarrow

Friday belongs to Venus, and its energies are warm, sensuous, and fulfilling. Efforts that involve any type of pleasure, comfort, and luxury, as well as the arts, music, or aroma (incense and perfume) works well on this day. As Venus lends its sensuous influences to the energies of this day, use it for any magical work that deals with matters of the heart.

The Witches Almanac for Friday, November 15th

Witchy Comments & Graphics
The Witches Almanac for Friday, November 15th

Friday (Venus): Love, friendship, reconciliation, and beauty

St. Leopold’s Day

Waxing Moon

The Waxing Moon is the ideal time for magick to draw things toward you.

Moon Sign: Aries

Aries: Good for starting things, but lacks staying power. Things occur rapidly, but quickly pass. People tend to be argumentative and assertive.

Moon Phase: Second Quarter

Moon enter Taurus 9:40 am

Taurus: Things begun now last the longest, tend to increase in value, and become hard to alter. Brings out appreciation for beauty and sensory experience.

Incense: Cypress

Color: Rose

Good Friday Morn, My Dear Lads & Lasses! A Very Blessed One To You & All!

Book & Candle Comments
I hope I want take up much of your time this morning. I don’t know if you have noticed or not but I have been very moody and unpredictable here recently. There have been several things going on with me personally that I haven’t mentioned. I have been having horrible nightmares (which I never even dream). I have seen shadow figures in my house. I bless and protect my house continuously, I could conceive how they were getting in. Most of all I had an ache in my heart. This ache wasn’t an ache like I had ever experienced before. If this makes any sense, it seemed like an old, very old hurt, pain in my heart that was pulling from my pass. Then the other day doing some laundry, I made the comment to myself, “Why Abigail, you know not to put color clothes in with the whites?” Abigail, where on Earth did that name come from and right out of the blue.
I had been trying to dig into my past. I have had several Elders tell me I am an Old Soul. I have had flashback and even went to certain periods of time to stay a bit. I can see people and I recognize their faces. I know if I have loved them or not. But the details have always been sketchy to say the least, till this Abigail name turned up.  Yesterday I had another strange name just pop out of my mouth Faulkner. I put the two together just in case that might be one of my past life’s, Abigail Faulkner. My husband had told me about a bunch of old court documents that had never been published. That gave me the idea to look through these documents to see if I could find this name. And I did. I will let you read the rest, surprisingly enough it was a trial that was public and I found most of the detail on the net about Abigail Faulker. I do genealogy all the time so to find information about a relative is nothing new but a past life is. I always wanted to know why my soul and heart turned so black and dark at times, I believe I know. You know this one life saw horror, experienced things and witnessed to Goddess know what. It makes me wonder is all the pain worth the answers I seek. Here is Abigail’s story……(Taken from Wikipedia, List of Women & Men Found Guilty of Witchcraft) Abigail (Dane) Faulkner (October 13, 1652 – February 5, 1730) was an American woman accused of witchcraft during the Salem witch trials in 1692.In the frenzy that followed, Faulkner’s sister Elizabeth Johnson, her sister-in-law Deliverance Dane, two of her daughters, two of her nieces, and a nephew, would all be accused of witchcraft and arrested. Faulkner was convicted and sentenced to death, but her execution was delayed due to pregnancy. Before she gave birth, Faulkner was pardoned by the governor and released from prison. Abigail (Dane) Faulkner was born on October 13, 1652, in Andover, Massachusetts, the daughter of Reverend Francis Dane and Elizabeth Ingalls.[2][3][4] Faulkner was the sister of accused witch Elizabeth (Dane) Johnson, and sister-in-law of accused witch Deliverance (Hazeltine) Dane.[2][4] Abigail (Dane) Faulkner’s two daughters, Abigail Faulkner and Dorothy Faulkner, were also accused of witchcraft.

On October 12, 1675, Abigail married Lieutenant Francis Faulkner.[3][5] The Dane and Faulkner families were early settlers who had gained social prominence in Andover.[1][5][6]

Francis and Abigail Faulkner had at least seven children:

1. Elizabeth Faulkner born July 4, 1676 in Andover.[7] Died August 17, 1678 in Andover.[7]
2. Elizabeth Faulkner born December 7, 1678 in Andover.[7] Married to John Butrick.[8]
3. Dorothy Faulkner born February 15, 1680 in Andover.[7] Married to Samuel Nurse on November 25, 1708.[7]
4. Abigail Faulkner born August 12, 1683 in Andover.[1][7] Married to Thomas Lamson on April 6, 1708.[1][7]
5. Frances Faulkner was born on April 29, 1686 in Andover.[7] Married on May 12, 1724 to Daniel Faulkner.[7]
6. Edmund Squirrels Faulkner was born on April 2, 1688 in Andover.[7] Married first to Elizabeth Marston on February 19, 1715.[7] Married second on August 17, 1730, to Dorcas Buckston.[7] Married third to Dorothy Robinson on February 2, 1747.[3]
7. Ammi Ruhamah (which symbolically means “my people have obtained mercy”) Faulkner was born on March 20, 1693 in Andover.[7] Married to Hannah Ingalls on June 7, 1726.[7]

Faulkner’s grandson, Colonel Francis Faulkner, led a company at the Battle of Concord, and commanded the regiment that guarded General John Burgoyne while he was a prisoner of war.[6]

Prelude to prosecution

Nothing in the court records of Andover indicates that Abigail Faulkner had been accused, let alone found guilty, of any crimes or misconduct prior to 1692.[9] However, her sister, Elizabeth Johnson Sr., was something of a scarlet woman, having been tried for fornication several years before.[9]

The one feature that distinguished the Danes and the Faulkners from their neighbors was their comparative wealth.[10] In 1675, roughly twelve years before his death, Edmund Faulkner bequeathed the bulk of his estate to Francis Faulkner, his eldest son, then just twenty-four.[11] Making young Francis an influential figure in Andover, while his contemporaries were still working their parents’ land, destined to wait several more years before they could accumulate enough money to marry and become landowners.[11] In 1687, Edmund Faulkner died, and Francis inherited the remainder of his father’s estate, excepting only a very minor portion left to his sisters and brother.[9]

Not long after his father’s death, Francis Faulkner became ill, suffering from convulsions, confusion and memory loss, leaving him unable to manage his own affairs.[9] Abigail Faulkner was granted control of her husband’s estate until their sons came of age.[9] As the manager of his estate, Abigail wielded more power than most of the men in Andover, including her own brother-in-law.[11]

Another bone of contention within the community concerned Abigail Faulkner’s father. Reverend Dane had served as Andover’s minister for more than forty years when the witchcraft trials began in 1692.[12] As the frenzy in Salem progressed, Dane openly expressed doubts regarding the accusations made by Ann Putnam and others; he was disturbed by the fanatical nature of the proceedings.[12][13]

Dane was indeed to fight the plague with a heroism unequalled by any who had choice in the matter, risking not only his own life and reputation, but what must have come harder, the lives of nearly all the womenfolk in his family. And in this fight he was at first alone, deserted by his own deacons who regarded him at best as an old and failing man, too far behind the times to appreciate the methods of modern science.[14]

Reverend Dane was accused of witchcraft in 1692, but was never charged.[12][15] It is known that a decade prior to the witch trials, Dane had sued the residents of Andover for a salary increase.[16] The court found in Dane’s favor, ordering the town to raise his salary, and to provide an adequate sum to pay for an assistant to be hired.[16] Dane had also opposed a proposal by several residents that Andover be divided into two precincts.[16]

Economic tensions and her husband’s illness, in addition to the doubts her father expressed regarding the accusers, may have caused Faulkner to become an object of suspicion, envy, and resentment within her community.[17]

Salem witch trials

Things came to a head in early August 1692, when Elizabeth Johnson’s daughter and namesake was accused of witchcraft and arrested.[18] Faulkner’s niece quickly confessed, telling her examiners on August 10, that she had consorting with the devil, meeting him at a gathering of “about six score”.[19]

Faulkner was soon accused of witchcraft by neighbors who claimed she had “afflicted” their children.[20] On August 11, she was arrested and taken to Salem, where she was interrogated by Jonathan Corwin, John Hathorne and Captain John Higginson.[1][5][17]

Most of her accusers were young women from Salem, among them, Ann Putnam and Mary Warren.[1] An exception to this, was the middle-aged William Barker, Sr., who stated under examination that he had been afflicted for three years by the devil.[21] He confessed that he had signed the devil’s book, and that Satan had promised to “pay all his debts” and allow him to live in luxury. He stated that George Burroughs was the “ringleader”, but claimed that Faulkner and her sister, Elizabeth Johnson Sr., were his “enticers to this great abomination.”

When Faulkner entered the room, her accusers would fall down to the floor in hysterics.She held a handkerchief in her hands while she was examined, and whenever she would squeeze or twist the cloth, her accusers would have “grievous fitts”.[ When magistrates demanded to know why she harmed the girls, asking her to look at their distress, Faulkner told the magistrates that she was “sorry the girls were afflicted,” but that she had not afflicted them, “it is the devil [who] does it in my shape.”[1] The magistrates responded by asking, if she was innocent, why did Faulkner shed no tears over the girls’ suffering.[1] She refused to confess, insisting “God would not have her confess that [which] she was not guilty of.”

At one point during the examination, Mary Warren fell into “fitts”, and was “pulled under the table,” apparently unable to come out from under it, but after receiving “a touch of said Faulkner” she was freed.

On August 29, Faulkner’s eleven-year-old niece and fourteen year-old nephew, Abigail and Stephen Johnson, were also arrested on charges of witchcraft.

Faulkner was reexamined the next day in prison, still insisting that she had never consorted with the devil, nor signed his book, she did admit to feeling animosity toward her family’s accusers. She suggested that the devil had taken advantage of this, in essence framing her for the crime of witchcraft. She had been “angry at what folks said” when her niece was “taken up” for witchcraft.[1Neighbors had crowded round the Johnson home, laughing, taunting Faulkner, telling her that soon her sister would also be arrested for witchcraft:

“and she [Faulkner] did look with an evil eye on ye afflicted persons consenting that they should be afflicted because they were the cause of bringing her kindred out, and she did wish them ill, that her spirit being roused, she did pitch her hands together. She knew not but that the devil might take advantage, but it was the devil, not she, that afflicted them.”

On August 31, her sister and nephew confessed to witchcraft. They testified that they had attended a gathering where they were baptized by the devil, who promised them “happiness and joy”, and that at the devil’s behest, they had afflicted Martha Sprague and several people in Andover. They refused to implicate anyone else in their activities.

On September 8, Faulkner’s sister-in-law, Deliverance Dane, confessed to witchcraft under examination, though she would later recant insisting that she had “wronged the truth” by confessing. Faulkner’s nine-year-old daughter Abigail was accused of witchcraft and arrested on September 16. The next day her twelve-year-old daughter Dorothy was arrested on the same charge.Faulkner’s young daughters confessed soon after their arrest, and were persuaded to condemn their mother as a witch.

One day later, Ann Putnam testified that she had been “afflicted” by Faulkner on August 9, 1692, and that she had witnessed Faulkner or her specter tormenting two other young women.

Faulkner’s sentence read:

The Jury find Abigail Faulkner, wife of Francis Faulkner of Andover, guilty of ye felony of witchcraft, committed on ye body of Martha Sprague, also on ye body of Sarah Phelps. Sentence of death passed on Abigail Faulkner.

Faulkner was pregnant when brought to trial, and for this reason, her execution was delayed.

Aftermath and exoneration

In December 1692, four months after her arrest, Faulkner petitioned Governor Phips pleading for clemency. She explained that her husband was an invalid, and though his condition had been stable, her arrest caused him to suffer a relapse, leaving her children with no caretaker and “little or nothing to subsist on.” Governor Phips granted her request; she was pardoned and released from prison.

Though released, her name had not been cleared.[1] In 1703, Faulkner petitioned the court asking that she be legally exonerated.

“The pardon so far had its effect that I am as yet suffered to live, but this only as a malefactor, convicted upon record of ye most heinous crimes, which besides its utter ruining and defacing my reputation will certainly expose myself to imminent danger of new accusations which will be ye more readily believed, and will remain a perpetual brand of infamy upon my family. I do humbly pray that this high and honorable court will plan to take my case into serious consideration, and order the defacing of ye record against me, so that I may be freed from the evil consequences thereof.”

Faulkner petitioned the court for eleven years before they finally granted her request, reversing the bill of attainder in 1711.

Upon the humble Petition and suit of several of the said persons and of the children of others of them whose Parents were Executed. Be it Declared and Enacted by his Excellency the Governor Council and Representatives in General Court assembled, and by the authority of the same That the several convictions Judgments and Attainders against the said George Burroughs, John Proctor, George Jacobs, John Willard, Giles Corey and Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse, Sarah Good, Elizabeth How, Mary Eastey, Sarah Wildes, Abigail Hobbs, Samuel Wardwell, Mary Parker, Martha Carrier, Abigail Faulkner, Anne Foster, Rebecca Eames, Mary Post, Mary Lacey, Mary Bradbury, and Dorcas Hoar, and every of them Be and hereby are reversed made and declared to be null and void to all Intents, Constructions and purposes whatsoever, as if no such convictions Judgments, or Attainders had ever been had or given. And that no penalties or Forfeitures of Goods or Chattels be by the said Judgments and attainders or either of them had or Incurred. Any Law Usage or Custom to the contrary notwithstanding. And that no Sheriff, Constable, Jailer or other officer shall be Liable to any prosecution in the Law for anything they then Legally did in the execution of their respective offices.
Made and passed by the Great and General Court or Assembly of Her Majesty’s Province of the Massachusetts Bay in New England held at Boston the 17th day of October, 1711.

Faulkner’s daughters were released from prison in October 1692, along with their cousins Stephen and Abigail Johnson, on a 500 pound bond paid by Nathaniel Dane and John Osgood.[24] Her niece, Elizabeth Johnson Jr., was found guilty of witchcraft, and sentenced to death in January 1693. Her death warrant was signed by William Stoughton. Elizabeth, like her aunt, managed to escape the gallows due to the intervention of Governor Phips. Faulkner’s sister, Elizabeth Johnson Sr., was acquitted and released in January 1693, but her attainder was never reversed. Faulkner’s sister-in-law, Deliverance Dane, was released in December 1692, when the case against her was dismissed.

Abigail (Dane) Faulkner died in Andover, Massachusetts on February 5, 1730.[ Her husband, Francis Faulkner, died in Andover two years later on September 19, 1732

‘THINK on THESE THINGS’ for November 13th

‘THINK on THESE THINGS’
By Joyce Sequichie Hifler

We often wonder why we must come in contact with some phases of life that seem so unrelated to how we think and plan. It seems we should be able to proceed without stopping all along the way to contend with things that really have little kinship to what we’re trying to do.

But no matter how we question and analyze, situations and events continue to present themselves for solving. It takes a great deal of wisdom to know the difference between that which we must do and that which we must refuse serious consideration. This very thin line is the deciding factor in the victory or defeat of any plan.

Like a well-written story, sometimes the smallest incident hidden among our experiences can play a very big part at some later time. It is difficult to know just which parts of the puzzle will fall into place to complete a picture we seek.

We must take one step at a time, being sensibly aware of the thoughts we store in our minds. For “as a man thinketh in his heart, so he is.” As long as we dwell on all the unnecessary activities we will never have time for the important things. If we seek the wisdom of the one Creative Mind we have much less chance of being led astray by the glitter of unimportant things.

_______________________________________

Available online! ‘Cherokee Feast of Days’
By Joyce Sequichie Hifler.

Visit her web site to purchase the wonderful books by Joyce as gifts for yourself or for loved ones……and also for those who don’t have access to the Internet: http://www.hifler.com
Click Here to Buy her books at Amazon.com

Elder’s Meditation of the Day
By White Bison, Inc., an American Indian-owned nonprofit organization. Order their many products from their web site: http://www.whitebison.org

Elder’s Meditation of the Day – November 13

Elder’s Meditation of the Day – November 13

“My Grandfather survived on this earth without using anything that did not got back into the earth. The whole world could learn from that.”

–Floyd Westerman, SIOUX

Our grandfathers knew how to live in harmony. They did not create poisons or technologies that destroyed things. They did not make their decisions based on greed or for selfish reasons. They did not take more then they used. Their thoughts and actions were about respect. The Elders conducted themselves in a respectful way. We need to consider our actions around respect for Mother Earth.

My Creator, have the grandfathers teach us today about the old ways.

November 13 – Daily Feast

November 13 – Daily Feast

Brilliantly colored flashing graphics, moving, walking, and yelling salespeople, and too much real-life drama makes us sigh and give thanks for a television remote control. We forget we have another remote control right in our thinking. We can change channels – even eliminate crazy pictures that try to fix themselves in our minds. Good music helps to soothe out the wrinkles in our turbulent thinking. Wasn’t it Saul that called for a musician when he needed to think or pray? Give yourself credit for taking control – for choosing well – and watch things turn around.

~ Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and that which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. ~

SEATTLE – SUQUAMISH

‘A Cherokee Feast of Days, Volume II’ by Joyce Sequichie Hifler

Daily Motivator for November 13th – Beautiful reality

Beautiful reality

Act not out of judgment, but out of love. Live not from a position of fear,  but from a perspective of joy.

Let go of the need to prove how good you are. Live in such a way that real  goodness, joy and generosity flow naturally from all you do.

Instead of seeking to gain more advantage, discover new ways to give more  value. Instead of worrying about what might be, live the immense treasure of  what already is.

Don’t waste your time looking for happiness in this thing or that. Let  happiness always find you right where you are, doing whatever you are doing.

See life not as a contest where some must lose in order for others to win.  See it as an opportunity to lift yourself higher by lifting many, many others  through your unique gifts.

Let go of the illusion that you must struggle. And let in the beautiful  reality of how very good life can be.

— Ralph Marston

The Daily Motivator

Daily OM for November 13th – The Ecology Around You

The Ecology Around You
Finding Nature in Your Neighborhood

by Madisyn Taylor

Nature is all around us and there is a plethora in every neighborhood, one only needs to become still and watch.

Because both cities and tightly packed suburbs offer wildlife bountiful nooks and crannies in which to hide, it can be difficult to spot the animals that live in our midst. Many thrive among paved streets, sidewalks, buildings, parking lots, and high-ris

es. There are animals in abundance burrowing in the soil of center medians and tiny backyard gardens, making nests in the trees that line broad and busy avenues, and buzzing round the flowers that beautify our parks. To find these creatures, we only need to stop, look, and listen. Nature’s drama is continually playing out on the window ledges where weary birds stop to roost, in the shadowy places where cautious nocturnal mammals wait for night’s mantel to fall, and the fountains where playful waterfowl splash and frolic. In observing the animals that share our habitat, we become a part of their beautiful, complex, and exciting world.

Season by season, cities offer diverse ecosystems for you to explore. If your search for urban and suburban wildlife is challenging, try to look at your community with an animal’s eyes. Where there are shrubs and flowers, insects such as butterflies, ladybugs, beetles, and spiders can usually be found. The insects, in turn, attract the birds who feast upon them. Even the smallest green spaces are hosts to squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, and moles. Decorative awnings offer falcons a place to raise their young. At night, a different community of animals wakens to the world. Raccoons, skunks, and possums emerge to examine our human leftovers for edibles. Even pets feel the call of the wild—it’s not uncommon for well-fed cats in colorful collars to stalk the streets in search of prey. Signs of habitation, like nests or hives, and audible evidence, like chirps, will help you find them.

Recognizing that you share your city with a wide range of animals can make you feel like a part of the grand circle of life and help you appreciate the importance of a healthy urban environment. You can admire the hardiness and adaptability of the urban animal while developing a sense of stewardship that inspires you to become their champion. The shrill calls of birds, the hum of bees, and the sweet squeaks of city-dwelling mammals can be a symphony that help you develop a deeper connection with the nature world.

The Daily OM

The Happy Side of Magick

The Happy Side of Magick

Author:   Poppaea Holmes   

I have never really used many spells or chants, and when I have it is often at a time when I feel I can do nothing else… one of those ‘may as well try it’ approaches. I understand the mechanics of spell casting, how it works and how the desired effect is achieved, the problem I find with it though is that I was brought up with fairy tales and stories about Witches who cast elaborate spells with confounding results, and I find because of this upbringing that spell casting is intrinsically linked, in my mind, to fanatical stories and make believe lands.

I say this only to give you, as a reader, some sense of understanding how much effort had already been applied before I decided to cast a love spell. It was not a compulsion spell, merely creating a cosmic attraction field. I do understand that there are differing views on the appropriate use of love spells, of any kind, ranging from never-to-be-used to ‘use all the time, everyday!’ However I am not writing to discuss the pros and cons of casting a love spell, nor even, to some extent, the morals that must be thought through before one is cast, I am simply writing to explain and inform how mine worked, and how I would recommend it to anyone in the same situation, or any situation.

As previously stated, I was in pretty dire straits when I preformed this spell, (I know some would not consider that an appropriate term for being out of love, which some deem as a trivial matter. I believe it is a very apt description.) and as such, was not expecting any results. At the time, I had become rather disenchanted with Wicca. I cannot pinpoint exactly why as no major life events had occurred to make me believe that the Goddess was absent. It was more just a lack of connection, which is probably part of the reason I believed the spell would fail.

It was one of those long term/ three months spells, which meant that I wasn’t too fussed when nothing appeared after a few weeks. So I promptly forgot about the spell due to an influx in collage coursework and activities, and was asked on a date. To me this had never happened, and so I was, understandably I believe, rather surprised. He asked me over text, which I later found out his friend had actually composed, and we met up six days later.

I have to admit I had no idea who he was. Even after finding him on Facebook, I had difficulty in pinning him as the guy who was in my quiz team, Never the less, we started talking, and despite his apparent obsession with football and The Killers (who are a fine band, just not my style) , I agreed to a second date, and a third, and so on.

Now it was around the fifth date that I remembered about the spell I had cast, mainly by finding it whilst looking through my Wicca box. I didn’t connect the spell with my newfound boyfriend as I was having what I believe to be a bit of a slow day. I had become captivated with Wicca once again mere weeks after casting the aforementioned love spell. I proceeded to look through the ‘requirements’ for the person I wished to meet and found, to my surprise, that my recently obtained boyfriend met every criteria… and not in a vague ‘well I suppose’ sense, more in a height/weight/age/exact personality sense! I was literally speechless. I think I should mention now that the spell cast was for a soul-mate (I know, I just jump right in to it!) not just general love. I can say now, with our year anniversary just gone, that it has definitely worked.

I know some of you may be sitting there scoffing at my perhaps pitiful year long relationship, but to me, it is a success… especially considering that for the last three months he has been away at Canterbury, which is a good five hour train journey from where I live, making the relationship harder.

I didn’t really put off telling my boyfriend about my religion, more it just never actively came up. He informed me from the start that he was ‘devout’ atheist, and indeed some of our more interesting conversations have been on the concepts of souls and deities. However, I believe him knowing my religion made our relationship better. But I would not recommend the way in which he found out.

I am afraid I am going to diverge slightly, and I apologize if any view it as an unwanted interruption. I feel that what occurred was a breach of trust, and really just a show of a lack of morality in some people. My boyfriend found out about my religion through one of his friends, who happened to be a sergeant at the cadets I attended and a devout Christian. “At cadets”, for those of you who may be unfamiliar with the dress code, we were allowed to wear necklaces as long as they were hidden and for religious purposes.

I wore a plain silver pentagram at the time, and the chain occasionally showed, causing questions at least once a week. Usually I could just say it is a religious necklace (as trying to explain it to people who aren’t listening and are just desperate to be told you summon the devil is tedious) . However this time he walked a little way, turned as though an afterthought and asked “Yeah, what religion?” I answered, “I’m Wiccan” and we carried on our separate ways.

I thought nothing of this until I got a call from my boyfriend asking if I was a Witch. I was a bit bemused by how he had come to that conclusion, as, like spell casting, the word brings to mind Grimm’s fairy tale type characters and so I do not use the word. I answered that no, I wasn’t a Witch but I was Wiccan… and how did he come to hear of this information? It transpired that at the first possible chance this Christian friend, who I still believe had gained this information in an environment that did not warrant outside gossiping, had run to him at the first chance and said “Do you know your girlfriend is Wiccan?” We both believe it was to try and drive a wedge between us for reasons only known to him. Anyhow, this rant is almost over, and I shall end it and resume back to my original purpose by saying that I believe it was extremely ill-mannered and uncouth to divulge this information. I have always been raised to not speak of other religions or beliefs unless with express permission or belief that the knowledge would be useful in some way and that the person to whom is being referred does not mind.

I suppose what I am trying to get across with this article, is that magick does work. If you believe in something and you are prepared to go that little extra, it will change your life in wondrous awe-inspiring ways. I think it cannot be expressed better than through love of something else. I suppose it is also partially about dis-enchantment of Wicca (which I overcame by a sudden realization that I was still actively talking to the Goddess when I got really stressed) .

I am not trying to actively express feelings either for or against love spells, as I believe that, as with all magick, it depends entirely on the intentions of the caster. But I know that even in dark and desperate moments, magick and belief and everything joyous in Paganism can just seep in, lift you up and make everything just a little bit better.

Thank you for reading this article. I hoped you got some enjoyment, or really anything, from it, and to feel free to email me if you wish.

Blessed be
Poppy

The Witch I Am

The Witch I Am

Author:   Eilan   

Witchcraft, the Arte, the Craft, Magick, the Old Religion – what could these names possibly mean to an 18-year-old male living in an age of global warming, rapid deforestation, tyrannical war and occupation, fundamentalist literature and humanist rationalism? They are the faces of a largely spiritual movement, grounded in the sacred powers of Nature, from which the Old Gods themselves draw their strength and mystery.

My name is Gede Parma. I am an 18-year-old male Witch currently residing in Queensland, Australia. I am an initiate and co-founder of the dynamic Pagan wellspring that is the Coven of the WildWood, and I am priest and vessel to my Gods of Blood and of Breath.

My Pagan peers know me as Dobhair (pronounced ‘door’ with a soft accent in the middle), which is the name my ancestors revealed to me during last year’s solar eclipse as I dedicated myself to the Dagda and Morgaine le Fay. In this time of the Greening much will be seen to come to pass and the world will change in a way that none of us could ever have conceived.

I stand as the Rod of Power, as the Menhir, the Tree of Life, to whom my veneration is given in circles with my coven. As I focus inward so does my breath circulate into the outer realms, my consciousness expanding and taking into itself the divinity that is immanent within all of Life. I remember the animating force behind all that is and dance the spiral path of change and transformation into the very heart of the primal womb whose centre is the point of origin.

From the beginning I was Air, from whose new dawn’s breath ‘I’dea was formed. I was then fuelled by the heat of Fire, and light and warmth gave way to the oceanic-matrix that is the Water and blood-ways became rivers and streams in the body of the Goddess.

By Spirit and the Great Mystery I was given form and beauty and Earth’s presence and foundation continued the cycle, and when my thread is cut by the tides of Fate I will fall to the winds once more to decay with the autumn foliage under the slanted glare of a fading king whose sun sets in the realms of Death.

I am resurrected and born again by Love and by Light, and the Two Pillars join the heavens to the broad earth, from whom once more I will spring up as Kore, the sprout. From Death comes Life, and in Life there is Love, and the Mystery knows them all.

These are the mysteries that have been written of and told to others whose minds and hearts are listening, however their far-reaching and infinite truths are not simply grasped by an eloquent intellect or by the ascetics of a world-rejecting discipline.

Witchcraft to a teen in the 21st century has not lost its Great Mystery. We are still as the priests and priestesses of old who stole away to secret orders nestled in ‘tween places. We are still as the seers and shamans whose journeys remain intrinsically-patterned into our wild and unkempt spirits. We are Witches and by solitude or tribe we still raise the Power to celebrate the ecstasies of Life. I have never forgotten this charge and I have made it my oath to the Old Ones to continue to impart this knowledge and wisdom on those who have ears to listen.

There is immense power in the old mythos. They speak of Gods and Goddesses who inspire and protect their own, of ancient magicks whose powers awaken in the hearts of those who embrace the old ways. There is descent into the netherworld, and resurrection in the light of day. There are ancestors who kindle the hearth-fires and who gather us in to be warmed when way-ward our feet have taken us.

There are oceans and seas that speak of death and devotion. There are groves and mounds and stone-circles who whisper of ancient rites and who glisten and vibrate with the dragon-lines that sing through the land. There are wheels that spin and turn, and bring awareness to the cycles of Nature, to the implicit realities and cause us to revel in the wonder that is the blue sky and the green tree.

These things, these memories are not cast out or forgotten by the Witches of today, they are embraced and renewed by those of us who seek to rejoin and reconnect with the Wyrd, whose keepers, though at times stern, remind us to dance and to make Magick in their honor.

When the Pagan community regards its youths and also their influx into the tribes, they often forget that once upon time that was them. There are many who revile and resent the young folk who seek out the ancient wisdom and who practice the rites of the Craft. They seem to think that in doing so we desecrate their sacred power, or playfully twist and manipulate to achieve our own selfish and incorrigible ends.

Anyone who truly kneels at the Altar or draws the Circle of Power knows to what effect their pure Will can achieve. Those who are simply involved for the ‘glamour’ and the ‘prestige’ soon draw back when they discover what perfect love and perfect trust truly means.

So those of us who still remain after the year and a day and whose understanding has strengthened and whose energy has intensified should be known to all others who walk the spiral-ways as honest and humble devotees.

I will never forget the moment when I became a respected member of my community and was taken by my word for my word. It was as if all my potential became actualized and I could evolve and transform into a new identity, into a new persona. But personas are masks and identities fade, and through this time I began to feel again the pulse in the deepest part of me.

The façade had broken.

I didn’t need their recognition, their support, though it helped immensely in times of grief. What I needed was my connection, to awaken the divinity that is indwelling. It didn’t take long before one Goddess chose to love me and to pour into me what was already at my core. She is beauty; she is truth. She is power and she is that quintessential feeling that resonates through all my fragments, and whose veil covers not to hide, but to symbolize the other reality, that is always waiting, on the other side.

My life is enriched through my Craft. I am joined with all of Nature. I breathe on the mountain and I lose all ego-attachment, and it strikes me that all I am doing is breathing and existing, just as all other beings that dance through the cycles are.

My Gods speak to me through my descent and through my spirit. Their names are not written as a list of spiritual acquisitions, but as powers and forces that have revealed themselves to me, and have chosen to become my allies.

To be a Witch is not to forsake the divine bounty that is made apparent when we learn to trust, but to identify and understand the patterns of power that weave through the fibres of Life and manifest as expressions of innate and intimate truths. We celebrate this continuum of divine-play and revel in becoming a part of it.

I am a Witch, not because I was genetically made to be so (though that adds to it), and not because of some deep-set desire to conquer the plain drudgery and live out a fantasy of power and privilege.

I am a Witch because in my heart lives Magick and to deny its passage, its flow, would be to deny the very essence of my purpose here on Earth, and of my many lives before my present that have been sacrificed to continue the charge I was given.

As I dance the Wheel and as I draw the Circle I remember that I am different. It is not merely a contrast I draw between my nature and those of others, or an indulgent delusion I use to place myself higher than the rest. I am different in that the unfeeling, ego-ridden, politically-driven paradigm that our societies are built on rejects or else wholly negates who I am and what I do.

There is no room in this world, they say, for enchantment and Magick. There is no place for story-telling or dancing. Everything I am and everything I stand for is declared non-existent or irrational at best and Witchcraft is made out to be nothing more than a childish game.

Witches were once respected and revered for their skill, insight and power. In a sense this manifests today as the curious intrigue one feels toward the ‘supernatural’. Witches today are feared, maligned or ridiculed.

We are feared by the ignorant, maligned by the ‘pious’, and ridiculed by the so-called rationalists. However there are those among the liberally-minded communities who celebrate us as true visionaries in our right and who are inclined to study our spirituality in a bid to reclaim the lost wisdom.

There are few words that I can conjure that truly define my being. One of these is ‘Witch’. I embrace it wholly, in every way, for in doing so I reclaim the power that was once considered a gift. It is never a curse to realize truth and never a burden to uphold and live by it.

My Magick is a gift that I will pass on to the next generation of Witches, however at this point in time I work to encourage and inspire this generation. In my coven we circle every week and in between the esbats and sabbats we devote our circles to specific topics so that we may expand our knowledge and add to our magickal arsenal.

In the past we have discussed sacred tools, the Elementals, visualization, meditation and divination. Generally I take on the guise of the teacher as it suits me and I have a considerable amount of knowledge and practical experience in these areas.

The Witches of my coven are strong and steadfast spiritual beings, however we are all still human and prone to making mistakes. This is the reality of the Witch, especially as teenagers. We may be able to cast spells, transcend our egos, invoke ancient Gods and project our astral selves, but this does not exempt us from the everyday trials that bombard humanity.

As Witches, however, we make use of our knowledge of the subtle energies within and without and choose to take charge of our destinies accordingly. Perhaps it is this aspect of the Craft, more so than anything else, that truly frightens those who are not privy to the inner mysteries.

I am a Witch, pure and simple. You could tie to me to a stake, throw driftwood at my feet, drench me in gas and light a fire and I would not deny it.

I am a child of Nature, a Pagan and a priest. I dance the spiral-way and as I descend into the holy labyrinth I sing the old songs and chants to the Gods of leaf and bud, hoof and horn. I release tire and stress, exertion and envy to the four winds and I become the glowing scepter, the sword, and the spear. The serpentine force is aroused and it journeys upward along the spine to the crown that is the triangle of manifestation.

There I meet the Great Mystery and kneel to her charge as I feel the edge of her sword cut cleanly along my soul to my beating heart aflame with Magick.

Go in the way of the sacred, Blessed Be~

Thoughts on the Threefold Law/Law of Return

Thoughts on the Threefold Law/Law of Return

Author:   Vervain   

I realized I was a Wiccan sometime late in middle school, and overall I’ve been very happy with my decision to walk down that path. However, over the nine or ten years I’ve been stewing in the religion, I’ve come to realize that there are parts of what I started with that don’t make sense to me anymore. It’s natural for this to happen — and it’s certainly not something that worries me — I don’t call myself Wiccan because I need to fit my beliefs in a box (I am a mostly solitary practitioner, after all) , so it doesn’t bother me when something doesn’t quite fit into the box Gerald Gardner started building in the 1940’s. However, it does give me something to think about.

The thing that has come to bother me is the threefold law. If you’re not familiar with it, it goes something like this:

Ever Mind The Rule Of Three
Three Times Your Acts Return To Thee
This Lesson Well, Thou Must Learn
Thou Only Gets What Thee Dost Earn

I like the idea that whatever you put out into the universe comes back to you, and that is indeed the heart of this concept. What I don’t like is the idea that it happens in threes–it bothers me mathematically because if everything really happens in threes, you can just factor out the three and that’s the same as everything happening in ones, which makes more sense to me and sounds a lot less like something someone just made up one day. I also don’t like that it sounds like a reward/punishment system (“Thou only gets what thee dost earn”) with some sort of immediacy. Furthermore, I don’t like that it sounds like it was written by someone who wanted to write in Renaissance English but actually lived in the 20th century and didn’t know how.

On the number three: I think it makes sense in a lot of contexts. A disproportionate number of ideas (especially occult concepts) come in threes or are triplets–beginning, middle, ending; maiden, mother, crone; father, son, holy spirit; body, mind, spirit; thought, word, deed… the list goes on. The number three is indeed magickally powerful; but so is every other number in its own way, and in this case, having a number at all is completely unnecessary. The chosen number is consequently completely arbitrary. That is to say, when every bit of energy put into the universe gets multiplied by the same number before it comes back to you, it doesn’t matter what that number is (furthermore multiplying it at all would mean that the energy of the universe is constantly expanding exponentially, and I’m no expert, but it doesn’t seem to me like that’s the case) .

If you need a mathematical refresher, here’s what the threefold law essentially is saying: grant that I put out 4 units of good energy into the universe and 1 unit of bad energy (assuming, which I don’t, that energy can be simply “good” or “bad”) . The threefold law says that I should get back 12 units of good energy (4×3) and 3 units of bad energy (1×3) . But if we look at this as a ratio of good energy to bad energy, then input:output is 4/1:12/3. If you divide the output by 3/3 (which is just a fancy 1) , you get 4/1:4/1.

So, the threefold law is just a fancy way of saying that the amount of each type of energy the universe throws at you is directly proportionate to the amount of that type of energy you put out into the universe. Essentially, the problem I have with the threefold law is mathematical, not philosophical. I understand, if they were going to choose an arbitrary number, WHY they would choose 3–I just don’t understand why a number had to be chosen if it was going to be completely arbitrary anyway.

There is another version of the threefold law called the Law of Return, and this is something I like much better. Below is a rather lengthy quote from Catherine Noble Beyer (just another everyday practitioner who posts some of her thoughts on the interwebs) , whose thoughts I find line up very closely with mine:

“The world does not work as simply as [the threefold law] make it sound. If it did we’d all be donating to charity like mad and reaping the rewards by the handful. The idea of things returning threefold is unnatural. According to the Law of Ecology (from biology class – as Wiccans we should be taking lessons from nature) :

“Everything is connected to everything else
Everything must go somewhere
Nature knows best
There is no such thing as a free lunch

“But it is true that harm tends to beget harm, and it is true that one good turns deserves another: people remember a person’s charity and are more likely to aid them in return. Hence, why I prefer to use the term “Law of Return” over “Threefold Law”.

“Let’s also remember one of Newton’s laws as another lesson from nature: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. “Opposite” does not mean that you receive bad for every good. It means what gets put out comes back. For instance, if you push upon a wall, the wall is actually pushing back with an equal amount of force – if it did not, it would fall over. That’s straight from physics class.”

If you’re very interested in this topic, I suggest you check out her whole article on the subject at http://wicca.cnbeyer.com/three.shtml

The only thing I require, which the Threefold Law has and the somewhat simpler and more sensical Law of Return lacks, is the benefit of being written in a short, rhyming ditty. The reason you hear rhyming spells from, say, the witches in Macbeth, is that in this sort of practice there IS the belief that rhyme better connects a person to the universe–it forces rhythm and brings out the inner child, who is less sophisticated (here I make use of the original c. 1600 definition of sophisticated: “mixed with a foreign substance, impure; no longer simple or natural, ” etymonline.com) and therefore better able to participate in creative acts.

The simple solution to this problem is to write out the Law of Return in a short, rhyming ditty, so I did:

Of your actions ever wary be,
for all that derives is drawn to thee:
Water will wet, fire will burn,
and all you beget alike will return.

That’s all.

_______________________________

Footnotes:
http://wicca.cnbeyer.com/three.shtml

The Wheel of the Year and It’s Influences in our Daily Life

The Wheel of the Year and It’s Influences in our Daily Life

Author:   MissElphie   

Wicca, and many other pagan paths, celebrate the Wheel of the Year. The festivities around the Seasons and the Path of the Sun in the Sky have been a motive of celebration in History. Today I’m going to talk about its influence on modern practitioners and its influence in our daily lives.

The Wheel of the Year is something very important and essential in a Pagan’s life. It celebrates the path of the Sun God throughout the year. We celebrate the different phases: Birth, Growth, Marriage, Aging, Death and Rebirth. We cast spells to bring happiness and wellness to our loved ones and us. We light bonfires to celebrate fertility in our lives. We light candles to help the God rise higher and higher in the Winter Skies… But, do we feel those changes? Has anyone ever wondered how important and meaningful all of these changes in Nature are in our lives?

Some of you might know what I’m talking about, but for those who don’t, I’ll explain. The Wheel of the Year isn’t just eight times a year; it’s in every minute of our lives. We feel those changes in ourselves and eventually we won’t even need to look at the calendar to see that a Sabbat is approaching. All around us we see Nature change; we see the changes that we usually celebrate.

When Autumn is coming you can see that some birds are already migrating, that the leaves are falling from the once full trees, those little animals are getting ready for the cold Winter that is getting closer and closer. You can see that with your own eyes. You can see the flowers growing, snow and rain falling, bees and butterflies and every little thing that changes in Nature. Even in a city, you can see that. I live in a fairly big city and I see that. In the trees and gardens that are scattered around town, in the birds… and even in the weather. When it starts raining, getting colder and colder, maybe even a bit of snow… You can see and feel that.

The Wheel of the Year is part of our daily life.

The modern man has grown accustomed to routine. You get up, have breakfast, take a shower, drive to work, work, get back from work, sit on the couch and watch some lame TV show, go to bed and in the next morning you do it all over again. You repeat this process every single day. Never caring about what happens outside, in Nature.

A Pagan usually does not do that. Yes, he or she has his/her normal routine but with a small change. When getting up in the morning, a pagan might look outside and see how nature is going and maybe even take a few minutes to just watch what’s happening.

When driving to work, or back from work, instead of listening to a radio show and cursing the other drivers, he or she might be more aware of what’s going behind the cars and the smoke and all the pollution included in traffic jams. And even at work he/she might notice those little things, little details, that shows us that something is changing. A co-worker that brought his scarf today because it was getting colder or a friend who dressed a t-shirt instead of a sweater because the temperature was rising.

These are the little details in our life that we usually don’t care. We just don’t notice that all of this is going around us and happening. We tend to ignore it because we are so consumed by this consumerist and materialistic society and way of life that we ignore the simplest things that show us the world and nature at its best.

Life has more to it than buying, selling, partying, studying, etc. It has an essence. And its essence has been getting lost for the past centuries. Mankind has been driving further away from Nature, using it only for its own selfish purpose and not to connect with it. Our Ancestors lived with Nature, felt Nature and saw Nature with different eyes. Why should we, a so-called modern society, forget that we are a part of Nature? That she can, and will, live without us but we can’t live without her? She is part of us and we are part of her.

So, I’m telling you: Be more careful with details. See those little things in your daily life that connect yourself with the Divine and with Nature.

Look at your friends. How are they dressed? What are they doing? Look at Nature. How are the trees? Are they big and filled with bright green leaves? Or are they naked and numb for the cold Winter? How is the weather? Hot? Cold? Rainy? The flowers, the animals, the smell in the air, the heat and love you feel from the solar rays bathing your skin in a warm summer afternoon or the delight of being at home drinking hot coffee while it’s raining outside.

Don’t just watch the World. We are no longer just watchers of the World and Nature; we are a Part of it. We need to live with it. Feel it.

Feel the hot Summer breeze, the cold Winter snow, and the fresh rain in the Autumn and Spring. Try to connect. Go out for a walk on the beach, feel the waves and listen to the seagulls and the splashing of the waves on the sand. Go to the countryside and see the animals, smell the fresh and clean air, feel the sun and the warm breeze…

Paganism, no matter what tradition or path, isn’t just a religion. It’s a way of life. Being a Pagan isn’t just going to be for 4 times a month (Lunar Celebrations) and 8 times a year (Wheel of the Year) or any other celebrations you might have. Being a Pagan is going to influence your entire life, entire way of watching, feeling and connecting to the World around you. No matter where you live, whether it is in the biggest city of the World or the farthest countryside.

So, my advice is just to be aware. Look beyond the obvious and into the core of Nature and its essence. Live the Mysteries that Nature has to offer. Nature is something beautiful and constantly changing. It’s a never-ending cycle. Live it. Feel it. Feel it in your life and all around you. How it influences you, the ones you love, everyone and everything.

Be with Nature. Don’t just watch it.

Blessings!

MissElphie

Amazing Pagan Grace

I am sure you have read “Amazing Pagan Grace.” I love it very much and I occasionally have to post it. If you have read it before, forgive me but it is dear to my heart. For those who haven’t, Enjoy! It has the same tune as “Amazing Grace.”

Witchy Comments & Graphics

Amazing grace, how sweet the Earth
that bore a witch like me!
I once was burned, now I survive,
was hung and now I sing.

T’was grace that drew down the moon
and grace that raised the seas.
The magic in the people’s will
will set our Mother free.

We face the East and breathe the winds
that move across this earth.
From gentle breeze to hurricane
our breath will bring forth the change.

Turn towards the South and feel the fire
that burns in you and me.
The spirit’s flame will rise again
and burn eternally.

We greet the West, our souls awash
in tides of primal birth.
Our tears and blood, our pain and love
will cleanse and heal the earth.

Reach into the North and know your roots
down deep ancestral caves.
We find the wisdom of the Crone,
Of circles we are made.

Amazing earth, enduring life,
from death into rebirth.
T’is earth I am and earth I love
and earth I’ll always be.

Amazing grace, how sweet the Earth
that bore witches like we.
We once were burned, now we survive,
were hung and now we sing.

Goddess bless, so mote it be,
Our magic spirals on.
Merry meet and merry part
and merry meet again.

Pagan Musings (A Wonderful Read for All Pagans)

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Pagan Musings

Tony Kelly of the Selene Community in Wales wrote these words in 1970. Modern Paganism still draws inspiration, unity, and peace from these words. Blessings upon you all…please read, and enjoy…

We’re of the old religion, sired of Time, and born of our beloved Earth Mother. For too long the people have trodden a stony path that goes only onward beneath a sky that goes only upwards. The Horned God plays in a lonely glade for the people are scattered in this barren age and the wind carries his plaintive notes over deserted heaths and reedy moors and into the lonely grasses. Who knows now the ancient tongue of the Moon? And who speaks still with the Goddess? The magic of the Land of Larine and the old Pagan God shave withered in the dragon’s breath; the old ways of magic have slipped into the wells of the past, and only the rocks now remember what the moon told us long ago, and what we learned from the trees, and the voices of grasses and the scents of flowers.

We’re Pagans and we worship the Pagan Gods, and among the people there are Witches yet who speak with the Moon and dance with the Horned One. But a Witch is a rare Pagan these days, deep and inscrutable, recognized only by her own kind, by the light in her eyes and the love in her breast, by the magic in her hands and the lilt of her tongue and by her knowledge of the real. But the Wiccan Way is one way. There are many; there are Pagans the world over who worship the Earth Mother and the Sky Father, the Rain God and the Rainbow Goddess, the Dark one and the Hag on the mountain, the Moon Goddess and the Little People in the mists on the other side of the veil. A Pagan is one who worships the Goddesses and Gods of Nature, whether by observation or study, whether by love or admiration, or whether in their sacred rites with the Moon, or the great festivals of the Sun.

Many suns ago, as the pale dawn of reason crept across the Pagan sky, man grew out of believing in the Gods. He has yet to grow out of disbelieving in them. He who splits the Goddess on an existence-nonexistence dichotomy will earn himself only paradoxes, for the Gods are not so divided and nor the magic lands of the Brother of Time. Does a mind exist? Ask her and she will tell you yes, but seek her out and she’ll elude you. She is in every place, and in no place, and you’ll see her works in all places, but herself in none. Existence was the second-born from the Mothers womb and contains neither the first-born or the unborn. Show us your mind and we’ll show you the Gods! No matter that you can’t for we can’t show you the Gods. But come with us and the Goddess herself will be our love and the God will call the tune. But a brass penny be your reason!, for logic is a closed ring, and the child doesn’t validate the Mother, nor the dream the dreamer. And what matter the wars of opposites to she who has fallen in love with a whirlwind or to the lover of the arching rainbow.

But tell us of your Goddess as you love her, and the Gods that guide your works, and we’ll listen with wonder, for to do less would be arrogant. But we’ll do more, for the heart of man is aching for memories only half forgotten, and the Old Ones only half unseen. We’ll write the old myths as they were always written and we’ll read them on the rocks and in the caves and in the deep of the greenwood’s shade, and we’ll hear them in the rippling mountain streams and in the rustling of the leaves, and we’ll see them in the storm clouds, and in the evening mists. We’ve no wish to create a new religion of our; religion is as old as the hills and older, and we’ve no wish to bring difference together. Differences are like different flowers in a meadow, and we are all one in the Mother.

What need is there for a Pagan movement since our religion has no teachings and we hear it in the wind and feel it in the stones and the Moon will dance with us as she will? There is a need. For long the Divider has been among our people and the tribes of man are no more. The sons of the Sky Father have all but conquered nature, but they have poisoned Her breast and the Mother is sad for the butterflies are dying and the night draws on. A curse on the conquerers! But not of us, for they curse themselves for they are nature too. They have stolen our magic and sold it to the mindbenders and the mindbenders tramp a maze that has no outlet for they fear the real for the One who guards the path.

Where are the Pagan shrines? And where do the people gather? Where is the magic made? And where is the Goddess and the Old Ones? Our shrines are in the fields and mountains, in the stars and in the wind, deep in the greenwood and on the algal rocks where two streams meet. But the shrines are deserted, and if we gathered in the arms of the moon for our ancient rites to be with our Gods as we were of old, we would be stopped by the dead who now rule the Mother’s land and claim rights of ownership on the Mother’s breast, and make laws of division and frustration for us. We can no longer gather with our gods in a public place and the old rites of communion have been driven from the towns and cities ever deeper into the heath where barely a handful of heathens have remained to guard the old secrets and enact the old rites. There is magic in the heath far from the cold grey society, and there are islands of magic hidden in the entrails of the metropolis behind closed doors, but the people are few, and the barriers between us are formidable. The old religion has become a dark way, obscure, and hidden in the protective bosom of the night. Thin fingers turn the pages of a Book Of Shadows while the Sunshine seeks in vain his worshippers in his leafy glades.

Here, then, is the basic reason for a Pagan Movement; we must create a Pagan society wherein everyone shall be free to worship the Goddesses and Gods of Nature, and the relationship between the worshipper and her Gods shall be sacred and inviolable, provided only that in her love of her own gods, she doesn’t curse the names of the gods of others.

It’s not yet our business to press the lawmakers with undivided endeavor to unmake the laws of repression and, with the Mother’s love, it may never become our business for the stifling tides of dogmatism are at last already in ebb. Our first work, and our greatest wish, is to come together, to be with each other in our tribes for we haven’t yet grown from our Mother’s breast to the stature of the Gods. We’re of the Earth, and sibs to all the children of wild nature, born long ago in the warm mud of the ocean floor; we were together then, and we were together in the rain forests long before that dark day when, beguiled by the pride of the Sky Father, and forgetful of the Mothers’ love, we killed her earlier-born children and impoverished the old genetic pool. The Red Child lives yet in America; the Black Child has not forsaken the Gods; the old Australians are still with their Nature Gods; the Old Ones still live deep in the heart of Mother India, and the White Child still has a foot in the old Wiccan Way, but Neanderthal is no more and Her magic faded as the Lilt and Archon burst their banks and the ocean flowed in to divide the land of Erin from the land of the White Goddess.

Man looked with one eye on a two-faced God when he reached for the heavens and scorned the Earth which alone is our life and our provider and the bosom to which we have ever returned since the dawn of Time. He who looks only to reason to plumb the unfathomable is a fool, for logic is an echo already implicit in the question, and it has no voice of its own; but he is no greater fool than he who scorns logic or derides its impotence from afar, but fears to engage in fair combat when he stands on his opponents threshold. Don’t turn your back on Reason, for his thrust is deadly; but confound him and he’ll yeild for his code of combat is honorable. So here is more of the work of the Pagan Movement. Our lore has become encrusted over the ages with occult trivia and the empty vaporing’s of the lost. The occult arts are in a state of extreme decadence; astrology is in a state of disrepute and fears to confront the statisticians sword; alien creeds oust our native arts and, being as little understood as our own forgotten arts, are just as futile for their lack of understanding, and more so for their unfamiliarity. Misunderstanding is rife. Disbelief is black on every horizon, and vampires abound on the blood of the credulous. Our work is to reject the trivial, the irrelevant and the erroneous, and to bring the lost children of the Earth Mother again into the court of the Sky Father where reason alone will avail. Belief is the deceit of the credulous; it has no place in the heart of a Pagan.

But while we are sad for those who are bemused by Reason, we are deadened by those who see no further than his syllogisms as he turns the eternal wheel of the Great Tautology. We were not fashioned in the mathematician’s computations, and we were old when the first alchemist was a child. We have walked in the magic forest, bewitched in the old Green Thinks; we have seen the cauldron and the one become many and the many in the one; we know the Silver Maid of the moonlight and the sounds of the cloven feet. We have heard the pipes on the twilight ferns, and we’ve seen the spells of the Enchantress, and Time be stilled. We’ve been into eternal darkness where the Night Mare rides and rode her to the edge of the Abyss, and beyond, and we know the dark face of the Rising Sun. Spin a spell of words and make a magic knot; spin it on the magic loom and spin it with the Gods. Say it in the old chant and say it to the Goddess, and in her name. Say it to a dark well and breathe it on a stone. There are no signposts on the untrod way, but we’ll make our rituals together and bring them as our gifts to the Goddess and her God in the great rites. Here, then, is our work in the Pagan Movement; to make magic in the name of our gods, to share our magic where the gods would wish it, and to come together in our ancient festivals of birth, and life, of death and of change in the old rhythm. We’ll print the rituals that can be shared in the written word; we’ll do all in our power to bring the people together, to teach those who would learn, and to learn from those who can teach. We will initiate groups, bring people to groups, and groups to other groups in our common devotion to the Goddesses and Gods of Nature. We will not storm the secrets of any coven, nor profane the tools, the magic, and still less, the gods of another.

We’ll collect the myths of the ages, of our people and of the Pagans of other lands, and we’ll study the books of the wise and we’ll talk to the very young. And whatever the Pagan needs in her study, or her worship, then it is our concern, and the Movement’s business, to do everything possible to help each other in the worship of the gods we love.

We are committed with the lone Pagan on the seashore, with he who worships in the vastness of a mountain range or she who sings the old chant in a lost valley far from the metaled road. We are committed with the wanderer, and equally with the prisoner, disinherited from the Mother’s milk in the darkness of the industrial webs. We are committed too with the coven, with the circular dance in the light of the full moon, with the great festivals of the sun, and with the gatherings of the people. We are committed to build our temples in the towns and in the wilderness, to buy the lands and streams from the landowners and give them to the Goddess for her children’s use, and we’ll replant the greenwood as it was of old for the Dryad stillness, and for love of our children’s children.

When the streams flow clear and the winds blow pure, and the sun never more rises unrenowned nor the moon ride in the skies unloved; when the stones tell of the Horned God and the greenwood grows deep to call back her own ones, then our work will be ended and the Pagan Movement will return to the beloved womb of our old religion, to the nature goddesses and gods of Paganism.