Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Helicopter Goddess?

Blessings Darlings!

Now, while I call you 'darlings', that just means I see myself typing in Tallulah Bankhead's whiskey and cigarette voice. It doesn't necessarily mean that each and every one of you is my beloved.

You understood that, right? You didn't think that my world actually revolves around you.

Well. Now extend that thought to all them Goddesses and Gods out there.  Even the ones folks insist on pigeon holing as "Mother Goddess".  Who were SO very much not LIMITED to 'Mommy' role.  Their universe does not revolve around you as an individual.  Their universe probably does not revolved around humans as a race, or Earth as a special planet, or anything.

So, when you're dealing with "Great  Mommy in the Sky", you're at best being served a Minion of a Goddess or God, rather than the God/dess him/herself. 

Now - do you think that the appointed roll of said minion is to keep you a mewling, snot nosed infant for ever?  Nah.  The point is for you to grow the hell up.  Learn to tie your own shoelaces.  Learn to handle your own emotions.  Learn to be a functional adult.

A magical adult (see the post a few months back, "You're a Witch, Darling, Act Like It").

Neither the Gods nor their Minions are going to move an etheric muscle to either bless or punish you.  There is a system known as 'natural results' already in place.  They aren't going to shield you from what's out there - they are going to make sure that you have LESSONS (some of the rough) in store for you, and that if YOU put enough effort in, you'll find ways to handle them.

Surrounded by 'negative energies'? Clean your house, clean your mind, clean your spirit - and stop picking that crap up off the street (learn to shield).  It's not the God/dess/es jobs to do that for you.

Frondly, Fern

Saturday, July 9, 2016

The Waters of Avalon

Blessings Darlings!

There is a pagan chant, a filk of the hymn "Waters of Babylon" that is based on Psalm 137:1, that has been running thru' my mind this week.

"By the waters, by the waters, by the waters of Avalon,
We lay down and wept, and wept, for this aeon.
We remember, we remember, we remember Avalon"

Rivers.  Weeping. Remembering. 

I grew up in the Chicago area.  Hymns - either Judeo-Christian-Islamic or Pagan - that referred to 'going up on the mountain' were rather at odds with the land we lived on.  And, trust me, you're going to lose a battle with the genius loci every time.

But water and rivers WERE a feature of our land, flat as it is.  My first years were spent living a half block west of Lake Michigan, which I ran to at every opportunity.  The western most border of my 'home area' was the north branch of the Chicago river. 

Other local rivers joined my internal map as the years went on.  The Des Plaines river - as far west as I tended to bike, and on the shores of which I got married.  The Fox River, where my family had owned a tiny bit of land and a barn, and where they spent as much of the un-air-conditioned summers as they could.  Stories were told of that house and land, of my uncles walking the plowed fields near the river searching for arrow heads.  Later I occasionally swam in it.  Still later, my husband and I lived along it, and had our child while living there.

Once in Maryland, while driving over bridges over waterways was pretty standard, we lived along the Patuxent River.

Now, I live in the Rocky Marsh watershed, on the Potomac river, close to the confluence of the relaxed and relatively clear Potomac river and the fast and muddy Shenandoah river.

Living water has always been my go-to for grounding and peace.  Even when visiting Sedona, Arizona - I wasn't hiking to the vortices.  I was staying north of the city along the Oak Creek River, swimming in it, listening to its voice as I slept.  Days were hiking the West Fork trail, along the creek.  I could sit on the bank of the creek for hours, watching it, listening to it.

In this Tower Time, I'm called back to the rivers.  I'm going to sit by the confluence of the rivers and listen for the wisdom.  Let the river wash away the feelings of sorrow and helplessness.  Let the living waters, as old as the hills, shapers of the land, fill me with their endurance, persistence, and power. 

And then I'll return.  And help kick ass, as best I can.

This post inspired by many folks and waters, but mostly by Eridanus Darryl Kummerow's post about how he's going to be looking for peace in his home - which happens to be near the very same Fox River that runs thru' my life.

Frondly, Fern

Tuesday, July 5, 2016


Blessings Darlings!

How many of you are familiar with Odysseus' trip to the underworld? It was a necessary stop on his way home (he needed the advice of a shade there). But first he had to be told that he had to, uh, go to Hades. He had to buy a goat, to sacrifice once he got to the part of Hades he was traveling to. He had to drag the dang goat along as he traveled.
Ever smell an adult male goat that you are keeping REALLYCLOSE quarters with?
He had to find the entrance to Hades. He had to take the path downward. He had to cross the river Styx (and pay the gatekeeper there). He had to travel thru' different parts of Hades, to find where the shades he wanted to chat with were. Once there, he had to sacrifice the goat, and only let those shades that he wanted to speak drink the blood.
Then he had to get out ... the same way he came in.
This, my darlings, is a pretty typical entrance to Occult Studies. It is a trip that you need to do work on before you even KNOW that you need to take the trip. Once on the trip, there are gates, and gatekeepers. It is fraught with challenges and dangers.
It . Is . Not . 'Inviting' .
The path exists in equal parts to purify and to screen folks out.
To not let you enter the mysteries unless you are worthy, unless you have already started the Great Work.
Yes, the outer court information and rituals of Wicca are out there and available to all. Those are not the Mysteries.
Yes - no one can 'keep you from the Gods'. But that doesn't mean that a group, and certainly an egregore, is going to accept you if you don't make it thru' the screenings/gates/past the gatekeepers.
Here, this link explains why another religion, Judaism, makes it hard to convert, which rather explains why this protects their egregore:


Frondly, Fern