Let Us Be Silent, That We May Hear the Whispers of the Gods.

Note: The above title is taken from a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

This morning, I woke up with a mission in my head. I had gone to the astral – as I have been for the last few weeks – in search of something. Somehow, my astral self ended up in front of a god who is not mine and will never be mine. This god requested that I reach out to a follower of theirs and just saying, “X told me to find you.” That was the mission. That was the entirety of what this god wanted and I completed this mission. However, this makes me intensely sad in a way that I can’t begin to fathom. I woke up with the mission – knowing that I would do it – in my brain and knowing that this changes something somewhere. This means a lot of things but what irritates me the most is that this god, knowing I would not want to do this but would do it anyway, used my kindness against me.

This is part of the reason why I don’t work with that particular pantheon. From what I have seen from other polytheists, they are not above taking advantage of a person to get what they want from that person.

This was me, this morning.

I know that my gods – my Kemetic pantheon – are not above doing this, either. I also know that each god begins forging a relationship with us pissant little pipsqueaks for all their own reasons. I know why Sekhmet is here. I know why Aset is here. I know why Djehuti is here. I know why Hetheru is here. I know why Bes is here. However, while I may not particularly like what it is they may want of me and while I may kick and scream all the time about it, I still end up doing those things. Their purpose in my life – outside of Djehuti’s intense desire to get me to start writing again – are for things that are necessary to who I am, to who I will be, and what my purpose in this life is for. They are very, very open about that…

… now.

Even a few months ago, I would have still been guessing as to what their overall purposes in my life would be. But, it’s as though I’ve turned a corner or perhaps just because more mature on the subject matter. Whatever the actual reason is, I’ve passed something or surpassed an unknown point and they’re more likely to fill me in. Maybe it’s just because I have dedicated myself to them and to their vision of what I should be so much that they know that, as much as I may piss and moan about it that I will still end up doing it because I am aware of the Bigger Picture. Whatever their reasoning is, they will tell me, either in that moment or some time later, and I trust in that.

However, when a god outside of my pantheon requests something from me and I don’t know the reason why, I get more than a little pissed off. I get upset and irritated and very, very sad. It makes me feel used in a way that anyone who has ever been used by a god or by a human being should understand. It makes me feel like the person I actually am – not the loud-mouthed, fast-talking Leo, but the person afflicted with a Gemini moon – is something that other gods look down on, snort about, and will make use of just because they know that I will not say no.

This is the point where my friends who astral regularly will say, “You can always say no.” Or they will say, “grow a thicker skin.” And I’m just… I can’t really convey how not like that I am. I’m actually really quiet, shy, and introverted. I don’t view the astral as they do, in any way. One tends to view it as a home away from home, so to speak, and the other tends to view it as a cray-cray place with things that are even more cray-cray than the place itself. (I’m generalizing so that I don’t say too much about really great friends and make them feel like I’m shitting on them while also trying to keep their astral lives private.) I don’t see it as a cray-cray place with things that are insane – I see it as a scary place that I have to go to in order to find that thing I’m looking for. I don’t view it as a home away from home – I view it as a viper-infested pit, trying to suck me into it.

Ask anyone who I have had a real conversation with and they will tell you that I went into the astral, kicking and screaming because I didn’t want to open up that can of worms. I had no choice, as last night’s revelations have made me realized (revelations prior to god asking me for my messenger ability), but that doesn’t necessarily mean I like it. I do not want to live there. I do not want to be there. All I want is to find what I’ve been looking for in the last few months, do what I need to with that thing, and then move on with my life. My next problem being, you know, that since the door is open, it will be 10x harder to shut now, if impossible.

As my friends will point out – and anyone else who is reading this – they will remind me that I can say no, and vehemently. As I have said in the past: It is just fine to say no to a god. I absolutely agree, but I’m that jerk face who will give you everything I have in order to make you happy, to the point where I will actively begin sacrificing myself before realizing that there is something wrong here. Let me put it to you this way: it wasn’t until my past employer asked me to break federal law that I realized that the job was killing me and I should probably begin job hunting. (And not even a few days later, they fired me so, ha!) I am that asshole who would willingly jump into a vat of acid for anyone. I may say mean things, I may be acerbic, but generally, I’m willing to sacrifice the core person who qualifies as “Satsekhem” for other peoples’ happiness.

Surprise.

In same vein, I end up wearing my fucking heart on my sleeve, either here or in the astral, and everyone can see what exactly they need to do in order to get me to the point where I will do whatever they want. The god, as mentioned above, probably didn’t have to look too hard. In fact, he was probably purposely searching for me to do his messenger bit, knowing just what makes me tick. And I did it. And I’m sitting here, drinking my morning coffee, trying to not to cry because there’s now a whole new group of people that I don’t want to have anything to do with who can and will take advantage of my nature.

What makes this even worse are two things.

My gods will not prevent this from happening. That’s the lesson. I have to learn it. Sekhmet flat out said that I had the option to say no but didn’t. And while she understands the kind of person I am, as she explained to me earlier, that is one of the things that they’re trying to help me out with and it’s time to buck up and get working on that.

I am actually a Leo, through and through, but it’s because of other things that few people know about me that have caused me to be like this. The person I am supposed to be – the one the gods I have are working towards – is supposed to be very akin to Sekhmet. But right now, other aspects of myself are at the surface and there’s nothing I can do about it until I complete more shadow work and complete yet more execrations.

And in the mean time, I’m going to be taken advantage of and I have no way to prevent it.

So, the moral of the story is that if you are a nice, kind, give-the-shirt-off-your-back person, don’t go to the astral.

You Fail Only If You Stop Writing.

Note: Title is a quote from Ray Bradbury.

This morning, I woke up to Djehuti, pleasantly waiting for me to wake up. I stared for a minute and then went about my business, trying to screw my head on straight enough to remember that it’s Friday and that offerings need to happen. Then he waited, just as pleasantly and just as patiently, for me to be awake enough to hear him. He was wearing a three-piece suit, charcoal gray. In the pocket was a celadon green handkerchief, perfectly turned into a triangle and standing straight up. His characteristic walking stick – an item he has done tap routines with when he’s trying to either cheer me up or troll me as his predecessor – was conspicuously missing. He had his ibis head in place instead of the perfectly coiffed middle aged man he has shown me once or twice. He waited long enough before speaking.

“You need to write today. You did not write yesterday,” he says softly.

I close my eyes, standing in front of my coffee maker. My shoulders are slumped, my body is stiff. I am not awake enough for this. “I have nothing to say. I am spent,” I explained.

He shakes his head and offers me a polite laugh. “No, no. You have spoons. It is the morning and that was the deal.”

“I’m taking a break. I’ve written every day in some form or another for nearly two weeks. My spoons–”

“I can see that you have them. You’re hoarding them.”

“I have every right to do so,” I snap.

He shakes his head again. He’s trying to play the roll of guru here, like Papa Legba. “You hoard your spoons and say you have no more. But you have plenty. They are all hiding behind your back, waiting for the choice moment to be pulled forward for use. You are not hoarding spoons and living in ma’at. You are wasting spoons.”

I stare at him, trying to figure out why I ever thought lying to a god was a good idea. “I don’t–” I stop because lying more will only make this worse. “I have nothing to say. I don’t want to write about sacred jewelry.”

He tsks at me. “You always seem to think that when I tell you to write now that I am talking about your blog. I never mentioned where to write, did I?”

I scowl at him and he walks away.

One of the things I wasn’t prepared for was a god coming down from wherever they live when they’re not with us and telling me “to write.” This is partly why I’ve always tried to dodge Djehuti. I have been able to work, occasionally, with Seshat without much heartache or headache. I request her assistance when a point I’m trying to make is incredibly sticky or not fully formed. She is very helpful in that regard, but I’ve always pushed her further back because I didn’t want this to happen. I need not have worried about it, evidently, because as much dodging as I have been doing, it was still only a matter of time before Djehuti showed up.

I used to spend days, nights, and afternoons thinking about what it would be like to be a writer. The form of what I would write has always changed. I have an entire novel that could be classified as urban fantasy, I suppose, but it’s my first full-length novel. It’s choppy and hurried in some places, or at least, that’s how it comes off to me. The worst part about being a writer is if you have that perfectionist gene about it. And I, unfortunately, do. I’ve gotten criticism from my personal clique community and some of my friends. After that, I just stopped writing. Just because I ask for criticism doesn’t mean I can handle criticism. And unfortunately, I am a Leo so no matter how much I go on about how human I am or how I am liable to fuck some shit up because, you know, human and all, I am a Leo first. And all Leos have egos the size of the universe and they think they can do no wrong. CONSCIOUSLY, I know I can do wrong and hurry a novel so I can finish fucking writing it but SUBCONSCIOUSLY, I think I’m perfect and it sounds fantastic.

This is only borne out in how I will go back through stories I wrote in high school and marvel at how creative I am. (And never mind if the stories are any good.)

But the reality is that I wrote a novel about urban fantasy or paranormal whatsit because it’s the in thing to do. I wrote it because I could and because I’ve always wanted to make vampires that aren’t the standard Dracula fair. I wrote it because I had an idea and it was a good one – really – and I just could. The push when I began that novel was for the paranormal, which is borne out in how popular authors like Carrie Vaughn, Charlaine Harris, Michele Bardsley, MaryJanice Davidson, and Sherrilyn Kenyon are. Look at what that twit who wrote Twilight was able to do with a series of books that details what NOT to do in a relationship, either with a vampire or otherwise. I wrote the book because I could make money, I thought, and that was it.

Money.

I’m an incredibly selfish creature, I think. I wrote something with an idea that I have had in my head regarding vampires since I was 9. (I’m not joking. For the last twenty-one years this idea has been trolling around my head.) I made it a slight reality by trying to write it, but now that I go back over it and I have criticism to feed off of, I know that I can’t go back to that idea. It’s not where the heart lies. My heart has always been with vampires, to an extent, but that’s not where it actually is. Dusken can tell anyone what my soul palace looks like and it’s the soul palace that she went to that would tell anyone what lies so deep within.

But there’s no way, I tell myself, that I could write that.

And yet, Djehuti shows up and he says, “you have to.”

A while back, Adaoineile wrote a piece about the writer and the mythology surrounding what a writer’s lifestyle is. I would look for it, but I’m pressed for time, so if any of my followers can leave a link in the comments, I’d appreciate it. In effect, Eddie was discussing how the lifestyle people oft associate with writers is complete shit. I’ll be frank, I used to think of a writer as a person who sat in front of their computer, playing stupid games on Facebook and drinking a cocktail, muttering, It’s five o’clock somewhere. Neither of these possible interpretations of what the writer’s lifestyle supposedly is sits well with me. I don’t like games and drinking; I don’t like living surrounded by the written word.

But, I’ll admit, there was a time when I wanted either lifestyle.

There are days where I cry to myself because I had a dream and I can’t make it into reality. Responsibility is one of those things that gets in the way. I can’t very well see my dreams take off with all of that responsibility. Thus enters the spoon and its management. I have spoons. I have them in abundance. I’ve been misplacing them lately, using too many at work or hoarding them, as Djehuti pointed out, and never getting around to using them. They sit in their little pouch, ready to be used, and I just leave them there. I come home and I lie on the couch and I sit around, thinking about how I should do many things but don’t bother. I have laundry to do, words to write, things to make, spells to cast, heka to practice and yet… I come home and do nothing.

A slap in the face with reality, so early in the morning, thanks to Djehuti.

There are days where I am supremely grateful for gods and the relationships I’ve been able to cultivate with them. Today… today is not one of those days.

Sometimes, The Act of Suffering Is Too Much… So the Mind Does it Without Your Consent.

I was in the middle of a very interesting dream when I woke up this morning. I think that since I woke up before the dream had a conclusion that is why I remember it this morning. I’m going to relay the dream and then talk about what I believe it signifies.

So, the dream starts off with The Sister and I heading to a party of some sort, either a birthday party or a congratulations party, to someone I used to date in high school. When we stopped dating, our break up was like a resounding bang throughout our group of friends and I lost pretty much all of them after the break up. (I speak to one on FB only and the other is my best friend in Texas.) I was invited by the one friend I still speak to on FB (his name is Wheat for “Buckwheat” from The Little Rascals). I honestly don’t know why I agreed to go since the dream started with the Sister and I arriving at the bar this party was being held out. Now, the bar is straight out of my childhood. I’ve thought about it since waking up and it reminds me of the place where we used to get Penny Candy when I was a kid, Murphy’s. The place had an upstairs and a downstairs. When we first arrived, we were at the upstairs portion of the bar. We were directed to the downstairs where private parties were held, so we went tromping down there.

Upon first entering the giant room, we were standing in front of a stove with a microwave above it, which was sitting beside a washer and dryer. The room we entered was filled with tables. These are the long trestle tables that you lay a buffet out on. There was food coming out of everyone’s ears… there was just so much there. The people who were already gathered around were people who I didn’t know or if I did know them, they were shadowy and hazy members from my past that I no longer cared about. The only person that I consciously recall being there was Wheat, who had invited me. He was also the only person besides the ID-checker at the door who I spoke to. The Sister was off to the side, just waiting around for whatever shoe was to drop. I was doing my best wallflower impression, which wasn’t all that much of an impression. Wheat was doing the host thing, which if you have ever met him… that would shock you. Wheat isn’t all there and could never do the host thing for longer than a few minutes. But Dream-Wheat was on his game.

At one point, I was speaking with the Sister when Wheat came up. Various conversations were flowing around us and the party was picking up, but still no Ex-Boyfriend. The Sister moved away from Wheat and I to talk to someone. She had somehow managed to burn an old coin into her foot, so everyone kept remarking on the “tattoo” there. She kept having to explain the whole story. While she did that a second or third time, I spoke with Wheat. “I feel like I’ve got to warn you,” he says to me. “He’s planning a really cruel joke because of what happened.”

Furious, I sneered. “That was years ago, Wheat! What the hell?” Fuming, I added, “And in the grand scheme of things what happened between us wasn’t so bad.”

I beckoned to the Sister to talk to her. We were going to go into the bathroom. I walked into the hallway just as TH’s little brother, his girlfriend, and their baby showed up. (I don’t even, although I have an idea or two, which will be discussed later.) I brought the Sister into the bathroom and told her what-all was going on. And I repeated what I said, “And in the grand scheme of things what happened between us wasn’t so bad.” She agreed with me since she knows all of the gritty details. So, I ended up needing to go outside to smoke a cigarette and she came with me. While we went outsides, she told me all of the stories she had been making up to explain the scarification of the coin on her foot. Giggling, I watched as a bunch of people I met via the old store I used to work at show up. They showed up on motorcycles, but as in they had caught a ride with honest motorcyclists and instead of pulling into the parking lot to drop off their passengers, those guys from Wings had to jump off the back of them to run into the bar. I waved hi to all of them.

After my smoke break, I went back inside and the Ex had shown up. He was busy futzing around at the microwave on top of the stove. I waltzed over to him, caught TH’s little brother’s eye, smiled at the Sister. I was rehearsing what I would say in my head – that was years ago, we’re all parents now, there were kids here even now, there’s no need to let it fester this badly – and then I woke up.

Some quick notes before I move onto other things to discuss.

1. I think that TH’s brother showed up in the dream because I tend to view him as an overprotective figure. Wherever he goes, his girlfriend goes. (I. Am. Not. Joking.) That explains her. But, I think he was in the dream as a means of protection against the ex-boyfriend who has serious military training. And even though TH’s little brother has no training whatsoever, once you size him up, you tend to just not want to fight him anymore. He is huge, he is fearsome, and the second you look at him in a fighting light, you start to see your life flashing before your eyes. So, I think that’s why he showed up in the dream.
2. The Sister was there as moral support. The thing is that she wasn’t the Sister as she is in real life. I don’t know what face she was wearing. She was skinny as fuck, with long chestnut-brown hair that had a slight curl at the ends. She had a classic Audrey Hepburn dress on, which is how I knew it was the Sister without having to use her name because Audrey Hepburn is the Sister’s thing. In fact, she looked very 50s in the dream. Again, that’s a trademark of the Sister. I constantly tell her she was born in the wrong decade.
3. You will notice that I italicized a phrase I used twice in the dream. “And in the grand scheme of things what happened between us wasn’t so bad.” The reason I made it so apparent is because that exact phrase was resounding in my head upon waking up. Things had happened since I had said that particular phrase, but it was still going strong in my head (like an echo without the diminishing capacity) when I woke up.

Now, I think this dream is connected, somehow, to the dreams I’ve been having where I cannot hear the conversations between myself and my online friends before having more dreams that I know I cannot and will not recall. I mentioned before that I was thinking that those dreams had to do with some shadow work that I haven’t gotten around to for various reasons. So, I think this dream is a kind of like… middle project that my mind decided to take up without my conscious mind having anything to do with it. Part of the reason I think that’s what been going on is because I haven’t been feeling as negative about some of my shit lately, but there’s just that niggling feeling, too, that what I’m saying is what has been going on.

And the real big reason I think this is because of the comment I made that was resounding in my head upon waking. I’ve said stuff like that before about the entire situation, but I’ve never actually said it to the person who needs to hear it. I’ve also never really believed what it was that I was saying. It’s not because I haven’t gotten over it, but because I always felt extreme guilt at my actions and the ending of the relationship and the subsequent loss of my friends. But, the thing is that while I could have gone about things in a much better way, I didn’t. And there is nothing I can do or say or time machine to fix that. I did what I did and that’s the end of it. The thing, too, is that when I woke up with that in my head, I was feeling extremely emotional. The dream, in and of itself, was an emotional dream but that particular phrase really brought the emotion stuff home. I think I was working through that particular moment in my life and by waking up in the middle of it, I was supposed to acknowledge that is something I should be working on right now or that I don’t need to worry about it so much because my subconscious is doing that for me or that I stopped the process in the middle, accidentally.

I’m not sure if any of those are real possibilities or if I’m just stretching here.

And I definitely feel like A.S. has something to do with this.

Any thoughts or comments would be greatly appreciated.

You Must Be the Change You Want to See in the World.

The above is a quote credited to Mahatma Gandhi. (I say credited because I know there are some quotes attributed to him that were not actually said by him.)

So, I noticed fairly early on this morning that I was feeling pretty frustrated. I couldn’t quite understand what-all the frustration was about. Things weren’t exactly moving smoothly, but it wasn’t really enough for me to sit around and be a grouch about everything to the extent that I was doing so in my head. I kept trying to do things that normally relax me to get whatever was going on to come to the surface. I did a load of dishes, nothing. I did some mind-numbing cleaning, nothing. I sat down and stared angrily across the room at my altar set up, nothing. I went outside and smoked, nothing. I did the breathing exercises that I picked up from a new book purchase, nothing. I finally decided that I just hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before, and that stood to reason. I was up until after one and woke up quite a few times for no reason whatsoever in the middle of the night. I figured I’d get some shit done, try to take a nap before the exterminator does round two this afternoon, and see what happened. But, no matter what I was thinking about doing to get it done, I knew that there was no way my usual tricks was going to result in an epiphany.

So, I went to the altars and sat down.

I went to Hekate first. I haven’t really communed with her in a while and I feel neglectful. Technically, the time has elapsed, but I know she’s still around. I can still feel her there, subtly guiding things to where they should be. Why am I so frustrated? I asked. The cards I pulled for her were Harvest, Initiation, and Reincarnation. Harvest talks about the ending of the cycle, Initiation about new phases in my life, and Reincarnation about renewal and restoring vitality and beginning a new life. I stared at the cards in disgust. I couldn’t see the whole picture here. I was getting a niggling feeling at the back of my head, but I couldn’t quite understand what the fuck it was she was saying. As I said to some friends about it earlier, “I didn’t have the brain energy to fuck around with the gods’ ability to play word games.” I’m sure if I sat down and thought about it long enough, I would have gotten the whole picture. But then, I think I went to Hekate knowing that she wasn’t going to give me the answer…

I should have turned to Sekhmet first: this is after all her time…

As a quick back up in the timeline of my life, on Tuesday after my cleansing and phoenix rising bath time, I sat down in front of Sekhmet and just shuffled my cards randomly for a while. I didn’t have anything specific to ask or anything, really, in mind. So, in effect I just said, “What’s up?” And the cards I pulled during that particular reading were Nebet-Het, Higher Love and Wisdom, and Aset. The card meanings that I gleaned from this is that I need to pay close attention to what I think are coincidences as this will be a signal of some future sort. The next card was about doing more shadow work. I’ve been going through some basic shadow work in my time with Hekate, but it seems like I need to either step up my game or work on some of the harder things I’ve been putting off. And lastly, Sekhmet was telling me that she would be there to hold my hand through all of this and that she would tell me, straight, how shit was going. You see what I mean when I say, this is her time after all?

Khonsu is about moving forward. Wadjet is about transformations, ego and consciousness. Nekhbet-Mother-Mut is about being transformed to REMEMBER, to embark on the journey to reclaim my true self.

I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure that this all has to do with the Tuesday conversation the two of us had about what to expect for the future. But, there’s more to it than just all of that.

Now, Khonsu is about moving forward. This isn’t just the act of putting one foot in front of the other, but also about the mental and emotional that accompanies the act of moving forward. The thing is that while I can say, out loud, that the cycle is over… that doesn’t necessarily mean that I believe it. I’m frustrated by the ending, and that’s part of why I was feeling this way today. I’m frustrated because I don’t know where to move on from here. I’m frustrated because it seems like I have to have my dice lined up in just a certain way to get the moving forward part going. It’s not just about the spiritual, this moving forward stuff, but a lot of it is. As I said previously, when I discovered that the cycle was over or ending, I was fairly upset. I was near-tears upset about it. I was distressed that my sure fire knowledge of what to expect was over. So, Khonsu card is trying to tell me that not only is it time to move forward, that it’s time to accept that, and that it is definitely time to figure out what the next step is. And I can’t get to the next point (transforming) until I accept this.

Time Is Like a Book. You Have a Beginning, Middle, and an End. It’s Just a Cycle.

So, what do you do when you find out the cycle is over? You take the next step, possibly in an unknown direction, but you move forward.

Today, I went to file for unemployment like I normally do, except a good deal later in the day than I usually do it. I went to file and received a very strange message. The website was telling me that my case was under review and they would contact me if and when they needed further information. I didn’t understand what this meant, but as I looked over the screen that this information was on, I noticed a “zero balance” in my unemployment account. I knew that I was rapidly approaching the moment when I would have to re-up my unemployment with the state, but I hadn’t realized how close I was. Of course, what makes this really silly is that I had pretty much pegged it as ending some time this week or next when I first filed my extension. Next time, if there is one, I’ll be sure to pay closer attention to such things. So, anyway, I started freaking out about this. My head was going to money and what we were going to do and why was this happening and all of that stuff. I was just completely beyond my ability to handle when I realized what was going on.

So, I called someone and she calmed me down. She’s pretty no-nonsense and she is older than me, so it makes things easier for me when I need someone to tell me to shut the fuck up or calm the fuck down. Anyway. After that, I kind of just was wandering around in a daze. With this background, I had other things go wrong this evening – namely the complete and utter destruction of the blueberry pie that I have been promising my FIL for months now and finally came around to making and my oven burned it mercilessly at less than a half hour in there – that just really got me going down a spiral. I can really hop on board these spirals and jump right into a depression so deep, you’ll never get me back out. I was pretty bitchy since it is that time of the month on top of everything. So, besides bitchy, I should also admit that I’m pretty over-emotional at the moment. Couple this with the need to run to my altars and figure out what the hell is going on… you’ve got an epic recipe for some serious disaster over here.

I sat with Hekate and talked to her about something she has no interest in giving me any clues about. And then, I moved over to Sekhmet. I wanted to talk to Hekate, initially, about the unemployment thing but for whatever reason, I decided Sekhmet was where I was going to rant and rave in my head about all of this. And she was more than willing to tell me what was going on.

The cards are Aset, Nut and Geb, and Wedjat.

As near as I can figure the cards are telling me a lot of things, but specifically… I’ve been embodying the mother (Aset) and if I continue, I can get through this. I just have to remember that not only am I mother, but she is a mother. If she can survive what she went through, then so can I. However the meat of the matter is that the cycle of learning, transformation, and spiritual work is over (Nut and Geb). It’s time to make the steps into the mundane, the reality of the world from my comfortable transformational, spiritual work. And this is all leading to a major shift in my consciousness, from greed to enlightened awareness (Wedjat).

And I’ll be honest here, I’m actually pretty upset here. I have the over-emotional aspect from it being that time of the month and the freaking out from earlier and the pie debacle and whatnot. However, really, I don’t think I ever expected a clear moment of clear ending for this. I mean, I knew that it was there. I knew that at some point, I would be above all of this basic, 101 shit that I’ve been going through and trying to figure out since I was fired last August. However, I don’t think I ever realized that there would be a clear moment where I could say, “Yes, I am passed all of this. The cycle is over.” Maybe I didn’t expect the learning shit to be as intense or maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t expect this because I just assumed that this cycle would be eternal. I don’t know what I was thinking or why I wasn’t prepared for it. However, Sekhmet is being pretty obvious here: an ending is coming and isn’t it just so interesting that all of this is neatly coinciding with the Kemetic New Year? Yep. I think that’s pretty damn interesting, too.

I’m sad.

I’m excited.

I’m nervous.

I’m angry.

I just hope things work out smoothly. But who am I kidding? I won’t expect that, not in the slightest.

Success Breeds Success, and Failure Leads to a Sort of Fallow Period.

The above title is a quote from Felicity Kendal.

So, if my title isn’t obvious enough, let me just go right ahead and say that it appears I’m entering a fallow period in my practice. This is kind of funny, ironic, and amusing since, you know, when I wanted shit to be fallow and demanded that it happen, nothing came of it. However, apparently, all I needed to do to make it happen was start doubting myself so badly and be angry so much of the time that it’s blocking out everything. Oh, yeah. Self-esteem, you are a truly unwieldy sword, but when it comes down to it, you know how to fuck shit up faster than I can do myself. And that’s the gist of this. My fallow period isn’t about anything more than a seriously fucked up version of self-esteem that gets me nowhere and does nothing for me.

The thing is that I’ve always known my self-esteem, or lack thereof, is a major breaking point in my spiritual practice. Some things happen and I back off because I don’t like the results, or the results just don’t actually happen. Case in point with witchery and spells. Some things don’t work out right and I back off because I wasn’t expecting that shit to happen when it did. Case in point with the fraças from about a month ago. And now it’s more than just results or something unexpected happening or fights with others or any of that shit. It’s just a simple fact that I don’t trust what I’m doing, who I am, or where all of this is going. I was so sure of myself before the drama-llama entered my life and before all of the at-home bullshit going on. Now? Not so much.

This is part and parcel to the post I wrote about on DON’T PANIC. I wrote about what it was that was getting to me and why I’ve been so bitchy about shit lately. It’s why I’ve been regurgitating very angry-related messages, comments, and whatnot. And it wasn’t just all the mundane stuff going on at home, but after having seen all of the things that I can’t do and the overwhelming reasons being because my self-esteem lives in the shitter… Well, that’s a great sour point. And I’m at that sour point. I have to work on myself to get where I want and I don’t know how to do that… Yet another thing that I don’t know how to do.

The one thing about all of this is that Legba is still around. The goddesses have been quiet since the stuff with the Sister went down. At first, I just assumed this was because at least one of them was working with the Sister’s main patroness about things. (I’m almost positive that Hetharu and Aphrodite are brewing something up, but I couldn’t tell you what it is or why. And I think Sekhmet is in on this for her healing capabilities, but I’m not one hundred percent on that.) Now, I’m thinking that I’ve accidentally, and without realizing it, cut myself off from them with this self-doubt bullshit I have going on. But there is Legba. He’s not as strong as he normally is or as obviously, and I think I may have hurt his feelings (as I told Larissa in a comment). But, aside from that, he’s still around…

…which makes me want to question other people who work with the lwa and what happens when they have a fallow time…

In the mean time, I don’t really know how to fix this. I don’t know how to fix myself so, obviously, I don’t know how to fix this. I will be working more on my Voodoo Project because it’s time to get more of that out there. I’ll also be working on a list of resources and a bibliography for various sections of pagandom: witchcraft, voodoo, Kemetism, Heathenry, herbalism, etc. I’ll also be trying to work on the ongoing process that is my navigation bar. So, hopefully by the time I have a plan for what to do and how to fix myself, my blog’s page will be more steam-lined and sexy than it is now.

So. There we have it. I’m in a Fallow Time. If anyone knows how to fix themselves, drop me a line. I’d love to know what to do here.

Relevant Posts

1. It Is Well To Lie Fallow for a While.
2. Fallow Isn’t Just About Fields and Dreams.
3. My Bitter, Bitter Stew.

Many Roads Lead to the Path…

“…but basically there are only two: reason and practice.”
– Bodhidharma

I consider myself spirit blind.

For the totally and completely unaware here, I figure I should start explaining myself when I use the term “spirit blind.” It’s pretty much almost exactly as it sounds: I’m unable to feel/commune with spirits. I know that they are there. I know that it would take a fucking retard to not believe that there are spirits walking around in the cemeteries that I’ve been grave-tending in. And I talk to them as though they are there, “Hello, how are you today?” and all of that. However, I cannot sense them in the slightest. I can only assume that there is someone out there who responds. And I believe that there is something there (way better than thinking that I’m talking to myself, eh?) and that something does respond to me. I just can’t hear it.

So, I consider myself spirit blind. I think this is mostly due to the fact that as a child, I wasn’t.

As a child, I was all up and in that spirit’s business or what have you. I believed and because of that, I saw a lot more than you would assume would be possible. After the death of my father, I pretty much closed myself off from the Deadz (I refer to them thusly, on purpose). It wasn’t a matter of my not wanting to believe or see any longer, but it hurt too much to communicate regularly with my father. I was very, very young when he died and I didn’t understand any of it. (As an adult, sometimes, I still don’t understand.) He was there, though, in a thousand different ways. So, even though I couldn’t see or feel him so strongly, I just… knew that he was there. Hell, our whole family knew that. But, I couldn’t see him or feel him, and that loss? That hurt.

I pretty much just accepted that that was to be my lot in life. I would have a guardian protector, but be unable to communicate adequately with him. I would have spirits following me around and I would have others remark upon it, but all I could do was give an uncertain smile and a little nod in recognition. I would never be allowed more than a little inkling or obvious reminders. It took me a long time, but I finally figured that I could accept it. I figured that that would be it and I could handle it.

Except now, the Deadz call me…

…and this spirit blindness? It makes it that much harder.

I think what makes this all worse is that it really isn’t surprising. None of this is even remotely surprising. I can think back to a hundred different instances where the Deadz would begin to call me when I was a child, teen, adult and I would never understand what the hell was going on. The basic affinity for fucking cemeteries is a big fucking indicator. I’ve always loved cemeteries, even as a child. And while that sounds incredibly morbid and sick, it’s just the fucking truth. I always just chalked it off to, well, being morbid. After listening to your father cark it in the other room at the age of seven, well, you start to see things a little more darkly than other kids your age.

Maybe the death of my father was a catalyst for something that was going to happen anyway…

A rather clearly big indicator would have to be a conversation I had last night, with an atheist. We were all just chattering away about nonsensical things and it came up at some point or another. And I was like, “Wait. What? An atheist is the what now?” I’ve always viewed atheists with amused detachment, mostly because I used to profess to be one. (Never was, but you can claim things all the same.) But, when we were talking and I asked him what he thought would happen after death, I had this gut-wrenching sorrow and anger when he gave me his response. Of course, things like this happen and then, it’s some time later that it all falls into place…

In reality, I have to say that I’m not scared insomuch by this. It’s something that has been a slow and steady process. With each new experience, another brand new one will arise on the horizon. I merely have to be patient and wait for it. Back in November, when I really started to pay attention to the Deadz and then finally, in December when I began my grave-tending duties, I knew that this was something that was important and a path that I would walk. I didn’t realize that it would lead to more… that the Deadz would call to me. (Damn that hindsight: always twenty-twenty.)

I think being spirit blind is a major fucking hindrance to all of this, though. I mean, I won’t know that I’m being compelled to do something until well and truly after the fact.

Today is a primary case in point. I was compelled to do something by spirits not my own, not ones I’ve met, and ones that I will probably meet in future but not yet. And yet, they compelled me to do something. I felt out-of-body but here, all at the same time. I feel dizzy and my head ached, but I also felt like I was just simply exhilarated at being fucking alive and being able to fucking breathe. It’s only well and truly after the fact (hours, now) that I realize how frightening it is to have someone else come in and tell you what to do and you do it without even knowing what the fuck they’re saying or doing. It’s beyond fucking frightening; it’s terrifying.

But, this is my lot in life.

I walk with the Deadz.

Resolutions Are Popular Because Everyone Feels They Could Use a Little Improvement.

I am not a fan of doing the yearly resolution thing. Most of this stems from the fact that, like everyone else, following through with them is near-on impossible for me. I manage to stick with it (such as dieting or reducing my swearing) for about a month before I just decided to say, “Fuck it.” I honestly don’t feel that I have the resolve necessary to better myself for an entire year. Besides, most of the things that people decide to “fix” for the new year are fleeting in nature, impossible to actually make manifest, or easily forgettable for one reason or another.

So, I don’t do this.

I do, however, try to make up a sort of ‘to-do’ list.

This is actually a practice on TC. Every change in the season, people put up a list of things that they’d like to see done before the next solstice or equinox. For once, I finally decided that I would (A) participate and (B) follow through. I gave myself some basic tasks, all of which have to do with my religion in some form or another. I also categorized them via the month(s) instead of just as a “hey, do this.” I figure if I’m more specific, or as specific as possible, then I might actually follow through with it.

So, the list is as follows…

December
1. Finish shopping for Sviata Vechera ingredients.
2. Do not have meltdown while cooking the meal(s).
3. Re-read chapter one of the Elements Path in TWS.
4. Read chapter two of the Elements Path in TWS.
5. Finish grave-tending Maplewood Cemetery.

January
1. Grave-tend at least one local cemetery.
2. Read chapters three and four of the Elements Path in TWS.
3. Practice the exercises in TWS.
4. Work through block on the AR-short.

February
1. Sit down and discuss child’s future schooling (at home or in public).
2. Begin purchasing crafts for future use.
3. Finish the Elements Path in TWS.
4. Grave-tend at least one local cemetery.

March
1. Purchase at least two books about wild harvesting.
2. Grave-tend at least one local cemetery.
3. Find/print/commission representation for Papa Legba.
4. Start work on the Inner Path in TWS.

Also, because I am oh-so vain, here is my annual blog’s report. I think I did pretty fucking well!