The Emotional Scale Isn’t Jiving With Reality.

My emotional compass is out of whack. I don’t even really know how to phrase it beyond that. My emotions are not very much in tune with reality. I should be motivated, pleased, and at least quasi-happy. I have a lot of good things coming or have already come to pass. I have a job; I’m working. I have a good house husband; he cooks at least. My son is healthy and happy; he’s growing like a damn weed. All in all, I get the sense that my emotions should be more positive than they really are. Of course, not everything is perfect but to just catch a glimpse of what the rest of this year could, feasibly, bring only leaves me apathetic and irritated. Usually, though, my emotions are pretty blah, boring. I’m unmotivated to do anything. In fact, I feel rather old and angsty a lot of the time.

My emotional scale isn’t jiving with reality.

Something Is Coming.

This post was supposed to go out, uh, earlier this week and didn’t. Just because I say I’m writing something doesn’t mean that I’m able or willing to actually fit anything to a timeline. There’s a reason why my favorite quote, from Douglas Adams, is: “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.”

Since about January, I’ve been aware that something’s going to be happening at some point and it’s going to be Big. I was forewarned by an old friend way back when and let me tell you, I wasn’t too thrilled with her warnings. I mean, who is when you can’t help but fall into the open mentality of THE WORLD IS ENDING, OMGZZZZZZZZ!!!! I don’t want to say that I fell into the trap of the Mayan 2012 prophecies; I haven’t, not really. I don’t know enough about them to comment but their calendar is ending this month and you know, it’s a little weird that it’s ending and we all start getting the something is coming vibe all over the fucking place. I’ve had nearly a year to think about this, with conversations from other people, and you know what?

I’m not really scared.

I think I was for maybe about five seconds after the initial warnings came through, but it’s one of those things that you can just put into the back of your mind, take out later, and look over. It’s not happening right this second, so you have time to do the major freak out later. However, the major freak out never actually happened over here. I didn’t go insane and ward the shit out of my home. I didn’t have a panic attack and start etching protective sigils into my flesh. I didn’t pass the fuck out and demand that my gods save my life. It just got pushed to the back of my mind, stayed there, and you know, never really made much sense. Why would the world end now? And why should I freak out about it? Sure, I’m a mom so that whole vibe about my kid, possibly, not living to maturity and learning and living and you know, being is a little traumatic some times, but that’s actually a more general, day-to-day mom fear than anything else. It seemed like I had my thoughts on it back in May, when I blogged about it, and that was it.

But the thing is that it started coming up again. Timing, you know? It’s just that time of the year with the calendar and whatnot, so of course, it’s going to come back around.

EVERYONE GET YOUR WARDS AND SIGILS AND MAGIX ALL LINED UP BECAUSE IT’S COMING.

Excuse me, while I bounce in my seat and eat some popcorn at the interesting idea of what could possibly be working up to the big show!

  1. The Ultimate Reset Button.
  2. Something Is Coming by Dusken.
  3. The Climate by Spider Goddess.
  4. The Things that Matter by Zenith.
  5. A Call to Harms by Lucius Svartwulf.
  6. Worshipers to the Front Lines by Sionnach.
  7. Crossroads by Bible Belt Witch.

Dream 12/09/2012

Last night, before bed, I asked for clarity.

I was just lying there, not really paying attention to the Supernatural episode I had on and was staring at the ceiling. There was absolutely nothing illuminating there, so I switched my gaze to the wall. And I said, to no one in particular and everyone in particular, “I need some clarity. I think I deserve some. I’ve been asked to do this warrior thing, but I think I deserve to know what the hell the point in all of this is. I’m not asking to know the future; I’m not asking for you to tell me what the hell kind of path I appear to be treading. I think I just deserve a little fucking lucid thoughts here on what the fuck this whole thing is about.” This resulted in a sort of sucking, spinning feel that reminded me of bed spin after a night of drinking. I wasn’t drinking and I can tell you, I didn’t like the fucking spinning. I ended up falling asleep and this was the dream that came after this little interlude between me and whoever was willing to help me.

I was in an old folk’s home. I don’t think I was actually visiting anyone, in particular, but I was there when my ex-husband showed up with his entire family. I was in a crowd headed out of the door as he was in a crowd headed inside. I turned my head as we passed each other, my hair slapping me in the face and covering my profile as we walked by one another. He didn’t see me and I can remember the smirk on my face that I managed to get out before he saw me. I went to a van – a big, old, maroon van – climbed inside and began driving. I had to leave; I had to move; I had to get the fuck out of dodge. I ended up driving up a mountain road.

The dream rewound itself so that I was back at the old folk’s home. The situation wasn’t really different except that I didn’t bother turning my face. I didn’t hide who I was. I looked forward and proudly as I walked by him and his family. I think his eyes found me and I think he may have recognized me, but I’m not sure. Instead of a big, maroon van in the parking lot, I ended up in a very old and decrepit pickup truck. And I drove off in the exact same direction as last time. I went up a very long, dark, rutted, old mountain road. I don’t think I was going home this time. In fact, I’m not sure if there was a particular destination in mind. All I know is that I had to go up this creepiest, fucking scariest damn road so that I could get to wherever I was going.

However, the truck disappeared at some point. I don’t know if I had to stop and get out. I don’t know if it literally just disappeared out from beneath me. All I know is that, one moment, I was bouncing around in a truck that probably hadn’t had its shocks tended to in years. The next moment, I’m scared out of my fucking mind of every possible movie creature you can think of because I had to walk up a long, dark, rutted, old mountain road. In my mind, there were zombies and vampires and monsters and aliens and wraiths and demons and the whole fucking nine yards of the most evil, vile, scary fucking creatures imaginable. And even ones that had no faces because they’re not imaginable. There was no way I could turn around – I had to go forward.

So forward, I went.

I ended up finding the maroon van I had driven in the earlier interlude buried under a deep mountain of dirt and plants. Mostly, the greenery was grass and weeds. I brushed at the van and found the passenger side door and its window. I peered inside at a mountain of dust. The windshield wipers were casually folded against the dirt-shrouded windshield, looking like serene bugs sleeping it off. I was scared of this mountainous hill surrounding this van. I remembered driving this van but I didn’t remember what happened to it. I was scared. I began booking it up the long, dark, rutted, old mountain road.

I took to walking into people’s yards, walking through their thick and verdant green grasses. I didn’t count the steps or the minutes or the hours that passed by, I just kept going and going. And when the sun began rising off to my right, I saw that I was in a yard surrounded by puppies. They were happy, cute, and fuzzy little puppies with a happy, cute, old momma dog corralling them everywhere. And from that spot on, I began doing back flips up the mountain.

And that’s when I woke up.

Since I was specifically asking about the Christian friend situation, I was not happy with this response.

So, I began to try and figure out what the hell this dream meant. Obviously, it had to do with the ex-husband, so I had to work from there. What the hell was the point? Where was this going? I mean, hadn’t I already been doing all that work? Hadn’t I already come to the point where I’m just at the point of “who the fuck cares” when it comes to the ex-husband? So why the hell was he popping up now? Why in the world was this whole thing about the ex-husband and whatever the hell we had together? It didn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. But, you know, now that I’ve talked it over with TH and a post I have saved to drafts… eh… it makes sense.

You see, TH and I were talking about my dream while we were eating breakfast. I told him that I had asked for clarity with the whole Christian friend situation and that was the response I received. He laughed at me. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve left the ex-husband in the past; you’re well and truly passed all of that. Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do in this case?” I gave him a look like he was pulling my leg. He shook his head and said, “The van is your biggest fucking indicator. There it is, all helping you to get away. And then later, you find it covered over in years and years worth of dirt, decay, and plant matter. That’s the only symbol you need to focus on here. You’ve left the ex behind.”

And isn’t that the absolute truth of the matter? I walked by him a second time with my shoulders squared, my head held high. I didn’t care if he saw me or not. I would have preferred him to not, just in case I said something out of hand or snarky in a public place that would have left us both embarrassed. However, I didn’t really care one way or another, if he saw me or not. And the van being buried for as long as it was… that was clearly my mind trying to show me that time had passed and I’ve long since been done of the scared rabbit I used to be. The person who wanted to hide behind everything and everyone just so that I wouldn’t have to see or speak with him ever again.

But what does this have to do with the whole Christian friend?

TH thinks that this is everyone and everything telling me that I have to leave that part of me behind, too. The fact that I’m torn up about it should be an indication that I don’t really want to kiss that part of my life good-bye. In same vein with the ex-husband, however, I will if the need arises. But I’ve left things mostly alone. I haven’t commented again on anything she’s left for me; I haven’t even read it. I’ve decided to just leave it alone. What was it that I had said to Devo? That it wasn’t worth it because it would just happen over and over again until we were both blue in the face? This is something I’m having an issue integrating into myself because, you know, friends. Loved ones. But I know we’ll meet again, so why cause myself pain now when nothing will be resolved?

I’m not really sure if TH’s interpretation is correct here, honestly. It seems okay. It seems valid. And I know he’s telling me this because he hates to see me hurt. I’m pretty good about crying by myself so that I can get it out of my system without having to try to speak my hurt through sobs and snot. But I know he heard me crying yesterday. Ostensibly, it was because Dumbledore was dead. But, in reality, it wasn’t. I know that. Just because I said it was because Dumbledore was dead doesn’t necessarily make it true… and that’s why I asked for the fucking clarity here. That’s what I wanted to know a thing or three.

I think the symbolism behind the sun is that, soon, it will rise over what the hell I’m doing and I’ll know. The back flips and the puppies… I think it will be a joyful moment when that epiphany shows up. (CAN’T WAIT.) In the mean time, I’m just left guessing.

Addiction to Prescience.

I’ve been re-reading the Dune series again. These books are one of the most prolific books of my childhood. I remember when my mother first suggested that I give them a read when I was in high school. I believe my exact reaction was a stereotypical “ew” face. I was always a fanatical lover of horror novels while my mother has always been a lover of science fiction novels. While I was busy reading Stephen King, she was all about C.J. Cherryh. By that time, however, I had already discovered the 1980s version of the movie associated with that and fallen in love with it. (I’m probably one of like ten people in the world that loves that movie more than the recent remake.) So, I took the first book and was instantly entranced. I’ve re-read the series at least once a year since. And I am still fully in the series’ thrall.

The reason I mention this is due to the series’ obsession with the question of prescience and the preoccupation therein. Always both Paul and Alia, and then later on with Leto II, seem overly preoccupied with the constancy or, more like, the constant variables of their prescient visions. They move so carefully forward, stepping lightly and with only occasional surety, while their visions unfold around them. Well. They unfold only so much, depending on variables that I have not mentioned (and won’t because I’m not a huge spoiler bastard). But the point here isn’t the paths, the what ifs, or the variables of each vision, but the heavy emphasis on ever following the foretold paths.

One can’t help but begin to associate these characters’ reliance with certain pagans, diviners, and polytheists. And I will admit to having an issue with this, myself.

The thing is that it becomes like a drug addiction; the desire to know ALL THE THINGS and the “special” ability to do so. It gets, sometimes, quite difficult to put down the crackTarot decks or runes. And not just to put them down, but to do so long enough to realize that you are hopelessly addicted and that you are doing yourself, as well as your future, a severe disservice with this. There’s just something exceedingly exciting, however, at the thought/belief/idea/whatever of being able to tread past all the shit stuff and live a “golden lifestyle.”

The thing is that this is a falsehood we tell ourselves.

Besides, how far does this go before prescience becomes a flaw?

As has been shown oft in the series I mentioned, each decision is made to deflect or side-step a specific path that Paul initially sees. (This prescient vision is never fully spelled out until book three, so I won’t really comment fully on it since, as I said, I’m not one of those spoiling assholes.) Yet, each decision to deflect the path only ends up leading to worse horrors. Those terrors may not unfold immediately, but they will or do happen. Is this a pattern we can find in today’s form of prescience, with our divination via Tarot, oracle, and runes? Or am I just deluding myself in thinking that there is a correlation to be met here.

Let’s talk about me for a minute here. (It’s all about ME.)

I’ve mentioned in various outlets that my primarily utilized Tarot deck, the Radiant Rider-Waite, is an excessive troll whenever I ordain to ask it personal questions. Every horrific computation of the queried situation comes up. And I am deeply reminded here of the Dune characters’ terrible situations and their continuous trials to prevent them. Call me crazy here, but while I’m being troll by my cards, it appears that the characters are being trolled by the visions they’re receiving. In effect, the book mirrors my cards’ constant need to be a troll to me.

And this makes me wonder… if we’re so obsessed with knowing the future, is that why some of us suffer from “trolling prescience”? Is this a mess of our own making? Is the issue here that being addicted, so to speak, to knowing the future causes the visions, oracles, or service utilized to tell us the Worst Case Scenario possible? And if that’s the case, is it because we keep looking, hoping for a better answer or is it because in each asking or viewing, it only serves to make matters worse?

Dreams of Charms.

I haven’t had remembered dreams in a while. Part of this is because my body has been left behind while I do unknown astral work without being prompted. The other reason is because I haven’t wanted to remember. I haven’t said anything before falling asleep about remembering what happened the night before. It’s nothing against the dreams I am probably having and don’t remember. It’s just that, figuring them out, can be such a huge pain in the ass. And sometimes, there is no message and I have to come to that conclusion at some points and I hate that. I would like to always believe my dreams are aspects of my subconscious, trying to talk to me. Unfortunately, sometimes, it’s just our minds blowing off steam. But last night… yeah.

So, I had two dreams. I’ll talk about the simple and easy one first.

I dreamed this just before waking up and I understand most of the context behind it. It started off hazy. It was like I was entering a situation that was already mid-deep when I started the dream. I remember lots of action packed sequences prior to actually being in the dream. I had to help NCIS agent, Gibbs, locate a pendant that was dangerous in the wrong hands. You see, if you clasped the pendant in your hand and made a fervent wish that dream would come true. Now, any Supernatural fan knows this necklace because it’s the one that Dean wears all the time. Only, it wasn’t because instead of a head it was two nails wrapped in golden twine together with a third and a fourth coming out in a Christian cross pattern. (I don’t know what the symbolism there is.) Oh yeah, and by the way, I was Xena, Warrior Princess, helping out Gibbs and we were lovers.

So, we end up in a giant Norman Bates kind of house with red carpeting everywhere. It’s a house and an old-time movie theater, too. And we’re roaming around, trying to find this pendant so that no one could unwish the world because someone, somewhere, was bound to want to unmake the world. It was like I was Sekhmet and Gibbs was Sutekh and we both had to destroy the followers of Apep from making uncreation happen. (THE SYMBOLISM HERE.) And I ended up finding the necklace first. I put it on and I grabbed it in my hand and I wished, I wish things would go back to the way they were before… But, I never said what that before time was and then, Supernatural came on the television and I woke up to hear Sam and Dean in the pilot episode.

This dream is easy to figure out. I was Xena because I see her as self-empowerment in woman form. I was with Gibbs because he’s an older, wise man who takes care of his people. I wanted the necklace because I feel like my life should go back to the way it was before… well, and that’s open to interpretation. I could think of it as before my father died or before my sexual assault(s) or any of that. It doesn’t matter. I was hoping for an out-clause to the way things have been and my mind conjured it up in the form of a necklace that granted wishes. The Supernatural thing is due, in large part, because I’ve been watching it daily for the last two weeks while I try to catch up to the current season. So it was like my brain was looking for a way to let off steam with my fandoms. (I love Dean Winchester – his necklace. I love Gibbs – his appearance. And I wish I had Xena qualities all the time.) So, like I said, this dream was pretty easy to figure out.

The one before that… not so much.

You see, I’m pretty sure I had this dream as a way to let off steam. I was not best thrilled upon waking up from the one prior to that. It was morbid and scary. And my mind needed to slip out of that dark thought-stream.

That one started with missing children. I was trying to find them, at first. But, as time went by, I found the guy who was taking the children. He was running experiments on them, but it wasn’t because he was some evil mad scientist. He was trying to save the world. He showed me what he had intended and what he was trying to stop, although I don’t remember what it was he was hoping to prevent with these experiments. All I remember is that he kind of swayed me to his viewpoint and he had me help him.

There were four children, still alive, and they were the key to keeping the world from ending. To stop the end of the world, we had to mesh a charm into the children’s ribcages. It was the lower left portion of the ribcage. There were two boys and two girls and the final child that we needed – the special, hand-selected child that would stop the end of the world – I had to work on that one. I had to make the charm myself. The ingredients of the charm are wishy-washy in my head. I remember having to take a skeletal foot and turning it into a kind of basket or box. Inside the skeletal foot, I had to put various ingredients. I remember, clearly, a kind of thing that looked like a lucky rabbit’s foot and then a very fine but gritty powder that was brown. I had to sprinkle that in there. There were other parts of the charm, but those were the two big, most important points to this charm. And then, we had to use magic to fuse the basket-charm-foot into the child’s ribcage.

And I was in the middle of this process while everyone else was eating dinner in the room that I was working in. It was dusty and ill-lit. There was a large, long dining table as though we were going to be feeding a hundred people, but there were only a handful of people across the table. I was at one end, demanding that this work because I had seen the man do it, my mentor, and I knew I needed to get this right or the world would end. It had to be perfect the first time because then everything was lost. And I remember looking up from the sleeping child with the skeletal foot-basket-charm in my hand and staring down the length of the old, dusty, forgotten dining area and staring around me and then, I woke myself up from that.

But I can clearly remember seeing the children with the charms in their ribcages.

And I don’t know.

I don’t know what this is.

I’ll put it out there to anyone who cares to give it a shot.

Dream 09/13/2012.

This morning, I had a dream that just will not quit me. Usually after I ponder for an hour or so, flipping through my dictionary app or through the website I prefer for this task, I figure it out. The thing is that, today, none of the words I’ve focused on to read in the dream dictionary have felt right to me. It’s as though I am trying to building a puzzle, but the picture itself is completely unresolved and no matter how many times I try to look things up, the picture is still completely out of focus. And I think because I can’t make sense of it as clearly as I normally can… this is why it sticks with me. There’s another reason, too, why I think it haunts me but I’ll get to that after I tell about this dream. So, let’s get started.

We were driving in a motorcade. It was a huge, long, snaky line of cars that were all heading in the same direction. I honestly can’t say where we were going or why I was in this motorcade. And it’s not the first time that I’ve dreamed of one, either; even just in this last week I’ve dreamed of being in one. I have never been able to satisfactorily conclude what the meaning behind a motorcade is for me. It wasn’t like we were in solemn procession, as though attending a funeral. There were stops. There was laughter. They were picnics. There were jokes. We were in the country – cows and manure smells; mountains in the distance and green, green grass in the foreground. There wasn’t any indication of where we were heading except that at some point, we would be there.

The thing is that the “head” the motorcade was TH’s stepfather. His mom was there too but she was periphery. It was definitely in the care of his stepfather. In a way, this makes sense. His stepfather is a man I associate with raw power, magnetism, and able to plan. He was a firefighter for years and years and years; that had to have given him a leg up somehow in the creation of such huge enterprises, such as a very large motorcade traveling through… somewhere. He’s also the one who always claims he “knows how to get there,” which invariably ends up with people getting lost. But in this dream, he really did know where he was going and how to get there. He was periphery for the most part of the dream, but his essence or aura or emotional associations were vaguely present no matter where I was in the motorcade.

We made frequent stops, as I said. There were hundreds of us and we would all go off and do our own things. I’m not sure if we would camp at night or stop at houses – it doesn’t matter. The rest of the people in this large traveling train were mostly unknown to me. They were faceless, for the most part. Later, I would learn the name of one – and I do know the name of this person and this person, as a real, live breathing human being – but they were nothing to me. At one stop, a strong armed young man flirted with me. I was nonplussed. He was towheaded with bright blue eyes. He was tall and imposing and what I tend to assume the general “popular” look and feel to people. He was listened to and admired by others. This is why I was unimpressed with his flirtation. He was not for me and I knew this.

He continued his flirtations throughout the trip, though.

At one point, at one stop, we were all staying in a house. Or maybe, I was staying in a house. It was the house of Niantic* from my childhood. I was in the back bedroom, or that was where I was going to be staying. The young man was there with a dark haired female. They were both utterly naked and he was inviting me to join them. I was both intrigued and completely alienated by the experience. On the one hand, I wanted to join them very much. It seemed like a good time and it wasn’t like any danger would come from this moment. It was as though I knew that this was a one-time thing. It was gift to me. He was trying to pursue me, to woo me, in any way manageable. This threesome was a gift, too. But I was turned off because, in reality, I’ve come to see myself as asexual and I have implicitly strict control over my sexual wants and desires. A childish belief that “sex is dirty” kept overshadowing the little bits I joined in on until finally, I left the room. I never said a word – and neither did they – but he must have understood.

The next time he found me to pursue me there were no female delectable gifts in the offing. It was just he and I. We were feeding a cow some long stemmed grass. I have never been near a cow, in reality, or fed it anything, but it was a peaceful moment. Later, that night, he came to me in a room I was staying in. And we had sex. It was gorgeous, beautiful, and exciting. I rode him like he was a horse and he reached down to touch me in that electric place. And I felt like I was filled with wild abandon. It was a nice moment. It wasn’t a forever thing. This pursuit was just something in the here and now. There would be no future relationships or consequences. It was just what I needed to release and to be free.

The motorcade ended and this is the first time that speech actually entered the dream. We were at TH’s parents’ home. The whole long huge summit of cars were gone, but there was a huge crowd. In that moment, TH’s stepfather came out of the garage to announce that one of our number – a boy I went to college with the second time around – had to go down to Connecticut because his girlfriend was giving birth to a baby and we had to all hope that everyone came out of that okay. And that was when I woke up.

Part of the reason, I think, that the dream stays with me to this moment is because of the general feeling of good will and peace that was rife within the dream. The moment with the cow in the pasture is only one of a thousand little moments where I felt content for once. And I think it was that feeling, more than just the fact that I can’t figure out what this all means, that this dream sticks with me. Perhaps it will be a solace of sorts when things get out of balance in my life (as they almost entirely are every second of the day). Maybe it was a gift, the dream itself, to keep me more sane than I’ve been feeling lately. Or maybe it was just a way for my subconscious to remind me that there are days and days where I feel completely out of control when I shouldn’t.

I don’t know.

I will tell you this.

Aside from the desire to understand what this motorcade was about, I have to admit that in writing this dream out to the masses, the popular boy has stayed with me (and not just because of the thrilling dream orgasms). When I first woke, I thought he was a stand in for how I used to view and feel about TH. But that never seemed quite correct, either. He never actively pursued me in any way. We danced a dance around one another until one moment, we broke the imagined distance that separated us. But while I was writing about him and the sexual moments with this unknown boy, I realized that elements of it represent or mirror moments that I had with a certain high school ex-boyfriend who I am friendly with to this day. (He deserves his own shadow work, this boy, although the entirety of our relationship was not awful. In the grand scheme of things, it was completely nonfunctional and parasitic, but it kept me sane in a time where insanity loomed constantly within my reach.) I’m not sure if it was the sexual freedom I felt back then, with him, that I’m to focus on or if it’s more than that.

You see, this sex stuff has made me think more clearly about things than I normally have. It’s the act of being wooed so to speak that gives me a more sexual freedom than I have on a regular basis. I’m not sure what it is about it but there is something in the act of being pursued by another that makes it easier for me to open myself up to sex. This dream could also be my clue that I want to be pursued. I don’t feel like I can be or should be, especially by strong-armed young men. After an intensely miserable time last night where my self-esteem ended up not just in the toilet but irretrievably flushed down said toilet, I curled into a ball and ignored it. My body image has always been bad – even when I was little more than a hundred pounds, all told – but it has only suffered as time went by and the weight I’ve tried to get rid of has either stuck around or come back.

I may be at the giving up point in all of that.

But in thinking about my self image and my self esteem, I’ve come to realize that I don’t really believe that I deserve to be pursued. Not in a sexual sense, but in a general romantic one.

This dream has repercussions all across my mind and throughout my body. On the one hand, it was calming and freeing and like a little vacation from the vagaries of life. On the other hand, it has opened up so many more questions than I could ever hope of answering. All I do know is that I want to know what the hell I keep doing, dreaming about motorcades, and why someone who is strongly beginning to identify as an asexual would require a sex dream.

* Niantic, Connecticut. My great-grandmother owned a house out there for who knows how long. In the summers, if we were lucky, we would be able to rent it for a week or two. I know we didn’t spend a lot of time there because there were a ton of grandkids and great-grandkids who all wanted to spend time there during the summer. As a child, I tended to believe that since my father was dead and there were living grandchildren to let stay in the house, we were given the dregs if anything at all. This is why I spent a week out of my summers in Misquamicut, RI instead of in Connecticut. The thing is that I can still very vividly recall that house – which is still in the family but I’ve only been to once since my childhood – and it was in the back bedroom that I stayed one week in summer as a youth with my childhood best friend, Meg, that I can recall. I believe it was called the “blue bedroom” to distinguish it from the “flower bedroom” next door. It was that room, the blue one, that I was in when the strong-armed boy offered me the dark-haired girl as a gift.

Sometimes, the Responses to Our Questions Are Ones We Already Know.

Yesterday, I received some pretty awful news that really made me upset. I wanted to lose my shit in the worst possible way. I wanted to rage and throw things; cry and sob. Instead, I decided that was probably not productive so I thought it was in my best interest to have a mini-panic attack in my head. This isn’t one of those things where you stop being able to breathe or whatever it is to have a panic attack. (I don’t have them so I legitimately don’t know.) I ended up ranting and raving in my head for a good twenty minutes at Hekate’s altar space. I was feeling like everything kept happening. It was one crisis after another after another, starting from the fucking moment that I got fired last August. I pretty much just wanted to lose it and say, “Fuck this,” and take my son and run the fuck away to some magical place that doesn’t actually exist. While I’m sitting there, just letting out all of the steam that the news produced within me, I started shuffling the cards I have there. I wasn’t focusing, per se, on anything in specific at first. I was just ranting while I was shuffling, but slowly, my thoughts began to wind down until I was focusing on my job loss.

Why? I asked myself as I was shuffling. Why all of this? Why did I have to lose my job so that I can’t take care of my family? Why all of this hard work on myself and on my personal practice? What the hell is the point in all of this? Why? Why? Why? Why?

After doing some mindless shuffling, but still kind of focusing on all of that, I pulled out three cards from the Well Worn Path deck. Those cards were, in order, Summerland, The Book of Shadows, and Chalice. I studied the imagery therein and tried to piece it together without aid from the book, but I’m just not that astute yet. So, I pulled over the accompaniment book and started looking up the meanings I was to be given.

Summerland – When this card appears it means that change is going to happen, and it is not optional. The card speaks about moving on and leaving behind the old for the new. At its core, this card is about transition and moving toward new enlightenment. New eyes will see in greater ways.

I was mildly amused by this because I knew that this had to do with my job loss. I’ve known for a while that the whole point in my losing my job was to get me off of my ass and start formulating a firm foundation in my spiritual practice. After acknowledging voodoo for the first time, about a month later, the wheels were set into motion to get me out of the place that was killing my soul a particle at a time. I knew that I had to leave the job for my own well-being, but the lure of the funds for my lifestyle and a stabilizing influence in my life was too big a lure. I also knew from various chats with others that it was possible that in the acknowledgment of voodoo, I had managed to lure the attention of Kalfu (a very interesting lwa who likes to fuck shit up) and that was why things ended as they did with my job. As it is, whatever the reason, the point was that I was fizzling out. The emptiness of this blog during the months of my managerial status at that place is a loud resounding testament to this fact. I knew I had to leave but didn’t have the balls to do so. I knew that my job was killing me, spiritually, more than anything else and still, I did nothing about it. So someone else came in, messed about, and the job loss happened.

What bothers me about this card is the italicized text from the book, and that I reproduced above. That would be the “change is going to happen, and it is not optional.” I’ve often wondered if there had been things that I could have done to negate the firing and the horrifying aftermath of said firing. But, though the circumstances would possibly have been different, I really don’t think that is the case. I think the words “it is not optional” is the point here. No matter what I said or did, it was bound to happen. This is born true in the fact that all of my protective amulets that I wore to work daily had slowly but surely gotten lost or broken off of their chains by the time I was fired. This is also born out in the fact that every aspect of protection that I put into place in that store was either found, moved, or disappeared. That’s sigil work, that’s crystal work, that’s spell work. EVERYTHING. So no matter what, I would have lost my job. Things may not have been as dire – although that is still up for debate – but the change had to happen. And because I wasn’t willing to do what was necessary… Someone Else did.

Book of Shadows When this card appears in a reading, be aware that foundation and the roots of tradition is the matter at hand. This card calls to acknowledge one’s life experiences, particularly those that speak to the authenticity of the path we walk. It is a sign to embrace where you are in life and to look forward to new achievements.

This is where I currently am. This is what this long, long, long, horrible, sad, scary, frightening year has been all about. The italicized words are clear and they pop out when you read the description. In fact, as I was looking through the book, they were the first words to meet my eye and I kept wandering back to those particular words as I kept going. This is all about tradition. This is all about foundation. This is all about starting what needed to be started before, but I was too caught up in other shit to legitimately do anything about it. I let fear and anger, excuse after excuse, hold me back from what I needed to do. I needed to realize what I wanted my spiritual practice to look like and actually fucking move toward it. But, I wasn’t able to because I am stupid, but mostly because I don’t like change. I don’t like the idea of not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

This card is about getting the fuck over that shit and moving on. It’s time to let go the anger of what was done to me in regards to my old job. The way that they went about firing me was awful and cruel. I gave them nearly two years of honest service. I never called out once. I only ever cared about the job and making sure it was done appropriately the first time. I wanted that store to shine. It was like a secondary home and they fired me for a lie. A single blatant, awful, sick lie from a child who was either being used as a pawn by a Higher Power or who is just severely sick in the head. And while I have to live with this on my resume and in my heart and in my mind, I have to realize that the ending was always just ahead of me. I was too blind to see it. I had greater things to accomplish – my spiritual turnpike – and I wasn’t willing to cast off long enough to do it.

So fate did it for me.

Now, I have to decide just what my path is. I’ve done this before with my “path forging” entries. (Too lazy to look for them.) I said that I wanted to work in the realm of voodoo, I wanted to really get down and dirty with my Kemetic recon thing that I have going, and that I wanted to do the witch stuff. I wanted to be a cunning woman or wise woman. That’s what I really, really, really, really want from this. And it is to that end that Hekate is in my life. That’s why she’s here. The other stuff is fodder, side projects. It’s easy to get down and dirty with the calendars and the projects to teach others and whatnot whenever I so desire. But Hekate’s point in my life isn’t just to teach me about witchcraft. It is about owning my shit. It is about laying the foundation. But it is also about getting my act together. And that includes prayers, that includes offerings, that includes spending time in shrine. That is her real teaching.

Chalice – When this card appears it is an indication that the issue is one of receptivity and mutability. This card can indicate a reminder to be receptive to new forms and expressions. The chalice is the channel through which its counterpart (the energy of water) manifests its objective. In essence the chalice denotes the ebb and flow of the tides and cycles of life. It is the expression of the inner fullness, which is aware of itself. The card can also point to the welling up of emotional nature. The chalice teaches that we must freely give from our inner fullness, just as we freely receive within our inner depth.

And here’s where I’m stuck on figuring out what the cards mean. On the one hand, I figure it’s an indicator that I need to learn how to express myself, learn how to live with my emotions, and learn to be content with who I am, inside and out. On the other hand, in regards to the reading I’ve already interpreted, I’m not quite so sure what to say. I guess it can also be about how I should be willing to look into other forms and abilities, that I should be open and receptive to what others have to say… The thing is. I thought I was. But maybe I was mistaken. Maybe.

All I know is that with all of this, the honest to the gods answer is finally at my toes. I am aware of what happened in regards to my losing my job and I can feel the truth of it. The problem remains… where do I go from here?

Relevant Post
I’m Not Good at Decision-Making.

Only Speak When You Have Something Worth Saying.

A fast and severe case of disconnect and ennui has engulfed me.

I’ve noticed the gradual pulling back of the gods, like that of a tidal wave. One moment, they were there and speaking and laughing and admonishing me, but in the next, everything had fallen away. It was as though they had never been there. I find myself desperate to hear anything and I’ll even rage at Sekhmet in the hopes that she will respond, but I haven’t heard anything. This is part and partial to the overall destruction of the Hwt-Hrw statue. And while I didn’t think that she was angry with me, now the disconnect has fallen upon me again and I can’t help but think… Okay, maybe I’m doing something wrong somewhere.

I missed two days for my daily, morning ritual last week, but the circumstances in one case was acknowledged as “all right.” I had to be up earlier than usual and I had to race around to get things done. So, it was nothing. However, the second time was entirely my fault. I merely wanted to wallow in my self for the day and I did. I wanted nothing to do with anything that did not entirely revolve around me, me, me and this is what happens?

Should the goddess, Hwt-Hrw, be thrilled that I was taking time out from the world for myself?

I guess not.

I have theories about all of this. I missed the two days, so I am being punished again. I let my son get a hold of Hwt-Hrw’s statue, even though I had the shelves for her shrine coming, and she’s angry with me. Sekhmet is pissed off at me, in general, because I haven’t made one way or another to get her shrine under way. They’re both angry with me because I haven’t exactly been properly respectful towards either of them. Hwt-Hrw is angry with me because I’ve eschewed the marriage bed almost entirely. She’s also angry with me because I haven’t done a thing to see a counselor. Sekhmet is upset that I’m still not following her advice about things.

They’re both pissed off that I don’t meditate anymore.

Well.

Sorry.

I do have a life and it’s kind of in the way. When that leaves, I’ll come running the fuck back. How. About. That?

The Humble Man Flourishes.

I was seriously interested in putting my shelving units up today so that I had my altar completely set up and ready to go. Unfortunately, I need a special tool to set the wall anchors into place. I plan on ransacking Anthony’s parents’ house for the possible tools necessary to put these up. I also have to measure things out, apparently, so that I can put tall things up if the need arises.

In the mean time, the box is still being shared.

In other news, I came home from work last night to find that Hwt-Hrw had been broken by my son last night. I don’t know what in the world happened, but to say that I am very upset is kind of an understatement. Apparently, Rowan had decided that he needed to play with both Hwt-Hrw and Sekhmet statues last night for whatever reason. In the end, Sekhmet was completely fine but the feet of Hwt-Hrw were severed at the ankle. She’s currently leaning at a slight angle.

I kind of feel like this is a sign that Hwt-Hrw is displeased with me in some way. Honestly, I can’t think of anything that I have done that would irritate her to send me this kind of message. I have properly paid obeisance to her, as well as Sekhmet, every morning. I have spoken nicely to her and have listened to her comments. I have learned as much as I could about her as quickly as possible. I have offered her me as her slave and yet… there is this.

What in the world could this mean?