Dress up and show up.

devotionI hear most people tend to lose devotion to their beliefs when things are good for them and only turn to their religion in troubled times. Not sure what is wrong with me then, because when things get rough for me, I don’t turn to Them. My gods and spirit guides tend to have to nudge at me to get me to respond. They seem to make ridiculous efforts to catch my attention and make me ask for what I need. Truth be known, I don’t know what to ask them for. I know they can’t take away emotional pain. I know that the “God in a basket” thing is only for mythology. I know that tough situations sometimes remain just that, tough and unreasonable people generally remain just that, unreasonable. So what is there left to ask of the Unseen? Revenge??? Well, I have never been one to believe that revenge really fixes anything. Most people who engage in revenge may as well dig a grave for themselves along side those they plot against.  There’s a big world of nope I can pass on.

So, what is it about hard times that makes me silent toward my otherworldly family? Is it pride that seals my mouth? Pride that if I had just listened to my gut I wouldn’t be in this fix? Pride damaged because I couldn’t fix it or salvage the situation myself? Is it a sense of abandonment or maybe that I didn’t make the correct offering or the offering just wasn’t good enough or I am not good enough for the gods to bother with? None of these things are true. All of these thoughts well, they are me. They are my anxiety, my fears, my demons dancing  in my head and making a fine mess of it as they party along.demon

In Feri, we are taught demon work is a life long process. True story. The hardest part of demon work is identifying them. Slippery little devils they are. No one likes looking at themselves and admitting they have issues that tissues won’t fix. Yes, internal demons are often times the result of  someone else’s blazing personality disorder. I have learned that if you don’t address your little imps, regardless of source, you have a strong possibility of becoming your aggressor without realizing it.

You see, some behaviors are contagious. Including the idea that you have to be perfect before you present yourself to the Gods. No god is asking you to be the unblemished bull. You are not a sacrifice. Okay, maybe, they are requiring you to be an adult. Being an adult sometimes entails that you ask an adultier adult than you for help. So getting back to the ” I don’t know what to ask for” thing. Still don’t know what I am asking for, maybe I should be asking for the compass to stop spinning. True North these days seems to be a mystery, but hey, I am a witch and the road has always been called a crooked one so maybe it shouldn’t matter.

spinning compasAll I know is  that I need to find more time at the altar, maybe I don’t need to be the one speaking. . . you know what they say, dress up and show up. I have a date to keep… and the 29th comes quickly. I feel like I have been blind folded on the crooked path with briars in the ditches. Maybe I should turn myself into a hare; hares know what to do with briar. Maybe what I really need to do is call upon Cora and Victor and ask for a new compass. . .  maybe a road map as well.

Look up

look up

I was sitting out on the patio staring out at the moon realizing it was full. My cigarette burning pointlessly. I took note of the shadows and light playing across its face as the light reflected off it casting a silver blue light upon the landscape before me. I could not take my eyes from the sky, even as words were being spoken to me. A different language from that of the sky and stars, I heard those words and distantly acknowledged them, but my attention was raptly focused on the sky and an experience I had many years ago while training. There was nothing but me and the deep well of space. The stars were not very visible that night. but the loud clatter of streets and light in the sky could not separate me from the world of the deep void and the unstruck sound of star fire and moonshine.

While I was training, I was introduced to a Feri Goddess in the same fashion we all are. You are brought in to meditation. She is called, God Herself, and you are left to your experience of Her and guided home. She was immense in both size and spirit, most would call the experience intimidating, if they were to have it, just with Her appearance. Mostly she doesn’t speak, She just shows you things and leaves you to your interpretation. I remember having a bit of a different experience, I asked her to show me the star I came from remembering my Father tell me repeatedly as a child that we were made from the stars. I have no idea what the hexes possessed me to ask such a question, but I remember asking it and, more surprisingly, getting an answer.

stars

This experience was brought to mind recently after coming to the clear realization that here is much lore and poetry about magic being irrevocably bound to star forms. For example Daniel Schulke’s invocation in the Ars Philtron: ” Star-unto-well , By night I seek the relicit flame of the antient exiled sun. . . Eye within eye, I behold the new dawn, face within face, and form within form, Etched in the veiled black-seals of void.” In my minds eye, I can see stars turn in accordance to the magic called upon. I have come to the conclusion that there are many who also call upon the magic of stars. I recall, in my mind’s eye, always tilting my head and vision to the sky when casting and invoking as though I expect the stars above to hear me and catch the energy of my intent and move it in the direction I need while pouring my soul forth to the gods. I point to the stars while I sending the cone to honor my command. I look to the stars while working through a vexing moment. I remember, once, being asked to name how many stars were in a constellation, closing my eyes seeing it and counting what was there and getting the correct answer.

While she, the mistress, the lantern of our planet’s nightfall, catches my attention while in this urban existence the stars are never far from my attention, in spite of the fact there is much light and life interference. I am however, consistently consumed by the attention given by other occultist to the stars. Not just in their precise motions in the sky, but by the acknowledgement that we and our magic may be connected, drawn forth, and guided by their presence even though they are mostly veiled by the existence of out urban lives. The stars seem to to sing through the void, the light noise and clinging clatter of the modern era. Staring up has become a ritual for me. I may not see all the points of light streaming through the ether, but it sees me and you and everyone else and moves us internally in manners beyond expectation and comprehension.

I hope you look up in wonder and awe. I hope magic moves you through that which you may not quite see and comprehend. I hope great and profound whisperings that only stones and trees can properly pronounce. Look up. Look up and allow your eyes to be filled.