Dear Robin Artisson. . .

doorYou once wrote an open letter to a one such as me ( WordsfromRobinArtisson.) I thank you immensely. I keep that note in a place where I see it every day. It quietly performs its magic while it silently and slowly stitches up the sneaky wounds that surface and soothes over the scars.

I heard your voice for the first time last night while working in my bullet journal. I found your Crossroads Magistery. I can’t say that I had a preconceived idea of what your voice would have sounded like, or Caroline’s, but as you were talking about fetch work, your other words came to mind. . . “you are not broken”. . . and even stranger, as witching lives often are, I heard your voice say in addition to “you are not broken,” it added “your fetch has not fled you.” I spent some time “feeling” around inside myself for some verification of what I thought I heard you say in the twilight spaces of what was actually spoken. There was truth in there. . . He has just been very busy, understandably so.

I know you have reservations about keeping up with the podcast you started, I know you have been very busy with all the endeavors you began. I do most earnestly hope that you and Caroline find the time to continue the work you began with Crossroads Magistery. There is more magic afoot there than I think you guessed. . . after all you said it yourself: the gifts of darkness are full of riddles. This is one riddle I am curious to observe more of should you find the time to continue that little piece of mystery.altar1

Your open letter came at a time I most needed to “hear” those words. It was even more important to hear them from a male figure I had come to respect. Again, Thank you for that. I have not finished my way through the Devil’s Forest yet, but I can now hear voice to the print and there is glimmering of light ahead.

Nalaya Oddly

 

Hekate’s Night

hekateIt was raining before I even began, bucket loads. By the time I dashed the five or so feet to get to my car to retrieve my Hekate Oddling from my car and dashed back into the cover of the patio I was dripping. It was a spectacular show of rolling thunder and flashing clouds. Usually the thunder here crashes like giant pots and pans have fallen from the counter. This was a little different. It rolled and echoed. A sound I had gotten used to being internal.

Most of the time my altars go up quickly and linger for days as the energy of the rite’s moment permeates my thoughts and life. I had nothing to say so I kept to the ritualistic words I knew by heart. I read Her the Bacchic Hymn, I spoke the Ephisian Letters and saluted Her letting ritual “muscle memory” carry me through while everything in me felt silent and still inside. I was almost certain She was insulted.

I can’t begin to admit over the last few years the amount of 29th’s I have missed because I was too tired, too anxious, too busy, too unworthy, blah blah blah. . . mostly because I have lost count. I sat there in silence listening so hard my ears probably actually perked forward. As soon as my eyes closed, She was there, as large as you could expect any Titaness to be. She was dark, then light then dark again as she came closer. I caught sight of serpentine skin wrapped around her as the light flickered in and out around her in, what only later, did I realize was torch light. A very large constrictor serpent was wrapped around her shoulders and torso. Smaller snakes wrapped around her head in a living crown.

She reached out and handed me something. Something I can not remember and could not remember as soon as the moment happened. It was as if I needed something, was given something but it was something to keep hidden. Or something that could not yet be revealed about a thing about to happen or you could inadvertantly prevent it from happening It was like getting that “shut the hell up card” in a tarot reading. You know the one. That horrible blank card in older tarot decks. The one you know is there but only ever so rarely actually breaks into the reading and always really means “NEVER YOU MIND THIS!” Frustrating piece of work that is. And, as always, curiouser and curiouser. hekate night

I tried to just let the moment go and just accept the fact I had been handed something I could not remember receiving. I took both Oddlings to work with me and as usual they got lots of love from my friends and co workers. The Hecate Oddling got a new hair styling. Something that reminds me of something from the old world. Something almost ritualistic and certainly befitting a goddess. Something that reminded me of a priestess hair style. We know they exist, at least one of them has been recreated and demonstrated. I have a feeling that what ever that was last night, it’s true weight can only be demonstrated in the future as things unfold.