The Prickings of Red and White String

brigid_2It’s about this time of year that I start wondering how Brigit snuck up on me. . . again. I don’t know why it does. I have been wearing a daily reminder since Yule on my wrist and seeing it on the wrists of some of my closest every day. That red and white string tied up with wishes for the first sign of spring waiting for the moment my eyes spot spring for the first time. In the back of my mind, I keep debating which tree will hold my spring wishes still. I guess it will be a thing I will know when I see it.

I think the cold keeps my thoughts moved toward the Auld Woman. I don’t begrudge Her her blanket of cold, it’s her thing. I’m just very vocal about my not liking being cold. I prefer to be flash frozen so I can’t feel it. I’m not sure I look forward to thawing, often times thawing is like the pin prick sensation you get when your foot has fallen asleep and blood begins to flow back in. You know its a good and healthy sign that vitality is returning ( I think I heard you cringe,) but the discomfort of the moment drives you to places you don’t really want to exist. Brigit is like that for me.

Brigit forces me to look at things in my life and ask: what do I need? It takes me to a time when my needs could not be filled, so I stopped asking. I suppose I forgot how to answer the question. What do I need? What do I want? What will make me thrive and grow?

universeMy sister visited over the Yule holiday season. I think me being satisfied with just being and breathing because I have to seriously annoys her. I think she remembers a person I don’t. I think she’s getting ready to send in the Marines and dig through the rubble to find her. Not a chore I want her to embark upon (she’ll not be nice ) so I had better let some of that permafrost sit in the sunshine for a while and endure the pin pricks of waking up from under the comfort of the Auld Woman’s cloak. My sister left one more gift for me after everything was unwrapped and doted over. I had come home from work with my mom was trying to hand me money. I rolled my eyes and declined. . . there is no way in the world I am taking money from my mom, no way in Hades was that going to happen. I was even more determined when she announced it was from my sister. My mom was having none of it and told me it wasn’t money, but a message. I looked closer, she was right. At first, I think I was rankled because of a hard conversation my sister and I had and annoyed she would sacrifice money to deliver this message. *pin pricks*

I have no idea how to be okay letting the permafrost slide into the warmth of light. I never feel okay with the prickings of waking and crawling out from the covers. I can hear my Mom say: baby steps. I think the first thing to do is to start breaking the silence with music. It’s been gone too long. Who knows, maybe I’ll accidentally dance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwB_m__qzzo

In the mean time, I know the rites by heart. Maybe the things I should be waking up this spring will finally answer the questions I have been dancing away from: what do I want? what do I need? I think I need to borrow Brigid’s fire. My little string of red and white still waits for a tree.martinitsi

Blessings of fire and light to you and yours this Brigit, most of you will call it Candlemas or Imbolc, but I am Feri. I can hear the Descent of Brigit roll through my mind and the striking of fire. . . I wonder when I’ll catch.

My MACUSA . . .

reolutionSo, Yule has come and gone with most of my magic chores checked in their boxes on my list. New Year came and went with out much ado and left me with questions about what it is I need to accomplish and pick back up. I have a long list of those things. . . it’s like a three year old flung all my toys throughout my house with out the courtesy of leaving a bin near by for easy clean up. Oh well. . . where’s that bin???

I have been deliberately paying close attention to me. I have carved out time for my sit time. This is where I get my inner workings all cleaned up. For the fist time in very long time all my lines on the iron pentacle are straight and strong. To me that is a vast improvement. I took a very visual route to get there. You know as they say, as within , so without. Mudras have taught me that the inverse is also true. You can effect what is going on from the outside in, in a productive manner. It started with the pentacle I made from iron nails. They were quite a find, by the way. They came from an old house and were used to nail down the wooden flooring. I figured my own flooring could use some nailing down figuratively. I cleaned them up and made a pentacle from them. . . perfect: iron pentacle I could hold in my hand and actually see. . . all lines and points perfectly aligned, a great way to imagine myself.I still keep it where I can see it everyday. It took lots of work, but check, my sit time has been paying off. Next: pearl pentacle. . . no worries, I have one of those too.

The pearl pentacle is always a bit harder to wrap your head around. It’s more subtle than the straight, hard, and unbending lines that iron creates. It wraps around things and coats flaws, not necessarily a bad thing unless those flaws are creating imbalances. It also hides where things are joined sometimes disguising certain correlations ( sometimes good, sometimes bad. . . meh). The beauty of pearl makes flaws easier to overlook and say: I’ll fix you later. Sometimes that later becomes far too late and you have to break apart everything to get to the heart of the issue. . . ouch. Well it’s now I feel more comfortable working more with the pearl pentacle and ( check) it’s a work in progress. I plan on taking that same out to in process that worked for me with my iron.

This season I brewed up a mean batch of Sugar Plum Faery Vodka, my student helped set it to brew on Samhain and I strained it out on Yule. . . the spirits and ancestors seem to approve so it sits in its bottle by my altar for offerings of something boozey. I was super happy I was able to find mistletoe to hang with my Yule greens and instead of burning them at the end of the season, I helped the mistletoe back for later magic. . .yes, you heard poppets. The burning part was interesting as usual, the flames had lots to say about the year that past and things that may come to be. No warnings dire, just things that whispered: curiouser. . .

As usual the Land of Odd is always, well, odd. Odd enough for the non magical folk in my life to perk their ears and go whaaaaa? How did you. . . The answer of course is : vvitch. macusaAt which point, I usually look up at the sky like some crazy celestial thing just caught my attention, whistle, and walk away. One of the most interesting developments is that I have seemed to catch the attention of owls. Suddenly everyone thinks I need more owls. To date have an entire congress of owls, love each and everyone of them, I guess I can now honestly say I have my own MACUSA. Yes, Wizarding World people. . .I just said that.

There are things coming up for Brigid, candles to bless, a nice bowl to use as a well, hopefully, to manifest, but honestly, using my grandmother’s bowl would work just fine if I don’t find the perfect one in time. Seeds needs to be procured for the Garden of Odd, not that she’s lacking but, there are somethings I would like to grow, ya know, black snapdragons would be perfect. Those would make a perfect spirit ward! ( or match my soul, depending on who you ask.) I am hopping along from sabat to sabat and moon to moon; soon all will be right in Odd and all those toddler strewn toys will be be in the right bin. Of course, MACUSA is stupidvising. I’d say I’m in pretty good hands.