I think it funny…

…that I’ve had 47 views on my most recent blog post since I put it up and not one comment.

Who’s reading, eh?

 

Of sex and magic.

Or magick, whichever you prefer. *shrug* Give it a name, right?

I used to live a magical Life.  I was in Circle at least twice a month, often more. My home was full of altars and shrines. It was guarded by magical Beings, hexed and sealed and protected. I walked with fairies and dragons. I had a partner, a Priest, who taught me and helped me build a foundation for my Spiritual Walk. I saw things, heard things, felt things, and EXPERIENCED things that go beyond the ordinary day to day existence. I lived on a plane where magic was a natural part of the Universe that flowed within and without me. Everything had a point and purpose, whether I could see it or not. Anything was possible. I lived in a World of Infinite Potential. I was plugged in… connected… in tune.

But the capacity in which I operated in that World was flawed. And soon it began to crack. And soon it began to crumble. And one day it fell down around my ears and, in what seemed to be an instant, it was left in ruins. When it fell, I thought part of me died with it. I’ve spent the last 5 years of my Life struggling to reconnect. Half-heartedly seeking a group to Circle with and/or half-hoping I would find another Teacher. For the last 5 years, not always, but more often than not, I have felt like I was merely going through the motions. I knew that magic was still there, still around me, still within in me, but I couldn’t reach it. Once in a while I could sense it, like catching a whiff of a perfume that reminds you of someone from long ago, from a faraway place. There were a handful of times I could grasp it for a short while… but it was like trying to hold onto a mist and soon I found myself searching again.

Recently I ended a five year relationship with two people that, once upon a time, were my best friends. They took me in when I was at the lowest point in my Life. They dressed my wounds, supported me, encouraged me, coddled me, and loved me. They were good to me. It seemed to me that they worked hard to make me happy. And I was happy, for the most part. But I was not fulfilled. There was something missing. I was missing the magic. That may sound bloody romantic and idealistic but I do not apologize for using the term, because that is the Truth. We could not connect. We could not create that which I was missing. And I don’t know why… it certainly was not for lack of trying. It just wasn’t there. But there was passion, by the gods, there was passion.  In the beginning that was enough to convince me to go for it, to try my hand at such an unconventional, and decidedly difficult, relationship dynamic. I mean, I was stepping into an already existing decade long relationship. Can you say “third wheel”? We met some issues, worked through them to the best of our ability, some sooner than later, and some later than sooner… some were never fully resolved. But we tried. Being with them helped me to learn a lot about myself, my habits – both good and bad, and my needs. They pushed my limits and tested my capacity for love & friendship.

This past Summer I took on a new magical name. The name I had was mine for nearly 10 years but I had gotten to the point where I wasn’t even using it anymore.  That person was gone. I had changed and I was still desperately trying to find that missing piece… trying to reconnect… to rekindle that spark and breathe Life back into my Spirit Self. It was right about that time that I began to realize that flame was indeed being kindled and my Life Path was being yet again pulled in another direction.

It’s funny… the roads that Life takes us down.

Last night, in the arms of my Beloved, I felt as if I were awakened. Last night, when we climaxed together, I felt our combined magic flow through me as if it were an electric current that shot straight up through my 7^th chakra and out into the Universe beyond.

I realize how this sounds; bear with me please, because I’m not just talking about really good sex.  I’ve had really good sex.  I spent the last 5 years in a relationship with two people who were more than happy to indulge any fantasy I expressed and who did it well.

This transcended anything I’d experienced before. This was Magic fueled by the inexorable symbiotic Love that we share. When we finished and collapsed, breathing hard, holding each other, gasping and sweaty, I breathed “My gods… that must be what it feels like to be a staff or a wand or athame. To be a channel for that raw energy… to have that power flow through you.”  X caressed my arm, tracing an endless infinity symbol on its skin like he does, “Like in your dream.” He said.

My dream?

My dream!

“I am the axis mundi!” I said, “I am the Creation and the Creator.” “Yes, Love.” He said, holding me tighter. And I cried. I felt something stir in my Spirit as an animal waking from a long hibernation and I clung to him and just absolutely sobbed and babbled a string of nearly incoherent thoughts and feelings as they bubbled to the surface. He held me and listened. Every word was nonsense but he understood it all. It was phenomenal; truly moving. It has been so long since I felt that Strength.

Soon, I will have a new home. A new Life. Soon I will unpack my Ritual Tools and my altars to put them in my new home. It is time to recharge them. To recharge me.

 It is time to reclaim my magical Life.

And it’s about damn time.

 

Goals for 2009 vs. goals for 2008

Last years list got about half-done. Here is this years list:

1) Get my own place – make it mine.
2) Pay off my debts – student loans excepted.
3) Get an internship.
4) Take as many roadtrips as I can afford.
5) Indulge my artistic side more often.

My goals for 2008:

1) Maintain Honor’s GPA in school.

2) Tie up my one remaining big loose end.

3) Research Maternal bloodline.

4) Make our household greener.

5) Get a job with a local Funeral Home.

What I got done:

1) Ha! not quite. But I did the best I could.
2) Done and done! Ramen!
3) Still stumped on Deli Stump. But still working on it. This is an ongoing goal.
4) Managed it for a while, will manage it again when I get my own place.
5) You’ll notice, this is on the list for this year too. Still working on that one, but it’s a closer reality now than it was this time last year.

 

Dictionary.com’s word for today.

Word of the Day for Thursday, January 1, 2009
wanderlust \WON-der-luhst\, noun:

a strong desire to wander or travel

Heh.

 

a rare lyrics post

because I felt compelled….

 Past the Point of Rescue – Hal Ketchum

Last night I dreamed you were back again
Larger than life again, holding me tight again
Placing those same kisses on my brow
Sweeter than ever now, lord I remember how
Couldn’t get enough of kissing, do you know how much you’re missing
No you don’t, but I do

The days like a slow train trickle by
And even the words that I write refuse to fly
All I can hear is your song haunting me
Can’t get the melody out of my head, you see
Distractions are amusing, do you know how much you’re losing
No you don’t, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I’m past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don’t, but I do

I swore I’d never fall like this again
Fools like me never win, came to my knees again
Can’t close the door on likely hood
Things might be just as good, I always believed they would
Gotta let your love invite me, baby do you think it might be
No you don’t, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I’m past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don’t, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I’m past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don’t, but I do
I know you don’t, but I do
I know you don’t, but I do

 

when it comes down to it.

I left because, in my heart, I really truly felt it was time.

I just suck at the execution.

I never meant any harm… I still love them.

Heartache and desperation do funny things to people. It seems.

 

New Years Eve 2009

This year I am alone. I’m sitting on my youngest sisters couch. I have had entirely too much red wine.

At midnight I hugged my family and wished them all a happy new year and texted all of my friends. No one has texted me back.
At the moment I’m watching some quasi-black chick on the Dick Clark New Year’s Special sing something or another… she’s cute. Her back up vocals/dancers are cute. I can barely hear them. That’s probably a good thing.

Tonight I’m broken hearted and scared and alone.

It’s ok though. This will be a trend for a while. It’s truly a new year. We’ll see what it holds in store.

Peace to your house. Be excellent to each other my friends.

 

Good quote

“There is guidance for each of us, and by lowly listening, we shall hear the right word. Certainly there is a right for you that needs no choice on your part. Place yourself in the middle of the stream of power and wisdom which flows into your life. Then, without effort, you are impelled to truth and to perfect contentment.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Dictionary.com’s word of the day

jaded \JEY-did\, adjective:

worn out; tired, weary

 

The house on the hill.

 

Thursday of last week, on December 4^th my Mammaw passed through the veil. (And yes, I know there is actually only one ‘m’ in Mammaw but I’ve been spelling it with two my whole Life because that seems more grammatically correct to me and I’m stubborn, so there.) Some of you may have heard me talk about my Mammaw before, some may not. I have spent the last five years trying to mentally prepare myself for her passing.  Over the past few years she has slowly deteriorated as Alzheimer’s destroyed her mind.  It’s a terrible thing, to watch someone you love so much waste away so slowly. That is the only reason that, until last Tuesday, I hadn’t seen Mammaw in two years. I couldn’t bear it. My worst fear was to have her look me in the eyes and not recognize me. So, instead I chose not to see her. I chose to keep the memories I have of her close to my heart and wait for The Call.

 

It came about three weeks ago, from my sister.  “Mammaw fell this morning.” She said. Apparently she had two collapsed vertebrae. Whether that happened because of the fall or over time due to the severe osteoporosis my Mammaw had the doctors couldn’t say for sure. But there wasn’t anything they could do for it. She also had pneumonia so they doctors were going to give her some strong antibiotics and make her as comfortable as possible.  There isn’t anything else you can do for an 81 year old woman with two collapsed vertebrae really. After talking to my sister I turned to my friend Michelle, “My Mammaw is dying.” I told her. I knew in my heart it would be a matter of weeks.  And it was. They sent Mammaw home with a hospital bed and medication to keep her as comfortable as possible.

 

Monday night of last week my sister called me again. Mammaw was not doing well.  Her breathing was very labored and she wasn’t eating, they were barely getting any liquids in her at all and the hospice nurse said that she didn’t have much time left. Tuesday I left work early and went to her home for the first time in over two years. It was nearly bursting with family.  I saw aunts, uncles and cousins that I hadn’t seen in years and some little ones that I had never seen before. It was surreal. I walked around the house and the yard reminiscing about all the years I had spent there playing. I remember every single tree in that yard as if they were childhood friends, even the ones that had long since fallen or been cut down. My Pappaws old red Snapper riding lawn mower is still in the shed in the backyard. I’m amazed. I wonder if it still runs… I sat in the porch swing and remembered warm summer days spent there shucking corn and breaking beans.  I walked through her garden and remembered springtime when everywhere you turned something was blooming, bees were buzzing, birds were singing, and there was always a cat or two slinking around the yard waiting to catch one of those birds unawares. I sat in Mammaws chair at the same beat up old kitchen table that she’s had for longer than I’ve been alive. I ate peanut butter and crackers, Mammaws favorite bedtime snack, and looked around the little kitchen.  I remembered early mornings that would find Mammaw making biscuits by the sink.  I could see her standing there in her tattered old bathrobe stopping periodically to brush hair out of her face with the back of her hand and peer out the window at the rising sun. She would always hard boil an egg for me because I didn’t like them fried. Now I do, but back then they were gross, lol. Those were the days when I would actually eat pork. She always had bacon or sausage patties, or both depending on what Pappaw wanted. And she made grits.  I love grits to this day. When I was with Thing 2 I started trying to make biscuits but never really got very good at it.  I haven’t tried in a long time. Maybe I will again. You really can’t beat good homemade biscuits.

 

I loved helping Mammaw, whether it was working in the garden or with her flowers, or feeding the chickens or gathering eggs, or cleaning house or cooking, or if it was just sitting on the porch swing relaxing and looking around the yard at nothing in particular just reveling in the beauty of it.

 

I have a pretty large family and surprisingly enough, for the most part, we’ve all managed to stay close through the years.  Mammaw and Pappaw had 11 children, 24 grandchildren, and 33 great-grandchildren (so far). My Mom and Dad built a house next door so I literally grew up there.  Family was always around so I always had cousins to play with. Mammaw and Pappaw had this large wrap-around porch that provided an excellent place for the kids to play under.  The dirt under there was fine and soft and cool.  It was a perfect place to build towns and drive cars through for hours on end.  They had hardwood floors throughout the house and whenever Mammaw would do her Spring cleaning she would arm whatever grandchildren were around with Pappaws old tube socks and old towels and set us to polishing the floor. That was a blast, it really was.  Slipping and sliding around on a newly waxed wood floor with a half dozen other kids. I don’t know how she put up with that many kids around all the time, lol.  But she did.  She loved it.  At least, that’s how it seemed to us anyway. In her kitchen there are two columns of drawers that go from the floor up to the countertop.  I remember climbing up the handles on those drawers like the rungs of a ladder to sit on the countertop and watch Mammaw work in the kitchen.  Mammaw loved to sing.  When she wasn’t singing old church hymns you could hear her singing Barbara Allen or Pretty Polly or In the Pines.  They are old songs that most people wouldn’t know today.  But I know them, thanks to her.  Mammaw was a wiz with plants. She knew about home remedies and old folk cures.  Sometimes I jokingly referred to her as my Christian Witch Mammaw. She grew up on Lone Mountain in Claiborne County TN.  They didn’t have indoor plumbing up on Lone Mountain when Mammaw was a little girl. She lived through the Great Depression and World War II. She washed out plastic bags and pieces of aluminum foil to be re-used later. She composted. Grocery bags were her garbage bags. Lights were only on when they were needed. A wood burning stove was used to heat the house in the winter. She raised chickens for the eggs and for the occasional roast chicken for Sunday dinner. She drove herself to the same Church every Sunday for longer than I’ve been alive. She read her Bible faithfully every night before bed. She was loving and kind and charitable. And by gods she was Strong. For as long as I have been alive she has been there, in that little brick house on the hill, working in the house or in the yard in a dress, an apron, with her hair pulled back in a bandana. For as long as I have been alive she has had the same phone number, the same address, the same routine.  The day that she died I took the eldest darkling with me and we both went there and spent all day with her. We took her a bouquet of flowers, mostly lilies.  For most of the day her bedroom was full of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  We gathered around her bed, taking turns holding her hands or stroking her hair and we sang. All day long we sang for Mammaw.  I joined in hymns that I haven’t sung since I was a little girl. My voice is out of practice.  It was weak and unsure, but I sang none-the-less. Less than an hour after I left her that night she passed. But before she passed I kissed her forehead and told her that I love her. I am so glad that I spent that time with her and with my family. She was the one and only constant in my Life… and now she has gone.  I am so sad.  She has left a huge void in my Life.  I’m afraid this post has long since lost coherence, it started out with a poignant point but I think I’ve lost it in my remembering.  It doesn’t really matter though… not really. I miss my Mammaw. I only hope that I can live to be the Woman that she was.