Today's Magick

I drew the Tower Tarot Card today.  Ouch.  Everytime that card turns up, I feel ice move in my belly.  My thoughts race, "oh no, what bad news is coming, am I going to have a bad day, will I be able to handle it?"

I've chosen to balance my readings with cards from two other decks - The Goddess Oracle Cards by Doreen Virture and Medicine Cards by David Carson and Jamie Sams. Thankfully the Tower card was balanced by Mother Ishtar, telling me it's time to define my boundaries.  So instead of a free fall from the Tower, with no parachute, I have Mother Ishtar guiding me down, helping me to land on my feet.

End Trans
BB (Blessed Be)

Everyday Magick

I started this blog to chronicle all the magickal things that happen to me living a mundane life.  I've been remiss in doing that as life has given me the blues lately.   Today I'd like to remedy that by beginning to journal about the magickal, mystical things that happen to me on a daily basis.  May they serve to ignite a little magick in the reader's life.

Bike ride July 5, 2010

Today my husband and I went for a bike ride.  We decided to do something different by taking our bikes to the Montview neighborhood and riding around.  It was a lovely day.  Sun shining, and big green trees diffusing the light on wide avenues.

We set out to ride to Joseph's Fried Chicken on 29th and Fairfax.  We got there but Joe was closed for the Holiday.  No worries we'll definitely be back.  As we took a spin around the North Park Hill neighborhood we came upon a magickal garden.  The toilet caught our eye:

 
We got off our bikes and took a stroll and found the most wonderful, very well maintained magickal garden:

 And then there was the shoe tree:

 
We finished with Peace on Earth:

 Just a little Holiday bike ride brought magick into our lives.

Blessed Be (BB)
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Acute Minority Status Attack

Last night my husband and I went to see a comedian at the Buell theatre.  We were really pysched because magic happened when we were looking for tickets.  We kept searching and searching and finally on the fifth try I got tickets in orchestra section.  Imagine our surprise when we were seated in the third row from the stage!  That was awesome, and now I am inspired to search for tickets to other concerts we are interested in attending.

But that is not the basis of this post.  This post is about the other surprise I had at the concert.  One that knocked me off my ass and made me stand up for myself. 

The comedian is a nationally known act.  We never once gave a thought to the potential audience that would attend the concert.  Imagine my shock when we arrived at the Buell theatre, which seats almost 3,000 people and I was the only Black face in the crowd.  The "ONLY".  Imagine my horror as we sat down in the third row and I thought "uh-oh" this could be bad (My husband thinking the same thing) that my uniqueness could end up as part of the comedy act.  Thankfully that never happened, but it took a lot for me to stay present in the show as I vascilliated between fear of being called out and fear of what the fuck am I doing here?

I live in a predominantly Anglo state.  I know that.  I'm married to an Irish-Scottish American.  Yep got that too.  But rarely do I find myself the ONLY brown face in a crowd or at an event. It was scary, it was creepy.  I kept looking for another me but I never saw one.

I've been blessed that in my 50 years of living I've not been the victim of overt racisim.  Subtle racisim sure, but I never let it slow me down.  But last night was different.  I felt fear in my cells.  Cellular memories surfaced that have nothing to do with my lifetime, but the lifetimes of my ancestors.  Nobody was mean or rude to me last night, but no one was openly friendly either.  I could feel looks of "what are you doing here".  I just tried to hold it together, when my fight or flight instincts were going into overdrive.

Funny thing though, that incident last night made me think about situations in my life where I have been unwilling to stand up for myself.  Situations were I have played victim when really I have the strength and courage to strong.

I've learned to be a people pleaser.  Perhaps people pleasing and being a minority go hand in hand.  "Hey, just don't make waves and try to get along".  Its easier.  But where does that actually get you?  Or some folks go the other way and walk around with chips on their shoulders, but that's no fun to be around either.  So there must be a balance.  Sometimes you go with the flow and sometimes you just have to say, that's enough of that!

So I said to myself after feeling fear in a new way, "that's enough of that!" and took care of some long standing issues that had been festering.  Interesting how an acute attack of minority status brought me to strength.

End Trans.

A Quiet Room

There's an ache where there used be a smile, concern, apprehension, caring, anxiety.  Its been three weeks now since my son moved out and I miss him terribly.

I wake up with his name on my lips.  Calling for him as if he's in trouble.  My mind searching for him, but he's not here.  He's in his own place.  Where he should be, where its time for him to be, and yet all this intellectual knowledge doesn't soothe my heart.

I'll be candid.  Relations with my own family are skewed, distant and weird.  We just don't get each other.

But my relationship with my son is different.  He's my flesh and blood and we're tight.  We're close, we're friends.

He's in the city.  He's not faraway, but there's definitely a change in our domicile.  I know he's not just out, hanging out.  He's on his own and he's most likely not coming back - to live.  Which is I know how it should be and yet I still miss him.

I think of the parents who have lost their children.  Whose children have died before them, or been lost or never come home.  What a terrible, terrible, loneliness and ache that must be for them.  A room silent, with only memories.  A waiting that never goes away.

So in my empty nest grief, I find gratitude that my son is just a few miles away.  I find gratitude that if I send him a text, he writes me right back, and trust that in time this too shall pass.

Blessed Be

End Trans 4/28/10

Blessed Day, Happy Earth Day

Blessed Mother, Divine Mother,

On this day we thank you for the Sun which shines upon us,
The Rain that pours down upon us,
The night that cloaks us,
The Moon that lights us,
And your body which sustains us.

I thank you for the sunny days which make me smile, and the cloudy days that make me frown.  I thank you for teaching me balance, that day follows night, that calm follows storm.
I thank you for your beautiful oceans and all the glorious creatures that live and swim in your waters.
I thank you for all beings human, winged, four-legged, hoppers, runners, jumpers, and the ones that creep me out!
I thank you for green meadows in which to lay my head
And most of all thank you for beautiful butterflies.
Thank you for taking the bodies of those I have loved, resting them and returning them to your body, from whence we all come.
Blessed Mother, Divine Mother
Happy Earth Day to You.

End Trans 4/22/10

Tituba, Salem and Me

I recently donated to the World of Witches Museum.  Its going to be located in Salem, MA and I adore Salem.

I believe I had a past life there.  The first time I visited there I walked around with a prior knowledge of places and I dreamed true there, about mass burials in a grave.  I donated to the Museum because on their Kickstarter page they said they would have an exhibit honoring Tituba.  I like the title the author Maryse Condé gave her, "Tituba, the Black Witch of Salem".


I feel Tituba and I are Spirit Kin.  I feel bonded to her, connected to her.  So little is known about her, yet we know her presence, her knowledge, craft and magick ignited the Salem Witch Trials.  I feel because of Tituba's strength and presence I can be the Witch I am today, and the Witch I hope to become.  Tituba brought me to Hoodoo.  She whispered in my ear and told me I could do it, and showed me that it was in my blood.  Tituba was married to an American Indian man, and my grandfather was a full blood Cherokee.  Tituba was a slave and so were my ancestors.  We are connected.


I hope the World of Witches Museum reaches their goal.  Our community, our world needs such a place.  If Salem touches your heart, won't you consider donating too?


End Trans 4/8/10

A Place of His Own

Our nineteen year old son announced to over the weekend that he was moving out.  He's got a little piece of real estate in a place with a friend.  Its a big day.  Now granted knowing the stats for kids moving out and then moving back in are high, it was the ritual of the official moment that brought this Mom to tears.

His girl and his best friend showed up to help him pack.  He took the necessities and said he'd back in a few days for other things.  Being the good Witch and Conjurer that I am, I packed him a black bag full of goodies for a young wizard stepping out on his journey.  It was hard not to really cry at that point, the moment was not lost on both of us.  "You grew up when I wasn't looking", I remember saying.

So maybe he'll be back and maybe he won't.  I know I never went back home after I left.  That determined streak may be in him too.  Time will tell.  Either way, today was a moment marked in time, and I'm glad it came with love, happiness and celebration.

Now for that shot of whiskey.

End Trans 4/4/10