My Beloved Fellow Pagans & Witches
Hi guys, its Juniper.
Look guys, I have some serious shit going on in my life right now.
Bren left me in the soul crushing, self esteem destroying way. He tried to be a nice guy about it, because he’s a good man. But it doesn’t change the whole broken heart thing.
I had a grandparent die recently.
The place Bren and I were living in before he left is too much $$$ for me to manage on my own. Not if I want any money for savings etc. I have been working harder and longer and trying to pick up odd jobs to cover everything.
I had no bed to sleep on. I’ve had to accept charity from friends, which is hard. I finally was able to pick up a bed second hand.
I have had to find a room mate, find a new place and now I am packing and moving. I have two whole weeks to pack and move.
I have had some of the dearest friends I have ever had move away.
I busted someone for plagiarism who is now trying to threaten me into silence to save… Continue reading
Camping
Went to Whispering Pines with the girls.
Stayed in the big cabin.
Swam naked in the lake in October.
Played with clay.
Celebrated Autumn and the harvest and gave thanks.
Built a nice fire.
Played games.
Ate lots of food.
Said bon voyage to a friend. Crash was there too.
Now I have to … Zzzzzzzzz …
It’s All Rather a lot of Bother
(okay, I’ve been working on this one for a while now. But it wasn’t ready yet. Now it is)
When folks come over and inquire about the macaroni in the offering dishes upon my house shrine I act like it’s no big deal. I just made too much and so I gave it to my spirits. It gets a little more complicated to explain that I am expected by my spirits to make too much and give them their fair share. That I keep their offering bowls small because they expect them to be filled.
It’s all rather a lot of bother.
Spirit work and devotional practice that is. A bother. That’s why it’s called work and practice I suppose.
Years ago, I was researching medicine bags and crane bags and the like. I came across something talking about Native American shamans and their relationship with their medicine bags, and with the spirits within their medicine bags. For some, they had to sing a specific song for each item/spirit in the bag before opening it. Over the years the bag would acquire more and more items. When they died, they might pass their bag onto someone… Continue reading
To Tread Lightly
I wash myself in the river.
As I do so I murmur quietly. I have learned the power of words. I give it voice. Using my breath. Vibration.
I wash myself in the river. The cool water runs down my legs and arms and neck. Though the hem of my skirt is tucked up into my waistband it still gets wet. My hair is the color of clotted blood when it is damp and under a night sky, it drips river water down my back. It is not dirt that I remove with the water … but it is swept away by the current nonetheless.
Crash paddles to me, returning from her attempts to follow the offering tossed in the river as they floated away. She gives me a look that says “Why the hell are you throwing sticks and bits of plants into the river if I’m not to chase them?”
I laugh and beckon her to follow me unto the shore. My sandals make squelching sounds as I work my way up the river bank.
I come to a tunnel of vegetation that runs parallel to the river. One side is the weeded… Continue reading
Little Random Things
I haven’t been up for writing a long and proper post lately, I’ve got stuff going on and all. But I have been writing little bits and pieces of this and that in a word document. Sort of like a series of mini posts or fragments from a stream of consciousness. Well, here they are:
Sometimes it’s annoying when your divination set and spirits keep telling you the same damned thing. Especially when it’s freaking obvious. Yes, I know that, thank you … got anything else to say? No? Uh, well fine, thanks anyways.
You know someone is really into arts and crafts when they stop in mid ritual to chat about an afghan.
I had the girls come over after Bren finished hauling his stuff out to give me a hand. It was kind of like that scene in Practical Magic when they use the phone tree system to call for help. Only I didn’t have a sexy but dead guy possessing my sister. I just needed some help getting off my self pitying ass to move some furniture and clear a little negative energy. I felt bad and tried backing out of it last minute,… Continue reading
To Fly By Night
Hoofprints in the Wildwood
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