Is Anyone on the Throne?

This morning I was poking an article, as I tend to do, with a crooked finger to see what it was all about. Specifically it was Thorn’s new blog (here). I have enjoyed her previous blog (here) and wanted to see if the same would be true now that she gets to take a quill to patheos. I digress though. I read it, enjoyed it, and mulled it over the fire for a bit. For some strange reason I then decided to read the comments section, which is not something I am apt to do. I didn’t stay long; it was only a glance before I decided I wasn’t that interested in reading people debate the article.

Just before I completely abandoned the comments to the whims of the internet, upon which I would likely never look again, something about there being Gods and Goddesses as patrons of cities caught my eye. I didn’t bother to read it beyond that but it was enough to set the mind upon a course.

Why don’t I know who the patron God and or Goddess of this city is? From the moment I parked my broom here I began to methodically met and build a working relationship with the ancestors of this place, the genii loci, various Saints, local figures from folk-lore, and a whole host more. I did all of this because that is what a Witch does, they know the magickal terrain in which they reside and the inhabitants therein.

At first, I found this upsetting, like I had failed somehow. Once I became aware of the feeling though I was able to loosen the hook it was using to hold onto the present with and let it sink into the well of the past. This did not change the fact that I wanted to know whom. So I asked google.

Google failed. I found nothing about either a Patron God or Goddess for this place. I found a lot about the patron saints (Joan of Arc, Lady of Prompt Succor, and St. Expedite by the way), nothing I didn’t already know though. I’m not quite ready to conclude there isn’t one (or more). There are a couple of different courses of action I could take from here; try to uncover it myself, try to establish one, or ask others that have been part of the local magickal community long enough to know. As there are some people I trust in the area to know such I’m going to go with the third option. A hunch tells me though that there simply isn’t one, which does not change the fact the place is over flowing with spirits. If so, I’m not going to try and establish any as I don’t feel it would be needed.

Does your city have a Patron? If so, do you know who they are?

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Mystery Cult Shenanigans

One of the self-imposed titles that Traditionalists refer to their community by is the “Hidden Children.” There are lots of reasons for this just as there is lots of meaning behind this label. Some of these are implicit and some implied. Today though it is one particular quality described here that is ringing in my mind.

I am a Witch, I am an Initiate, I am Priest, I am a Traditionalist, and a whole host of other labels. Many of these I have made mention of and discuss briefly here and there. Today I am one of the Hidden Children. You see my religion, my Craft, my path, and all the labels therefrom all stream through the single quality that exists at the center of a Mystery Cult.

I can’t even say that I can explain it. It is kind of like trying to explain the nature of the mysteries. The Hidden Children in this specific instance are those that stand apart, alone, in a crowded room, not because of some discrimination, elitism, or inherent difference in worth. It is akin to the phrase, “what has been seen cannot be unseen.”

One of the first things I do when I move to a new place is find the Hidden Children. They are my tribe, my people. After all, one cannot be a Priest alone. Funny thing that, we are hidden, but a group that is hidden together. I like to think of it as a bunch of kids that have made a super fun area secreted away from the adults in the middle of a corn field somewhere. We get to play all the best Witchcraft games with only ourselves to supervise.

So why is this aspect of the Hidden Children title poking me in the arm so much today? It is simple really, it has been a couple of weeks since I have played with others and I think it is time for some Mystery Cult shenanigans.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Just Tea

Sometimes the only offering you are able to give is not the intended one. The effort put forth is and can still be an amazingly powerful gift though. It can be a bit of a disappointment as well depending on how emotionally charged the work was.

As I mentioned in my last blog, I planned to make some of my Nana’s scones as an offering to her. Now I can cook but have never made them. So I called my mom to get the recipe. Let’s just say scones are not what I pulled out of the oven.

I can still channel the intent and effort though, Nana is just gonna get some tea and a story about my effort to make her said scones.She will understand, after all she is Nana.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Afternoon Tea with the Dead

Yesterday morning I took a blessed bath. It is something I am in the habit of doing at least once in a week. The day varies depending on any workings I am planning—magickal timing is magickal after all. For me it is a holy experience whereby I immerse myself, literally, in the waters of life. If you have never bathed in a tub full of blessed and consecrated water it is clear to me that perhaps you should give it a go.

This blog isn’t about that though, sorry to confuse anyone with the weird intro. See it is relevant because this is where I was and what I was doing when the actual topic of this blog came to mind.

It should be no secret that I work with my ancestors. Such is a key and central part to the Craft and magick in general. I even have two ancestor altars in the house. There is one in the Temple Room for the Mighty Dead and there is a shelf altar I use for making offerings to my blood kin. I’ve been considering setting up a more traditional one though for a more hearth and home based ancestral relationship type practice.

When I was bathing, my grandmother (here after called by her more proper name "Nana") presented herself repeatedly into my mind. In simple terms, every time I would start thinking about something she would pop into my head. As such it is clear to me that she is reaching out. I find this to be significant since it is the first time she has been active in my spiritual life since her passing. I just assume she had some otherworldly Nana stuff to do up until now. Sure I’ve included her in my offerings but this is different.

So I think I’m gonna brew a pot of tea, because Nana was British and kept afternoon tea throughout her life, and sit down and chat with her. I may even make some of her scones as an offering too.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

Made and Ordained of Old

Under the Mother’s Blood Moon the incense wafts across the altar carrying upon its wind the prayers of offering. There is a flame lit, a dish for the meal, and a small glass of wine; all are gifts of spirit.

The heart is opened and the conversation with divine is begun. The tinge of presence washes into focus, thoughts flood the mind, and the skin shivers.

From the graves of the Well-fated the Ancestors sing, from the four corners of the World the Mighty Ones stand witness placing their hand upon the altar, from the center that is everywhere our Lady and our Lord ladle the mysteries of the Moon and Sun, and from the Witch the chant evoking creation arises unto the whole of the universe.

The ecstatic rides the blood and kisses the brow with the abode of the sacred names whispered from the stars, stones, and roots.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”

A Crucible of Now

Just be, just be here. Just immerse yourself into the wholeness of the moment so that time fades away and all boundaries slip from the edge of the circle into the center. In this singular awareness there is no distinction between one’s breath and the cyclic ebb and flow of the universe. The vision of the world as experienced melts into the sameness as in which the divine manifests. It is about complete and total presence to the point that everything except the eternal falls from awareness.

This is not to deny the host or the legion, for although the whole of the grove is comprised of wood each tree is still separate. It is about stepping outside time and space in an instant before returning with the divine knowledge pouring forth from the heart as the authority of creation.

Boidh se!

-SM

"Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path."

A Wolf in Lap-wing’s Clothing

A thought fluttered into the path of the Waking Road, before the eye of awareness. Beckoning. Feigning the illusion of truth and the tantalizing taste of a moment’s ambrosia it started into the Thicket of the inner landscape as if to begin a race. This train of thought was not a lap-wing leading from a nest full of hidden treasure though. To give into the desire of longing for what was once would be a hunt without a victor; the only prize would be the fatigue and aches accumulated during the chase.

Instead of running until the knees buckled and suffering overwhelmed the heart vessel, the notion was allowed to dissipate without having been weaved into the fabric of fate.

There will always be change and transience in life and if the Witch makes their cottage in the brush of what is lost the house will be painted in tears. There is a choice though and the Witch focused upon the brew currently simmering in the hearth will find they are surrounded by the wonders of their Craft and with a potion that will fill every hunger.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”