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They weren’t kidding when they called it life-changing.

No matter how many times I am told that a practice is going to change my ways, my perspective, my life, I am always a little surprised at how it actually, you know, happens.

I have been doing Vedic meditation for almost two months now, and it is changing my way of relating to most everything, and in really wonderful ways. And…it is making me really think critically about how much time I have, daily, yearly, how much time I have left in my life to do the things I want to do, to fulfill the callings of my deep soul. I am asking questions I haven’t asked before, and I am asking them in new ways.

I am questioning my unerring loyalty to ways of being that have sustained me for over 20 years.

I am questioning my practices and my spiritual identities.

I am questioning the roles I have always felt I needed to play to survive.

I am, perhaps for the first time in my life, putting my “wants” ahead of my “shoulds.”

And it is going to change the trajectory of my life. I can feel that, deep in my bones.

In my de-excited state during and after meditation, I am getting clear directions, and they feel joyous. I desire these changes. And: they are going to change everything.

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Magdalene Prayer

In my work with Mary Magdalene, I have been developing a Magdalene Prayer to use with my rosary:

Hail Magdalene, full of Grace,
The Good is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women
And blessed is the fruit of thy Love, Wisdom.

Holy Mary, Eye of the Heart,
Pray for us sinners,
Walk with us now and through death,
Amen.

It’s not 100% where I would like it to be, but it’s getting there.

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in the eye of the heart

It’s time for a new look, a new feel, for these pages and what is housed here.

I am going through a profound…what? A minimalizing? A winnowing? A distillation? I don’t know. I don’t have words for it, really. I just know things have to shift, adjust, change, be both less and more than they once were. Less perfect, more present.

I want to write more about what actually matters to me. My family. My practices. My garden. My meditation. Breathing and moving. How I am when I am with others, and when I am alone. How the birds sound at daybreak, and how my daughter’s laughter fills my heart with the simplest and most profound joy.

I want to see and be seen, in the eye of the heart.

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capitalism, pandemic edition

this is just a short ramble
my train of thought coming off the tracks
nobody runs a tight shipwreck
except it is very much expected
with unemployment and four walls closing in
with face masks and “working remotely”
(remote, definition: “having very little connection with or relationship to”)
and the toddler’s melting down
knocking on the front door and begging to be let out to explore
balking at handwashing and I keep thinking
yeah kiddo, me too
hands are raw, minds are raw, hearts are raw,
but this is just a short ramble
I have to get back to business as usual.

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Expanding #WAF

Witchy as Fuck (WAF). When I envision WAF, what comes to mind is:

Incense. Candles. Music. Special magical clothing. Chanting. Moonlight.

And honestly? Most of my life is not lived in this way at the moment. As a new mom, I am lucky if I can light the tea lights on my altar as I pass by them in the morning before work, saying thank you to the spirits and deities I work with for overlooking the dust on their altars. I can make time most mornings to pull a tarot card and a rune and quickly jot down my impressions of what those oracles say to me…but that’s about it.

And still, I’m the architect of life-changing magic, and dammit, I want to add to the current definition of WAF. We are witches, right? We change our consciousness at will, right?

So, in that light…

It is only Tuesday morning, but already this week, I did the following WAF things:

  • Went through my current list of projects and whittled them down to those things that I love to do, want to do, and need to do (I am a magical unicorn of focus!)
  • Put my phone down while hanging out with my baby and devoted my full attention to her (Behold my next-level wizard skills!)
  • Relaxed with my husband (I am a priestess of self care!)
  • Began the work of organizing a workshop with my coven (I am a spellcaster extraordinaire!)

What have you been doing that you didn’t realize was WAF? What spells are you spinning out into being at your job, at your home, in your comfy pants? Tell me in the comments, you intensely magical beings, you!

 

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A Visit to the “Witch City”

It’s probably pretty naive of me, not realizing that I would go to Salem, Massachusetts and end up feeling really unsettled. It definitely wasn’t the most magical place I’ve ever been (New Orleans, here’s lookin’ at you kid) but it was definitely spooky in the amount of cognitive dissonance it caused. Shopping for witch kitsch being sold to commemorate the hysteria-fueled murders of innocent, vulnerable folks was…weird. It was bizarre to support the tourist economy of the “Witch City” as an actual witch. It was sobering to visit Proctor’s Ledge and see the names of those that were murdered. Still not sure exactly what I think about the whole experience. It was interesting, and capitalistic, and sad, and in that, totally American.

Executed:

Bridget Bishop
June 10, 1692

Elizabeth Howe
July 19, 1692

Susannah Martin
July 19, 1692

Sarah Good
July 19, 1692

Rebecca Nurse
July 19, 1692

Sarah Wildes
July 19, 1692

Rev. George Burroughs
August 19, 1692

Martha Carrier
August 19, 1692

John Willard
August 19, 1692

George Jacobs Sr.
August 19, 1692

John Proctor
August 19, 1692

Giles Corey
September 19, 1692

Martha Corey
September 22, 1692

Ann Pudeator
September 22, 1692

Alice Parker
September 22, 1692

Mary Parker
September 22, 1692

Mary Easty
September 22, 1692

Margaret Scott
September 22, 1692

Wilmot Redd
September 22, 1692

Samuel Wardwell
September 22, 1692

Died in prison:

Mercy Good, infant daughter of Sarah Good, born and died in prison
date of death unknown

Sarah Osborne
May 10, 1692

Roger Toothaker
June 16, 1692

Ann Foster
December 3, 1692

What is remembered, lives.

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I’m back, witches!

It has been a looooong time since I last posted. I had a major life change (BABY) in November of 2018, and while it is tempting to say something deep and soulful like “I just let myself dive deep into motherhood” or “I sank into the bliss that was my postpartum experience” the truth is, I haven’t written any blog posts because I am EXHAUSTED. Having a new baby is a hard miracle, y’all. Worth it and work it, all the time.

It takes a lot more effort to do self care, a lot more effort to find time to do spiritual work, a lot more OOMPH to do anything that isn’t in service to my daughter Runa, or to the critical needs of my household. But, the spiritual is always there, even when it doesn’t come dressed in fancy robes and smelling of Nag Champa. I have been tending to my back garden. I have been singing Reclaiming chants to Runa. I pull a tarot or oracle card every morning…well, most mornings. I meet with my Coven. I pour coffee for Papa Legba and light candles for the Ancestors and I breathe and I pray to make it through the day. And somehow, thus far, I have made it through each day, one after another. It’s the face of the everyday miraculous, folks!

I would love to promise that I’ll regularly post here, but realistically speaking, I am aiming to sporadically post here. It’s an offering on the altar of Good Enough, which is my main altar now.

What’s your main altar nowadays? What does your practice look like? Tell me in the comments.

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When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

Right now, I feel content to sink into abundance, to listen to the land, to be a witness. I am pregnant – just a touch into my second trimester – and my tendency is to be quiet, to listen. I am spending a lot of time in my ritual room, in a comfy chair with my feet propped up, looking out on my backyard.

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We just moved into this house last October, so I am not yet familiar with all of the plants and animals that share space with me. I am finding columbine, mayapple, honeysuckle, and lily of the valley along with the hostas, tulips, and daffodils. Our bird feeder has been visited by cardinals, blackbirds, sparrows, finches, and blue jays, and I can hear baby birds crying out for food and attention. Chipmunks and squirrels abound, and we have one rabbit that is also a frequent visitor.

This spring feels full to bursting with activity and life and abundance. And, for once, I am in the sweet spot of being able to relax into it, to observe and notice and breathe. I don’t usually allow myself these luxuries.

I think I have entered into an apprenticeship with slowness without realizing it.