A powerful realization 

Last night, while celebrating Mabon with my Circle, we started talking about the afterlife. I honestly don’t remember how the conversation evolved to that point; there were hours within a sacred space just sharing and enjoying each other’s company while working Magick and celebrating friendship. I shared how Helheim is equivalent to the Greek version of an afterlife- a neutral place that is just where you go. It’s not a place of punishment like the Christian Hell. Valhalla isn’t heaven; it’s been romanticized by modern Heathens, but is not a place our ancestors would choose to go. Generation upon generation would go into the family mound and be together. Then the people starting exploring far and wide and dying in far off places and not returning- so it was decided they went to Valhalla where they were rewarded with their bravery by feasting and sparring everyday until they would do and fight, and die, a second time. I also shared how each God has a hall and each God chooses those to join them in their hall. Hubby and I may end up in Frigg’s hall because our relationship is that of true soul mates and Frigg takes in and reunites spouses of our ilk. She also takes in children who die, and calls their parents when it is their time to reunite them.

And I suddenly lost it. The atmosphere, the power of the company…

I started walking this path, like many other Pagans, because of the trauma of life. When I was 20, my little sister, M, passed at 3 1/2. Last night it sunk deep in my heart that Witchlette is now older than M. 

With these amazing women, I went through some powerful shit, and felt cleansed afterward. 

With these amazing women, I had a moment, and was able to turn around and continue to celebrate after feeling some big feelings, as I was in a safe space surrounded by love and magick. 


Exploring Curiosity

E and her parents came over to play yesterday. We swam, played at home, ate dinner, and shared dessert. 

Since it was the Full Moon, I had planned a small dinner ritual based around the Thunder Moon and Thor. 

E’s mom and dad were very polite during the meal blessing and Moon Rite. This was new to E, but she was as good as a 4 year old who is hungry and has a plate of food before her that she cannot yet eat can be expected to be. 

Witchlette and Witchling participated in the Moon Rite, specifically when I asked for Thunder Claps. K, E’s mom, also helped with the clapping. We hailed to Thor and made special recognition to Sif. 

At this point, Witchlette took over by explaining all of the Thor related Asgard stories she could muster between bites of lasagna. Really loud Thunder is Thor hitting frost giants, rock giants, and Loki. Loki cut off all of Sif’s hair because he’s the trouble making trickster. But he didn’t steal Thor’s hammer, but he helped him get it back. 

It made me proud that she cares enough to listen and learn the stories. 

What makes me even more proud is how she is recognizing different pantheneons. Yesterday morning, we watched Moana and at the end, Witchlette remarked Maui is a god like Thor is a god. She then asked me to tell her Maui stories like I tell her Asgard stories. Since I don’t know any Maui stories, we found some on YouTube. We watched 8 Polynesian myths, 5 of them about Maui, 2 of them done in the native language with subtitles I read to her, but also let her hear the language. 4 of the 5 stories we watched we’re within Maui’s “You’re Welcome” diddy. This gave Witchlette a connection back to what she knew, but also provided much more detail than one line from a Disney song. 

My Pagan tribe compliment with how they wish they could be my kids because they see the way my Littles are raised, how Witchlette’s curiosity is encouraged and her spirituality isn’t tied to one set of players. Heck, it isn’t necessarily tied to any real deities. Remember the Turtle Circle?

I hope she can continue to follow her own path, whatever that maybe, that she will hold strong when folks tell her she’s wrong. Because they will. Because people are assholes. I hope she tells Turtle Power and Blessed Be. 

A blessed year

Yesterday was a wonderful day for us, full of love and laughter. The little Witches and I went trick or treating in the afternoon around a nearby development, then we made rounds in our development after Hubby got home from work. We sat together for dinner, which I made earlier in the day knowing our evening would be jam packed with all the fun activities we had planned. 

I followed everything up with a trip to Magick Circle for the Samhain celebration. Witchling was put to bed and Witchlette enjoyed a night at home with just her and Daddy. 

In my way to the celebration, I was hit with a pang of guilt. The terrible resurgence of mom guilt. I wanted to attend, my soul needed to attend, for wholeness. For sanity. 

Because I feared that by not attending, I would be missing out. But, I was missing out anyway… missing out on time with Witchlette on Halloween night. 

During ritual, the guilt flourished. Here I am, partaking in the celebration of the life of those who have left but to do so stepped away from the lives I have grown within myself back home. 

After ritual, and social time at Magick Circle itself, a group of us went to a local pub to continue our fellowship of the evening. Laughter conversation filled the air. Here to, is life worth celebrating. 

To life, kith and kin. 

Blessed Be. 

How about love?

I lived not far outside of New York for my entire childhood and the beginning of my adult life.

I used to frequent Broadway a few times a year- tickets to shows as holiday or birthday gifts from family.

I was involved in vocal music classes through middle and high school which included trips to the city to see professionals use their instruments in practice.

I never saw this one as a play.

It became a movie, but I never saw it in theatres. And I still haven’t seen it on Netflix, etc.

Yet, I know one song from the show.

The song that everyone knows. And the message from the song resonates with me daily.

How does one measure a year?

How does one account for all that happened in a year?

Well, we have our rituals.

We gather around the TV- or around the local neighborhood area- to watch a ball/pickle/acorn/opossum/flea (yes, the pickle, acorn, opossum, and flea all happen in NC!) to mark the end of one set of 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8,765 hours, 525,600 minutes.

We light candles on a cake to make another year passed for each individual, from the day they entered the world. To mark their own set of 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8,765 hours, 525,600 minutes.

Yet, when we reflect on a year…we typically don’t remember all of the day-to-day events. We don’t remember every one of those 525, 600 minutes. Instead, we remember a general feeling we had for people in our lives during those minutes for that year.

Truer words were never spoken

So rather than focusing on the hustle and bustle of the day to day, focus on those who matter the most to you.

Witchlette has found the scrapbooks I had started when Hubby and I were still 15, newly dating, in high school. She is obsessed with looking at pictures and looking at how we’ve changed. She loves seeing our story going through the four books, the last of which includes the beginning of her story- of our story as a whole family. I don’t remember taking most of the pictures. I don’t remember a lot of the specific moments. But, I do remember the love that I felt with every single frame.

After having a bit of a tough day at work last week, I thanked Hubby for all that he has brought and continues to bring into my life. I thanked him for his love for me, everyday. I thanked him for standing by me when I am at my worst, not just when I’m at my best. I thanked him for being the meat and helping us to make 1.5 potatoes of my spiritual journey. At the end of the day, the business of work, as important as it may be, is all just static. At the end of the day, love is what matters. Love of family and friends. Love of kith and kin. Love.

It all goes back to love.

(The potatoes would be Witchlette and Witchling for those who didn’t catch my metaphor).

Happy Birthday, Angel!

Today, April 30, 2013, is my baby sister’s 11th birthday.

I’ve written about her death before; her death drove me to my path. Changing my way of thinking saved my own life and helped me to start actually living again.

She was only on this mortal plane to see three birthdays. I have been holding this date sacred since April 30, 2006, the first one without her.

From 2006 to 2010, it was a day of grief and sorrow. If not for the wonderfulness to two friends, R and D, and their amazing children, today would still be a day of sorrow. It stopped being sorrowful in 2011:

balloon face

Purple balloons (her favorite thing in her favorite color) with birthday cards from the boys attached, sent up to heaven for her. They formed a smiling face. At that moment, I knew she was at peace and I found myself at peace as well.

I still have my moments of sad, but they don’t last as long as they used to. And they aren’t as dark as they once were.

It is because of that moment that I am whole and able to be the mother I am meant to be without the emotional baggage of my sister’s death hanging over me like a dark cloud.

It’s because of my Path that I began to heal, found a new lease on life and went from surviving (going through the motions) to living (enjoying each day). And it’s because of these friends that I am able to LIVE all 365 days of the year. I no longer shut down on the day of her birth nor her death.

Happy 11th Birthday, M! You would’ve made a great Aunt to my little F!!!