Sea Change

There are times where everything seems very stable and life becomes a bit boring. Then there are times where everything seems to move at once, a tidal shift, a sea change. This for me is one of those times.

THE FINAL CUT

 

Cat Stevens sang, "The first cut is the deepest", but for me the final cut has been the deepest. This year, the Year of Knives has been a tumultuous one, Lots of shake ups, and shake downs, but thankfully I never got the shakes. Many an illusion has been shattered along the way and with each an enriched clarity that I would never forfeit.

It is an humbling experience to be cut down to size, to confront the self-aggrandizing inflation of one's own ego. The Year of Knives was initiated because of the twenty third hexagram of the I Ching, sometimes called "splitting apart" by western practitioners who have a bias towards Yang. In more eastern interpretations it is also known as "cutting through", this due to two factors that seem to evade the western mind. The first is as I mentioned earlier a bias towards Yang, in eastern thought neither Yin nor Yang is more important, in fact they are inseparable. The second is what I call the Western Success Model, which is really a "Success Trap."  Both of these ideas feed in to each other and can be a great impediment to growth.

The Western Mind by and large has been focused on a more is better mentality since the industrial revolution, sadly this is also true in Esoteric and Occult circles. I believe this may be what Crowley was referring to when he spoke of the Black Schools. Success has an inherent built in trap, to illustrate this I will take a journey in to the past. Paleolithic hunters used sites like Roche de Solutre in France to trap and kill large numbers of herd animals such as horses. The more successful the hunt the more babies that reached adulthood. The more the population grew, the more food that was needed to sustain it. Eventually the herds dwindled from over-hunting, among other factors, and agriculture became the successful way to grow a population. Through out time however the increasing success of agriculture has lead to a population that now uses resources at a rate roughly 25% faster than our waste can convert back into resources. This is a success trap, most people call it civilization. This mentality has lead to a fear of failure, or as I like to call it corrective balancing.

There is a tendency in the west to think of Yin as "bad", interestingly enough it is often associated with most of the things patriarchal power structures fear. Darkness, soft, femininity, cold etc., none of these is inherently bad only a balance to the things Yang represents. The schools of Occult thought that have dominated the Occidental world have placed far too much importance on domination of spirits, a solar ithyphallic perspective, and spiritual hierarchies. Yin is more representative of a relational leadership model, where consensus is reached through the building and maintaining of relationships. Happily this concept is gaining ground in the Western Occidental Esoteric Tradition. I believe this to be due to the influence of Shamanism, a resurgence of Animism, and the introduction of certain psychedelics, but that is the subject of a different article. The biggest fear of Yin in the west stems from the one of its most frightening aspects; crisis.

All crises give rise to initiation and vice versa. Unfortunately, when one is taught to fear setbacks and and upsets, when winning at all costs has become the dominant paradigm, crisis can be crippling. Some crisis are crippling in some aspects, like losing a leg. The extent to which one chooses to let said crisis keep them crippled however is personal choice. After losing a leg, one can simply lie down and give up, far too common unfortunately, or someone can learn to move about in a new way and discover new things.The only difference is choice.

So here I am at the end of my Year of Knives and I realize how much dross and hubris has been cut away. I have battled the urge to be overwhelmed by crisis and have instead chosen to seek initiation.The final cut is the deepest and one of the most significant in my life. A clean cut always cuts straight and leads to a separation, a delineation between what is useful and what has outlived its usefulness. The process has begun and I am letting go, yet another meaning of Hexagram 23. Speaking of that hexagram, when one does an I Ching reading there are lines that change thus yielding a second hexagram, this is to give you greater depth to your reading, unless there are no changing lines, in which case the reading is very clear. The only two lines that change din my divination were one and six so my secondary hexagram was 24; Returning.

SPIRITS AND ALLIES

 

My Grandmother always told me that to be successful, I should study people I admire and learn from their example. I have done this my whole life, starting with magicians and artists who's live seemed to mirror my ideas of the world. As I grew older this lead me to explore alternative cultures, alternate realities, and the world around me. Now that I am older and beginning to enter the autumn of my life, doing work that satisfies my soul and reflects my spiritual beliefs has become tantamount to who I am as a person. Following Granny's advise once more, I looked to the the people who had business that involved magical things. Talismanic Jewelers, Alchemical Perfumers and Incense Makers, Purveyors of Materia, and general Witchery, and I noticed that many of them had one thing in common, Jason Miller. So I decided to enroll in his Strategic Sorcery course after reading the book The Sorcerer's Secrets: Strategies in Practical Magick.

Just before enrolling in the Strategic Sorcery class I had a series of events that lead me to do a rather long and extended course of Earth workings and Underworld work. I will be completely honest I have not done many of the Homework exercises and I am way behind on my reading, but this is not because I don't value it. Quite the opposite in fact. I am taking my time to digest the work. I came into this course with thirty years of magical experience, so much of this is remedial. I work with different entities, but use a very similar approach. Where I have gained the most benefit is in what most would consider the mundane realm. The day to day magic that we take for granted. The lesson of crow, be aware of the magic that is always around you. The book Your Money or Your Life: 9 Steps to Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence by Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez, has brought profound changes in my life. Researching the vagus nerve and its effects on the parasympathetic nervous system has profoundly affected my depression and recovery from past traumas. Being authentic, becoming someone I love and respect, these are the gifts I have gained from Jason's course that will stay with me for the remainder of my life. By all means enchant away, but if you are relying on enchantment alone, you might as well be playing the lottery instead of investing in a retirement plan. I believe this is the case for two very strong reasons. First spirits don't seem to be interested in helping lazy people. Secondly everyday life is far more magical than most people seem to realize. As a sorcerer or witch or whatever you call yourself learning to tap into that energy will power everything you do. So grab a handful of dirt and talk to the spirits.

SAGRADO CORAZÓN

Just as I declared 2015 the Year of Knives and many cords were cut, I have settled upon the naming of 2016. This year is the Year of the Sacred Heart. The Sacred Heart has many christian implications due to the practice of Sacratissimi Cordis Iesu among Catholics, Anglicans and some Lutherans. When I use the term however, I mean something closer to a heart inflamed with spirit and bursting with an outpouring of love to the Holy Universe. 

My goal for the upcoming year is to live a more heartfelt experience, to follow the whispers of my soul, to let spirit engulf me and take me on the grand adventure. I spent the last year clearing out the hubris I built up in my own life. Of all the Knives I accumulated, unrelenting self honesty was the sharpest of all and with it I cut away self delusion and found the confidence and strength to accept myself. I may never be wealthy in the traditional material way our society dictates, and fame is not something I hunt after, but I do have a wealth of experiences that have given me insight into the true beauty and magic of Holy Universe. I am forever grateful for all the wonderful souls that have accompanied me along the way, I would have been lost long ago without them. For those among you who fell, consumed with pain and sadness, I will carry your torch to the end, your memory will not be forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

FAREWELL AND HELLO AGAIN

I began writing this blog a few years ago as a way to give voice to all the things I kept bottled up inside. The decision was based on revelations I had during therapy after a suicide attempt in 2011, it has been a wonderful experience. So it is with some sadness and a heavy heart that I announce the end of this blog in its current form. I will continue with a new blog on Word Press. The reasons are many, but chief among them is the need to have my art for sale, my tarot services, and my blog all in one place. This blog will remain here as a testament to my growth and self exploration; a monument to reclaiming. In recent days one of my all time heroes, David Bowie has returned to the stars from which we all come. His passing has reminded me of several wonderful things; First, we are all Star People and we came here to blow each others minds, Secondly all things end and as sad as that is at first it only opens the way for more wonderful things to come, and Lastly we are all light. So turn on your love light and let it shine for the world to see. I will post a link to the new blog when it is up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEACE LOVE LIGHT

 

If God's a Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

Memorial Day weekend, my family, my wife and our two kids, got trapped by rising flood waters along the San Gabriel River. This is the second time in my life that flood waters have affected me, but this time was very different. When I was about ten years old our house flooded while my brother and I were at my Dad's house, my mother faced that flood alone. This time I was fortunate enough to be trapped with one of the greatest groups of people I know. The entire experience has reshaped how I view my life and the fragility of life in general. I have learned much about LOVE and its expression when guided by WILL. So grab a cup of your favorite beverage and sit down a spell, I have a tale I want to share. I'm going to warn you, you will feel emotions, have thoughts provoked, and quite possibly learn something.

ANCESTRAL BLUES

In the heart of the Mississippi Delta in a little town called Indianola, in 1925, a boy by the name of Riley B. King was born. This is very relevant to my tale, but we will get back to that in a moment, first let us talk about the South. The Mississippi Delta like most of the South was once ruled by three things, King Cotton, free labor, and Rivers. All three of these play into my personal history as well. Cotton is still important and grown with free or practically free labor. Then it was slaves, now it's prisoners. In Texas, theses prison farms are located along rivers, the same rivers used by plantations. Those prison farms are named after the plantations that once occupied the same land. I know because back in 1989 I lived there for 14 months.

Over the Memorial day weekend I attended the first regional Burn festival established outside of Burning Man; Flipside. I actually volunteer my time to help keep the festival going. This year I worked Pre/post which means I went out early to set up and stayed after to tear down. Only it didn't quite go down like that, more on that later, let's get back to Riley King. While I was at this event I took the opportunity to enter the Land of Fey. While there I took a stroll through the city of Pyropolis to see the theme camps that had sprung up like so many Mushrooms after the rain. As I passed one camp the music they were playing called to me like a siren. A guitar named Lucille, played by B.B. King, who was born, Riley King.

Transfixed I followed the sound and found a comfortable seat with a view of a pecan tree and the sound of the river in the background. As B.B. King played I heard the muddy bottoms of rivers, and cotton fields. I remembered my Cajun Grandmothers beer joint were the blues used to play on the jukebox, back when they still had 45's in them. Lucille's siren song took me back to East Texas, to my childhood. Then the Ancestors came, marching down the road, one by one to tell me something. Each had a different message, the overarching theme was, that if I wanted to be a worthy ancestor I must follow their examples. When I inquired as to the nature of this, the reply was simple, every ancestor literally dies carving out a path for the future. The very mud spoke to me.

WHERE EARTH AND WATER MIX

From the very start this years festival was very different than any other I had attended. ( I have been doing this for 11 years now.) It wasn't the presence of the rain or even the timing, it had rained the two previous years. No it was the volume. The absolute sheer amount of rain. We have been in a severe drought for about seven years now, so rain is appreciated, just not 10 years worth in one month.Even when we end a drought in Texas, we do it in a big way. And lest you think I'm pulling your leg check this out:

There are a few quite predictable things that happen when this much water falls in one place. The first thing is mud, even the limestone caliche of the Texas Hill Country turns to mud. Mud was everywhere, at some point one gives over to it like dust on the playa. We had mud on our boots, mud on our pants, in our tents, on our faces, probably trace amounts in our food.

My Wife the Muse, informs us during the ritual of smoke that mud is really heavy emotions. Her reasoning to which I defer, goes a bit like this; Water+ Earth = Mud. Whereas water = emotional being; and Earth= Physical Being; Mud = Bodily manifested emotion. There was a more social one-on-one atmosphere, we were forced together out of the rain. Huddled together we talked and discovered new things about one another and we bonded. The rain and mud brought us together and so emotions were released. It was beautiful. I believe many of us moved through some major blockages this year. Bodily emotion could also be trauma, and I definitely talked to a few folks who were working through theirs. The mud spoke to my heart.

THE HEART OF LOVE

 

As I navigated this wondrous landscape, something amazing happened; the scales fell off my heart. LOVE was everywhere, the grass and trees were expressions of it, other people embodied it, the volunteers sacrificed some time for it. Everything that was happening was a manifestation of love that some one felt like sharing. I brought my Spirits and the traveling shrines with me, out of love. Others shared food or companionship, performed art or played pranks, stayed whimsical and supportive, while swimming through the mud.

Blood and bone, heart and sinew, something primal emerged and we found ourselves. Washed clean by the rains and reborn in the mud. All became Other and embraced one another. Tendrils of love spectrally enveloping masses of souls. We became more fluid with our identities and the boundaries of imposed society. It's all an experiment. Stolen kisses, proffered kisses, kisses of souls, all floating in the wind, softly landing on willing recipients.Embracing Huggery ensued, and minds were freed. The wine flowed, as did the mead, and hedges were crossed by many. All of this was just foreplay, the main event loomed. We were Wizards of Odd and we had a wizard to burn.

Gathered together as in days of old we waited and watched as the effigy burned. Then we reveled. the celebrations lasted well until dawn. A New Day, shining forth with promise and hope. We had gathered in LOVE directed our WILL and succeeded at the task we spent so many months building. With the flames we released our sorrows, hopes, failures, triumphs, and wishes to fly upon the embers into the night. In that moment we were one. The time had come to part. The mud had spoken to us all.

GATHERING CLOUDS

 

Every year the exodus leaves one feeling drained and exhausted, yet with a new outlook on life. This year as we prepared to get everyone out, we were warned that another major downpour, like the one we had experienced the night before, was to be expected. We got soaked the night before, but our tents and shelters held strong. I and one of the other volunteers in our camp were staying for post, so we made sure everyone got on the road before the storm. He grew up in Oklahoma and I grew up on the Texas Coast, so we were familiar with storms. We watched the clouds gather and prepared for rain. We had no idea what was coming.

During the ensuing deluge, we gathered under my EZ-up and discussed our exit strategies. We were planning to pack up everything we didn't need after the rain. In the morning, my wife would take our kids home, and I would join them later, after I finished breaking down event infrastructure. So we sat down to wait for the storm to pass. After about twenty minutes the rain suddenly stopped and the air pressure dropped so fast I felt it in my ears. We checked the sky for the green clouds that always spell doom no matter the storm. Before we could figure out what was happening, 55 Mph winds hit us and tore down pop-ups and collapsed tents. My wife put our kids in the car and we tried to prop our tent back up. We had no idea what was coming.

The winds, as I mentioned were gusting at 55 Mph and tree limbs were coming down. My wife and I decided to give up on the tent and get in the car with our kids. Safety volunteers came and told us to come with them to a safer location.The rain that came with the winds dumped 4"-6" in 45 minutes and the river was rising. The land owner had conveyed to Safety HQ that we needed to be moving people to higher ground. We spent the next 18 hours in disaster mode. During all of this my wife ended up on the opposite side of the property from me and the kids. It was a very long night. We had no idea what was going on.

GREY CLOUDS AND SILVER LININGS

 

In the midst of crisis one gets to see the true nature of people. During this ordeal I watched many people offer emotional support to others, share food, tobacco, and conversation. My children shined like Rock Stars. My daughter was so confident of the volunteers that she slept while others fretted. My son jumped in and helped put together benches and reminded people to drink water and eat snacks. I am so very proud of both of them. I am also equally impressed by the safety volunteers. These people volunteered to see this event through to the end. Many needed sleep and were preparing to go home themselves, yet they stayed on and made sure everyone was safe. Our community trains to handle situations like this, but we always hope to not need those skills. The reason these wonderful souls do this is out of love for their community. The mud binds us.

As the waters rose and fell, I thought of flood myths and their meanings. The implicit life, death, and rebirth motif. The renewal of the land with nutrients from the river bottoms. There are many flood myths from around the world, but I always liked this one from the Chitimacha of Southern Louisiana;

Long ago, a great storm came. The people baked a great earthen pot, in which two people saved themselves. Since rattlesnakes were then the friends of man, two rattlesnakes were saved in the pot, too. The red-headed woodpecker clung to the sky, but the waters rose so high they wet and marked his tail. When the waters sank, the woodpecker was sent to find land, but he could find none. The dove was sent next and came back with a grain of sand. When this grain was placed on the water, it spread out and became dry land.

Mostly I think I like it because I know these people, Rattlesnake and Woodpecker. Rattlesnake has great significance, which I promise to share at a later date, and Woodpecker has always been there. I have a fascination for the Ivory Billed Woodpecker, the stuff of legends, supposedly so big it made folks cry, "Good gawd", or "Good Lord" thus its colloquial names. Like my namesake, the Sasquatch and the Ivory Billed Woodpecker are forest guardians. They both draw people into the forest and both are found in pristine old growth woodlands.

In the same swampy bottom-lands of my youth, the Ivory Billed Woodpecker disappeared only to be sporadically spotted, but never definitively. There are other tales, blue lights in the woods at night, the Creature of Boggy Creek, and how Crawdaddy created land. All there in the bayous and creeks of East Texas.The mud binds us.

All of Texas became flood-land that weekend, and the following days. As of this writing the death toll stands at 23 with several more still missing. The most recent body was found several hundred yards away from a friends house in San Marcos. This has affected everyone, 167 of our 254 counties suffered from these floods. Experts say this is a "flood of record" that only occurs about once every 200 years. People are still cleaning up, the debris is everywhere, and everywhere there is mud. The mud binds us.

WATERS OF LIFE

Just as the waters slowly rose, covered the land, slowly retreated and left everything transformed, so too did water reassert itself into my life. Throughout the entire process I felt a vast array of emotions and yet never became so overwhelmed that I broke down. I reached the breaking point several times and had to stop and take care of myself. Thanks to my firm grounding (pun intended) in Earth Work, I was able to be a centered and focused Dirt Sorcerer. Love permeated me and I gave over to the feeling, willingly. Terror and panic tried to overwhelm me, I let them have their say and then dismissed them. I sought knowledge and fact instead of rumor and fear. Comforting others comforted me, I am a big hugger. Water slowly permeated my flesh like the flood waters took over the pecan grove. We merged, my body and my emotional self; I am more integrated. I am the mud.

Some of my earliest memories are of mud, and swampy places. Bullfrog, turtle, crawdad, and catfish were my companions when I played in the creeks. I knew them all and more importantly they knew me. In the summer we all occupied the same space. That narrow margin between water and solid earth, whether on shore, or along the bottom, it was mud. There we came together and learned about each other. We were all mud.

As I reflect upon my journey, I feel I must thank several groups of souls for all they did. First a most heartfelt thank you to all the volunteers who dedicate their time and energy out of LOVE. You are all beautiful. Thanks to my Ancestors, who reminded me of where I came from and helped me appreciate where I AM. Thanks to Saint Cyprian and Santisima Muerte for prayers answered and grace given. Mi Patron y mi matrona, mi espíritu está en sus manos. Usted llena mi corazón de alegría entusiasta. I give thanks to the Creator, for all that we have accomplished we are still the same as that first DNA strand that you formed with lightning and our raw material. We are all mud.

 

Rambling Thoughts from a Rambling Man

"Lord, I was born a ramblin' man
Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can
And when it's time for leavin', I hope you'll understand
That I was born a ramblin' man"- The Allman Brothers

Standing at the crossroads is always an anxiety inducing experience. Choosing a path always means sacrificing another, and yet no growth happens without it. Once again I have come to a place where I must pack my bags and move on. It's always sad leaving the familiar behind and moving into uncertainty, yet this is evolution at its core. So once again it is time for leaving.

This last year has been one of incredible growth and maturation for me. Honestly feel as if this is the first time since I was a child that I have had so much optimism about the future and my place in it. That being said, it has been a hard year, Death came too often, loss and faith became my zeitgeist, the world of patriarchy is in total disarray and it is NOT going down alone, uncertainty is the new average. Despite the unrelenting horror of the consensus reality, I have found my inner light and dared to begin showing it to the world, and I have received Philosophers Gold in return. This year I have found a renewed relationship with familiar spirits, met many other wonderful lights shining forth, and discovered the indwelling magic that I have always had.

There are far too many people to thank them all but a few notables stand out and I feel I should mention them individually. First of all, my wife, Shining Star of Love, Misty Dawn, I couldn't make it without you, but this year you gave me the gift of possibility, I am forever in your debt. Secondly, my Brother Jeff, you are the only other one who was "there, way-back when", I Love You beyond words. Aidan Wachter, I feel as if you are a long lost soul brother, More often than I can count your words struck a chord, I wholeheartedly look forward to our continued acquaintance. Flint Fancy, my Soul Sister, we far too close to see each other so rarely, but I treasure every moment. Recently I have met other wonderful people doing amazing things, to all the new members of Black Moon Lodge, Prosit! Last but not least thank you, Kash Mira, your random gift restored my faith in humanity.

Down in the graveyard, I leave my tributa por Santisima Muerte, I will miss all those I lost this year. Most notably my Grandmother, my root, green muse, and giver of unconditional LOVE, the pain of your passing is negated by my love for you. Enjoy the Summerlands, mein Großmutter, your are a light in the darkness. My mentor in so many ways, Wesley Nations, you are still me teaching through your words, I feel honored to have known you. Peaceful journeys brother, you will always be part of Mi Familia, this hole is gonna hurt for awhile. Back to the Crossroads. 

Sometimes the hardest thing to give up is self defeat, in a world that tries to rob you of your light at every turn, giving up is just too damn easy. This is what the "civilized" world teaches, us to be afraid, not cautious; insecure rather than self-reliant; that we are isolated, not part of a community, this is all false.Nature herself teaches us that we are all connected. What affects part has an effect upon the whole. So here at this crossroads I leave behind Convenience Culture and the Soul Death it hides behind a veil of Stuff. Good-bye to snuff films masquerading as news, to value menus that offer sloth and gluttony, to the soul sucking that we call the Engines of Commerce. I turn my back to thee.

Now, I embark upon a different path with companions, virtual, spiritual and corporeal to share the journey. My seeds have been planted, and my roots sustain me. My greatest Love of the year aside from my Soul Twin, Misty Dawn, has been Dirt. More than a goddess, generative and nurturing like  a mother, and giving like a lover, she sustains us all. I am completely and utterly enthralled with her presence. Yes I love Dirt. Her smell, her feel, her warmth all excite something ancient within me. All of her children have also caught my attention. My brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and cousins, live amongst more than human people; animal people, tree people, rock people, plant people, and even land spirits, are all part of Mi Familia.

My seeds are developing roots. When I remember times in the garden with my Grandmother, I recall her stories. I know now that those charming superstitions were folk magic from long ago, some of them stilled used by Hoodoos today. Folklore and fairy tales from her ancestral home, Germany. Often I wonder if when she called me a "heathen", if this wasn't passed down to remind us of our roots. How did that start and why? She told me about the myths of the "Old People", but she was a devout Methodist. Ancestral memory is a funny thing and like all seeds it grows differently depending on the medium. When an elder passes, everyone in their community keeps a different aspect of that person alive within them, in this sense we become elevated beyond what we once were. We become amplified.
I dwell in a strange cultural crossroads, inheritor of ancestral wisdom from Northern Europe, nurtured by Santeria and Hoodoo, blossoming into a personal gnosis that is as transcendent as it is pragmatic. It keeps coming back to the plants, which is what this all about, plants. Metaphorically I have been planting seeds, but literally I am preparing seed cups, gathering seeds, and planning my forest garden. It is not my first foray into gardening, but this time I have different allies and much different intention.

Hopefully by fall I will be offering a unique line of whole herb products from seeds to roots and everything in between. I assure you that if all works out you will not find many products like mine. every step of the process will be done with intention and attention. Intention to produce the most potent herbal materia magica, whether for physical, mental or spiritual wellness. I will achieve this through attention to herb lore, Kraut Kraft, astrological, and magical associations. Many of you create herbal products with these intentions, perhaps I can provide you with raw material that has been as carefully grown. Just planting a seed.

And finally I leave you with a few links to one of my favorite subjects, Santa was a Shaman:

SANTA SHROOMS

SIBERIAN SHAMAN ORIGINS OF SANTA

SHAMANIC ORIGINS OF SANTA

Whispers from the Underworld

A few days before the Feast of the Dead, Aidan Wachter, wrote this piece at his blog, Hotel Vast Horizon, about Ur-sorcery. He gives me credit for partially inspiring the post because I had been discussing Dirt Sorcery and "old line eclectics"(of which I am one), in my Facebook group, Black Moon Lodge, but I am beginning to suspect that other agents are at work here. First amongst these is the absolute randomness that lead me to Aidan in the first place, not to mention the people I met along the way. Secondly there are the whispers from below that are guiding me. Towards what I am not quite sure, but the current is strong and definitely flowing. Lastly the amount of High Weirdness and Synchronicity that I am experiencing, which is off the charts, even for this time of year, suggests an agency I have yet to experience in my life.

Background

I began my journey over 30 years ago at the tender age of 15.That was 1983, long before the "Teen Witch" craze of the nineties, hell that was even before the book Teen Witch came out. I grew up in Houston, Texas, where Santeria from South Texas, Louisiana Voodoo, and Piney Woods Hoodoo overlap. As a child I watched my mother and her friends "Draw down the moon" on the Texas coast, and helped my friend's Arbuelas prepare ofrendas and dress veladoras. I grew up hearing tales of the Man in Black that met you at the crossroads at midnight, or during an overnight cemetery vigil. So when I gave myself a mo-hawk to connect with the indigenous spirits and join the outcast culture of punk it was a double initiation for me.

I did not discover Wicca or Thelema until I was in my twenties, although my step-sister did introduce me to Uncle Al, and his Liber Al Legis, much earlier. My first forays into this "Other" were a copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and a very worn copy of Pow Wows, or Long Lost Friend, that I found at my local library. Those early days were exciting, fearful and largely unproductive, but the raw feral intensity was unmatched, until recently.

Santos

I am a devotee of Santisma Muerte, and have been since I got her tattooed on my arm 13 years ago. Most of the intervening years have been spent in a magical retirement of sorts, and then depression nearly killed me. In November of 2011, on the Monday before Thanksgiving, I attempted suicide. While on the other side Santisma Muerte and the Baron both came to me; the message was simple, I was not done. During the resultant therapy I realized that I had let my spiritual life lapse, and had lost my Voice. This blog was borne out of that journey. My work had only just begun.

Santisma Muerte spoke to me. I cannot explain this in a coherent way, or in a way that those without the experience can understand. Suffice to say I literally heard her voice, and she told me seek out Saint Cyprian. I was completely unfamiliar with the Patron Saint of Necromancers, when she told me to seek him out. So I went to the source I trust with such matters, Lucky Mojo. From there I was able to tease out a ritual and make initial contact; then this years Feast of the Dead came.

I have written elsewhere about my journeys through the elements and my Grandmother's passing, so this has been an intense year for me personally. After lighting the candles on my altar, I broke down in tears remembering the gifts my Grandmother gave me, the most important one being the planting of seeds. That night I dreamed of Saint Cyprian. This is what I remember from my notes in my dream journal.

Die Unterwelt

I am alone in a wooded space. The land is alive and interactive. I feel the need to move towards the sound of a river. I find the river and decide to hike upstream. I notice two upright rocks making a triangular arch over an opening into the earth. At the cave entrance I see a figure, so I move closer. It is Saint Cyprian. He points to the cave and tells me that I must spend a year and a day in the ground. Inside I meet Mother Bear and she gives me medicine; next spring I will emerge from darkness to nurture what I have borne forth. So I will spend more time working with Earth energy, and around Beltane I will have spent my year and a day in the earth, the ground, the underworld, the root of all things.

That was my dream. This is my interpretation of that dream. I am at the roots of the tree, the underworld, where the great serpent dwells. Beneath everything is the serpent, the Great Serpent Below, the current that flows beneath all traditions. I am to spend more time tapping into that current to inform my work now and for many years to come. I asked Santisma Muerte to open roads for me and boy howdy is she opening some roads. For the first time (admit it you heard Dio's Last in Line) I feel as if my "everyday" life and my "spiritual" life are merging. 

Planting Seeds

My Grandmother occupies my earliest memories of planting seeds. Everything she taught me can be summed up in this. You plant.You nourish. You love. You pray. You nurture. You Prune. You Fertilize. You nourish. You sing. You dance. You nourish. You harvest. This is the essence of my magic at it's core, and my Methodist Grandmother taught it to me. So I will get to the roots in the underworld and spend my year and a day. I am a seed and I will burst forth as new life, to bear fruit and begin again. With my roots nourished by the primal current, that Ur-sorcery, I will grow and manifest my vision. My Vocation and my Avocation shall be as one. 

There are forces, animal spirits, mineral spirits, plant spirits, elevated ancestors, and spirits of place, they all wear many masks and manifest to each individual differently, but despite cultural costuming they all spring from the same source. Tapping into this current of Ur-sorcery, allows me to find my own individual expression of what Lao Tzu called ,"Tao" and Rob Brezsny calls "The Divine Wow". This dance of veils and masks is what we call life, and behind it all a current runs, the trick is knowing how to steer your Craft.

Growth Beyond Dreams

I am happy to announce that in 19 months I have had over 10,000 page views. This month saw another benchmark, with an all time high of 95 page views in a day. I have an audience in Europe, the United States, Canada, and Australia, this something I never anticipated. When I began my blog it was born out of a need born in therapy. I realized that I felt I had no voice and needed to Give Voice to my thoughts and feelings.The URL for my blog reinforces this; Audiam Vocem literally means to verbalize, or speak out loud, i.e. Give Voice.

In the intervening 19 months I have encountered and virtually befriended many great people. Words alone cannot express the gratitude and appreciation I have for you all and the continued support you show for me and my path. So with as much heart and LOVE as I can express in this imperfect medium, Thank You. I look to the future with renewed vigor and optimism. This is a gift I can never fully repay, I shall be forever in your debt.

Many Blessings.
Keep up the Great  Work.
By the Powers Within and Without.
Pax, Amor, Lux.
So Mote It Be.

Reverential Relationships and Adorations

Not Worship and Obedience

 Alliances of Mutual Aid

When I work with Plant Spirits, or befriend Animal People, or receive medicine from the Earth, there is always a reciprocal action required. Many have assumed this to be a pay for hire type of arrangement, but that's not really how it works. There are definitely spirits that work that way, and for expediency they may suffice, but just like a convenience store, you will pay more for what you actually get. Long term commitments, here as in romance, are generally the preferred and strongest path to take.  What a spirit needs will vary from individual to individual, although some of the more well known spirit spectrums, have some general items that work as introductory gifts.

Gifting is exactly what is happening here. Sometimes in the process of working together one party or the other realizes that the other is in need. When this situation arises, both parties work together to assure healing and growth, together they gain. Sometimes the need is stated upfront and to the mind of some this seems like a demand for payment, or worse an imposition. But if one only takes the time to consider the great imposition our species has placed upon the entire biosphere, a little hastiness on the part of those we have collectively driven to the brink is to be forgiven. Again one must remember perspective and adjust reality tunnels as much as possible. It is just as important to receive a gift with grace as it is to give with grace. If a spirit offers a gift accept it. When the time comes the spirit will let you know what kind of gift it requires. More often than not you will not need to ask, you will know when a gift of water is enough, and when other actions are required. If there are items and actions you are opposed to let the spirit know up front, it may test you, but do not let it test you more than once, if it tests you again, break off ties with that spirit.

Adoraciones

Adoration is not worship. Worship is not some thing I understand entirely. When I hear someone talk of worshiping gods, my animistic brain can not fathom it. Gods are forces of nature much like lightening, and just as I would not worship lightening or electricity, nor will I worship a god. I will give reverence, that is to say I will honor its spirit, just as I respect rattlesnake by heeding his warning. 

Adoration is a form of reverence, in the same way that having a celebration dinner for a colleague honors their achievements, so too does an oferenda to a spirit ally or feast in honor of a saint.Compliments paid to a friend on their birthday are similar to the spirit of adorations in honor of one's spirit allies and venerated ancestors. Every relationship should be about honor and mutual respect or it will dissolve. 

Webs of Meaning

Eventually everything links and you discover the respect you show is returned and you become part of a current much larger than you had ever imagined. Universe is alive and communicating on many different levels, but one must slow down to listen. The cactus wants to teach you something. The

hummingbird wants you to learn how to drink the nectar of life. Rattlesnake brings everything into sharp focus. Spirit dwells everywhere not just in some hoary heaven on high. The ordinary is extra-ordinary, the natural, super-natural.

Once you awaken you cannot go back to sleep, but you can slip into darkness. Walk with fierce love in your heart, beauty in your eyes, and loyalty to Earth in your bones. Remember to look up at night into the depths of space, the Great Mother, and feel awe. Discover the Hidden Wilderness in your soul and feed it daily. Give over to calling. Come dance in the wilderness.

Shadowsof the Underworld

There are times when I know with unquestionable certainty that the course of events unfolding before me are the result my hard work and endeavor. There are times where I feel as if I am one of the most privileged individuals alive just by bearing witness to the amazing things that happening at this very moment. But there are Other Times, the times when I am overwhelmed, the times when I am swept away, the times when I am laid low, the times when I succumb. 

You see I have an on again, off again love affair with the Dark Goddess. Kali, Cerridwen, Hecate, Erzulie, or Santima Muerte, it matters not what you call her, at the heart she is always the same, fierce yet loving, clinging and giving, harsh but truthful, vulgar and refined, reviled and exalted, in essence, Woman Herself. All of the fears our society has of these Goddess forms are the same fears our society has about Women. 

Enter Pomba Gira, a spirit spectrum characterized by being the personification of female beauty, sexuality and lust. I say spirit spectrum because like so many spirit allies, Pomba Gira, is more of class of spirit, most widely used in the Quimbanda and Umbanda traditions of Brazil. Admittedly, some of the imagery may be a bit loaded for someone from the Western Pagan Community, especially if that person is dealing with leaving the christian faith. Open your mind, eyes, and ears, then learn about the evolution of the imagery, and then you can put it into context. Strip away the cultural baggage and a different image of this Spirit Ally presents itself.

Pomba Gira, deserves to sit beside Kali, Cerridwen, Hecate, Erzulie, and Santima Muerte, this is reflected by the fact that like the goddesses mentioned she bears many titles. Amongst them we find examples of her darker side, Rainha do Cemitério (Queen of the

Graveyard),Pomba Gira Arrepiada (Creeped Pomba Gira), and Rosa Caveira (Rose Skull, literally). There is also evidence of her connection to witchcraft, Pomba Gira das Sete Encruzilhadas (Pomba Gira of the Seven Crossroads), Pomba Gira das Almas (Pomba Gira of the Souls), and Pomba Gira Mirongueira (Enchantress Pomba Gira). Like all liminal goddess forms and spirit allies she also goes by names that speak of her role as Primal Female Power, Rainha das Rainhas (Queen of Queens), Dama da Noite (Lady of the Night), and even simply, Praia (Beach). Too often those that do not know or understand her besmirch and defame her much like those she is the protectorate of; women, children, sex-workers and the LGBT community. Pomba Gira is the spirit to elevate us into the Twenty-First century.

So, help me cause I'm falling again, then again, let me fall. Into the sweet arms of the Goddess in her fullness, Lover and Destroyer, Womb and Tomb, Being and Unbeing, let me fall and rejoice in my good fortune. This is  one of those times, when all the other times come together and words fail to convey the feeling, but as anyone who has been there knows, my life will never be the same. So revel in the wonder, and dare to fall in love, with Everything.

Letting Go

Most of the people I know have had to let go of something dear to them this year. Deaths, divorces, and downsizing, whether by choice, illness or just time, have claimed much happiness and left a void in their wake. It is against this backdrop that I have decided to let go, more. Time is precious and the pursuit of stuff is a poor way to spend it, I want more LIFE and less stuff.

This not just a reaction to the losses I and many others have experienced , but rather an exploration of loss and surrender. For one to surrender to the forces around them and give up control is the essence of sacrifice as initiation. The Fool, and The Hanged Man; a leap of faith, a willing sacrifice, an initiation into a different state of being. Notice that I did not say "higher" state of being, such things are greatly overrated, enlightenment is not what most Americans think enlightenment is. I am looking to change my relationship to loss, suffering, and material possession, to reawaken my knowledge of the transitory, numinous nature of existence.

In my last post I made reference to Rhyd Wildermuth's post on Alchemical Capitalism, that article and this post by John Beckett, about the Commodification of Humanity, started mental workings. Then I read Decolonizing Ourselves So We Can Help Others, and remembered Paper Mage which I also recommended in my last post,and enter an Air of Inspiration from the East. Harvest and sacrifice are the same thing. Without sacrifice there is no harvest, and without a harvest there is no sacrifice. That being said, keep in mind that the harvest will never be what you expect. Taking my raw material to the cauldron of inspiration and applying flame something distinct begins to distill.

A small amount of passion goes a long way, and from that initial idea a plan has coalesced, it is time to Let Go. I will be releasing my hold on several material items from now until the Feast of the Ancestors, October 31st. This is sacrifice, ritual, reverence, and initiation all rolled into one. I am seeking to change my relationship to stuff, to embrace Immediacy, to see impermanence as it is; more stuff. So I will be giving away, sticks, stones, roots, bones, shells and feathers. A few books, and perhaps some hand drawn art here and there, will also find Their  way into the mix. I need to lighten my load for the next phase of my work. Water flows in and water flows out, stuff is the same, I'm not wholesale against it, I just need let it flow down the stream again.

Now the fun, interactive part; a veritable Carnival of Delights. Are you brave enough to accept gifts? Dare you receive something for nothing? Is not, Receiver of Generosity, one of your holy names? Can you surrender and accept what fate deals? Did you say yes to one or more of these questions? Then I have a proposition for you. If you said yes to all these questions, seek therapy, just kidding, go take a hike, you deserve a break. Now if you are willing, Friend me on facebook, or just send me a PM with your address and the note "I'm in." Or leave me a comment here. I will contact you with three questions, and then mail you a package based on your answers. Don't worry nothing ominous, just simple things, such as, animal, vegetable, mineral, or fungal. That sort of thing. I just love that Fungi is its own kingdom, now.

Awaiting your responses and then into the realm of Earth, where I manifest that which I have called forth. Letting go is the only way to appreciate what you have. LOVE.

Going Feral and Half Earth

It all started when I was eight years old standing in the prairie land of Katy, Texas, just west of Houston. That was 1976, and I was there because my father was building houses on what used to be grazing land next to a rice farm. The rice farms and grazing lands are all gone now, paved over and forgotten by all but a few. It was there and then I decided that I was anti-"progress". My grand vision was to become wealthy and buy all the land I could, tear down anything human on it and let Nature exist uninterrupted by humans. I didn't know it then, but the land was speaking to me, no it was pleading to me to protect her. thirty Eight years later and I still hear her call. That is just one of the many reasons I support the efforts of groups like the Native Prairies Association of Texas.

I never let go of that idea and over the years met others of a like mind, but all we ever did was talk about how grand it would be if everyone shared this idea. Then I read Rewilding Witchcraft by Peter Grey and those old stirrings started to come to the surface again, I even mentioned it in my Savage Sorcery post. Like many different souls within our greater community of witches, I agreed wholeheartedly with Mr. Grey, at least in spirit anyways. Beyond that I have been searching for ways to revive my vision and manifest it, enter this months issue of Smithsonian Magazine.

This months issue is perhaps one of the greatest mainstream media pieces about Pagan topics presented in a non judgmental way I have ever seen. The cover article is about new discoveries at Stonehenge, there is an article about a 9000 year old North American mans remains and the article that captured my heart; a piece about biodiversity expert E.O. Wilson. The article in question is titled "Can The World Really Set Aside Half The Planet For Wildlife?" My resounding answer is YES. In fact, I believe along with many others that if we are to survive we have no choice but to do this. Please read this article and the one on Rewilding Witchcraft, these are the issues of most importance to our ongoing survival.

After reading the Smithsonian article, I was renewed with passion for my old vision. Heartened by the knowledge that others not only shared this vision but were actually working to make Half Earth a reality, I began doing research to discover what I could do to help. Currently financial support is all I can lend but without money nothing happens in our current environment. I found the following groups to contribute to; the Rewilding Institute, the Rewilding Foundation, Rewilding Europe, and Rewilding the World. The last site also has news from all over the world, letting one keep up on progress being made.

Lest one think that I am anti-human or anti-civilization, let me introduce the Rewilding of Humans. The ReWild University and Rewild Portland are two great examples of this ethos. Being both a Green Anarchist, and an Anarcho-Primitivist, I have a more extreme vision than most, but I am cognizant enough to realize that everything starts with baby steps. Although I do feel strongly that Rewilding will lead us to a more anarchistic state of being. I guess I am a bit opposed to "civilization" as it currently exists, in order to be truly civilized the rights of all creatures must be respected.

I would like to introduce you to fellow from my ancestral homeland of Wales, George Monbiot. His Manifesto for Rewilding the World is a must read for anyone interested in the topic. Perhaps not as exciting as Mr. Grey's piece but still essential reading. I would also recommend Mr. Monbiot's book Feral: Searching for Enchantment on the Frontiers of Rewilding, and judging from the essays on his website I am sure this will be a welcome addition to any animist's library.

I am going feral, in the best sense of the word, that of having escaped domestication and going wild. We humans are only domestic primates after all, and not very good at it. I believe that if we can Rewild the world and ourselves with it we will finally be truly civilized, not merely domesticated.