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

I'll Sell You the Shirt Off My Back

After a positive response about the art on my last post I have decided to sell T shirts with the following designs. All work Copyright 2013, Sasquatch Jones. All Shirts $20 White on Black only, Sizes S-3XL, Free Shipping.

Black Moon 23

Queen of the Crossroads

Heathen Brujo

Seeds of Possibility

Black Moon 23, Copyright 2013, Sasquatch Jones

Seeds. Genesis in a capsule. A seed contains everything to grow, bloom, and produce progeny. From humble beginnings, eh? Let it come to pass that this article will contains seeds with such power. That is my goal here to plant seeds, ideas, or memes, into as many fertile souls as I can. This is a working given to me, to set free into the world, whose full manifestation is beyond my imagination. Much in the same way as one cannot see a tree no matter how hard one stares at an acorn. But first let me tell you a story.

A Story of the Earth

Pom ov Possumbility, Copyright2014, Sasquatch Jones

I have been in the Earth. Deep into the Earth, die Unterwelt, at the roots of it all. I have been given gifts, seeds to share. Between meditations on death, Geist Arbeit, heart chakra openings, and a growing community of support, I have been blessed with a amazing gift. I present the Pomegranate of Possibility, infinitely filled with juicy kernels of wisdom, each containing a seed full of infinite possibility. From the fertile soil, which is the flesh of the Goddess herself, comes a gift from the Underworld, but be forewarned, once you eat of this fruit, you will never be the same.

I am tapping into roots. The first thing  to emerge from a seed  is the root. The roots provide sustenance to the emerging plant, that is how life begins, our roots sustain us. Working roots, whether vegetable or ancestral, always gives  sustenance to new work. I venerate the dead, as the song says, pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you. Some of them are personal, others are Elevated Ancestors, but all of them inform my work and provide me with sustenance, as all friends and allies do. As we pass through this Season of Earth, remember your roots, draw upon their strength.

Feast Upon Possibility

While tapping into my roots, I began remembering stories my Grandmother told me, and something started to stand out. When my Grandmother was a girl, most of the businesses in her hometown were owned by people who lived in her hometown. Think about it. A community supporting each other. That is what we are all seeking is it not? Most of us give far too much of our earnings to Corporations, large faceless and invested with far too much power. We have the power to change that and we are, every time you give your money to independent business people and artisans you are voting for a better world. Did I lose you?

Queen of the Crossroads, Copyright 2013, Sasquatch Jones

Consider for a moment our consumer culture as it goes through its Annual Orgy of Excess. Every dollar spent at a major retailer, gives more power to the lobbies that the owners of those companies give donations. So your dollars end up exerting influence in the true political system. When you buy from Independent Business People you subvert this system. I am not naive enough to believe that this is all it takes to save the world, but it could be the beginning of an alternative economy. You never know what will grow from a seed, but if you plant enough, you will always bear fruit. So vote for a better world by supporting superior craftsmanship, independence, and the reality you wish to manifest.

Share the Love

If you don't know where to start check out some of my favorites from around the way.

HOUSE OF ORPHEUS
LONE STAR BOTANICALS
WOLF & GOAT
NATURAL MAGICK SHOP
TVEIR HRAFNAR
THREE CATS AND A BROOM
CAULDRON CRAFT ODDITIES

Underneath the Snow a Seed Grows

Every seed is also a Snowflake. You might be planting beans or okra, but how each seed manifests will depend upon the experiences it has. No two are the same. Again I am planting seeds and waiting for manifestation. The fruits of past plantings are harvested, and being enjoyed. Others are only beginning to bear fruit. Return to the Pomegranate of Possibility as often as you need, its inspiration is infinite. Plant your seeds, and dig into your roots, good things await you.

Heathen Brujo, Copyright 2013, Sasquatch Jones

Ancestral Seas and Finding Ground

This Thanksgiving is one I will not soon forget, as it was book-ended by Death.. The day before I learned that my friend, mentor, and Green Muse, Wes Nations, a.k.a. Johnny Vagabond, had died due to complications from liver disease. Learning form my Grandmothers passing, I cried this out instead of holding it in. There is still much to process, but only time can heal, now. The harder death was to come the day after thanksgiving. Our cat, Elvira, sweet guardian of our front porch, was attacked and killed by a stray dog. Wes's passing was hard and unexpected, my cat's violent and brutal, many thanks I have been giving for this fragile gift of life. At this point in the year, after so many passings I have come to a place of acceptance with it all, after all isn't death just another Faceless God? I feel more determined than ever to continue planting my seeds.

As I have mentioned before, Santisima Muerte told me to seek out Saint Cyprian. What I did not know was his connection to the ancestral seas. Conjure Man Ali, describes it pretty well at his blog, so follow this link for more details. During this Season of Letting Go, I have come to learn much about a life less ordinary, but never in my wildest dreams have I imagined such depths as I found within myself this year. Wisdom comes at a high price sometimes, and sometimes it drips from the heavens like honey rain, sometimes it does both. This is one of those times and my Bendicion de San Cipriano has been the bridge that holds it all together. My next step is to follow the ritual at Conjure Man Ali's site, I will report what happens. 

It all comes back to the Earth, the Primal Magic that is literally right beneath your feet.This dirt that we taken for granted, this mundane miracle of the everyday, sustains all life and death upon this rock we call home. From the remains of untold ancestors, we grow new life that one day will feed and sustain future generations of life. All through the dirt, the root of all sorcery, right there on the ground, the most powerful Materia Magica of Mother, her very flesh. What has more generative power? What else contains a bit of all that has been? What else is the foundation of all that is? There's even dirt at the bottom of the ocean.There it is, I have found ground again, and with it a renewed sense of  Dirt Sorcery and Ur-Sorcery.

Just how amazing is our day to day, this that is taken for granted.The everyday, the mundane is what sustains everything we do. So many days wasted, looking for that which is at hand, the Holy Land. Santa Terra, her face can only be seen from space, but you can know her simply by lying down upon the ground. I venerate her as a lover does the object of their affection. We have ongoing relationship, and as with any lover I choose to protect and nurture her, this is what it means to be Ecosexual.

I have sailed upon the Sea of Sorrow, through the treacherous Straits of Grief, to nearly drown in the(en)Gulf(ed) of Depression, but here at last I have found ground. With Granny Vagabond, I will plant my seeds, in the most primal Magic I know, Dirt. I will Give Voice to what I know and keep the knowledge alive. As my mentor, and dear friend, Wes Nations used to say about Entheogenic Plants, the more love you give now, the more love you'll receive later.This it seems is true of all things.

Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

About a week ago I crashed. I crashed hard, as if I fell thirty feet into an empty pool. This was just a precursor, the set up before the main act. In the depths of my fall, my wife, the most amazing intuitive healer I know, simply asked, "What do you need?" Without hesitation or thought applied I responded that I needed a shaman. She handed me a cigarette of tobacco and said, "This is shaman tobacco and it will heal you, because I say so." I smoked my first tobacco in many years and felt nauseous, sick, my head was spinning so hard I had to lie down. What happened next will change my life forever.

  

I awoke from a nap and I knew what had to happen. Into the bath I placed salt, damiana, and passion flower, everything seems to work better in threes. As I soaked in the bath I heard the words, "Audiam Vocem", speak out loud, give voice. This has been a recurring piece for me, but I had never really awakened to the power that resonates from the spoken word. Now I was talking to myself and all others who were in attendance, there were definitely spirits there, mostly ancestral, and then I broke down.

A wise man once told me that one must breakdown before they can breakthrough. On this morning I learned the full import of his words, I broke. I began talking to my Grandmother and I cried in a way that I have not cried in many years. I sobbed from the bottom of my soul for my loss, my shame, and my love. She is physically gone, never to return, no more hugs, her smell gone, LOSS. I did not visit her enough as an adult, and I cannot reverse that, SHAME. She will always be with me dispensing wisdom and guiding me, LOVE. Then my head cracked wide open.

I found myself in a quiet wisdom the likes of which I have never known. At that moment I knew the stomach issues have that plagued me since I found out she was departing, disappeared. I had been holding in so much it was making me sick. A bit of tobacco given to me with love and intention, shook me into Giving Voice to my inner turmoil and facilitated healing. Healed by Poison because of intention transforming it into Soul Medicine, the essence of the Poison Path, and all shamanic traditions worldwide.

Psychedelics and I have a long history, mostly as a vision questing tool, but this was shamanic healing, something I personally have never experienced. Strange because I have helped many others over the years, now I was being healed by an act of kindness, a medicine plant with intention and the power of speaking out. The closest experience I have to explain how profound this has all been is remembering how profoundly my first psychedelic experience was. That morning after when one knows that they will never look at the world the same way ever again. Like that but with a calm warm loving knowledge of how blessed I am to be here now.

Over the next few days so many wonderful things have been revealed to me, my path opens. I have much to say about the Plants and their medicine, but first I must plant my seeds. I have much to say about Santisima Muerte and San Cipriano, but first I must plant my seeds. There is a Magical Garden that will become my life's work, but first I must plant my seeds. I have begun a major recalibration of my energy and direction, soul sustenance that is manifesting all because of seeds that I have already planted.

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.

Communion with the Ancestor Spirits

For now I will be brief and just post some hints of more to come. The work is still in progress and I must review my notes and make them more cohesive. I promise that within the week there will be more, and the return of Open Sourcery. For now I leave you with this.