Reflections of the Dark Moon

She is in the sound of bare feet running across the dirt and stone. The thud of bone hitting earth and making it stronger. She is the song without words but whose depth of truth is unquestioned. The cry of beast and mortal alike. Hear her in your beating heart as the pounding drum. Hear her in your mind as the wailing carnyx. A force of nature. A force pushing you to beyond. Beyond your current limits. Ever striving. Ever changing. Ever thriving.

The Dark Moon. The Full Moon. The Summer. The Winter. She is there.

It is the Samhain season, and there is much to do, but there is also a need to sit back and reflect. The bones have been released on my altar. The Ancestors are getting their daily offerings and prayers. The Morrigan’s Holy day was marked in the dark of night under a fog covered sky in the Oakland hills. Every day is full with work.

Work that brings my household money and stability. Work that keeps my household healthy and feeling supported in the hard times we are currently in. Work to prepare for the new year in the Cauldron and what we wish to offer the community. Work for my household Gods and Spirits, to continue our mutually beneficial relationships and bring them honor. Work to shore up and refresh my wards for the house, my loved ones and myself. Work to become a better person.

Amongst all that work it would be easy to get lost. To focus solely on what is directly in front of me and move forward. But moving forward without knowing where you have come from means that you may not realize where you are going. So I wanted to take a moment to pause. The Great Queen wanted me to take a moment to pause.

Herself has been very present this season. The shadows are more than a little deeper. My emotions are a little stronger. Under the surface bubbles and restless energy, it can be harnessed and focused to accomplish so much, but it also threatens to overwhelm and fantasies of literally running wild are never far away. These are some of the markers of the Great Queen’s presence to me. The feeling of a deep endless chasm within me that will never be filled and never run dry.

Several years ago during a trance ritual with the Morrigan it seemed important for me to start working on some form of divination skills. This was difficult for me. It’s not a skill I am particularly attracted to or one that I feel that I am good at, but there was something in the practice of prophecy that clearly she felt would be good for me. That is the crux of my relationship with the Morrigan. Becoming a better version of me. The better version of me that she sees even when I do not.

So I bought Brian Froud’s Heart of the Faerie Deck and started doing readings and it was remarkably easy to listen to them. Now whether or not they had anything useful to say, is another question entirely. I didn’t bother with a Tarot deck. Something about Tarot has just never appealed to me. There are some truly beautiful cards but it’s just…not for me.

I don’t read for people often or even for myself. When I do people seemed to genuinely get something out of it and I have started giving myself calendar year readings annually. For a while that seemed enough.

Not this year. Time to step it up and branch out lol. It started earlier in the year with the random idea that I would like to have another deck, not just those wilde Faeries, to read with. But as mentioned Tarot still seemed not for me, so then was the somewhat difficult task of finding another Oracle Deck that I could speak with. The timing of finding a possible deck has worked out in that witchy way. My dearest sister, Brenda called my attention to the “With Your Shield or On It” deck by Pam Wishbow on my instagram. It was an insta-buy. Something I don’t do often. They arrived a few days before the Dark Moon and the Morrigan’s Holy Day, and as soon as I had them in my hands I realized that I would need to spend time getting to know them and learn their language. It wasn’t one I could already speak like my Froud deck.

It just seemed correct to do a daily card pull to get to know the deck, to see if it was the right one for me. From Dark Moon to Dark Moon seemed natural. Asking the Morrigan to bless the deck and open my eyes was second nature. We are seven days in and I can now see a little of how good of a practice this is right now.

Life is more than a little full and hectic right now. A family member is in the hospital, my partner is on leave to help in their care. Our “normal” has been packed up for another time. Spending some small minutes in the morning to sit in the quiet. To shuffle the cards. To think about yesterday and wonder about today has been supremely beneficial.

Added to that is the fact that there has been a lot of energetic shifts happening around me. In communities I am apart of, in neighboring communities, and just everywhere I look to be honest. This Dark Moon of the Morrigan’s  I told her and felt the truth that it felt like the long holding pattern I was in for many years is over. I am no longer treading water. I am moving forward. This practice of prophecy, of divination, is one of looking in all directions and listening. When there is so much going on, it is important to listen. To be in closer in connection with her voice, to hear warnings, to see patterns, to know.

For all that I am grateful. To the Great Queen who constantly inspires me and drives me, I am humbly grateful.

To all those seeking, my best advice to you is to listen and act. Don’t let the doubt freeze you into inaction. Start small. Start with something manageable, but doable. A prayer once a week. An offering on the Dark Moons. Deciding to read one of her stories and legends. Listen while you are doing these things and take time to reflect.

May this time of great depth and possibility give you what you need to reach a new personal level. May you continue to thirst for greater understanding and mastery of yourself. May your loved ones be safe and protected. May your household be prosperous and joyful even in times of stress. My the Great Queen bless us.

Magic. Protection. Safety.

 

Sacred Places: Cove Beach

I thought it was about time to spotlight one of my dear and sacred places. What perfect timing as I just made a trip out there with Temple Witch to continue with our Dark Moon offerings practice! As you can see the beach has the glorious appeal of having cliffs as well as the Sea, oh but wait there is more 😉

The beach has a official state name, as it is an official state beach, but that name doesn’t seem to sit with it in my mind very well. Originally I was calling it Crab beach because it is a massive grave-site to countless crabs. Literally thousands of crabs from tiny tiny to big ol’ guys carcasses and shells litter the beach. Temple Witch has taken quite a few of the shells home for her own Sea dealings. But that name didn’t last long as the true star of the this amazingly peaceful and treacherous land emerged.

Before I indulge in that I’ll give you a little background. It was Temple and the Giant that found this beach, and were generous enough to share it. Unlike our other Sea haunt of Muir Beach, Cove Beach seems to be at the same time more peaceful, and more active. It is more peaceful in that most of the humans who visit tend to stay within a 100 feet of the parking lot, leaving the whole other side of the beach empty and gloriously isolated for our feasting and pleasure. More active in that the spirits and animals of the place just seem more…restless. It is not uncommon to watch a huge 100+ flock of seagulls diving and feasting on the crabs when the waves hit just so. Or to watch the Pelicans diving not to far off shore and the Gulls clamoring for scraps.    There are often many dead on the beach, not just crabs, gulls and other birds as well. And the turkey vultures always seem to make at least one pass of the sandy area. The waves themselves hit a little rougher, the undercurrent unforgiving and relentless in its want to pull you out. All and all Cove beach is a bit more wild.

Which suits are needs just fine.

Now the title of this wonderful beach is due to its neolithic-style coves that immediately impress the mind with the majesty and beauty of natures temples. There really are no words to describe the joy at seeing this powerful combination of Land, Sea and Sky. So instead I shall show you.

 

The pictures cannot do it justice. It is primal raw natural energy. It is intoxicating in its simplicity and it’s complexity. It is holy. The first cave (there are several) is accessible at certain times of the year when the tide is farther out. Making it an amazing liminal place, let alone that fact that it is a cove that tapers off into nothing. A true opening to the underground, the other world, the beyond.

There is a lot of evidence of the holiness of these underground spaces. There are huge man made cairns in Ireland and France, neolithic structures many of which are oriented to celestial bodies like the sun and moon. One of the many things that I would like to study more about, the way the sun has a habit of beaming into the cove really speaks to me. Was it finding such a wonder as this that made the Ancients of Ireland decide to build there own? Portals have always been a fascinating feature in the myths and stories, and staring into the darkness at that point when suddenly the crashing waves are muffled, feeling the cold damp and heaviness of rock. I can feel the draw. The pull to somewhere else. Somewhere beyond.

Luckily I have always managed to feel the sun’s call and return back to the glittering passioned sea.

One of these days we will get around to holding a ritual in this cave. Temple has long wanted to honor Persephone in this manner, and I know there are several of my deities who would use such a portal as this to be honored. But till that time, we continue to come and leave our humble offerings.

I to sign my songs and praises of the Gods that I have oathbound and those who I have not. To feel the warmth of the sun and the strength of the rock, to see the darkness of the shadow and size of the sea. Under the massive cliffs I feel the Morrighan’s watchful eye, the challenge and the expectation forever weighing upon me. I thank the Dagda for his continued blessing, and for the guidance to keep hospitality in my heart. I acknowledge my vows to the Great Queen and know that there is much yet I need to do to be worthy. I turn smiling to the jovial sea and sing flirtatious love songs at the wild outsider Manannan Mac Lir. I give thanks to the beach and the land, those small spirits that have opened up this sanctuary to me.

And I feel blessed.

It was time

 

Time to return to the sea. It had been a growing need. The thundering of hooves in the mind blending with the rhythmic clash of the waves on the rocks. The soul centering balance of being at the place where all three worlds meet. Bad luck had been at my heels all winter, it all cried out for the cleansing waters of brine. There would be no stopping this pilgrimage. There would be offerings made, there would be fire, there would be water, no matter how cold.

The tide was high, and while the land surrounding this beloved slice of sea is going through much upheaval and change (a “reconstruction of the water table” that I am unconvinced is for the benefit of the land itself…) the beach and the sea remained as it ever was. The sky shone out cerulean blue from between its wisps of gray and the sun sparkled on the sea with tantalizing warmth. The evocative call of the sea and it’s jeweled adventures. Beautiful, deadly, a delightful trap if ever there was one.

The Corvid brothers wheeled in the sky and preened on the beach. Eager, and anxious for what was to follow, if a little reproachful at the long absences. But amends would be made.

With my own two hands I gathered the stones, carrying, rolling, pulling from the sand. Piecing together a pit where there was none. With stones you build. And it felt good. Good to stretch the muscles, good to have grit under my nails, good to take those beautiful stones of the beach and honor them with fire and libation. Once gathered, our fire starter set to work, and the food was laid out and all was good.

 

After eating our fill, laughing, turning our faces up to the sun and feeling its warmth. It was time. Time to throw the past on the fire, to drink to our Ancestors whose time of high power was drawing to a close, to ask for their blessings. I gave the flames the holly, cedar and pine that had been gathered for the great Ancestral Feast. Giving the spirits fully the essence of those plants that kept us safe in the dark nights. The smoke billowed high, and the fire higher. Toast of the Winter Brew were passed around and good cheer was given. Ancestors bless us, bless us with your wisdom. Bless us with hearth and home, with prosperity and wealth, with the way forward.

Then it was time to make our offerings to the Gods. Carefully planned and prepared, each of us with a mission of our own. Each of us with our own Gods to tend to. On my brass platter a mighty cow’s heart, drenched in barley, oats, honey, whisky, and rosemary. In the wooden vessel: strawberries, tomatoes, chocolate, potatoes and sausage. A split apple of my love and devotion. Out I walked hands full, towards the rocks, and the jagged sea. The Raven Brothers followed close behind, their chorus a harsh and beautiful chant. The rock was chosen and all laid out, the apple given as a token to the Brothers. And in the presence of all Three Realms, and those that are my beloved, I sang.

I sang, and prayed. I lifted my voice, in love, in strength, in courage and frustration. I was not meek and mild.  In that moment there was understanding, and I was seen. The sun shone. The sea glinted with resplendent glory,  and the Ravens cawed.

The sea, the sea. All can be cured in the sea. With my dark Irish red beer for the Son of the Sea, I stripped down to my skivvies and answered the call that had been so long in my ear. And it was cold. The kind of cold that burns, yet it brought a smile to my face. The waves teased and enticed us farther and father out. Laughingly, cautiously we ventured forth. With squeals and delight I submerged my netted shall in the foamy brine, forever dedicating it to he who keeps the veil. And dripping diamonds of salt water I poured it over my head. Gone was the illness that had plagued me for days before, gone was the coughing, the pain. In its place joy, clean pure, and ecstatic. For as long as my poor broken foot would allow I stayed there, in that liminal state. Not properly in any one realm, instead joyfully in all three. And then back to the fire, to the warmth and sanctuary of land. Grateful for my gift. One special and large witch’s stone to take with me.

I treasure these times. These places, where all my Gods are so vibrant and real and near. These moments when so much can be felt and done. These dark moon offerings shall forever be cherished by me.

Until next time, the time when the Sea calls…

99%

My country is in the middle of a storm. Situations and bad leadership that has been going on for years is finally cracking. I’m not surprised that I’m currently living in one of the epicenters of this maelstrom. If you haven’t heard, or seen the coverage on the brutal attack of the Occupy Oakland Protesters, then I suggest you get on google and look it up. I had been watching this Occupy movement with interest, passion, pride, and deliberation. It was easy to see that it was a movement born out of the prolonged frustration of the American people at their government for allowing Corporations to put their wants above the people’s needs. Last night I sat at my altar,  deliberated and prayed. I sat there for as long as I needed to, well into the night. Listening, seeing, working. At this point that’s really all I can say on the matter. The future is going to be a struggle. A struggle to reclaim our government for ourselves. May we prove successful and prosper.

 

Seaside Offerings

I believe that I have stated before that offerings make up a fairly large portion of my personal practice. It’s just satisfying to me, it really makes me feel connected. It’s a process you see. First it’s the idea: either researching or just sorta figuring, what would make an appropriate offering. Then it’s the gathering, getting all the pieces together. Making, cooking and combining the things, putting your love, your soul into it. And then there’s the climatic release of giving it. It’s just all around good shit.

For this trip to the seaside I prepared for my Great Queen, chicken livers in pomegranate dragon fruit liqueur, with rose petals, mugwort and rosemary. I cannot tell you how delightful it was to see those plump livers in a delicious liqueur. I’m not a huge liver fan, nor a raw meat eater but it was awfully tempting.

The day started out good and overcast, found a LOVELY little fire pit by the cliffs just where the rocks started, where a present awaited us. A present in the form of part of a wing and random bones. I tucked them safely in my Tupperware and fully intend to give them a good home in my bone pile. Many a vulture feather was found. Lots of food was eaten, gods were toasted with whiskey. By the time it came to lay out the offerings, the day had turned bright, sunny and full of summer glory.

Look at that sky! Look at that sea! It was too beautiful. I loving poured out my livers on this perfect rock that I climbed up. Sang my songs, said my prayers. Poured The Good God’s beer over the whole lot (it all smelled sooo good) and then merrily left it all for the Brothers Corvid, Gulls, and other beasts.

And then to the sea! Ale for the Son of the Sea! Completely drenched, flinging water, almost losing skirts, divinely soaked by the sea. It was SOOOO good. No sooner do we come back to our divine little fire pit, Hark! What’s that my ears do hear and makes my Celtic heart go pitter patter?

Bagpipes. My hand to the Gods, no fucking joke. A Bagpiper starts playing. I could not make this shit up. I can’t help but think certain someones were pleased. He played (and well) a few songs and then packed up and left. It was surreal.

Besides being throughly restorative to my emotional and spiritual self, this trip was also a bit of an expedition for supplies. I’ve been courting this beach for about 5 months now. Leaving offerings, getting to know the local spirits (there is an AMAZING willow glen, not to mention my buds the Brother Corvids), just in general letting the place get to know me and I it. It just seems like bad manners to me to go to a place and take things for your practice or witchcraft without getting to know it first. What if the place is not amenable to such things? What if it would just rather be left the fuck alone?   So I came today thinking that maybe today I’d collect some of the brittle rock shards from the cliffs. When we showed up and there were bones and feathers abound it was pretty obvious to me that the beach enjoyed our visits and attention and would be alright with me collecting (with proper payment of course).

These rocks break and crumble just with the pressure of the fingers. They are going to be PERFECT for my Boundary dust.

All and all internet-land, today was one of those days that just makes me go “I LOVE my life.”
May you all have the same 🙂