Herbs, Plants, and Why They Have Their Associations (tumblr repost)

Anonymous:
Hi! I love your blog! Thanks for being so willing to answer questions! I was wondering if you knew why it is that certain herbs work better for certain purposes more than others? Is there any reason other than “Just because they’ve always worked like that”? (And at the same time, I know there are some who think it’s all intent and that the herbs don’t really matter.) I’d love to hear what you think on it.Image

I actually don’t think it’s all about intent. Personal opinion of course and others are perfectly welcome to work within that belief but I don’t.

Why certain herbs are ascribed certain characteristics depends on who you talk to. For our purposes, I’ll detail why I’d ascribe a particular characteristics to an apple, mostly because I’m noming on an apple right now. But I can probably do this with most herbs.

  • Mythology – There are mythological reasons why an herb would be associated with something. Iðunn kept apples for the youthfulness of the gods. There’s also a myth involving those apples, Iðunn, and Loki. Apples also have a Norse association with fertility if I recall my Volsunga Saga properly. (I believe there have been some Norse finds that discovered apples and nuts among offerings). Apples were part of Hercules’ Twelve Labors (golden apples from the Tree of Life). Hippomenes who tossed golden apples to distracted Atalanta leading to his winning the race and her hand in marriage. Of course there’s Eris the goddess of Discord and the fiasco that was the marriage of Peleius and Thetis, indirectly causing the Trojan War. I’m not sure on the etymology of it but apples are associated with Aphrodite  I believe because they are part of a folkloric or symbolic act of expressing love but don’t quote me on that. This, of course, doesn’t include the story of the Garden of Eden. Conle of Celtic mythology is given an apple which feeds him for a year but thrusts him into the world of the fae (? My version of this mythology is likely not the original.) Avalon translates to “the apple land”, “land of apple”, or “apple island”. Breaking that down, an apple can be used for love, sex, marriage, fertility, youthfulness, secrets and trickery.
  • Folklore – Local and cultural folklore is important, often coming from a local tradition, festival, or even a particular person. Then there’s William Tell, Issac Newton, and Johnny Appleseed. For example, Irish/English folklore states that if an apple is peeled in one continuous piece like a ribbon and is thrown over the shoulder it will reveal the shape of a future lover’s initials. This doesn’t count the vast amounts of saying involving apples such as “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”.
  • Fairy tales – Snow White’s dealing with the apple is quite famous. In the original myth Snow White actually chokes on the apple instead of being poisoned by it.
  • History – Historically, apples travel well and keep well for a very long time. They’re one of the oldest fruits to be cultivated and are very popular. Not just that, they were often dried and eaten both fresh and dried over the coarse of the winter months. There’s about eleventy-billion ways of cooking, canning, or otherwise preparing apples for consumption. Some foods even have specific meanings to them such as apple and honey for Rosh Hashanah to symbolize a sweet new year. Because apple trees were common, apple wood was also commonly used in hearth fires and buildings. In fact, buildings boats from apple wood was said to be unlucky because coffins were built of apple wood. There’s a few scholars that have said the apple is a symbolic substitute for Amanita muscaria (fly agaric mushroom) and mandrake. Settlers were told to plant apple trees (upwards of 50 trees) when settling in America so they wouldn’t starve. Apples are BIG money and there’s a great many contests relating to apples (apple pie contests and bobbing to apples).
  • Cultural Associations & Art – Apples are given to teachers by children as gifts. Because of this, it can be used in association with education or enlightenment (especially if combining with Issac Newton’s legend.) Beauty is often linked with love, sex, and marriage because most cultures associated beauty as a desireable trait for all three. In the Victorian era, apple blossoms became known in floriography for generosity and love. Apples can be dried to look like shrunken heads or be used on dolls or as fetishes or poppets.
  • Biology – Apple seeds are actually toxic (amygdalin, which is a sugar-cyanide compound) but safe in small amounts. The larynx on men is called the Adam’s Apple (I believe coming from Garden of Eden story but Christian mythology is NOT my thing.) Falling back to the “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” there is suggested research that states that apples may reduce the risk of certain forms of cancer, increase skeletal muscle, decrease fat, obesity, glucose intolerance. It’s great for fiber and vitamin C.
  • Appearance & Color – Apples vary in colors depending on type while apple blossoms are white and pink. If you associate color with the apple, you’ll get fire (especially in gala breeds). Red for action, motion, courage, and passion. Pink is gentler, warm, love, comfort, and good for healing, and to relieve depression. In appearance the flesh is smooth and can be shined with a white, crisp flesh and a core of tiny black seeds. The seeds are rather eye-like aren’t they? And in shape, apples are fairly round and I can attest from personal experience make fairly entertaining baseballs.

tl;dr: I’d use apples for love, fertility, marriage, sex, lust, secrets, taboo or forbidden things, beauty, youth, trickery, poison, death (because where there’s fertility there’s death), education, knowledge, contests, trade or commerce, and suspended life (apples are stored long-term for food plus Snow White’s story). And that’s just the simple apple.

Additionally, there’s the animistic belief that plants have souls or inherent power. Either the power or spirits exist there or the power and spirits can be “unlocked” or “encouraged” to a specific purpose for spell work. Or if one worked with a linked deity, you can use those herbs as a substitute for those deities or those deities’ power.

So there’s a lot of reasons why someone may use an herb for something. It really depends on the person. For example, some won’t use the physical appearance of an herb. Others will rely entirely on the folkloric or mythological attributes. The medical and biological attributes are often used by herbalists and are sometimes ignored by some witches. It really depends on the person themselves and their practice. I like to use all of the above in my witchcraft.

(Also, thanks so much! <3)

Originally posted on tumblr here.

Boiling Water

Last night a friend came down from Boston to visit. We did a little shopping and spent the rest of the day making cookies and hanging out, watching dumb Disney movies. Now my friend is not entirely a skeptic. They believe in the paranormal because they’ve experienced it but they don’t entirely buy into the whole magic thing. However, they’re really nice about it, open-minded but rational. Essentially, they’re not a dick.

So Friend is manning the stove as we make dinner, waiting impatiently for the water to boil. It’s been well over twenty minutes and it’s just starting to simmer.

“How fucking long does water take to boil on your stove?”

I shrug, dicing carrots. “The electric coils are dying. The back burners are a bit better but not much.”

They look over their shoulder at me, annoyed. “And you can’t magically fix it?”

I half-laugh and dump the carrots into the salad, switching to shredding a block of cheese. “No. When I use my magic on technology it does revive the item for a while but when it dies again it dies permanently. That’s why I have to replace all my electronics all the time. Why else do you think I need a new cell phone every year? And have you ever heard an Xbox make the noise mine makes?”

My friend is quiet for a long moment and the silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable but it’s considering. Feeling the need to add in a qualifier, I say,

“Well, that’s my theory at least. For me personally. Other witches have better luck. Anyway, that’s why I don’t use more magic on my Jeep. I can’t afford for it to die forever. Besides, I love that damn thing.”

We work silently for several minutes. Finally the water boils and my friend dumps the homemade pasta in the water, stirring expertly. Their voice is slightly resentful but at the situation at large rather than me, “I don’t know why you don’t land yourself a sugar daddy.”

I throw back my head and laugh. “Because I’m worse at love magic for myself than anything else. Really though, I can’t seem to do rubbish for me.” Done with the cheese, I go over to the stove and stir the bubbling pasta sauce.

“Aren’t you the one who said that it’s important for magic practitioners to use their magic for themselves first, then others?”

I shrug, moving the sauce off the other burner. “Oh yes. But I understand why it works that way for me. It’s a personal hang-up, rather psychological in nature. I have a hard time accepting that I’m worth something outside of helping people and my writing. In turn, that means I’m my own worse enemy when I do magic for purely selfish reasons. Money magic is easy for me because it helps pay bills, fulfulling responsibilities. But love? That’s just selfishness.” My tone is matter-of-fact as I pour the wine.  “I’m aware of my flaws. Now, which movie shall we watch?”

The next morning we both grumpily crawl out from our blanket cocoons and tea, toast, and eggs are in demand. My friend take the toaster out and sets out toast enough bread for an army. I fill the kettle, switch on the burner, and dump it on. My friend groans.

“Tea will take forever.”

I make a noise, because it’s too cold to form sentences, and pull the lid off the kettle, dip my finger in the water, then spin it clockwise to speed up the boiling process. I work my magic and, as always, when the power is raised my arm twitches uncontrollably for a moment before, satisfied, I clamp the lid back on and get to heating the pan for eggs.

“Get out the tea you want. Tea boxes are right in front of you.” I wave at the cigar boxes that hold my tea bags and small amounts of loose-leaf tea. “I have herbs if you’re looking for something that isn’t there.”

“Earl is fine with me. I know it’s your favorite.”

I reach over the frying eggs to pick up the kettle, and set to warm up the teapot.

“That water isn’t boiled yet-” My friend says, because it hasn’t even been five minutes yet, and yet the water comes out just boiling. It heats the teapot quickly.

“How-”

“Magic. How else?” I dump the water into the dirty dishes, plop the tea leaves inside the teapot, and pour the rest of the water in the kettle over the tea leaves.

“You can magically heat water.”

“I can speed up the heating process. Whether I can actually heat the water or it’s a trick of the mind is up for theoretically debate.” I tuck the kettle away.

“Why the hell didn’t you use it last night?”

I hand over an empty mug, “I wasn’t done making the salad yet.”

Castle of Sea Glass and Sand

I live in a castle sculpted of sea glass and sand. Soft, it is not. The walls bite into your skin when you fall against it, the wet sand around the internal waterfalls works as quicksand, taking invaders into the depths and under workings of the castle.

Beautiful it can be, breathtakingly so in fact, but as with most beautiful things the danger is apparent only upon close inspection.

Servants and staff move quickly, almost silent under the rushing of the decorative waterfalls and the crashing of the waves only steps away. Sea glass filters the bright sun and casts a hazy light show every rise and set. At night, it is so dark the shadows are gone and the eldritch horrors of the ocean and the night seem to dog your steps.

Magic is common here. Scullery maids wash dishes without ever touching the water with their hands and even stable boys use minor charms to care for the mount raiment. Courtiers walk on slipper- shod feet, whispering and consulting with their spies and attendants while warriors push their way through, having places to go and people to kill.

And the ruler sit on a throne of fulgurite, huge and dark, so massive that they sometimes fade into it. They wear silks and furs, leather and steel. Their hair, golden and bright, tumbles in wild curls down their back to tap their knees, a cloak in its own right. Their crown is jeweled and yet the edges are so sharp it can finely slice flesh without the victim even being aware.

This wasn’t originally their home. No, no. They carved their territory from crossroads and urban lands. Then they took the forest, slowly encroaching like the dawning sun through until it was all theirs from the golden bird trees by the hillside outside of the city to the distant mountains.  And when they saw the failing seaside kingdom to the south, the people starving and suffering, fleeing for better places, they rose in their war-gowns and armor to conquer, taking down those necessary until they were the only one remaining to sit on the throne in a castle made of sea glass and sand. And still, the kingdom grows.

I live in a castle of sea glass and sand. It is a beautiful place, busy and full of life. The sea roars, a steady sound like a heartbeat. It is home.

Blaze

There was a burning fire and the clouds of smoke was not unlike the haze of sex and sweat from the last twenty minutes before close at a nightclub, frantic and yet slowed down. It was a strange association, a conjunction of both her lives in one single moment. The moment passed as the flames licked at her arm, curling the fine hair there in dehydration.

She was cooking in her boots and she knew it. The light linen fabric that made up her cloak flowed around her and she folded a length over her mouth and nose, blinking away the painful tears conjured from the smoke.

She stepped over then body of someone she had been too late to safe, too slow to pull free from the nightmare that was both reality and not, surreal and unreal. Lungs burning, she held back expelling the poisonous air because there was simply no clean air here to refill her lungs with. Of course, There the air was clean but the shock of the cold, pure air filling her lungs would spur her from here and she didn’t have the time for that right now.

Boots crunched over what remained of the sea glass windows. Her lungs ached and in desperation she reached out through the village, the forest, and across to the windswept beach and pulled until it crashed like a wave through the building. The wind infuriated the flames, it was true, and it did nothing but cause the fire to dance erratically in a mockery of ecstatic dance, but the moment the wind blew past her she drew the clean air deep in her lungs, the bright smell of seaweed and salt filling her nostrils for an instant before dissipating to the burning scent of flesh and wood.

Renewed if only slightly, she narrowly missed treading on a deceased being’s tail and pushed past a scorching hot log that remained of what was once a support beam and finally found what she was looking for. The fire hadn’t reached here yet and what remained of the family that once lived here had taken shelter in the corner, the larger members of the badger-like people bashing on the mud walls to free themselves. They had made a serious dent on the wall but not enough. Five children of various ages whimpered in fear and were the first to see her.

They shrank back, one of the large family members turning to snarl at her, the fear of being attacked even now as they were trapped, dying, the first to come to their minds.

“Get up and move. Be ready to run.” Her command was cold, loud and dark in the smoke but the order and her expectation of her words being heeded was clear. She raised one hand and those who had been bashing on the wall jumped clear. She drew in a deep smoke-ridden breath, her magic humming under her skin to be released. She let go both her breath and the wild thrum of magic and it burst from her like a frenzied beast finally freed from its cage. The wall blasted apart, chunks of mud flying in every direction, the smoke hurtling itself out of the gaping hole. The residents didn’t need to hear her bellow of “move!” to go. They were already stumbling out of the building and into the night.

The darkness was serene and pleasantly cool against her feverish skin as she stepped clear. Insects chirped and buzzed happily, ignorant and uncaring of the plight that wrecked the long mud house. She stepped nearly back into the trees, pulling the cloth from her mouth and focused on pulling short breaths with long exhales.

Several villagers had rushed to the family’s aid and she tilted her head to the side to see one of the younger family members watching her in awe, trying to copy her breathing pattern. She slowed it deliberately so the child could mimic it before reaching out one clawed hand to rubbed the top of the child’s head between two perky ears. The child ran off to demonstrate the new breathing trick and she straightened to her full height, which was minuscule compared to the family’s species. She only came up to the hips of one of the larger beings and she gave a quick tap on the fur thigh before asking,

“Will you be all right?” She didn’t insult them in asking if they were all right now. Who would be?

He – she was pretty sure it was a he, although gender and spirits is a tricky thing at most times – nodded. “Our neighbors will help, Your Majesty.”

“Do you know the cause?”

He shook his head and she narrowed her eyes. “I’ll send an investigator. This is not the only treasure to be burned tonight. ” She stamped one of her legs, trying to shake free the ache in it. She started to move away only to pause when the deep voice asked,

“Why?”

There could be a lot of questions in that single word and even more answers could be given but she chose the one she thought he was asking and answered honestly,

“Because for however long you reside here, you are mine. Mine to protect and defend. You honor me by residing on my land. It is only right that I return your trust by protecting you as best I can. I will send an investigator.”

She drew her hood on, for her speech had drawn more attention from the spectators and victims that she would have liked. “I sincerely wish you the best in the future.”

She moved away then, letting the village’s noise flutter past her. As she walked, she passed several hurrying robed people with buckets and vessels of water, all of whom nodded at her. One paused long enough to give a short, perfunctory bow and physically handed her one of her little flying messengers before scurrying off. Her little fire brigade, ready to use their gifts of water manipulation to quell the fire before the whole village was taken.

The messenger spit out the captain’s report clearly enough. The bridge had burned to the ground. No injuries. No deaths.

She sighed, picking up the pace. She had abandoned the bridge in order to save the family. Both had been important. The bridge connected the forests here to the gold and white birch grove beyond over a ravine of briers but the house had contained more than forty members of a single family. The choice had been no choice at all. Still, the bridge had best be rebuilt immediately and she had a firebug to catch.

It was going to be a long night.

Witchy Tips for Anxiety and Energy

1 Comment

Witchy Tips for Anxiety and Energy

Tumblr ask about spells for anxiety, herbs for the same, and then a few more on energy boosting. A bit of a ramble.

Let’s talk servitors

4 Comments

I have a wide variety of spirits and beings that attend to me. I don’t work with them or for them. They work for me. Some run messages and collect gossip, others protect various things, a few have specific roles, and others still run business for me on the Other Side while I’m away. I have a small army of folks working for me. In trade for their services, I grant them various things according to our arrangements and, most importantly, protection.

I’m gathering from what I’ve seen on the internet this is somewhat unusual. Frankly, on the other side I have a huge tract of territory and people inside that territory. Mostly, they do their thing and keep what few laws I have and I leave them alone. They need help I help them. They don’t then I don’t. Simple.

Now, I tend to group things together. All spirits are spirits. They could also be demons, fae, ghosts, local deities, etc but I call them a spirit unless they have a specific title they want me to use. Most don’t bother defining themselves so I don’t bother defining them. I might have suspicions on “what they are” (whatever that means) but it doesn’t usually factor into anything for me.

Yes, all this is important for this discussion.

I also group all servitors, constructs, thoughtforms, egregores, and even some familiars together. If they are a being created by a person, they get dumped into this category. I actually use thoughtform, egregore, construct, and servitor interchangeably. But I also personally define them as separate things. Thoughtforms, for example, are creatures made of thought, usually for specific purposes. Egregore is a group thoughtform. Servitor is a created creature that serves while a construct is just a created creature without that desire to serve built in. Thoughtforms and egregores are purely non-corporeal and totally reside in the realm outside the physical (although they may exist in this physical realm.) Servitors may, but not always, be connected to an object or have a body whereas constructs, for me, will always have a body it cannot go far from.

These beings can evolve or go from one title to another. A construct can develop into a servitor and extend itself from its body far more than it should. A thoughtform or egregore can become servitor or construct. It’s all really fluid.

For example, I may make a construct for a spell. I might put together a clay poppet or something and place it at a crossroad to become a guardian of that place. I might make a construct to ruin someone’s life, literally creating a spirit who will torment a person. (Hey, I warned you all I’m not a nice person.) I might make a construct to protect someone.

Now I have a construct that is attached to some jewelry. I developed it so it would eventually work as a weapon and, with any luck, activate itself if I was in danger and didn’t know it or was unconscious. At first, I needed to be aware of its existence and truly activate it to get it to work. Over the last year or so, it has slowly but surely become more active, more self-aware, and more self-sufficient. It can now extend itself out of the body and home and it can be about a hundred feet from its body with no trouble so long as it remains on my body. I’m thinking that it could now ride storms if we had such storms at the moment.

Anyway, it has begun to develop its skills and has branched out from its original purpose to new ones – which is super awesome and exactly what I want. I’m totally OK with my servitors becoming self aware and eventually leaving my service if it so wants. Most people who work with servitors don’t like that because 1) that servitors know all your shit 2) it can become unruly and destructive if not properly cared for or malformed.

So why a servitor? It depends on the person themselves. I like having a servitor to watch my back. Often, my servitors remember shit way better than me and can remind me of shit I need to do. It’s companionship and someone to talk to. My servitors also are required to have some sort of attack. I like them to be able to defend themselves and me if necessary. If they are body-less and more free-moving thoughtforms, I send them on missions for certain things. To check the status of this herb in the wild or to find someone to serve my needs for something. They’re useful as shit – if you’re willing to do the work. Much like a pet or child, you have to train them, care for them properly, or they can become very destructive and unruly. And it really, truly sucks having to destroy what you’ve created like that.

It’s a pretty classic magician sort of thing. Familiars work similarly but I tend to find that familiars are spirits that find you not beings you create. Do you need one? Hell no. You don’t need a guide, familiar, servitor, or any damn thing if you don’t want it. It is a being that is useful but takes a lot of time and energy to make and create and if you don’t consistently care for it and forget it (which is super fucking common) terrible things like hauntings and nightmares can occur.

Mourning Days and Ghost Festival

August 15th is the one day shared between Mourning Days (a three day festival of introspection and remembrance) and the Ghost Festival (a sixteen day festival).

With Mourning Days, I spend one day cleansing and attending to cemeteries. I’d spend more doing it but often life gets in the way. I have a real love, admiration, and fascination with cemeteries and graveyards. I use to volunteer and work for the state finding missing cemeteries, marking them with GPS so they can be added to maps, recording their condition, and cleaned it up if necessary (although this varied per person.) I love studying death rituals and cemeteries are gorgeous. Pillars of carved memorials only worn away by time embedded in living earth. Ugh. I can’t even express it to you with rambling poetry. A community of the deceased, laid together in the same ground but always apart, always alone.

Don’t mistake my fascination with cemeteries and death rituals as a fascination with death or murder. I like the cultural ethos around funerals, deaths, and act of honoring the deceased. I care more about how the dead are honored and how the living treat the dead then the method of death itself (unless the method of death or the condition of the body actually affects how the deceased is treated).

The rest of the time during Mourning Days, I spent with vague honors to the deceased ones I know and introspection. By vague I mean I light a vigil candle and incense. With introspection, I sit down and think. I think about those who have passed and how they affected my life. I think about how I would feel in my last thoughts of death, what I would regret or want more of. And then I use that nostalgia and meditation to plan for the future.

With Ghost Festival, it leaps off Mourning Days right into dealing with the spirits of the dead. Now I don’t deal with the spirits of the dead often. That’s my brother, the Necromancer’s gig. I don’t want it and my experiences with the dead haven’t been awesome. However, I feel that ignoring the dead entirely is an injustice as my role of a spirit walker so I spend the Ghost Festival keying into that “range” of spirits. I say range because I like to explain the different feel of spiritual energy by comparing them to frequencies. I don’t think spiritual energy is frequencies I just find people understand it easier when explaining it to folks who don’t really get or want detailed explanations. On the same train of thought, I think that ghosts can be tracked by equipment that pick up frequencies.

Anyway, I spend Ghost Festival really wandering around and seeing, talking to, and listening to ghosts. That’s what I do. Sometimes, those ghosts are just impressions, fragments of who or what they once were and other times they’re nearly full people, dead people but people none the less.

At the same time, it should be noted that the Dying Days of Summer Festival still runs till the 24th. During that particular festival, I spend it celebrating summer, the heat and the ecstasy of summer itself. The last throes of the year before preparing for the harvest and the cold, sleep of the year.

Now despite being a secular witch, I’m a spiritual person. I know there are gods. I know there are spirits. And I know they share the same world as me. I cannot, personally, exist and live without acknowledging them and their lives. My festivals are more like parties. They are not worshiping and they are not part of a religion. There are years I feel like I don’t need a Ghost Festival or often I don’t do a damn thing during the festival but acknowledge that it’s a thing I should be doing. It’s separate from my witchcraft. Maybe it is the foundations of a religion but I like to see it as my own spirituality. My witchcraft doesn’t include it. I do not do spells or charms for my festivals. This is my personal way of dealing with the things I see, know, and experience.

Rhode Island Pagan Pride Day, August 11, 2013 – a review

1 Comment
Or, hell yes RIPPD

Ginandjack and a RI PPD Program

Ginandjack and I were running late. Having both slept in a bit more than we had planned, I swung by his place to pick him up and grab some breakfast at Dunkin Donuts (which is so very Rhode Island I can’t even).  A quick visit to the ATM and a hustle back to my house to stock up the Hakuryuu the Jeep before heading out.

Water was loaded up by the metal container into the cooler alongside a simple pasta salad, homemade pastries, and a pair of peaches. Finally, we doused ourselves with lemongrass and eucalyptus bug spray and 70+SPF sunblock.

As no one contacted me for a lift to the event I hadn’t bothered putting the rear seat back in. The truck was filled with our cooler, some emergency supplies, the speaker, a blanket, and Nella, the citronella plant I intended to plop on the table during my workshop so I would a) have a prop and b) won’t be attacked by insects in the near-swamp.

Image

The road facing away from the Sportsman Club and towards the Wampanoag Trail.

RIPPD was being held in our hometown. It was easy for us to rumble and rattle our way down the Wampanaog Trail to the nearly hidden street of Mohawk Drive (or Sportmans Drive. Depends on who you ask.). Narrow and broken, we slowed to a roll and parked alongside the road. We decided to leave most of our crap in the Jeep and took only our wallets with us.

Image

The view of the Sportsman Club and the event site, plus a glance of the Jeep from the road.

The first thing we saw was the Noble Knots food truck, a coffee truck who’s name escapes me, and the RI Blood Bank truck. (Later, we ended up having to move the Jeep to a small field because the blood truck had to leave and the cars were blocking the way. Oops. Poor planning on their part.)

The building itself is a single floor with three steps up (a side entrance for the physically imparied with a ramp). White and narrow, the inside was two rooms, plus a tiny hallway with bathrooms and the kitchen. I don’t have images of the inside, but they were mostly small table full of jewelry, some cloaks, and Familiar Spirits, the state’s only New Orleans’ style Hoodoo shop. The Witches’ Almanac was also inside, which I adore and highly recommend for folks who are looking for an alternative to the Llewellyn almanacs available.

We made our way to the Welcoming Tent where I was immediately recognized by Dayna, the workshop coordinator (also, an absolutely adorable and sweet person.) Once I got my program and name tag (which I refused to wear. It’s a thing.) Ginandjack and I started to wander and see what there was to see.

The location was gorgeous and larger than we imagined. The workshop tents were on separate corners of the little field behind the building, past a cement patio with a fire pit. There was plenty of space for large rituals, which was where they were also held. In the distance, you could see the marshy waters of the river opening up to the sea and hawks flew high above, circling in their habitat. The Sportmans’ Club is down the street from a wetland bird sanctuary, often used for hiking and relaxing by locals.

I think my only complaint about the grounds were the rampant amount of poison ivy, cut down but still present and the lack of seating. Other than the ground, there were no seating arranged unless you snag a chair from the workshops. Likewise, there were only tables to stand at. This sadden me because unless I plopped down on the grass, I couldn’t chat or do readings on a whim as I would normally do at get togethers. Perhaps next time. It was the first time at this location so live and learn.

Image

Vendors 1, including a patch of signs that may or may not leave to Night Vale.

On the other side of the building, past the food trucks, were the tents for vendors.

Image

Second image of the vendors. There’s more along the right but you get the idea.

The vendors themselves were mixed. A lot of jewelry, a very nice booth with stones, some mish-mash witchy stuff, soaps and aromatherapy, a few information booths, herbal products, handmade mirrors, and some statuary. It’s pretty much as you’d expect. I didn’t end up buying a thing as either I could make the things offered or they didn’t appeal to me. Gin picked up a few things here and there. For each of the purchases we strolled back to the Jeep to stow it securely in the Jeep’s lockbox before heading back in.

Unlike other Pagan Pride Days, there was a definite lack of entertainment. No music was played outside of the occasional snippets of song by a person or during ritual. It was peaceful but I’ve come to expect some music for PPD, and all events really, but since I couldn’t come up with any local entertainment either, I can’t really complain about what can’t be found.

We arrived during the Wiccan Opening Ritual performed by a group from the Stang and Cauldron shop. Since Wicca is neither Gin nor my own bag of tricks, we watched, commenting politely and quietly to ourselves, before making another series of rounds bout the vendors.

Image

The mid-day ritual by the Hellenic Temple of Apollon, Zeus, and Pan.

Eventually, we got to chatting with the local Hellenics since Ginandjack is a Hellenic and Dionysian. By Hellenics, I mean not just a random group but of Hellenic but the Hellenic Temple of Apollon Zeus and Pan. A Kemetic also hung out with her “Hellenic cousins” and was quite fun to talk to. We enjoyed their company and spent a good hour or so talking with them, if not more. The Hellenics were also doing the mid-day ritual, which I didn’t participate in due to being secular. I did, however, shoot a few photos and watch. If Ginandjack writes up a thing on his experiences during the ritual, I’ll link it.

I didn’t get close because not only did I not want to be involved, but because I don’t want to mess them up. (If you’re wondering why that might be, well, secrets and spoilers).

Image

Ginandjack came to find me under one of the tents where I was sitting quietly, watching. The Kemetic we had been talking to came over too, to talk and chat about seers and seership.

Ginandjack and I snagged some water and fruit before hitting the vendors again and discussing what we’d seen and experienced. We said hello to those we passed and wandered about.

Image

Ginandjack with Nella the citronella plant. Because we don’t mess around and always bring protection.

My workshop on secular witchcraft was at three, so we spent a lot of time wandering until then. Towards quarter of, we meandered back to the Jeep to collect Nella the citronella plant and my notes and handouts.

RIPPD ran two workshops at a time and I was, unfortunately opposite of Raven Morgaine, the owner of Familiar Spirits, whom was talking about Shadow Work. His workshop was packed, of course, but about a dozen people showed up for my own. A dozen people was about average for a workshop at RIPPD so I was pretty happy with the turnout.

Th workshop itself went well. While some of the attendees went away with more questions than answers (which is totally unsurprising since no one except Ginandjack I had spoken to knew what secularism was at all) but all of the attendees were interested and many actively engaged. A few stayed after for discussion before moving on to other things. It was a good hour, in my opinion.

Ginandjack and I talked to a friend who stopped by for a little while before grabbing something else to eat, making a final round of the vendors who were slowly packing up, before scooting out ourselves to hit the beach before the sun set.

I might post my “notes” here so others can see what the workshop entailed, roughly, if folks are interested.

Goblin Days

Goblins Days is a week long event starting July 25 and running to August 3rd. It’s part of my personal calendar. It’s a secular festival I hold specifically for goblins, mostly to stave off any truly damaging mischief these beings decide to cause.

First, what am I talking about when I speak of goblins?

It’s probably best to start explaining that I don’t tend to differentiate between spirits, demons, local deities, and fae unless the being tells me to do so. I simply don’t care what they are. It doesn’t matter to me if the spirit is a kitsune or an polecat spirit – I treat them as they ask and I don’t bother to ask the details. If they want me to know they’re a kitsune, they will damn well tell me. This often saves from conversations that make me sound silly, knowledgeable, and foolish. It also saves me from assuming I understand them – I can’t possibly do that as I’m not like them. The only assumption I make is that they’re likely to backstab me at any given time and to not fully trust them. This belief has served me very well over the years.

Now, about the goblins. Mostly because “goblin” for me isn’t a specific being but a general term for small, mischievous spirits that causes damage. Every single year they destroy glassware. They never take out anything important – as that would truly anger me – but everyday drinking glasses or jars will find themselves flying off shelves and counters for no good reason at all. Things will go missing and end up in stupid places like the shower or inside a pair of shoes. They find it fun to play such games but sometimes they get out of hand and can cause real damage. They’re often seen as “evil” but I tend to find them just amusing. I’m fond of them. They are always the first to show up and the last to leave. Most typically imps and gremlins, I call them goblins and they don’t seem to mind it. Because I coat the word in fondness and don’t consider goblins evil, they even seem pleased to be called by this “pet” name. They can consist of any number of beings. I might call a being a goblin even if that being is definitely NOT a goblin by traditional definitions. It is their actions I’m more concerned with. They might be unruly, crude, mischievous, slightly cruel, greedy, always hungry, always drinking, and love shiny things. Consider them the frat boys of the spirit world.

During Goblin Days, I give these being their own little party. It’s pre-gaming, so to speak. They get mini-offerings (at random, because if they expect them and don’t get them all hell would break loose) and they don’t take out expensive items as a response. Sometimes they get a little too out of hand and I have to remind them they’re not only guest but I’m pretty fucking badass and can dropkick the whole lot of them out of the house before they could spit. I literally remind them that I’m not some random human for them to walk all over. I’m me and they know exactly what will happen if they go too far.

It’s a fun time and gets me in the mood to deal with the bigger, more powerful, and stronger spirits that roll around for the other festivals. Annnnd, yup, that’s all I’m willing to reveal at the moment.

Personal Festival Calendar

These are my festivals. Think of them like themed parties than holidays or holy days.

1/1 – 1/7 – First Days / New Year’s Day

1/6 – Logic Day / Sherlock Holmes’ birthday

2/21 – 2/23 – Silence Days

3/4 – 3/16 – The Awakening

3/18 – 3/26 – Rain Festival

3/30 – 4/3 – The Fool

4/4 – 4/7 – Cemetery Cleaning Days

4/13-4/14 – Seer’s Vigil at the Corpse Road Crossroad

4/30 – 5/1 – Reckless Day / Walpurgisnacht

4/30 – 5/2 – May Day Festival

5/4 – Girl Underground Day

5/31 – River Song Day (Complicated. Of course.)

6/1 – 6/8 – Mermaid Week

6/6 – Birthday

6/19 – 6/23 – Summer Festival / Midsummer

7/8 – 7/13 – Fire, Blood, and Love Festival

7/24 – Maternal Memorial Day

7/25 – 8/3 – Goblin Days (pre-game/ part of the Demon Festivals

7/29 – This Crooked Crown’s Witchery & Curiosities anniversary

8/1 – Demon Festivals Opening Feast (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/1- 8/24 – Dying Days of Summer Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/1 – 11/13 – Demon Festivals

8/13 – 8/15 – Mourning Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/15 – 8/31 – Ghost Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/28 – 9/13 – Storytelling Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/30 – 9/1 – Demon Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

8/31 – 9/1 – Twilight (part of the Demon Festivals)

9/8 – 9/15 – Scholar Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

9/12 – 9/28 – Tengu Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

9/18 – 9/21 – Exploration Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

9/23 – 10/8 – Harvest Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/1 – Blood Day (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/3 – 10/6 – Bonfire Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/10 – 10/13 – Necromancy Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/15 – 10/25 – Water Festival (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/28 – 10/30 – Cat Days (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/30 – Mischief Night (part of the Demon Festivals)

10/31 – 11/2 – Souls Days / Halloween / Samhain / All Souls’ Day (part of the Demon Festival)

11/3 – 11-10 – Court (part of the Demon Festivals)

11/11 – Demon Festivals Closing Feast (part of the Demon Festivals)

11/11 – 11/13 – The Leaving (post/ part of the Demon Festivals)

11/25 – 11/30 – The Feasting / Thanksgiving

11/30 – 3/3 – The Hibernation (less a festival, more of a mode of living or a phase)

12/1 – 12/12 – Snow Festival

12/7 – This Crooked Crown tumblr anniversary!

12/20 – 12/30 – Winter Festival / Yule

12/31 – Day of Regrets / New Year’s Eve

Again, think of them like parties. Reasons to sit and think or do something different on that day. Or a reason to have a little feast and lift a glass that day. Since these aren’t religious (as I don’t belong to a religion) and are more spiritual in nature, there’s no punishment if I say “hm, nope, not feeling it this year. Fuck it.”