Paths

It's been a long time since I started on my path to Paganism. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about it. Especially since my step-son will soon be dedicating and since my brother is a recent dedicant and recently starting living with me.

I remember being about 15. I was living in foster care in a small city in Missouri called Craig. Quite literally, my school housed kindergarten through high school. The graduating class was 8 people. I was the odd ball. I dressed in darker clothes. I wore combat boots, enjoyed listening to Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Violent Femms and of course the beginnings of Dave Matthews Band. Yes, I know, DMB has no place among the rest of those, but hey, what can I say?

One of my friends claimed to be a witch at the time. I had read books on the occult that my mother had on her book shelf when I had lived with her. She claimed to be able to fly, change shape... you know the kind. A complete nutso. She also claimed to be Anton LeVey's mistress, but I digress.... nut job. But she still has a special place in this story. Even without knowing a lot, I knew in my heart that the "witch" she claimed to be was not what I felt I was.

I had no formal training. No library to research information with, other than our schools "library" which consisted of mainly children's books and educational material. We didn't have internet. Still, I felt a connection with the earth and with the occult, which is the only name I knew it by.

I would go out in nature and talk to it. I knew people thought I was the crazy one, but I didn't care. I put wishes in bottles and buried them along the railroad tracks near my house. I prayed to the only "god" I knew which was the Christian God. I asked for direction. I asked for a path. About 6 months after doing this, my foster parent decided they no longer wished to have a teen-aged child in their home and I was sent to live with my aunt in the Kansas City area. I had lived in this area as a young child, but my mother had moved us to Missouri starting in 5th grade.

When I moved in, things were different. At first, I was painfully shy. I spent my time at work, a local Taco Bell, and at the library. I learned about witchcraft being a real religion- namely the Wiccan side of everything. We had internet, but I couldn't navigate it very well. I watched shows like X-Files and Ghost stories. I did what research I could.

Eventually, I found someone that I had went to school with back in elementary school. She in turn introduced me to a group of people. Things took off. Real witches, Wiccans, Shamans, natural livers etc. All had been a pretty interesting topic for me. I talked to everyone who would talk to me. These people also enjoyed my music, my tastes etc. Being with them made things a lot easier. Eventually, they led me to Scott Cunningham, Silver Raven Wolf, DJ Conway and Starhawk. They took me to my first Gaea experience and Heartland Festival.

At first, I was the type that did EVERYTHING the Wiccan way. I look back now and it's funny. I was a tree hugger, I wore patchuley, carried stones in my pocket, talked with spirits that really no one saw. I wrote down every dream and diagnosed it every morning. Everyone I met I had to tell them, "I am a Libra, so you know what that means". I eventually became very much like certain Christians I know. "Have you looked into Wicca as a religion"? "You shouldn't do that! Especially if you don't cast a circle and draw down the moon"! I even made up ancestors that had been witches to give me lineage. (Only later did I find out that some family had been Pow Wow artists or used natural remedies for healings, but none of them were "witches".)

Until one day someone told me that I wasn't a real witch. I got into an argument with this gentleman. He persisted. He told me I was nothing but a fake. His argument was I can talk the talk, but did I really practice? Did I really believe the things I was talking about? Did I just do it for the friendship and something to relate to. These questions weren't easy to answer either. And when he asked me, I just got angry and walked away. I complained to everyone I knew about him and trespassing my boundaries and how I was going to put a spell on him, for his own good of course.

After about a week, I sat down and did something I had never done before. I put my books away. I meditated. I asked Freya (who someone told me I reminded them of) for direction. To show me if I was really on the right path, the path of my spirituality. I must have sat there for over 2 hours, talking things out, writing things down. Eventually, I quieted my mind and envisioned a corn field and me having to find my way out.

A black haired Goddess eventually appeared to me. She never talked. She looked at me and touched my cheek in a loving manner. She took a dagger, a cup, some tarot cards, and a stone and threw them into a large fire. The then placed her cauldron on top of it, filled it with water and led me to it. As I gazed into the water all I saw was my reflection. Behind me, I heard nothing but the caw of crows or ravens. I turned around and the Goddess was gone.

I awoke the next morning deciding I had fallen asleep during my meditation, but wrote down my vision. Later, I decided that the Goddess might have been Morrigan, hence the ravens. I also had figured that the Goddess had given me a message of needing to find my own path, throwing out the tools I thought I just had to have or need and to follow my heart. After all, when you look into your reflection- you need to be just you. Not someone else.

So I took all the things I had learned and threw them out. No easy feat. I started with colors. What did a particular color mean to me. Most of them were the same, only certain ones a little different. Red was passion and anger, but also blood- a life force. Pink was love and family, but also communication. Black was void for me. It was comfort as well. It was shadows and the unknown. I went to stones and herbs. I went through a lot of things. I decided which friends I really wanted to be around and which ones just really weren't worth my time. By the end of High School I was really practicing. I still wasn't a know-it-all, but I knew enough to do the things I really wanted to do. I also stopped calling myself a Wiccan. I never really have identified with this name tag. Pagan, witch, even heathen fit me better.

I got distracted a few times. Once by a guy I liked who claimed to be an alien vampire that would bite me to get energy. Occasionally I would want to fit in again- have something that I identified with. One friend swore I was from Atlantis and we would talk for hours about going back. (Wasn't that part of a Styx song.... LOL) I chalk all of these experiences to being in my youth and having an imagination. Eventually, when something didn't fit, it went away.

It's been 12 years since I graduated high school. I have read even more books, studied different subjects, practiced, performed spells, cast circles, officiated handfastings, legal weddings, even birth and death rites. I still have never found a wrong way of doing things because the things I have done have felt right to me. I still ask questions, and for that I am proud.

I now write, I help others find paths. And my biggest piece of advice to them is the same that Morrigan gave me so many years ago now; Find yourself, the path will show its way once that is achieved.

Brightest Blessings,

Lorelei
Silver Raven

Sh*t or get off the pot

So I am currently finding every SINGLE item that Ryan and I want in our store. Cataloging it. Pricing it. Computing and writing a business plan are in the works as well. I downloaded a sample business plan and once I have all my information it's on to that. Though the part of potential market is going to be difficult. It's been so hard to find so many pagans here in Topeka that I don't know how many their are and what the potential to the store is r how to document it. I will have to look into that some more.
I have decided that I HAVE to get this store going. In other words, I have to do it or quit complaining about it. One or the other. I can't just talk the talk, I have to do it too.
I have also decided that at least every other day I am going to have to write. I just don't know if I can serve tables forever. I know I can't. My 30 year old body can't take it. LOL. Anyway. I wrote some beautiful meditations the other night and have also been writing some great visualization spells that I will share here soon.
Love to all and Brightest Blessings!

A rock and a hard place.

Work is one of those things that are a necessary beast. Something I despise. I mean, if I could make enough money writing all the time, I would. In a heart beat. I know that would be hard too, but it would be self-fulfilling. If I could get this business plan written for a Pagan store and run that, which would be a lot of hours, but again, it would be worth it. The truth is, I am a waitress. Although serving tables is an honorable job, after all someone has to do it, it really doesn't pay my bills. If I worked all nights and all weekends, I am sure I could make it, but I am a mother. I refuse to lose every ounce of time with my children. That is not a childhood. That is what my mother had to do, and although I grew up to be a decent member of society, I do not want my kids growing up the same way.

It's not like I am a high school drop out, or didn't go on in my education. I completed a Medical Assisting degree, which in Kansas, as I have found, really isn't worth much. I have over 13 years in customer service, but I make more money serving tables, with less hours. I have been a damn good phlebotomist (one of those vampires that takes your blood to run tests on it.) but in Topeka those jobs come rarely and are mainly part time with just as much pay as I am receiving now.

Now, I work in a mexican restaurant called On the Border. Nice place. For the most part, I work with nice people. I like my boss and my direct bosses for the most part are pretty decent. I get along with most everyone I work with, which is why I don't want to find a different job most of the time. They depend on me because they know I am a hard worker and treat every person with respect. They in return put up with my craziness and my random rantings. They have watched my daughter grow up in the past year, know about the hardships our family has faced, been there when I cried about my son, and helped me when I desperately needed money.

The truth is though, I may have to look for another job. I may have to work 40 hours a week and maybe only get a little more than I am currently. It's either that or I have to buckle down on the writing and getting people to subscribe and work on getting the pagan shop open. It just kills me though because in order to get ahead, I will have to sacrifice even more time than I already do with my children.

What's a grown person to do?

Coming out of the Witch-closet

I have lived here in Topeka now for about 2 years. It was mid September, 2008 when my family and I packed up from Lawrence and planted ourselves in Topeka. Immediately we tried to find a local Pagan connection like we had in Lawrence, such as The Village Witch.

We looked into our phone book and found nothing under "metaphysical", "Occult" or anything similar. We looked on "craigslist" and other online searches. Still, we found nothing but an old website talking about Pagan Pride Day which happened September 30, 2006 and seems to have not happened again since.

Frustrated, we abandoned our search of other like-minded individuals.

Fast forward to almost 2 years later and I have started writing for the Examiner.com. Suddenly, out of no-where my searches are becoming fruitful. A metaphysical shop downtown emerged one day that I had never seen before. A spirit fair connected me with herbalists. A chance meeting at the restaurant I work at introduced me to a studio where they do guided meditations, aura work and belly dancing. Driving home one day from work I see a Reiki studio. An online search connected me to an Interfaith Board member for the Pagan sect. Yet another search found a webgroup that occasionally gets together as a group locally. Was it the 2 years that I had waited to look again that brought the Pagans into my sight? Or perhaps it was I was ready to see them. I like to think of the latter. Each and every one of these groups were around 2 years ago, I just was not meant to see them.

I take this as a sign that I am on the right path. Everyday brings more and more people out of the witch-closet for me to find and see, for me to connect with. A blessing.

Thanks.

Closer to Spirit

Last year about this time, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I had just moved out of a house that was owned by the biggest slum lord in Topeka. The house we moved into wasn't ideal at the time, but it felt right. My father, a recovering alcoholic, was living with us. His recovery wasn't doing so well. He and I fought constantly and I had lost my job on Mother's Day. My husband lost his job not long after. I felt drained all the time worrying how I was going to make ends meet and pay our bills. One night, I decided to sit alone and meditate.

I thought long and hard about the path I was currently on and the reasons I was not happy. I lit a white and an orange candle. The white for cleansing and the orange for communication. I asked my patron Goddess Morrigan to assist me in finding the answers.

As I stared into the candle I talked out loud about all the things that were wrong in my life. How I felt so alone I felt and how I needed guidance to get me onto a better path. I questioned everything. I cried. It was here that I realized that this was the first time in over a year that I had really performed magic or even talked to the Goddess. I had gotten so wrapped up in desires, needs and self-pity that I had forgotten the most important aspects of being a Pagan. I had stopped helping others and communicating with Spirit.

It was like an epiphany. It hit me so hard that I quite literally stopped right there with a dumbfound look on my face. My answer had been handed to me, just as I had asked. I always felt so much better when helping others and being close to Spirit, but I since I had gotten married and had a child, this had not come as often. I had gotten too busy making sure a house was clean and bills were paid. Going to work and caring for my daughter and step-son became my number one focus in life. I had lost my closeness with Spirituality.

My husband and I discussed things and decided we both needed to get back to Spirit. After two weeks of meditations, and talking with Spirit, my husband and I found jobs. Things drastically changed after this. As the bills got paid, we thanked Spirit over and over for the assistance that was given. Morning after morning we thanked the Sun for rising again. When the moon came up we felt blessed. Even after standing on our feet for hours we continued to feel grateful.

Samhain brought the first time we worked magic together as a family. Talismans with things we wanted to work on over the next year were made. We set out a plate of food for the passed friends and family when we ate. We carved pumpkins and talked about the Harvest and the Witches Wheel of the Year. I felt at last some peace knowing I was finally getting back onto a path I know I was supposed to walk.

Eventually, my father moved out to go back into a recovery program. Things were still tough, but they were bearable. The energy of our house began to change for the better. My husband and I spent more time together. We talked more often. I spent actual time with my children. I read and worked magic with them. Daily, I communicated with Spirit and thanked them for all the blessing we had already received and those we would receive in the future.

Since my talk with Morrigan, I have not only felt closer to her, but I have also slowed down to hear her messages. Moments like cuddling with my daughter and hearing her beautiful heartbeat, seeing my step-son graduate elementary school, making love with my husband, meditating, helping friends and family.... all of it makes me feel so thankful that I have reconnected with Spirit.

Animals have souls too

A few weeks ago, I adopted a furry little ferret named "Rowdy". To me, he didn't seem so rowdy. After all, he just had a lot of pent up energy. Small cage, not enough time out is what I was guessing. Still, you could tell he was loved by his previous "parents". It took us about a week to find him a more appropriate name, which is now "Tweak". Mainly because he "tweaks out" and lets you know that he needs time to play.

Tweak has been the joy of our family, despite the ankle biting and toe nibbling urging us to play. He puts up with my 3 year old daughter chasing him around and shrieking when he gets close enough to nibble her little toes. At his delight he scampers and hops away chattering playing the "come get me" game.

Last week I decided to start searching for a furry friend for him to play with. Ferrets don't need other ferrets to play with in order to be happy, but it helps. It gives them someone to play with when the "parent" gets too tired to keep up with their antics. I looked on Petfinder.com and found a slew of other animals. Bookmarked the ones I thought would be decent matches and then checked out craigslist.com where I had found Tweak awaiting me.

I found a posting for "Ferrets and Cage" and opened it up. The ad was very simple, 3 ferrets, 2 male, 1 female all fixed and de-scented, needing new home. $150 for all, $40 per ferret without cage. I replied, asking about biting habits, vaccinations etc.

I received a message back saying that they were good ferrets and so forth. So I told them I was wanting to come and see them on the next Wednesday. When I arrived, I was horrified. Ferrets are normally 3-5 lbs depending on age, weight and sex. One larger ferret, a male, barely weighed a pound. You could feel every bone in their bodies. Every part of their spine, hips, even tail. Instead of one, I took two. I couldn't stand to leave them there for them to die. I chose the two worst and felt bad for the third, but in my head, I had told myself at least I was saving two.

The two boy ferrets, nearly lifeless, laid in our laps. My brother and I took them to the pet stores to get "Duk Soup" for sick, malnourished and aged ferrets. It's a high protein, high fat mushy food to help them gain weight fast and increase their appetites. They ate for hours. I then gave them bathes and introduced them to Tweak. Before the end of the night the little boys were named "Skunk" and "Shaman". Skunk actually has a white mark on his head down his neck. Shaman has that old wise look to his face. Both appeared young, within two years of age by looking at their teeth. Before going to bed, they ate again, as if they didn't know when their next meal was coming.

I had the hardest time getting to sleep. My mind kept wandering back to the ferret I left behind. Now lonely, away from the two ferrets she slept with nightly, I wondered if she was ok. I wondered how badly her malnourishment was since theirs very evident by looking at them. I dreamt about ferrets dying and hurting. It was a horrible night.

When I awoke the next morning, Skunk and Shaman were waiting for me. They eagerly looked at me wondering if they were getting their Duk Soup for breakfast. I quickly loved on them while Tweak slept and then gave them their nummies. They ate slowly almost as if they were savoring each little morsel. After getting dressed I looked and they were curled up next to Tweak. It was then that I decided that if I had three, four couldn't be any worse.

I went to work and told my story to others. I asked others for help. Despite everyone feeling bad for the little girl, no one could help. I texted the owner again and pleaded for her release along with the cage, explaining I could not afford to give him what he was asking. Something in him must have known that this ferret needed to have a life. He told me I could take her and the cage for an additional $20.00. My heart soared.

I picked up the little girl and her cage and rushed her home. She, like Skunk and Shaman was ravenous. Her bath was brief and then came the cuddles. Once she was warm and knew we would not harm her, she was introduced to the pack.

The looks I have gotten from my rescued ferrets have been both unbelieving and thankful. Each time I put in new food, take out feces and take them out to play it seems as if it is something new for them. The first time they were allowed to roam and check out their surroundings both Shaman and Skunk just kind of sat still wondering what to do.

Shaman has gained a little weight in just under a day, just as skunk has. Today, Skunk actually played with Tweak instead of letting Tweak nibble on him and run away. Shaman, still very weak actually explored and had a little bounce to him, not much, but a little. All big improvements from yesterday. I know each day, they will be healthier and eventually become like Tweak and bounce everywhere, chattering when he is happy and exploring everything causing me to chase after him.

It's moments like this that I just can't understand how someone would let an animal starve to death. How could you look at them every day and just keep saying "I'll get to it later or tomorrow" and just never do it. I don't know what the circumstances were with their previous handlers, but I know I could never allow something so innocent to be neglected.

Each ferret kiss, each little sigh while laying on my lap, each look after getting a meal tells me that these little guys have feelings. Their soul speaks a million words that I can hear each and every interaction.

I have rescued turtles too. Seems like a hobby I guess, rescuing things that people don't want. Ever seen a turtle smile? I have. They can. Mine smile when they get a treat that they love. They look at me, look at the treat and run. It's moments like those that I feel I have made a difference in this world. I challenge you to do the same.

Rainy days are for relaxation

Tap.. tap... tap...

The repetitive sound of rain falling on your roof and windows on a rainy day can provide some of the best stress relief possible. I love sitting next to a window on a rainy day. I turn off the t.v, phone and other distractions such as fans and air conditioners. You would be surprised on just how loud that air conditioner really is until you temporarily turn it off when its blowing in a quiet house. I heat up a cup of hot tea and sit back and quiet myself.

With my eyes closed I begin breathing in slowly the aromas of the tea I chose, I listen. I can hear the pitter-patter of the rain. As it falls on different objects such as the roof, the windows, my porch, the ground, I can begin to tell the difference. Cars drive by, the low hum of a motor. Sometimes their music playing, I can hear the bass notes. Water flowing in a stream down hill on the side of my house. Occasionally I can tell that the sun is trying to play peek-a-boo with the clouds, though on days like today it is just cloudy gray.

The wind whistles through the trees. One of those branches scrapes against my house. Still, I keep my eyes close. I listen harder, focusing on every sound I can hear. Kids splashing in rain puddles and parents yelling for their children to get inside. A bicyclist out for a rainy day ride. An ambulance far off in the distance with its sirens blazing. My mind begins to wander to their story, but I breathe in and re-focus.

As I breathe out, I notice the rain has gotten harder. I can hear the rain pelting the leaves on the massive Catalpa tree outside. It plays a melody in of itself. Then again I can hear the drops fall to the ground from the tree. My wind chime plays with the rain as well. Rain falling into puddles. Rain hitting my car.

I begin to focus on my breathing. Slow. Melodic as well. In and out. In and out. I can hear the slight whistle as it hits the back of my throat before entering my lungs. I can feel the coolness become warm. I feel my muscles begin to relax. My mind clear and free.

My heartbeat begins to play in rhythm with rain. I focus on this for a moment. The rain and my heart in unity. The blood flowing and the water rushing down the street. It is here that I find a center. It is here that I heal.