Tea With The Mad Hatter

Image: Pixabay

It’s been a while since the White Rabbit and I met up with his former cell mate the Mad Hatter. Sorry, I meant to say colleague, yes, that’s what I meant…My companion gives me a calm but deadly stare. There’s a faintly manic look in his eyes that makes me edge away slowly. You don’t mess with Fluffykins (my private name for the arch Trickster). I know that he knows that I know that he knows this most private of affectionate names. We choose to take the road of ignorance where this is concerned for very good reasons.

In this surreal group of ours, namely The Shedies, a little light humour is essential. Especially considering the past history of some of the members, and I include myself in this select number. You may not be aware of this but I love tea, most varieties except for Earl Grey. Never Earl Grey. Apologies for the outburst, it’s a subject I’m passionate about, as well as food history, food, cooking food, reading about it. Sigh. Where was I? Ah yes, tea with a certain tragic figure. Tragic? The Mad Hatter has a sad history. He was the toast of European society for centuries for one very good reason. The man’s skill in millinery was legendary. He lived hats, dreamt hats, and made hats. As for the sobriquet “Mad Hatter”, it pains me to go over that terrible incident.

Many cultures revere tea highly and rightly so. Its serving is couched in mystical ritual and ceremony, often elevating the senses to a state of oneness with the outer world. It can be used as a tool in meditation but that’s another story. Apologies for the digression but it does have a purpose in this tale of woe. The Mad Hatter invited us to a tea dance in a grand hotel in central London many years. White Rabbit, His Nibs (Anubis), Thoth, and I went ahead to the hotel, filled with excitement we were. My heart lifted as we neared the hallowed portals of the building, the smiling doorman ushered us in. We followed the soft refrain of a familiar tune, our feet eventually leading to the main ballroom. Sunlight showered through a glass dome that was the ceiling. The orchestra looked terribly elegant as did our fellow diners. Oh my, we spotted the Mad Hatter sitting at a large table to one side of the dance floor. What a rakish figure! The man was truly blessed with good looks, manners and grace. Admittedly his choice of garb was a little, florid and ostentatious. My heart still raced with admiration.

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Image: Pixabay

This scene was a nostalgic reminder of gentler times (obviously viewed through rose tinted lenses). Yet, I sensed a strange undercurrent running through this room. The more I looked, the more the scene appeared to fragment revealing hidden things. Things perhaps not meant to see the light of day. Such is the energy that accompanies our merry band of misfits and magicians. We perceive the world in ways not usual with many, on highways rarely travelled. Shadowed shapes moved soundlessly amongst those present, were they either living or dead? It was hard to tell. Occasionally a figure would stop and pour something into a tea pot. It looked like light and gold dust. Such was the effect of this act that our surroundings shimmered and briefly vanished. It was apparent that there was another world behind our current reality.

I peered further into this strange new world and could see earth walls and ceiling, with roots weaving through tunnels and a large chamber. Suddenly the words of the Cheshire Cat echoed through my mind:

“If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there”.

Yes, that made sense somehow.

The White Rabbit and His Nibs looked at me silently, whilst Thoth smiled that infuriatingly mysterious smile of his. I could smell the aroma of trickery and illusion in the air. The tension was broken as waiters served us with cakes and sandwiches. The Mad Hatter lifted the tea cup and breathed in the delicate scent of Oolong. He paused for a moment, a terrible look on his face. Was he grimacing? Suddenly a roar cascaded from his mouth, The tea was STEWED, quelle horreur! This was the last straw for the master milliner. He jumped and launched himself at the poor waiters serving at our table. A hand emerged from beneath the table and pulled me under. The White Rabbit rolled his eyes in despair. My other companions seemed to be enjoying themselves and just grinned at me.

I peered at the mayhem going on around us. There was a quality of madness about it. My intuition sensed powerful forces at work. “It’s Faerie magic” a voice whispered in my ear. His Nibs then laid a gentle hand on one of my ankles.  “Just in case” he muttered. Faerie magic. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw myself into the midst of the melee. Food fights seemed exciting and I always wanted to indulge in a spot of this particular mischief. His Nibs tightened his grip on my ankle at that moment. We could hear the Mad Hatter screaming at another diner. This doesn’t sound good. His voice was edged with hysteria. This was more than annoyance, what exactly did the Faerie folk put in his tea? Next thing hordes of police were pouring through the doors. We remained under the table, except for the White Rabbit. He, with the Mad Hatter were being dragged into one of numerous police vans. They didn’t worried, which was a little strange. I swear the Mad Hatter even winked at us.

Everyone “laid low” for several days. The White Rabbit and Mad Hatter were released after a couple of days, bail being put up by a mysterious benefactor, only known as “Queenie”. Hm. The Mad Hatter saw me briefly before going on an extended road trip. He kissed my cheek and then slipped a package in my hand. It was a box of tea, Assam in fact. All he said was, “treat it with respect”.

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Our band went separate ways for several years, only to meet up two/three years ago. My chance meeting with the White Rabbit in Llandudno recently was an omen of further shenanigans.

Gothic Imaginings: Who is the Real You?

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Image: Pinterest

Not much to ask is it? Black and red go so well together. As do velvet darkness and moonlit nights heavy with the scent of night blooming jasmine. Black roses unfurl their beauty, beckoning drama and unfolding passion. Where does the siren lead? To paths plunging deep into the inner world of forgotten gods, unicorns and Faerie folk. Ancient songs haunt the winds of change,  telling and retelling tales of tragedy and heroic acts. A little dramatic would you say?

Does it unsettle to look beneath the mask, search out truths and untruths hidden deep? Does it pain the soul to admit failings and regrets? Who and what do we desire to be are questions asked but with no answers forthcoming. Look beyond the illusions and seek the person slumbering within whispers the voice in our mind.

 

 

Fall from Grace: Diary of a Previously Unemployed Knife Thrower

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Image: Eve, John Collier, Wikiart

Saturday 5 August 2017

The look on Eve’s face is telling, or is that the artist projecting his own notions of shame against the Mother of all? Let’s face it, She was set up. There was a power struggle going on, the male priesthood and establishment need a scapegoat and she fitted the bill. Compared to the divine ancestor my situation is a mere gnat bite on the body of humanity. Okay, a slip of the hand and my assistant, the little anaemic sop… Let me correct that, he was anaemic by the time they took him into the ambulance. Accidents happen at work, why on earth they had to involve the Health & Safety people I don’t know. It’s an occupational hazard for anyone involved in the business. To be fair his threat of a lawsuit forced their hand.

Talking of accidents, that no-good, con artist of an agent got her comeuppance today. The zombies she was representing finally had enough of being ripped off and demanded a pound of flesh. In fact they got several pounds of the stuff, the police had a problem identifying her. Justice has been served with a bottle of Rioja!

Sunday 6 August 2017

Still can’t get that image of Eve out of my head. When I knew her She was like a star of the brightest light. Why did it go wrong? Humanity wasn’t meant to be mired in darkness and ignorance. As for the lie about using one of Adam’s ribs to create a companion, well, it leaves you a little speechless. Does that mean that if she was injured or happened to become existentially challenged. Wait, what do I mean? Anyway, if she died, would he die as well? To be honest the heart of humanity suffered great a grievous wound when they wrote the various Books. Bad PR folks, look what they did to Lilith and Mary Magdalene. Shame, shame and shame. I’m ashamed to be a man. To be honest the women are just as bad, maybe even worse. Makes you wonder what kind of deity/Higher Being/Cosmic Conscious they believe in. I’m Freud would have plenty to say about that, he wouldn’t have minced his words. He was a straight talking guy when I knew him.

I’ve been six months in this temp job now, the people are just as dysfunctional as I am. Fit right in. Hard though being cheerful, not in my nature to be a ray of sunshine. It’s been a challenge keeping my tongue quiet, been sorely tempted at times to tell some of those people what I really think of them. Humans can be so, needy and malicious. At least your average chthonian or solar deity would display such negative traits with a bit more style and aplomb. Persephone warned me about cutting back on the bitchiness. Do I listen to her? Not always alas. I miss Eve and Lilith.

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Image: Lilith with a Snake, John Collier, Wikiart

Monday 7 August 2017

These thoughts about our lost Paradise are making me maudlin. Well, Paradise hasn’t been lost exactly. It’s just that humanity is on an attachment this material plane of manifestation for a while and will return to HQ when it’s been completed. Although I don’t think humanity quite understands the work that’s involved in working from the Divine Blueprint. That doesn’t apply to all the work experience people though, many actually get the concept of Free Will. I’m making it sound like a huge corporate nightmare, perish the thought! It’s more like a centre of learning/temple without walls or boundaries. That’s the best I can do. That reality is hard to describe, even though I’ve visited many times. The supervisors are numerous and often hard task masters, or that’s how it appears to human perception. I think humans know them as angels, archangels, etc. Just realised, I keep referring to ‘humans’. I’m, no, I used to be human. Not sure what I am now, not undead, not either living or even dead. It’s a strange existence, I straddle several worlds. Makes your thighs ache like mad! Heh, heh. I thought it was funny.

Tuesday 8 August 2017

Angels. Now that’s a subject I could go on about for hours but won’t in deference to them. They’ve been viewed variously as benevolent and sinister. Depends on which side of the divide you stand, the Abyss can be a nasty place to fall into. I’ve peered in and it isn’t somewhere you take the family for a night out. The ones known as the Fallen have been viewed with fear and more. There’s been so much misinformation bandied about them, some of it deliberate. The great ‘War in Heaven’…What was that about? Did we ever stop to think what was really going on there? Nothing, nothing, ever happens just by chance. Humanity has a destiny to fulfil but has managed to get side-tracked many times, not easy I suppose maintaining a balance between their twin natures. Hard having the both in one body can be problematic. Sandalphon ensures I get to hear all the latest news. We have a chat when it’s quiet and when I can bother to get out of ‘grumpy immortal git’ mode. I should open up to them a bit more but it’s centuries of conditioning I need to discard before reaching the inner, sensitive man.

Wednesday 9 August 2017

I’ve been getting to the urge to slap one of the team across the face with rotting fish. Swear I saw his eyes turn black momentarily and an aroma of sulphur follow him out of the room. He’s a wiry individual with a spiteful streak. He reminds me of one of the demons I came across when wandering the wasteland many years ago. Now that was the perfect place for some of the not so friendly Fallen. Gross material matter has a tendency to change things in unexpected ways. No laughing matter, I’ve seen the effects on so many that came through the planes of manifestation we know of, also the innumerable ones we don’t. Humans need to keep their boundaries more secure, by that I mean not allow any ‘walk ins’ to get a foothold. They allow fear to cause breaches in their protective shells, letting in things that are quite nasty.

Thursday 10 August 2017

This diary’s beginning to go places I don’t want to. Probably because of the hovel I’m currently inhabiting. The landlady advertised it as a ‘jewel of an apartment in a desirable central location’. It’s next to a recycling plant and built over a doorway into the infernal regions. Sounds funny written down but I’m not laughing. Even the cockroaches and silverfish had thrown in the towel and left en masse. They begged me to leave with them but I couldn’t afford anything better. Anyway, they left me a phone number of a good estate agent (think I just saw a pig fly past my window) just in case I changed my mind.

The landlady gives me the creeps and I spent several decades as assistant to a Necromancer in Tartarus. They were the worst years of employment imaginable. Something about her makes my skin crawl, although the plastic surgery has rectified that issue. I don’t look a day older than 670. My skin looks luminous (that might be the accidental exposure to radiation) and you can bounce a rubber ball off my toned posterior. Where was I? Yessssssssssss, my landlady. I’m not sure what else she does apart from instil a terrible feeling of dread in the soul. She’s never around during the day and as soon as twilight approaches her door creaks open to reveal…I can’t even write what she looks like because I can’t remember. Strange that. I have a theory about what she could be but uttering it aloud and even writing it down could cause a terrible tear in the fabric of the Universe. Sandalphon and even Mikael dropped hints about her true nature but I was rather preoccupied with other matters.

Friday 11 August 2017

I managed to corner Sandalphon and Mikael this morning. They were a little reticent about the matter. I think they were trying to be polite, kind even about my lack of awareness. They don’t view reality as humans do, and human emotions are quite alien to their kind but many have chosen to work with humanity. In order to help them achieve wholeness and evolve; to become divine beings once again and bring back knowledge of the material world to the Source and angelic hierarchy. Anyway, I digress. I was quite shocked at their revelation. Bad luck seems to follow me round like a hungry dog.

The house is built over part of the Abyss and the landlady is a ruler over one of its levels. I’m cursed, that’s the only explanation. Mikael gently commented that I was quite right about the curse. Coming from this archangel it is doubly wounding. Well, at least he’s on my side. I’ve upset many in my long and illustrious career, so it could be anyone. Mikael waited patiently for me to run through the suspects. Four hours and 42 cups of coffee later I remembered who it was, who cursed me that is. The ancient Egyptian serpent Apep. I recall trapping his tail in one of the gates in the Underworld. I wasn’t meant to be there at the time but wandered in through the wrong doorway. Set was about to spear Apep when I interrupted them. Well, you can imagine their annoyance. My brief sojourn in the Underworld didn’t go well. That Apep has one foul mouth on him! I need to get a hobby. Roll on the weekend…

Fiendish, Furry, and Feisty: TRICKSTER ON THE LOOSE

Image: The White Rabbit, Llandudno, Jan Malique

The public are warned to keep away from this mischief-maker. If spotted, run and hide somewhere on the other side of running water. Wait, that relates to vampires. Anyway, make sure it’s deep water. Quite deep water. I suppose he would swim if forced to. The miscreant has left a swathe of victims in his wake, some so traumatised that they’ve been forced to watch repeats of Twin Peaks. Yes, that’s how bad things are. Personally I have great affection for this gem, being a David Lynch fan how can I not?

He’s an entity filled with mysterious powers, capable of causing time and space to warp, black holes to appear, and facial hair to sprout instantaneously.  His wicked wiles will enchant and lead you down subversive paths. Beware, beware! Once glimpsed he can never be forgotten, never shaken off. Don’t drink from the chalice offered by this fiendish, furry, and  feisty fellow. Remember the warning about not drinking and eating anything whilst in the domain of the Faerie folk? It applies in this case as well. Not sure how that works but his lawyers somehow managed to work that into our contract.

Our contract? Hm, forgot to mention that. I didn’t sign it in blood exactly. Can’t stand the sight of blood, even my own. Not sure what happened. One day I was walking down the road with His Nibs (Anubis to you) and then I found myself down a rabbit hole. There appeared to be a tea party going on and I was chief guest. Strange, I never got an invitation. His Nibs just smiled mysteriously. Not a good sign when he does that. As for that dang contract, there were no body fluids involved. Sounds rather, disgusting but there you are. Apparently the red liquid was pomegranate juice. Uh, oh I hear some of you mutter. You are right to express concern considering the symbolism of this fruit. Didn’t Hades give Persephone pomegranate seeds to eat during her imprisonment in his domain? Enough said.

 

 

 

 

 

Now for Something Cheerful

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Image: Pinterest.com

Something less intense than my recent posts (not to everyone’s taste admittedly). I tend to veer off at times, don waders, and explore the contents of the subconscious. There are fallen angels, ancient gods, vampires, and the infamous Watchers lurking in that landscape at the moment. You can see what I mean by intense! This feels like a time to explore hidden pathways. Being a lover of fantasy and gothic fiction it seems the perfect thing to do.

To lighten the mood and see in the weekend here are things historical, and archaeological in flavour. With a nod to Star Wars. Please enjoy.

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Image: Imgur

Image: Pinterest

Image: Pinterest

Filaments of Light

Image: Pixabay

Serenity ushers in thoughts of sun soaked dreams and filaments of light. The Night passes into Day, Introspection into Action.

Their nightly vigils fade, embraced by song and homage. Thoughts deconstruct and Speech Assembles.

Warrior monks rise, forsaking doubt and tribute. They look into Void, seeking answers, finding only paradox.

Priest and Knight seek silence, so solitude beckons. Communion embraces spirit. Wisdom releases, humility receives, illumination encapsulates. Duty capitulates.

Filaments of light cascade, breath captures in awe. Silence profound unveils, mysteries quicken. From Introspection comes forth Action.

Here end these perplexing words from this non-poet as I style myself. All has not been well in my world lately. The past few weeks have been filled with mishaps, people misreading my communications, me misreading my communications. Plans have been scuppered and in hindsight probably a good thing. Much the same has been happening to many people around me, some experiences being worse than others.

Additionally, my brain is stubbornly refusing to behave. Like a recalcitrant teenager it moans about being asked to do things, “I hate you!” it’ll mutter in a surly manner. What do you do but send it to its room to cool down. Give me strength! Now for some ‘Me’ time.

I take a seat in the Shed and look at my little creation.  What am I trying to say? Sorry for being indelicate but I’ve been suffering a little mental constipation lately. There, said it. The build up of psychic and physical toxicity in the system creates strange back-eddies, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and tired. Accordingly the words are backed up, desperate for release. How to best express the inner agonies and sense of unrest? Where else could I go back seek advice of the mysterious band of priestly knights I call brethren. I am of course being deliberately coy, leaving crumbs, perhaps hoping you’d follow. I usually have a picture in my mind of what’s waiting to be written and these priestly knights were waiting in infinite patience. It has been a long time since we last met up. I’ve been avoiding the silence, perhaps for fear of what’s waiting in there. They speak and I’m trying to digest what’s been brought to the table.

My thoughts are interrupted by loud music emanating from the teen’s room. Sigh, the little attention seeker needs to be taught a lesson. I unplug the music system. Peace. Time for a long chat with her upstairs.

 

Possibilities

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Image: Pixabay

I was speaking with a friend of mine earlier this afternoon, we’d known each other from the age of 12 years. It’s been a long friendship, both of us are now (mutters incomprehensibly). Perhaps our ages aren’t so important eh? There have been several job changes, illnesses, bereavements and relocation of homes. Let’s just say it’s been a full and interesting journey for both of us. Our childhood ambitions were and still are creative endeavours; alas this was not to be and we ended up in different professions. Both of us are at another crossroads in our lives, considering a variety of options and assessing the possibilities. 

Possibilities. A word worth its weight in gold. Much like Hope, it can sustain us when all appears bleak on the horizon. Our youthful selves were fired with energy and great expectations. As adults our experiences have tempered those expectations, that’s only natural. Hindsight is a great teacher, realistic but not unkind.

My younger self believed she could make a difference and create a better world for all of us. I passionately believed in justice, fairness, tolerance and equality. Still do. I’m going to come out of the wardrobe, fall out of it more correctly and admit to being a Socialist. Still am at heart but its nuances have changed slightly but not its heart. I’ll go to my cremation as one. Protest marches were a staple for me – against apartheid, racism, erosion of employment rights, sexism, etc.  I’d grown up in a culturally diverse part of London, attended a primary school in Soho that had children from many different ethnicities. Secondary school was a little different but still great.

That’s not to say there weren’t tensions in society. London at the time was a place of political and social turmoil. Nothing has changed! The 1970s, 80’s and 90s saw profound upheavals, many necessary. Additionally the activities of Far Right groups like the National Front (and other more extreme groups) created an atmosphere filled with violence, fear and tension. It seems humanity’s atavistic tendencies are once again rising to the fore. The gates of the Underworld have been loosed and the inmates are on the rampage dear friends. One hopes they’ll be dragged back to their cells soon.

Culturally it was an exciting time from what I remember, well, it was neither boring nor safe in terms of output. I do get nostalgic at times for the spirit of those times, more due to the people who I’d known and met. Each one of us has a different perception of that era.

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Image: Pixabay

As for this entity called Possibilities. His Nibs (Anubis) advises that I should network and when am I going to book in a meeting with it. I reply ‘soon’ and look away furtively. He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Oh boy, the Opener of the Way knows me so well. ‘Check your calendars’ he says firmly. It seems I’ve been too long in the company of certain rogues and low life, namely Procrastination, Fear, Ill health, Being Unfit (call me Cuddles) and the two worst of all, Inertia and Lack of Confidence.

He looks at me for, oh, ages. There is only kindness and sympathy in his eyes. I smile at him in thanks. My spirit needs re-energising. Writing contributes to a sense of great well-being and this blog is a blessing as are spiritual studies/training. I serve both Anubis and Thoth in spirit and reality, the power that is Ptah is never far away. What I don’t serve are other people’s unrealistic expectations of me and the beast of ‘living to work’. Although the latter does have me in a headlock. A bummer as they say.

Back to scheduling this meeting. His Nibs has passed me a list of ‘To Do’s and admitted they were only reminders as I knew what needed to be done. I scrutinise it, fair enough. Clear and simple objectives, the fine detail will require work. Not a problem. To travel between the different planes of consciousness one has to be fit in more than body. Mine needs a little maintenance admittedly but the mind, even if I say so, is resilient. It can be a little wayward, stubborn and undisciplined at times but still manages to survive adversity.

To travel through the landscape of the Collective Unconsciousness requires foolhardiness, a level head, resilience, self-insight and trust in oneself. Many falter, deceived by manifestations of their own Shadow and human longing. We also have to acquaint ourselves with the lexicon of symbols needed to engage and converse with the inhabitants of this other Universe. A guidebook of phrases and possibilities you might say. Keep your wits about you at all times, for the soul and mind can be seduced by all manner of suitors and enemies.

Most important of all, a Guide is vital. So far I haven’t upset His Nibs (and hope I don’t).

“I’m not going anywhere, if I do there will always be another one of us with you. Even if your angelic friends want to come along” he mutters interrupting my thoughts. I’m vastly relieved and don’t think it’s wishful thinking. “Have Trust” he loudly responds. Of course. The vista opens up before us. We sit down and take our time looking at the strange sights appearing out of nothingness. Images from my life, one after the other. Regret, unhappiness, happiness, anger, loss, fear, manipulation, capitulation, success, failure, hate, love.

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Image: SURREALISMART.ORG

I also see the ancestors amongst these many aspects of myself. We all need release it’s evident. My hands are clenched, holding on to much. He kneels before me and takes my hands in his. I can sense the power and gentleness within them, as does my heart. We wait, breath held in, silent. My fingers are uncurled one by one until both palms are facing upwards. We see the remains of things that were long gone and begging for freedom. Smoky wisps, rising and falling. He breathes upon them, chanting incantations. There is no other sound except for his voice. He gathers them up and deposits them in a barque that’s appeared to one side. Their journey now begins to the Duat (ancient Egyptian Otherworld).

I sense the release of the many from all my line, we are being unburdened one by one. My eyes close, seeing the world as it appears to the inner eyes. It ebbs and flows, inhaling and exhaling, communicating in ways that I didn’t think were possible. In silence can we hear the Universe as it unfolds its mysteries.

As Khepri rises in the sky so do we feel our own Coming into Being, that oft repeated phrase holds a wealth of meaning, highly symbolic. How we forget the beauty and magnificence of the stars, the Imperishable Stars, holders of memories from the birth of our existence. What of the light that’s journeyed for millions upon millions of years? Possibilities upon possibilities exist, why not take note and draw in that light into our own being? Bathe our cells in its essence. My thoughts scatter in all directions, seeking, questioning. How fare the ancestors? Of like mind it seems, all respect to them. Yet, I also understand that their burdens and history, good and bad have been passed down the line to end with my siblings and I. Do we accept their legacy?  Not if it perpetuates further negativity and damage to body, mind and spirit.

Anubis is still kneeling before me. I return to the present, time for the introspection to end. The evening light casts a golden glow on everything in the garden. It feels so peaceful and still. I sense the Opener is still here, watching. “I agree to do it” is all I say to him. Where’s my diary?

Trolls of the Human Variety: A Meandering Rant

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Image: Pixabay

I like trolls but not of the human variety. A fellow blogger has written many times of her unpleasant experiences with the human species. Perhaps I’m either naive or lived a sheltered life, it was quite an eye opener reading those posts. What was the purpose of the mudslinging? Wasn’t there enough in their lives to sustain them?

You see them massing in huge numbers on social media, poison and all manner of unpleasant matter dripping from their fangs. Waiting to pounce, club us with fetid language and insecurities. Then feed off their victim’s fear and distress. This species wears many disguises, often appearing intellectually robust in their pronouncements. Don’t let your eyes deceive you, in the end their words are empty and create only vessels being half empty. Oh well, life seemed a little simpler when all we had were clay tablets…

One of the occasional visitors to the Shed is Little Troll, some of my readers may recall his early visits. He and his brethren are welcome at any time, except the ones that hate humans, hate everyone. A great pity but the species has had a troubled history. Much like those of the human variety.

Anyway, my rant of sorts does have a purpose or even porpoise. I had two visits today from individuals who may or may not have been trolling me. A sad day when you have difficulty recognising being trolled (or not). They left a comment on “Dreams and Prophecies” which just consisted of copying my words with an exclamation mark at the end of the sentence. Responses to a comment I’d made regarding the use of Bay leaves in obtaining prophetic dreams. They caught me on a bad day, I didn’t approve the comments. How do you respond to something like that? Was my perception a little off-kilter and was I just overreacting, with my ego being hurt? Fresh or shop bought? Does it matter dear readers?  If you are aiming to obtain the help of a plant ally, yes it does matter. If you are buying herbs from a reputable supplier for a magical purpose, well and good. If the herb/plant is growing in your garden/window box/pot, even better. It is about intent in the end. In hindsight I should have stated this. The individual infuses/imbues the tool with intent for a particular exercise. It is consecrated for a purpose.  The highest form of magical practice can be operated within the mind, without the use of ritual tools, an area set aside as a temple, any flashy/grandiose robes. That is what we should be aiming for. Temples don’t always have physical walls.

There have been many episodes throughout history where beliefs and practices of particular groups and individuals have been singled out for persecution by the establishment. They may be branded either heretics, witches or mages of the dark arts. Accordingly their spiritual practices would have withdrawn into secrecy, hidden in plain view maybe. The great Mystery Schools of Old and other groups had a strict policy of entrance into their hallowed halls for very good reasons. Knowledge is power and can be abused. Not all Seekers come with the best of intentions. Integrity, self-insight, honesty and discernment were and still are important skills to take on board. I’m talking here of the evolution of the individual, from a state of unawareness into gnosis.

My post wasn’t meant to be an instruction manual on the magical uses of Bay. The enquirer asked a sincere question and I answered. Folk magic doesn’t indulge in complicated rituals like ceremonial magic may. I’m not going to instruct you in magical practices, not my place to take on a duty that’s best left to a reputable teacher and school. Although, they can’t walk your journey for you, only show the way. Insights and hard work are all your own.

My blog consists of musings and fragments of my life/persona that exist outside of the blog. It may be of interest, or not, to people who stumble across it. I appreciate you coming by, read, comment, not comment, follow, not follow. I don’t blog to indulge in stirring controversy and certainly not to engage in poisonous dialogue with people who want a fight. If you don’t agree with what I say, I’m fine with that. Please don’t be acting out in my Shed as I’ll have to ask you to leave, in extreme cases get Security (White Rabbit and Anubis) to throw you out. You don’t want to mess with those boys. Be clear in your comments so that we can engage in an adult fashion. I’m a woman on the edge today, or thereabouts. This normally wouldn’t bother me but quite tired today, it’s been a difficult week . I’m a sensitive little flower really 🙂

Beware readers of these psychic vampires who journey the ether in search of ‘food’. Extremely narcissistic individuals in many cases. I think this meandering rant is finished. Have a good evening.