What the cards teach me

I've been learning to read Tarot for a little while. Originally I intended it to be a way of organizing my thoughts - kind of like how you flip a coin when you "can't decide," and the result of the coin toss makes you realize that, oh wait, you actually wanted the tails option instead of heads all along.

However, I've had some odd experiences with it since starting.

Currently, I'm in a rather isolated part of the midwest for an editing position. I'm here on trial, which means once the trial period is up (rather soon), I have to decide whether I want to stay here and keep working or go find employment elsewhere. I'm kind of up in the air on this, with some days thinking this is the best job in the world for me, and other days thinking I can't wait to get out of here. So I've been using Tarot to give me guidance on my feelings.

When doing the Celtic cross spread, twice in a row I've had the Queen of Swords as the questioner (me), and the Hermit as the immediate influence. The Queen can symbolize a lonely woman (o hai!), while the Hermit symbolizes withdrawing from the world, solitude, and isolation... not to mention my boss fits the Hermit archetype both physically (he's an old dude with long hair and a giant white beard!) and psychologically. That was certainly an eye-opener to me.

More recently, my boyfriend was on an interstate motorcycle trip - the first since he'd been in a rather serious accident this past winter. So, naturally, I was a little anxious about it. Then suddenly his phone starts going straight to voicemail, and he's way overdue to arrive back in his hometown. His mother calls me to ask if I know where he is, since he hasn't checked in. Cue me freaking out.

I ask around his friends to garner as much information as I can - his motorcycle broke down, and last they heard he was still looking for a place to stay for the night - but none of them had heard from him for a while. Great.

To calm myself down, I decided to ask the cards: "What's my boyfriend's situation at the moment?" I pulled a single card at random from the middle of the deck.

Naturally, I drew Death.

Now, it's a truism that Death practically never means actual, physical death. I kept telling myself that, over and over. But a part of my brain kept responding, But sometimes it does!

The Death card also means an unexpected (perhaps negative) event, I told myself. His motorcycle breaking down certainly falls under that category. Just in case, I cast a quick, impromptu spell for his protection and went to sleep.

The next morning, I asked the cards the same question - what's his situation now? - and pulled another card at random.

I drew Death once again.

Now I was really scared. I decided to try calling his phone one more time, even though last night it seemed to have been dead. This time, though, it rang, and - joy! - he picked up, sounding as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Oh yeah," he said, "my bike's still fucked, and I'm waiting for it to get fixed. But I managed to get ahold of [a mutual friend of ours from college] and her folks were kind enough to put me up for the night. I'm hanging out with her right now."

Finally I understood what the card was trying to tell me - he was swept up in an unexpected event (the "death" of his motorcycle), but he let himself go along with it, and it led to him reconnecting with an old friend, leading to a "rebirth" of his relationship with her.

I imagine that my persistence in drawing Death was also a test for me; I was deeply affected by my boyfriend's injuries over the winter, and I still need to shed my emotional baggage over it. Worrying about him whenever he leaves his house is not productive, and could actually harm our relationship. I worked myself into a frenzy of anxiety, and over what? He turned out fine; he usually does.

Still, I'm definitely going to make a protective charm for him when I get home. :P

A Healing Spell for Another

My girlfriend had her tonsils removed not too long ago, and I whipped this up for her to aid her recovery.

• Gather three sage leaves, three sprigs of lemon thyme, and three sprigs of rosemary.
• Make a little bundle by tying them up in a lightweight blue cloth with a blue ribbon/thread/piece of yarn.
• On a sheet of paper, write the following:

Rosemary, sage, lemon thyme too,
Wrapped up and bound in healing blue.
When you feel ill, give this a sniff;
It'll make you feel better in just a jiff!

By the power of herb and leaf,
As I will it, so shall it be.

• Then gently fold the paper into thirds, with the bundle inside - like a little package.
• Seal it with a kiss and give it to whoever needs it!
  

X-posted: Enlightenment at the end of a scourge

I am currently reading the 10th Anniversary Edition of The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess by Starhawk. I'm somewhat chagrined to say that this is the first time I've read anything by her, considering her importance in the pagan and ecofeminist movements. I will admit that I've been avoiding Starhawk up until now because of her prolific nature; it seemed everywhere I turned I saw her books with their slick, trendy covers, and I figured she was one of those commercial hacks, like that Sylvia Brown "psychic" woman.

Shame on me for assuming.

Though the edition I'm reading is twenty years old (and the original publication even older), I have found an emotional and intellectual resonance with Starhawk's writing that is unlike anything else I've encountered. I knew, as a queer woman and a feminist, that I did not like the heterosexist, cissexist bent of a lot of pagan ideology, with its focus on the Divine Polarity/Union of the Goddess and the God. However, I did not know how to adequately conceive of an alternative; Starhawk has eloquently provided one for me, one that made me grin with joy when I read it.

In fact, that seems to have been my reaction to a lot of what I've read so far. This is the first time I've seen religion and feminism thoroughly and intrinsically integrated, which is something that I've wanted for a long time.

And then I read this:

In Witchcraft, love is never associated with actual physical violence, and nothing could be more antithetical to the spirit of the Craft than the current rash of violent pornography. The God does not perpetrate acts of sadomasochism on the Goddess or preach to Her the "power of sexual surrender." (114)

...Oh.

I had thought that finally - finally! - I had found the key that would unite my spirituality, my sexuality, and my politics into one cohesive whole - a unifying theory, as it were. And Starhawk's book came so close, so so close, to doing that for me.

But apparently the most fulfilling form of sexual expression for me is not right - is "antithetical to the spirit of the Craft." Just like I've been told that it is antithetical to feminism, to being a healthy member of society, to just about everything I'm supposed to be and think and am.

This isn't going to make me give up on the Craft - in the same way that reading anti-kink screeds from certain feminists isn't going to make me give up feminism. I'm cutting Starhawk some slack, since I like most of the rest of her writing and this was written during the height of the polarizing Sex Wars anyway. Hopefully her views have changed since then; I find it hard to believe that she could maintain the views she espouses in the book and still be against kink without a decent amount of cognitive dissonance.

Now, it's true that I don't need to find validation in the writings of others for my sexuality/spirituality/politics. Obviously I'm going to continue being kinky, a witch, and a feminist all at once regardless of what Starhawk or Dworkin or anyone else says. But it is nice to read the thoughts and theories of like-minded people, as it helps me develop a cognizant framework to describe my own life experiences and my own feelings, which are often chaotic and half-formed even to me; I know what feels right, but I can't explain why or how without help.

Fortunately, I've already seen hints of kink-friendly paganism. I just finished reading Craft of the Wise: A Practical Guide to Paganism and Witchcraft by Llyn Annwn, and she briefly mentions the traditional use of the scourge in rituals. Though she doesn't go into detail - only saying that, in the proper circumstances and for the right people, it can be a powerful experience - it provides a hint that, yes, I can incorporate every aspect of my sexuality into my religious practice. However, I don't know where to look to find more material about this. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

(x-posted to my kink blog)

The first spell I ever cast

The very first spell I ever cast was never written down by me or anyone else.

I didn't cast a circle. (Still don't, generally speaking, at least not formally.)

I didn't have an altar, or athame, or wand, or cauldron, or pentacle. (Still don't; I'm a staunch member of the "use what you already have because when my ancestors were first using magick they only had one pot in the whole cottage and they needed to make soup once they were done, and obviously they came out fine" school.)

I didn't speak in rhyme, or close the spell with some variation of "so mote it be," or invoke any Goddess or God.

All I had was a single candle, the energy I raised by myself in my room, whispering to myself, and my fervent belief that it would work.

It would work.

And it did.

Its effects are still manifest today, years later.

Now, don't get me wrong - I love the trappings, the tangibles, the accoutrements of witchcraft and spellcasting. (My particular focus of interest is in the power of herbs to augment spellcasting, which I'll no doubt expound upon in future entries.) It's part of the reason I was drawn to it in the first place, I think; it was grounded in the physical much more than Christianity. However, I know full well that, ultimately, it's all unnecessary. What's most important is the power of raw human will and emotion. All the rest just satisfies my yen for ritual and theatricality.

Genesis

Well! Let's jump right in with introductions, shall we?

Like so, so many young women, I was first drawn to paganism and witchcraft when I was a teen. I'm not sure exactly what the catalyst was; maybe it was shelving books at the library, where I would often pass the 130s, the home of "paranormal phenomena." My gaze lingered on the titles, but most of the time I was too scared to even touch them. Even though I knew that I wasn't Christian - that there was nothing the Church could offer me - I couldn't bring myself to cast more than furtive glances at a non-monotheistic alternative (except Buddhism, and even then because most Americans perceive Buddhism as a harmless philosophy instead of a bona-fide religion).

Eventually I worked up the courage to check a few out, which I would hide under my bed when I wasn't reading them. I started my own little Book of Shadows... which my mother found, questioned me about, and though she wasn't terribly thrilled she let well enough alone. Then I lost my book, went on to college, and religion kind of fell by the wayside as I started to develop other aspects of myself.

Now I'm all grown up (kind of), and while I maintained a pantheistic, nature-centered life-view throughout college, I rarely put it into practice. I think it's past time I remedied that.

So once again I check out the 130s books and peruse the "New Age" section of bookstores, though much more confidently this time. (I'm already a weirdo in other aspects of life; what's one more?) I have a new Book of Shadows that I'm already filling with scraps of information and spells, and even pagan friends whom I can talk to. The journey will be much easier now, I hope.

Even though I'm older and (hopefully) wiser than my high-school self, I still have much to learn. I also recognize that there are many people like me - now and five years ago - who may be looking for people like them to connect with. So! Here I am! Where are you?