The Return To Innocence

Seizure happened in the kitchen. Jupiter meowed and rubbed against me while I crouched. Adam came in and gently lay me on the floor. My eyes were open and blank. Adam touched my face and reached for my mind, and I spasmed and gasped and blinked. I asked why I was on the floor. Adam helped me up and stood me against the large freezer. My memory is swirling. Alicia is holding me. Earlier, Adam said he told his boss, a fellow animal lover, that he needed an extra day to care for his wife. I rolled my eyes and said that was not necessary; that I was fine. Never mind. It was so dark and so white equally braided as order and chaos magics. I was spinning at ninety-nine percent light speed and thirty-five miles an hour. The world was elsewhere. A few seconds lasted a thousand years. Adam suggested I go upstairs and rest. Jupiter is suggesting a cuddle. I am thinking coffee and clonazepam and baclofen. I am made of light and love and pure order-chaos magic in its simplest form. I can give myself the right strength. May be that I can regenerate. As brightly and intensely as a Time Lord. I always shine enough for everyone.

Why is it that, in most dreams where I am in physical danger, I am unable to scream or move quickly?
My last dream involved a bad fall and crash at the top of the stairs, while a large group of people were downstairs having a small quiet party. Something supernatural was with me, something insidious. I grabbed the stair ledge and pulled myself up to a kneeling position. I yelled my husband's name, but it was only a whisper. I couldn't call for help, not with the shadowy creature surrounding me. I was moving so slowly. It felt as though nobody was in the house but me, me and the cats.
And abruptly, I realized that nobody was in the house. Adam was at work. There was no party. The cats were all downstairs. It was only me and the shadow entity. I struggled to call on my internal resources, my spirit guardians, but even my psychic voice was muffled. I was not afraid. I was determined. I was badly injured, and I only had myself, and my powers to create weapons and defenses were drained. I stopped trying to stand. I knelt there and mouthed words, calling on the water in the bathroom, the air circulating around the house, the earth under the house, the fire downstairs used to light the gas stove. I pulled in all into me, and with a desperate burst, I unleashed it. The shadow creature shrieked and vanished.
Without any warning at all, the house filled with presence again. There was that quiet downstairs party. I whispered my husband's name again, struggling to turn it into a cry. Someone must have heard. Adam came up the stairs and found me, sagging against the door of the bathroom, my nose bleeding. He spoke to me. He half-carried me to the bedroom and helped me lie down. He brought damp towels and tissues and water with electrolytes. I managed, somehow, to tell him that a negative spirit had entered the house and stole my strength, and I pulled all the elemental power I could to drive it away. He was very proud but also puzzled, since the house was supposed to be powerfully shielded and guarded. I was crying but I didn't mean to cry. It was just a reaction without intention. He stroked my hair and curled up with me, and me took my hand and fed me energy and power and strength, and he said, "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll be monitoring you through our psychic bond and everything will be okay. I will strengthen the wards." He needed to check on our friends. He would back be up soon.
The dream ended there.

It has been something of a recurring thing: My slowness in dreams. My exquisite agony in dreams. My whispering words in dreams. Sometimes I can barely walk for the pain in my hips and knees. Sometimes I can only speak with thoughts instead of physical words. Sometimes my body is wrapped in a floating translucent shell and it is the only way I can move. In my dreams, the pain is so much worse than in reality. But I have access to weapons of all kind and I feel safe, even if something horrible grabs me.

When I was a child, I had flying dreams every night. Even astral projection. Like my father and cousins in their younger years. And if a harmful person appeared, I just waved my right hand fiercely, shouting "Shoo! Shoo!" to make then disappear.

When I was a child, I dreamed of dragons, of ancient tortoises, of unicorns mixed with white tigers, of phoenix birds with feathers of every color. Dragons have never been dangerous to me. Even if some were, there were always other dragons who were benevolent.

It is why I always bristle when I read an article comparing chronic pain to dragons. The only way I can see such battles happening is dragon against dragon. And I am a human amalgam of dragon, phoenix, tortoise, unicorn, white tiger, and fae, wrapped in the skin of a moonlight witch.

Then, why do my dreams cripple me? The only reason I can think of is to teach me to use the insides, the powers coming from my spirit and not my body. My body is very important and vital to me. But perhaps not so much in my dreams.

And I think this piece of art, beyond anything, is one of the greatest ways I can understand myself. Every time I look at it, I weep. I even have that same cane. I know Shinga and I barely know each other, but she knows chronic pain. She knows what being a warrior means. She was in the US Army and was badly injured and treated so poorly during therapy that she has severe PTSD. She is disabled badly. She knows battles. And I want to hold her and hold her and tell her what this means to me.

http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Awaken-Warrior-and-Rise-378439320

(Note: Please please refer to Shinga before borrowing or using this image. Please use the Deviant Art link. This is her work. Copyright Shinga. The only reason I displayed the actual image was in case someone can't click on the link.)

Here, we have the ultimate expression and meaning of the winter holidays.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyQz8jWAl7s

I have been singing "Soft Kitty" to myself for a while. There is technically only one reason to sing that song, but I have at least three, all of which were mentioned by Penny in the episode where Sheldon had to care for her. I have also been attempting to sing it as a round with myself.
*PAIN SADFACE*
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqSmzGj_sQc

Seriously, though. Yesterday was the beginning of the six-day Roman celebration Saturnalia. Yay Saturn, blah blah blah. I'm going to leave a little tiny something for each Greek and Roman god, be it a physical offering or a psychic offering. And then when Winter Solstice and Yule come around, more offerings to Gaia and the rebirth of the Sun God.
http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/saturnalia/a/saturnalia.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturnalia
http://www.earthwitchery.com/yule.html
http://wicca.com/celtic/akasha/yule.htm

Also, once more for clarification, I am not Wiccan at all and never will be. Wiccan is a very specific, very young religion, which took bits and pieces of old pagan faiths and mixed them up until Gerald Gardner felt satisfied. Wicca has unfortunately become the main path new pagans turn to when they have no idea what to do, and such become "fluffy bunny" pagans, focusing only on the "light" and "good" stereotypes of magic and witchcraft, which is very cute and laughable. Unfortunately, Wicca's reputation has mostly been taken over by fluffies, I think; I haven't paid much attention. Any Wiccans here want to set the record straight, please?

I am eclectic pagan with firm faith in polytheism, pantheism, natural magic, elemental magic, personal magic, chthonic magic, shamanism, animism, and humanistic paganism. Which is funny, because humanistic paganism would probably cancel out the magic part, but there are a few humanistic pagans who practice magic with a scientific bent, like my husband.
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wildhunt/2012/08/guest-post-humanist-paganism-on-the-rise.html

I forget my main point... but I wish everyone a Happy Hanukkah, Blessed Yule, Io Saturnalia, Merry Christmas, and Blessed Solstice. I am one of those people who just won't care what you you believe in or worship as long as you don't shove it at me, attempt to convert me, or proselytize at me. And oh, yes, that does include paganism, Wicca, and other nature-based faiths. There is a reason I am so eclectic.

Well, gods damn son of a wild cat.
I stepped outside, stared at the moon, opened wide my mind and my arms, and got blasted by a wave of energy that surged through my entire body and brain for over a minute before spiraling into the soil under my feet. My head and torso actually snapped backward without my control.
What the hells do I do with that now? My skin is almost electric, and I am not sure I can describe what is happening inside my head.
Things hurt and do not hurt simultaneously. Everything is all wibbly-wobbly.
I need time to process this.
I am totally fine, just full of a weird witchy wibbly wobbly weirdness.
It feels like a wild creature crawling around and investigating all my systems.
Magic is funny like that.

Okay. I have meditated, grounded, and stored.
I went out barefoot into the dirt near the front yard's maple tree with pentacles embedded in its Y branches by Adam and me when we first moved in in 2005. I held my hands out to the tree while watching the moon, and I gathered energy, letting the tree wrap its own power around me, and I cycled it back, boosted by the pentacles in the tree, my ouroboros pentacle pendant with amber in the pentacle's center, and my amber bracelet on my weak left wrist. The power of a tree circled around my wrist, calming the tiny muscle spasms. I thanked the tree and went back inside to the back of the house.
I went out back near the garden for a clearer view of the blue moon, my toes digging into the long grass. I took a long breath and recited a private unrehearsed incantation, asking the moon to grant me strength, confidence, magic, love, kindness, and wisdom.
The magic electric wild creature has calmed down and is now quietly exploring my body and mind for a place to curl up. What a fascinating thing!

The thunder, oh gods, it is glorious.
I did something I probably shouldn't have done, and drew power directly from the storm. It's fantastic. It's fucking INTENSE. It rolled through me and swirled around me and crashed into me and left me breathless and shaking and vibrating. My fatigue is completely gone, my pain is barely registering. It's not just the Soma. Eventually I'll let the energy out back into the earth, but for now I'm having fun. My teeth are humming. The rain is splattering on the grass outside the sliding glass door and it feels like a chant.
Now I understand why Adam loves storms, loves drawing magical energy from storms.
Gods, I love being a witch.

The thunder, oh gods, it is glorious.
I did something I probably shouldn't have done, and drew power directly from the storm. It's fantastic. It's fucking INTENSE. It rolled through me and swirled around me and crashed into me and left me breathless and shaking and vibrating. My fatigue is completely gone, my pain is barely registering. It's not just the Soma. Eventually I'll let the energy out back into the earth, but for now I'm having fun. My teeth are humming. The rain is splattering on the grass outside the sliding glass door and it feels like a chant.
Now I understand why Adam loves storms, loves drawing magical energy from storms.
Gods, I love being a witch.

http://www.freewebs.com/nonwiccanwitch/index.htm

I think the following passage is my favorite part, since I know a lot of witches who believe that you need to go through initiations and rituals before you can actually be called a witch, which I think is insulting to those of us who have practiced witchcraft (even if we didn't know it) all our lives:

"No one else decides if you are a witch or not; you decide yourself. Once you decide, you are, because you always were. The notion that someone else decides whether you have supernatural powers or not comes from hermetic/religiously based magic mentioned in the previous paragraph, from snobs who believe one should only be allowed to use magic if one has a high IQ or an “acceptable” way of thinking, and from certain people who believe that such things only run in families, kind of like in Harry Potter. The basic fact of our non-Wiccan witchcraft is that magic is an inborn talent of all human beings to develop and use as they see fit. If you choose to go the mystery school (hermetic)/religious route, more power to you. But you do not have to, and never let anyone try to convince you that there is only one way (that being the hermetic/religious way)."

I like to think of magic the way I think of art, writing, singing, cooking, and most other crafts, talents, and skills. Anyone can do it. Some are better than others. Some are born with an innate gift that takes their natural ability far beyond the average artist or practitioner. A magic practitioner (witch, mage, sorcerer, wizard; etc) is no different than a painter, a writer, a chef, a sculptor, a singer, in that the ability to apply the craft must be learned, studied, practiced, and continuously polished as one goes. There is always room for improvement, even among the masters. Just because a singer is born with a fantastically natural voice and can sing rings around legendary recorded music artists doesn't mean she can get a record deal with the snap of a finger -- she still needs to visit producers, go to auditions, practice with teachers, study music itself, and learn everything she can.
I'm a writer. Further, I am an aspiring author. Yes, I've been writing naturally since the age of five, I knew how it all worked when I was very young, and I astounded people with my poems and stories. However, I'm not an author yet. I have a lot of work to do. Yet I can still call myself a writer because I practice my craft every day, hone my skills, and produce good work.
A person can have loads of talent and a massive natural gift, but if nothing happens to nurture that talent, it just goes to waste. Just like magic.

In my dream last night, and in some waking moments during the night, I saw Luna's aura: pale shades of gold, blue, and violet. And I experienced different musical tones and physical sensations from each. What is fascinating about this is that Luna is the first animal whose aura I have ever actually seen and felt and paid attention to. Perhaps because whenever I meditate and concentrate on my own aura, I also see pale shades of gold, blue, and violet, as well as ivory white. Each with their own musical tune and physical feeling in my body.
(Rose tells me that gold, blue and violet mean God/dess Center, Healing, Peace, and Spirituality. This does not surprise me at all.)
I'm not going to read into any of this much; I'm sure it just means that Luna and I connect supremely well, and maybe it was "fate" that I saw her in that shelter room, went to her, fell in love, and almost without thinking twice went to fill out adoption papers. I really couldn't stop myself. When I went to Luna's cage to look at her, I could have turned around and chosen any one of the dozens of other cats in the dozens of other cages. I in fact had looked at all the cats in all the cages, and sent my mind out to them, asking each cat if we could connect, and none of them sent anything back but the intense desire to be somewhere else; however they didn't connect with me on that certain level. But when I got to Luna's cage, I saw her standing pressed against the bars, purring. She squeaked at me and reached out a paw, and when I touched her she licked me and nuzzled me and purred and purred. I was certain she was doing the same things to other people who came to see her, but there was something else: A nagging, nudging feeling inside my head that was pushing to get stronger. I could have picked any one of those cats. But the feeling in my head was strongest with this one. I wanted her. I needed her.
Luna has apparently been proving this every day since I brought her home. It brings tears to my eyes. I can't explain how and why we connect, but we do. So well.

In my dream last night, and in some waking moments during the night, I saw Luna's aura: pale shades of gold, blue, and violet. And I experienced different musical tones and physical sensations from each. What is fascinating about this is that Luna is the first animal whose aura I have ever actually seen and felt and paid attention to. Perhaps because whenever I meditate and concentrate on my own aura, I also see pale shades of gold, blue, and violet, as well as ivory white. Each with their own musical tune and physical feeling in my body.
(Rose tells me that gold, blue and violet mean God/dess Center, Healing, Peace, and Spirituality. This does not surprise me at all.)
I'm not going to read into any of this much; I'm sure it just means that Luna and I connect supremely well, and maybe it was "fate" that I saw her in that shelter room, went to her, fell in love, and almost without thinking twice went to fill out adoption papers. I really couldn't stop myself. When I went to Luna's cage to look at her, I could have turned around and chosen any one of the dozens of other cats in the dozens of other cages. I in fact had looked at all the cats in all the cages, and sent my mind out to them, asking each cat if we could connect, and none of them sent anything back but the intense desire to be somewhere else; however they didn't connect with me on that certain level. But when I got to Luna's cage, I saw her standing pressed against the bars, purring. She squeaked at me and reached out a paw, and when I touched her she licked me and nuzzled me and purred and purred. I was certain she was doing the same things to other people who came to see her, but there was something else: A nagging, nudging feeling inside my head that was pushing to get stronger. I could have picked any one of those cats. But the feeling in my head was strongest with this one. I wanted her. I needed her.
Luna has apparently been proving this every day since I brought her home. It brings tears to my eyes. I can't explain how and why we connect, but we do. So well.

This is a lovely, lovely, soulful poem that every pagan should read. I find that it speaks most clearly to the Druid in me, since in the philosophy of Druidism, nature itself -- including all elements -- is one of the most powerful deities known. Slightly different from witchcraft, which is less a philosophy and more a practice. Many pagans who see that I'm a witch and a Druid scoff at me for it, since apparently you "can't be both witch and Druid." But this poem speaks something for everyone, I think, and it doesn't matter who can't be what and why I can't be two things at once.

Catechism For A Witch's Child
When they ask to see your gods
your book of prayers
show them lines
drawn delicately with veins
on the underside of a bird's wing
tell them you believe
in giant sycamores mottled
and stark against a winter sky
and in nights so frozen
stars crack open spilling
streams of molten ice to earth
and tell them how you drink
a holy wine of honeysuckle
on a warm spring day
and of the softness
of your mother who never taught you
death was life's reward
but who believed in the earth
and the sun
and a million, million light years
of being
© 1986 J.L.Stanley