Tag Archives: signs and oracles

I’m going slightly mad.

I have a beautiful journal, it is leather bound, the pages are a creamy yellow colour. The reason I like this journal is that it has a little place at the top of each page to insert the appropriate date and time, so you only need to write in it when appropriate, I used to use a page per day diary but that would often frustrate me, some days I needed more than a page, sometimes I might not write anything down for days.

I am not a daily journal keeper. I’m not a morning person either, yet some how in the last fortnight I have found myself getting up at increasingly more obscene hours of the morning to expand on some recieved work from the Lady Hekate.

Im very organised, knowing my weaknesses and how totally disfunctional I am at silly o clock in the morning I make sure I have everything ready the night before, candles, meditation stool, no floor for me at the moment I am afraid due to a rather nasty ankle injury that seems to be taking forever to heal, tarot cards if neccessary, journal and pen.

The very first thing I do is write the date, moon phase and time of the work in that little slot at the top of the page that I am so fond of. I always start a new page, even if the previous page only has a few lines on it, each peice of work, each day in fact to my mind requires a clean sheet. I always do this, no exceptions. Its too easy to start scribbling other wise in years to come you will look back and wonder when the notes referred to. Its also a good ready reckoner for spotting patterns too, you can see if your more sensitive to recieved work, for example, at certain times of the month or even times of the day. You can use this to better plan any subsequent work. Actually the uses are too many for me to go into here. That isn’t what this post is about.

So there I was this morning, I sat and wrote the appropriate headings, did the work that I needed to do, picked up my journal and looked around for my pen. The resounding message from todays work was, “It’s not enough to just write about it, you must experience it”, I felt it was worthy of note for a number of reasons. For myself, as somebody who draws heavily from academic texts it can be way too easy to fixate on my bookish nature and not actually “do” or “be”. Now some may argue that sincere and heartfelt research in the persuit of gnosis is an act of magick in its own right. But I disagree with that to some extent, somethings you have to actually do to really understand the mechanics, take driving a car for example, you can read a manual, study the highway code, you can even pass the theory test; but you really do not understand what driving is until you get behind the wheel and you can only comprehend the finer nuances with repeated practise and experience.

I grappled for the pen in the half light, and it wasn’t there, I moved the journal, it wasn’t there, I felt under and around my meditation stool and yes, you got it, it wasn’t there. I decided to finish up, find the pen which I had convinced myself must have just rolled under a chair or something. I looked everywhere, I even went out into the garden, wondering if one of my feline friends has snuck in whilst I was away with the fairies and stolen my pen and taken it away to play with. Three quarters of an hour I looked for that damn pen, eventually I laughed and gave up; after all perhaps for today I would just experience it rather than write about it.

I shuffled upstairs with a coffee in my hand, wandered into the bathroom where my daughter was cleaning her teeth. Mummy she said, through a foamy mouth of minty paste, why have you got a pen in your hair?

Taking note of the signs

Some days magick just isn’t on the cards, and perhaps it is a wiser person than me that recognises these signs. I maybe should have taken note when my bank suddenly had no record of my details and after a long conversation the account was unearthed with with incorrect, address, d.o.b and mothers maiden name. Maybe I should have taken note when running my pre ritual bath the water turned a putrid yellow. Maybe even the point should have got through when the neighbours who barely say more than “Morning” on a day to day basis invited me in for a cuppa when I popped round to warn them about the water, all of this conspiring to leave me less and less prepared for the task looming imminently ahead of me.

But Im a stubborn person and Im no stranger to the whole anything that can go wrong will go wrong pre ritual catastrophe, so I settled down in the dying light to perform my designated task, and then it came. Not angry, not irritated or impatient, just a firm statement. “This is not for you, there are other things going on, you do not need to be here” Maybe I should have taken note then, but I had commited to this work so I continued on, outside interferance is also not an unknown occurance. “Did you not get the hint earlier” at this point it was almost a sigh like a tired parent trying really hard not to be annoyed with an over precocious child. “Ok you can carry on, but you will just be going through the motions”. So I quickly and quietly withdrew.

To be honest this was a new experience in its own right, Im not used to being told to sod off, especially when the work was expressly sanctioned by herself. I sat quietly for a minute wondering what it was that I did wrong, wondering if my scrambling around and dithering with the mundane earlier in the day had been the catalyst for what I felt was a “ticking off”. A few minutes later, I decided that I wasn’t going to get an immediate answer so cleared up and prepared to perform a license to depart, I use a stock formula, probably recognisable by well, just about anybody of a particular school of thought, “I call upon any spirits here present trapped here by these my magickal rites, to return unto their rightful place, harming none along the way, but being prepared to return if I should call” at which point the neighbours cat which adopted me some six months ago charged out the bushes and practically knocked me over in his attempt to jump in my lap. Giggles I am afraid took the best of me, but you know what, that is okay too, banishing with laughter is a very valid tool in its own right. Lets face it any of you who may have attempted the Sparean inspired death posture and the drawing of obsessions through a mirror will know that even if you can attempt it successfully, when you finally catch sight of yourself in the mirror your going to laugh at the sheer obsurdity of it; its like an in built fail safe mechanism, laughter really is a beautiful thing.

Anyway later the laughter continued, perhaps it needed to, I have still yet to find out, but just as I was settling down to type my notes up, my smallest timidest cat (actually is timidest a real word?) came to me and dropped a present at my feet, the biggest bumble bee I have ever seen, it must have been as long as my thumb. I bent to pick up this treasured gift from a loyal companion, percieving it to be a sad and broken offering, bereft at the loss of life but inderstanding that this is the nature of all things and honored that my tiny wee girl who is normally scared of the shadow of her own tail should choose to share such victory with me. When it roused it self crawled through my fingers and flew into the air.

I jumped to open the french windows at the back of the lounge onto what was now almost a completely dark night, hoping beyond hope that this brave surviour would find its way out, yet knowing that to encourage him to do so would be condemning this little soul to a certain doom, bees rarely survive in the dark outside the hive, especially at this time of the year, if they are lucky they find a warm place to hole up until the morning and then try and find thier way home. An uncertain feat nowadays, as there is much debate and discussion in the agricultural communities, some people believe the bees have lost their ability to waggle dance, which is percieved as not only a road map for good nectar but the indicators for a safe round trip home.

This lovely visitor has chosen to reside the night in the safety of my home and has tucked itself in the warmth behind one of my wall lights, in the morning I shall open all the doors and windows in the hopes that it finds its way. But a good friend told me a tale this evening a tale that perhaps I should take note of, the story fo melissa.

Apparently the minoan-mycenean “Mistress” goddess Potnia, who named her priestesses “Melissa” meaning Bee, was also associated in later times due to her epithet of “Mistress of the Beasts” with Artemis, a deity who was very much syncretised with Hekate especially in the PGM. And of course those who are familiar with herself will know that there is an undeniable if unprovable connection with Hekate and the Minoan Snake goddess who may have once been called Ariadne the daughter of Helios.

Interesting in its own right as in certain recensions Medea is the grand daughter of helios and a priestess of Hekate; Ariadne also aided Theseus to overcome the minotaur when he took shelter in an old womans hut of (amongst other things) the woman, “hecale” possibly the only time I might even suggest that my titaness might be a crone but as I have written elsewhere the gods were only old and ugly if they were hiding out or had a plan see here.