An Oracle for Samhain by Bendis

 

Oracle - a name derived from the Latin verb ōrāre, to speak. An oracle is a person or agency considered to be a source of wise counsel or prophetic opinion. It may also be a revealed prediction or precognition of the future, from deities, that is spoken through another object or life-form.

Today, when you go for a reading, you sit across the table from someone who is using Tarot cards, or a crystal ball, or is perhaps reading your palms. They can speak to you for as short a time as 15 minutes up to an hour or more. You might give them information; you might not. This kind of reading is not an oracle, nor is the person being an oracle when using this method.

An Oracle is one who utters short words but does not tell you a story, does not necessarily predict and does not attempt to explain what it means. When receiving an oracle, it is up to you to take the words, the utterance, and then apply it to your life, for only you know your life.

That is why I love using my Ogham Twigs. I am responsible for my reading. No one else is telling me my future, nor telling me who I am or what is going on in my life. I pull a twig or two or three and then simple words associated with those twigs come to me (because I know the Ogham). I can then take those few words and examine how they fit with what I know to be happening or how they might answer a question.

If you do not know the Ogham, here is a quick reference guide for your use:

Letter	Name	Tree	Oracle Word(s)
	Beth	Birch	You may begin
	Luis	Rowan	Insight, protection
	Nion	Ash	Awaken
	Fearn	Alder	Shield, shelter
	Saille	Willow	Enchantment , imagination
	Huath	Hawthorn	Cleanse, blossoming
	Duir	Oak	Strength, courage
	Tinne	Holly	Consistent possibility, joining together like kind
	Coll	Hazel	Wisdom, return to source
	Quert	Crab Apple	Shelter, reprieve
	Muin	Vine (grape or blackberry)	Creativity, communication
	Gort	Ivy	Tenacity, triumph
	nGetal	Reed or Broom	Sovereignty, protection
	Straif	Blackthorn	Mysteries, reversal, change
	Ruis	Elder	Endings or beginnings from an ending
	Ailm	Silver Fir	Things hidden, beginning of an answer or calling
	Onn	Gorse	In-gathering of sweet and valuable things
	Ura	Heather	Need for passion and ecstasy, gateway opening
	Eadha	Poplar or Aspen	Determination, protection, call on inner reserves
	Idho	Yew	Life within death, newness within endings

I do write about the Ogham and my books and handcrafted Ogham Twigs are available at my website at http://blueroebuck.com/buy_books_twigs.html and are also available as Kindle books through Amazon. One is a small little book that tells you how to create a set of Ogham Twigs and how to read them (complete with layouts). All of my books can be downloaded at very reasonable pricing. 

I suggest that for an oracle you draw no more than three twigs. You may ask a question while holding your twigs or just let the twigs talk to you about right now! Most of all have fun! 

Author’s Bio: In the Goddess community, Deanne Quarrie is known as Bendis, Fierce Huntress of the Two Spears, Priestess of the Goddess. Bendis spent the early part of her life as a student of world religion, finally finding Goddess in mid-life.  Diving headlong into what she considered life’s greatest treasure, Deanne has never looked back.  Her work as a priestess has been dedicated to the empowerment of women and helping them to learn of the ecstasy of Her dance.  She has written four books which can be purchased at http://www.lulu.com/applebranch Bendis has spent the last eleven years heavily involved on the Internet, weaving webs through continents, networking and pointing seekers far and wide, serving as moderator for many e-groups, as both peacekeeper and technical advisor for thousands of women as they grew in Goddess. Through the Apple Branch - A Dianic Tradition, Bendis has mentored many women as they studied to become priestesses themselves.  These women now share their knowledge and guide other women both in the United States and in Europe. She also teaches the Ogham through Ocean Seminary College and the Rowan Tree School. To learn more of the Ogham, visit the Blue Roebuck.

The Apple Branch - A Dianic Tradition

Book Review: Tarot and Mysteries of Love and Sex by Mel Feming II

Tarot and Mysteries of Love and Sex by Mel Fleming II

Oestara Publishing LLC

Publication date: September 22, 2009

Book Review by Dawn “Belladonna” Thomas

This book is about sexuality and divination. I was not sure what to expect when I opened the book because there are times when I am not comfortable expressing my sexuality. The first question in the book, “Is Your Sexual Life Truly Pagan?”, is not an easy question to answer. The book lists many reasons that can affect that decision. The act of sex is very natural but sometimes there are other issues that must be addressed. These are some of the things to take into consideration while answering the question. The diversity of the items on this list was eye opening but made perfect sense to me.

The next part of the book discusses the individual cards and tarot spreads. There is a detailed meaning for each card along with a reversed meaning. I thought these meanings were very insightful. I look forward to using these cards to see where my love and sex lives will take me. The book also comes with a set of cards. The artwork is extremely graphic and should be restricted to adults only.

Divination by Angie Skelhorn

DIVINATION

By Angie Skelhorn

Divination is defined as the business of using magic to learn secrets that may not be divulged by ordinary means. It is the practice that seeks to foresee or foretell future events or discover knowledge. There are many ways to attempt to predict something unexpected, answer specific questions, and to communicate with spirit to aid. Studying hands, casting dice, interpreting bird behavior, reading numbers, noting shapes in the burning flames, ordinary and Tarot cards are my most favorite. Each will reveal secrets about past, present, future and potential that may be within. Most individuals are curious about their future. Some people can't deal with the real world. People get stuck and will turn to readers for guidance.

During a Tarot reading, a reader should be quick and to the point. Their insight should be able to tell you in a direct manner where you are, where you've been and how it is related to where you are headed. Relationship matters, court cases, business success or failure, employment, prosperity, and more, can be revealed. A reading tells what no longer works and, at the same time, a clear understanding of what is. You decide if you want to put forth effort to fulfill potential. Ups and downs in life make most people nervous. People struggle within self and with external world as they create a place for oneself in society. Most want to know: what, where, why and how to get it right. The people who have knocked on my front door have been made aware of my existence through word-of-mouth – those who have, have a difficult situation, and for whatever reason are hopelessly stuck.

I'm pretty much a straight shooter. I will call a spade a spade. I let them know quickly where they've been, where they are, and what's coming. There is no magical time line. Free will decides the outcome. I discontinued my clientele service, except those referred by close friends and family. I didn't charge, for I heed to the Law of the Power; it is unwise to accept money for guidance, for it can quickly control the taker. Be not of those of other faiths. As a witch, I found I always have enough to meet my needs. All my time is spent in research, writing and editing. I write about love because, as a reader I experienced mostly those who wanted burning relationship questions answered. I discovered most have something from the past that needs to be dealt with in order to move forward. I encourage people to go and have a reading. Sometimes what you learn can make you happy, and other times discouraged. Ask questions and don't be afraid to get a second opinion. Reader's version of the past, present and future may vary. The people, places and things remain the same. Whatever is said should give you hope.

It can be very difficult to read for ones self. It takes a long period of time to develop a relationship with the pictorial images that open up a gateway. Patience and perseverance are needed. If you want to try to read for yourself, here is a quick guide:

CUPS- emotional and relationships; WANDS- employment and personal will;

SWORDS- mental activity of all kinds, thoughts; PENTACLES- material or the physical.

Court cards, King, Queen, Knight and Jack; are generally seen as the person having a reading, people known to them, or people they are going to meet. A King and Queen represent people over 40; the Knight male or female under 40; the Page for younger people, a child or juvenile or someone acting in such a manner.

A reading for guidance into your past, present and future:

Light a white beeswax candle, and then request aid from your Spirit Guide. A prayer is said to ask for assistance. Watch for a straight and tall dancing flame, a sign Spirit Guide is nearby. With your left, hand knock three times on the back of the deck to remove past influences. Remove a court card to represent self. I suggest hair and eye color. CUPS- blonde, sandy blonde or grey hair, blue or grey eyes; WANDS- brown or auburn hair, brown or hazel eyes; SWORDS- black hair, black or bright blue eyes; DIAMONDS- red or white hair, green or blue eyes.

Pick up your deck and hold the cards between your palms. Close your eyes and settle your thoughts and body. Take a few deep breaths, and again speak to your Spirit Guide for aid. Shuffle the deck. Form a question clearly in your mind, then with your left hand, divide the deck, right to left, face down into three piles, past, present and future. Restack the deck left to right, and fan the cards out in front of you. Lay the Court card which represents you in the Center.

                                      3. What is coming

                                      1. What influences you

5. What's behind you          2. What crosses you           6. What's before you

                                      4. Your foundation

10. What could be

9. Your hopes or fears

8. Your security

7. Yourself

7. Yourself

Pick your cards. Lay the first card on top of the Court card; the second on top of the first at a right angle; the third above the Court card; the fourth card beneath the Court card; the fifth card behind the Court card; the sixth before the Court card; the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth in a straight line along the side the cross-shaped cards. The seventh is at the bottom and the tenth is at the top. Go with your first interpretation. Try not to over analyze. What part of the pictures are you drawn to?

Anyone can memorize the single or combination meanings to learn of past, present and future events. All one need do is sit down and continually repeat the meaning of each Tarot card or combination, until memorized.

The Tarot cards are a tool to bring into action your intuition; the faculty of knowing things without conscious reasoning. The Tarot cards are archetypes of our subconscious, and that reveal certain hidden truths to us. A reading releases hidden information to make more sense of our lives or make a decision about our future. The pictures on the Tarot cards can become an enlightening tool to aid higher knowledge into; into the realm of the psychic. To do this, one uses Tarot as a tool to help trigger insights and higher consciousness to receive messages sent from unseen energies.

Psychic and Psychic-Mediums interpret the Tarot cards in a this manner. They have taken the process of studying the deck and practicing layouts to this level. A Psychic is sensitive to nonphysical energies. They tap into the energy vibration of the person having a reading. A Psychic-Medium is someone in the middle position and acts as a channel of communication between the earthly world and the world of spirit.

Angie Skelhorn's is a practicing witch and spiritualist who also divines with Tarot and ordinary playing cards. Her website is http://witchskel.weebly.com

Fireless Altars and Crone Encounters by Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.

Fireless Altars and Crone Encounters

         

Ten or fifteen years ago, I led a group of students through the wheel of the year. At Imbolc, we held a divination party. At Beltane, we painted our faces and carried wreaths of flowers through the streets to the ocean. At Lammas, we harvested our gardens and cooked a feast.

At Samhain, we met at Alice’s house. Her back yard was a miniature jungle of oaks and olive trees with a clearing near the center. It was a windy night and the fire season that year was ferocious. As we were laying herbs and flowers, skulls and bones, and a cauldron for scrying on the altar, the wind came up again. I decided it would be both prudent and meaningful to have a fireless altar. No candles. No incense. We cast our circle, invoked the dark goddesses, and a dog howled nearby. It was a most satisfactory ritual.

Reader, think of the dark altar as a dark mirror. As you quietly sit in the darkness, look with the eyes of your imagination and see what the dark altar shows you. Use the night vision of your soul and look for the crone or sage you’re growing up to be.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?” Regard the fair crone, the fair sage. Not fair as in “pretty,” although you may see the fairness of a face lined with the lessons of a lifetime. Fair as in “without bias, distinct, pleasant and courteous in speech.”

Reader, what do you want to know about your life in the coming season or year? Who knows more about you than you yourself? Who can speak more truly for you? Sit in the darkness with the crone or sage you will become and ask your question. Listen to your answer.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is the author of Pagan Every Day: Finding the Extraordinary in Our Ordinary Lives (RedWheel/Weiser, 2006), a unique daybook of daily meditations, stories, and activities. Her earlier books are Finding New Goddesses, Quicksilver Moon, Goddess Meditations, and Practicing the Presence of the Goddess. Her day job is freelance editing for people who don't want to embarrass themselves in print. Barbara lives in southern California. To purchase a signed copy of Finding New Goddesses, just send Barbara an email at bawriting@earthlink.net.

Herb of the Season: Marigold by Dawn "Belladonna" Thomas

Herb of the Season: Marigold

(Calendula Officinalis)

Folk Names: Bride of the Sun, Calendula, Summer’s Bride

Planet: Sun

Element: Fire

Parts Used: Flowers and Leaves

Botanical:

The marigold is known in Latin as Calendula officinalis, and belongs to the Compositae family. The calendula genus consists of approximately 20 or more shrubs and annual varieties. It is sometimes called ‘the pot marigold’ or ‘common marigold’. Its occurrence is the result of self-sowing. It has a long flowering period – this fact is reflected in the meaning of the word calendula, which comes from the word calends meaning ‘throughout the months’. It has light green egg-shaped flat leaves that are narrow near the steam and bright orange to yellow freely occurring blooms. 

Folklore and History:

The bloom has been popular throughout history. In the 5^th century it was popular in Rome in the garden of Gallic nobles. It was used at Indian weddings and Muslim ceremonies including Dassera where it was used in festival garlands. To the Hindus the marigold was a holy flower and in the east when it was combined with poppies it meant ‘I will soothe your grief’. It was grown in many monasteries and on church land because it was a flower of the Virgin Mary. This association usually indicates a previous association with a nature goddess.

The plant, a native of the Mediterranean, has been used since the time of the ancient Greeks, and even before that by distant Arabic and Indian cultures. As a garden plant it has been used in Europe since the 16^th century. Over the years it has been cultivated to act as an ornamental in the garden, used in cookery and medicine. It is an excellent companion plant to other plants in a garden, especially tomatoes and potatoes.

The name calendula comes from the Latin ‘calendae’ meaning the first month, as it was said that the bloom was always in flower on the first of each month. The plant follows the sun, opening early in the morning and closing as the sun begins to fall from the sky. The marigold was used as a type of clock. It was believed that it opened at 9 a.m. and closed at 3 p.m. Weather lore said that if the bloom had not opened by 7 a.m. the day would see rain and thunder before sunset.

The flower can be traced back to an old legend. In the wild, the Greek marigold was either Calendula arvensis or Calendula officinalis. Both are thought to be the ‘sunflower’ referred to in the legend of Clytie and Apollo. The god Apollo was deeply loved by a water nymph called Clytie but he spurned her affection. The sad nymph pined day and night. She sat for nine days staring at Apollo as he rose everyday.  Her face would follow his movement until at last his sun chariot set for the night. The gods pitied Clytie and turned her into a sunflower, her face becoming the bloom and her neck the stem. Another version is that Apollo’s rays melted her into a marigold upon the grass.

In South American and Mexican lore the flower was linked with the killing of the Aztecs by Cortez’s Conquistadors in their search for gold. It was said that the red flecks that occasionally appear on the blooms are the blood shed by the Aztecs. The pain and the grief that the bloom seems to symbolize can be dispelled by mixing marigolds in a vase with roses. This then symbolizes the sweet sorrows of love. Marigolds are strongly linked with the customs honoring the dead in modern Mexico, customs which date back centuries.

The marigold also symbolizes constancy in love and it was popular in bridal bouquets. The bloom was also called ‘husbandman’s dial’ and was considered a powerful aphrodisiac, although in German plant lore it was considered unfavorable as a love flower. It was associated with pain, anger and grief.  Picking the bloom had to be done carefully. In some folk tales it was said that picking the bloom or even looking at it courted disaster and that one might fall to the weakness of excessive drinking.

Herbal Usage:The flowers are used as a healing agent. They can be added to poultices and salves to speed the healing of wounds and nerve damage. It can be used to stop bleeding after dental work. In the past an infusion was given for intestinal problems and to clean the lymph nodes and blood system.

The marigold has been used in cosmetics and perfumes as well as in healings. It was thought that soaking in a bath strewn with marigold petals would help reduce varicose veins. The Romans used marigold tea to relieve fevers and the juice to cure warts and other skin irritations. It has also been used for insect stings. When combined in a cream base it helps heal sunburn and to keep skin soft. It has astringent qualities to help the body fight infections. It is also antibacterial and helps fight fungal infections.

Bowls of the blooms kept in the kitchen while cooking will absorb any unpleasant or strong odors. The flowers can be used in soups and stews while the leaves can be used in salads.

Magical Uses:

It has used in love divination. If it is picked at noon then the Sun is at its peak, it will strengthen and provide comfort to the heart. If a girl steps on a marigold petal with bare feet she will understand the language of the birds. Another tale of love divination is on St. Luke’s Day (October 18^th). Maidens would simmer marigold blooms, wormwood and marjoram. Before going to bed the maidens would bathe in the brew so that they could dream of their true love.

There are a few flowers better for rituals of death and dying than marigolds. The dried petals may be added to incense. The petals may be strewn in the path of a casket or urn and the marigold may be planted at the grave site. When honoring a beloved who has passed over, using marigold will add a special loving magic.

It can be carried to court as a favorable outcome. It can be placed under a pillow to induce prophetic dreams. It is well suited for those who have lost property to theft. Marigolds can be used to help see the thief in one’s mind and be able to identify the location of the stolen property.

Those who are the subject of gossips or slander might try the old medieval technique or a modern combination of carrying marigold petals with a bay leaf.

Sources:

Beyerl, Paul. A Compendium of Herbal Magick. Custer, Washington: Phoenix Publishing. 1998.

Cunningham, Scott. Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2000.

Grieves, M. A Modern Herbal Volume II. New York, New York: Dover Publications, Incorporated. 1971.

Hopman, Ellen Evert. A Druid’s Herbal for the Sacred Earth Year. Rochester, VT: Destiny Books, 1995.

Kear, Katherine. Flower Wisdom. Hammersmith, London: Thorson (An Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers). 2000.

Telesco, Patricia. The Herbal Arts. New York, New York: Kensington Publishing Corporation; 1998.

Telesco, Patricia. A Floral Grimoire. New York, New York: Kensington Publishing Corporation; 2001.

Herb of the Season: Mullein by Dawn "Belladonna" Thomas

Herb of the Season: Mullein

Folk names: candlewick plant, torches, hag’s tapers, graveyard dust, Lady’s foxglove.

Planet: Jupiter and/or Saturn

 Deity: Circe

Element: Fire

Powers: Courage, Protection, Health, Love, Divination, and Purification

Parts Used: Leaves and flowers

Botanical:

In the first season of the plant’s growth, there appears only a rosette of large leaves, six to fifteen inches long, in form somewhat like those of the Foxglove, but thicker – whitish with a soft, dense mass of hairs on both sides, which make them very thick to the touch. In the following spring, a solitary, stout, pale stem, with tough, strong fibers enclosing a thin rod of white pith, arises from the midst of the felted leaves. Its rigid uprightness accounts for some references of it being a rod or staff.

The leaves near the base of the stem are large and numerous, six to eight inches long and two to two and a half inches wide but they become smaller as they ascend the stem. They are arranged on the stems not as opposites to each other but on alternate sides. They are broad and simple in form, the outline rather wavy, and do not have stems. Their bases continue some distance down the stem in a manner similar to comfrey and a few other plants. The hair on the leaves is very thick and acts as a protective coat protecting it from giving off too much moisture. It also protects the leaves from insect attacks. They also cause irritation to the mucous membrane of any grazing animals that may try to eat them. The hairs are not only on the leaves but are on the stems too. Mullein grows mostly in dry soils but the leaves are subject to attacks of mold.

Toward the top of the stalk, the woolly leaves merge into the thick, densely crowded flower spike, which is usually a foot long. These stalks grow frequently four to five feet high and in some gardens have been known to grow to seven or eight feet in height. Flowers open along the spike but not in a regular procession from the base as in the foxglove.

Folklore and History:

Mrs. Grieves in A Modern Herbal Volume II writes about the mullein plant:

The down on the leaves and stem makes excellent tinder when quite dry, readily igniting on the slightest spark, and was, before the introduction of cotton, used for lamp wicks, hence the name “candlewick plant.” Both in Europe and Asia the power of driving away evil spirits was ascribed to the mullein. In India it has the reputation among the natives that the St. John’s Wort once had here, being considered a sure safeguard against evil spirits and magic. And from the ancient classics we learn that it was this plant which Ulysses took to protect himself against the wiles of Circe. (Grieves Volume II, page 564)

According to Frazer, in the Golden Bough, an old pagan custom which long survived in western France involved passing mullein through the Midsummer’s Eve bonfire. The mullein would protect the herds and the ashes from the fire were considered most magical.

Herbal Uses:

A poultice of the leaves helps wounds and sores. The leaves steeped in vinegar and water will soothe inflammations, painful skin conditions, and hemorrhoids, when used externally as a poultice. They may be used in tincture form, fifteen to forty drops every two to four hours.

The oil of mullein flowers can be used for earaches. Cover the flowers in good olive oil and steep them in a closed container in the hot sun for twenty-one days. Strain out the flowers and place the oil directly in the ear. Pack with cotton.

Magical Uses:

Few herbs have such a strong association with the element of fire. Some of the folk names demonstrate this connection. Mullein may be used to invoke the elemental energy of fire and bring literal fire into the ritual. The dried leaves may be soaked in oil. Some ingenious practitioners would dip them into a liquid mixture of saltpeter and water, and then hang them to dry. When tossed into a fire, they blaze brightly. This may be done in the ritual cauldron, bonfire or one’s fireplace.

The entire flower stalk may be harvested and dried. They can be picked when the flowers are at their prime, their yellow a reflection of the Sun. They can also be picked as a part of the autumn harvest when the mullein’s work is done; the stalks naturally drying and turning brown, the flowers spent, the seeds sown naturally by the plant itself. The head of the stalk is then soaked in a tallow mixture so it may be carried, burning as a torch. Such torches would be ideal for lighting the dark and fearful night of Samhain.

Mystery schools and monasteries often grew mullein as protection. Seeding itself naturally, this biennial does not always do well when transplanted. The seedlings must be allowed to grow to adequate strength. The ideal weather for transplanting is damp and cool. Mullein grows best when left on its own. Each year holds surprises since you never know where a mullein will spring up.

Mullein can be worn to keep wild animals from you while hiking in untamed areas. It also gives courage to the bearer and a few leaves placed in the shoe keeps one from catching a cold. Mullein is also carried to obtain love from the opposite sex. Stuffed into a small pillow, or placed under a pillow, will guard against nightmares.

Some say there is a connection between this herb and women. A number of groups have introduced mullein into their herbal work, finding it a source of comfort and strength.

A folklore tale speaks about men in mountain areas performing a simple love divination. A man went to a clearing where a mullein grew and bent it down so that it pointed toward his love’s house. If she loved him the mullein would grow upright again; if she loved another it would die. Graveyard dust – an infrequent ingredient in spells – can be substituted with powdered mullein leaves. The powdered leaf has been found in ancient grimoires as a substitute for graveyard dust.

Sources:

Beyerl, Paul. A Compendium of Herbal Magick. Custer, WA. Phoenix Publishing, Inc. 1998

Cunningham, Scott. Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs. St. Paul, MN; Llewellyn Publications. 2000

Grieve, Mrs. A Modern Herbal Volume II. Mineola, NY; Dover Publications.1971

Hopman, Ellen Evert. A Druid’s Herbal for the Sacred Earth Year. Rochester, VT; Destiny Books. 1995

Intentional Insights: Q&A From Within by S. Kelley Harrell

Phone Calls From Beyond

I have been receiving restricted phone calls that are not normal.

My cell will ring once, maybe twice and when I answer there is this strange static. The phone calls have been happening only when I am sleeping. Today, however, I received calls while at work.  I truly believe someone is trying to contact me or tell me something. I am not sure if it is my guide or my parents that have passed away in the last few years.  Is there someway for me to figure out what and who these calls are about? I am both curious and tired.  Thanks ~A

Thank you for your note, A. When I ask for the spirit of who is making these calls to come I am greeted by a matronly woman. She appears to be in her mid fifties, has curly, dark blond hair, and is wearing a navy blue printed dress that is somewhat out of date--late 70s, early 80s. She has a very maternal feel about her but she tells me that she is not your mother. What troubles me about her is that she is constantly wringing her hands and her face is lined with worry. Other aspects of her form tell me that she is deceased and that she was murdered. She was never given a proper burial. Her body was more or less dumped and buried in a shallow grave under a tree in a very boggy area a few decades ago.

When I sit with her I realize that she will not be able to speak without fear until some healing is done for her. When that healing is completed she tells me that at the time of her death she had a daughter who was 7-8. She was killed by the daughter's father. My feeling is that she was pregnant when she was killed, and that pregnancy was the reason she was murdered, even though she feels the child to have been her husband's. I learn no other specifics about her death.

I asked her how she was connected to you and her reason for contacting you. She indicated that she was attracted to you through your wonderful relationship with your daughter and because you have a very kind heart. I do not have a sense that you knew her in life; in fact, I feel that she is connected to the area where you currently live--not necessarily your exact house, but that community, that land. I also feel very clearly that the husband's crime was never found out and that the mother was concerned for her daughter unknowingly in contact with her mother's killer. The daughter is not in physical danger; in fact the father is quite elderly now, if not dead, himself.

It seems that this mother saw you as someone who could understand her pain, and someone she wanted to help her move on. The fact that you realized something besides a technical glitch was happening is an indication of your own awareness and potential ability as a deathwalker. If you have ever had any inclination to develop your own intuitive skills, it would seem there's plenty of support for you to do so. Be well, A!

~*~*~*~

Every year for Samhain I publish accounts of my more charged, and in some cases creepy, spiritual pursuits. The Dead Time is a treasured journey to Solstice, and as it is a time of untime, the shadowed season presents a great opportunity to tell the stories that many who do shamanic work won't tell--the occasions when things don't go well or the unseen presents itself unexpectedly. You may recognize some of these accounts from my previous stories, while others are more recent. Enjoy the solitude of the darkness, and know the light will soon warm!

Hotel Phillips and Murderous Insomnia

Early in the Spring of 2002 I had the fortune of spending a week at the beautiful Hotel Phillips in Kansas City, Missouri, while on a business trip. I am quite used to loads of spirit traffic when I stay in hotels; however, my stay at Hotel Phillips offered a bit more than the luxury experience the lush establishment touts. From the first night that I checked into room 1513, I sensed many presences–again, not unusual at all, as I do quite a bit of psychopomp work. Staying in hotels for me is like being tapped on the shoulder constantly, far from restful, and Hotel Phillips was no different. Upon checking into their room, other people hang up their clothes first thing. I create sacred space and release errant energies, a gesture part compassion and part hopeful of a solid night’s sleep.

One presence in particular stood out right away, a female whose only visual aspect was a white lace hem that I saw close to the floor. I saw “her” in my room and hall several times the first few days that I was there, though she would not allow me to feel her. What was odd about this spirit was when I offered to release her she did not want to go. I also got a sense with this presence more than any of the others that she had indeed died in the building, and needed friendly company. Regardless, I couldn’t sleep in the room. She was not particularly bothersome or ever present, but her air of unrest was contagious.

Thursday morning I got up, showered, and was drying my hair in the bathroom when I felt that I was not alone. The feminine presence was with me. I opened the bathroom door to find a distraught woman standing there. She was about 22-25 years old with long auburn curly hair, a Caucasian woman in a rather formal 1930s-style dress. Her white hem fell just above her ankles—the garment I had been seeing all week. As I gazed upward I saw a large bloody wound in her chest, which dripped blood and tissue onto the floor. She had been shot and was experiencing the panic of her death moment before me.

I stepped out of the bathroom and through her, as she stepped to the side of my bed. I did not learn her name, but I felt a strong sense of betrayal that she had become involved with a man and the relationship could not for whatever reason come to fruition. This man is who shot her. I often learn information around the cause of death, and it’s always fascinating. Staying true to my role as psychopomp means that details are mere curiosities. The only real objective in working with the dead is to learn how I can facilitate helping them move on to the next phase of their destiny, and doing just that. Everything else is superfluous. That said, sometimes learning what I must from them and helping them shift is no easy feat.

I asked her if she wanted to move on, and she hesitated. I told her that she would not have fully shown herself to me if she did not want help and asked her what held her here. My sense was that she was waiting for the man who killed her--her lover--to somehow redeem himself. I told her that she may have a long wait, that she had already had a long wait, and that she could wait for him to make amends in a much better place than this hotel. After a bit more discussion, she allowed me to walk her into Spirit space and all was restful.

I went on to work for the day, but from the minute I entered the room that night, I was uneasy. The oppressive feel of the room was worse than it had been since my arrival, and I realized that whoever was there was angry with me, yet the spirit refused to communicate.

Once in bed, the lights were out for about two minutes when I began to hear extremely loud scuffling noises moving around the room. I lay there and listened for a few seconds, when finally the sound reached a crescendo behind my headboard forming a complete circle around me. The entity meant to frighten, if not threaten me. Though difficult to describe, there was palpable movement in the discordant sound and it pushed against my ribs. Non-consensual physical contact from spirits is an extremely disturbing phenomenon. When an encounter reaches that point fear becomes anger.

Enraged, I observed a male in the room, about four feet from the foot of my bed. Although well dressed he was surrounded by black clouds. He, too, was Caucasian, though physically did not appear entirely human. I knew this man was the killer, and that he had killed many times. He was a nasty piece of work, and he was angry with me for interacting with the woman. He had killed her in the hotel, though not in that room, and he had never been linked to the crime. His pride was wounded that I knew what had happened, as he was used to getting away with everything. I had seen his dirty deeds and he wanted to eliminate me as a threat. He was afraid that I would hand him over to some authority for punishment. He was so stuck in a defensive consciousness that he didn’t seem to realize that he was dead.

I told him that I didn't care what he had done in his life that I wasn't there to judge him. Gradually his energy softened. The noise in the room stopped. I said that this was not the place he needed to be anymore, that whatever happened between him and the woman was between them, and if he felt ready to deal with that from a more useful place that I could help him. I also made it perfectly clear that I was ready to sleep and we would not be negotiating all night. When I said that to him, the clouds around him began to dissipate, but I still did not see him clearly. I held the space for a good 45 minutes or so, but he went relatively easily. For the first time since I checked into Hotel Phillips my room was quiet on all fronts.

The next morning I approached the concierge, asking if anyone had ever reported anything strange about room 1513. He, along with the staff at the front desk, went pale and asked me what had happened. When I told them that I saw a woman in my room, they stammered a bit, eventually going on to say that they had not had reports about that room, and had not had anything reported at all since the hotel had re-opened after renovations the previous Fall. They offered to assign me to a different room, and when I declined huddled in the corner whispering. Clearly they were aware of creepy occurrences, but I couldn’t tell if they would be relieved or disappointed to learn that their gangster spectre was no longer a guest.

~*~*~*~

Faeries in the Garden

I’m not a skeptic by any stretch, but I am an experiential junkie. I need some level of personal exchange with something before I can fully give myself over to its reality, even if that exchange happens in the ether. I’ve realized that there can be a wide berth between knowing something is entirely possible and experiencing it to be so. I’ve also learned that when experiencing something energetically overlaps witnessing it physically such an opportunity is a gift.

Several years ago I was attending a weekend class at a retreat in the mountains of North Carolina when I saw faeries. The location, itself, is somewhat of an anomaly in that it sits at the convergence of several ley lines. I personally believe it sits between diverging strata of time and dimension based on other intriguing experiences I’ve had there, but perhaps that’s more of a personal gnosis. The caretaker of the retreat has a very close relationship with the faeries of the land. I’d visited the retreat several times and heard stories from the horse’s mouth of the fae striking a deal with the caretaker, in that if she would tend their portal on her land they would commune with humans—by invitation only—between Mother’s Day and Summer Solstice each year. She told us how she’d made conversation with them learning what their job was in this realm and how they did it. They told her that their purpose was to collect dew to protect the sacred seed within blossoming floral life, which apparently they take very seriously. They let her know that they enjoy colorful, shiny trinkets. In an attempt to better understand their work and forge unity with them she complimented them on the plants and overall landscape. They replied, “That’s gnomes. We only do flowers.”

The night I met them was the evening after Summer Solstice of 2002. It was the close of the faeries’ interactive season, as well as the pinnacle of what had been months of dreadful drought. The caretaker told us that the fae had not been very active at all through the summer, as they had been struggling to maintain the flowers.

In agreement with the caretaker our class met in the faeries’ garden around 9:30 that evening. There were only a few of us, maybe ten to twelve, and we were told that upon entering the garden people often feel the sensation of a cool droplet on their forehead, or have ringing in their ears. I felt nothing of the sort. I remember crossing the threshold of the garden and instantly feeling as though I wasn’t supposed to be there, as if my presence was an interference. I had the distinct impression that the tension I felt was an indication that the presence of humans, at least at that taxing time in their season, was pulling the faeries’ energy in the wrong direction. I had the sense that we shouldn’t focus so much on them appearing to us and we should just let them tend their jobs.

I remember sitting in the talking box, the bench the caretaker usually sat on when she conversed with the fae, waiting for something to happen. Group members wandered peacefully about in the lovely open space. I had meandered to a level area toward the front of the garden that overlooked a flowering planting bed at the base of the mountain that rose just behind it. To one end of that bed stood an old chimney, the portal, which the caretaker said the fae called “the tower” that allowed them to pass from their world to ours. I had reached a point of blissful meditation on the mountain and wasn’t even thinking of faeries when one of the women who worked at the retreat grabbed my arm and exclaimed, “There she is!”  I all but jumped out of my skin, jolted from my peaceful state, but when I looked in the direction the lady was pointing sure enough there was a brilliant blue spark wafting through the dark night. It glided down the mountain and came to exactly where the lady had dragged me. Mere inches from my body, the light circled my midsection. I felt very much like it was regarding me as much as I was observing it. The blue spark drifted amongst us, weaving between all of our bodies, squeezing between tree limbs, rising above our heads and sweeping past our feet.

The whole time I had this chatter in my head, ticking off the things the flying light could be. I wasn’t intentionally trying to disprove what was right in front of me; rather, it was more like a reflex of my mind reinforcing that it was right in front of me and I had no context to suit it. The spark was bigger than a firefly and it stayed lit for long intervals. Even when the spark would dim a halo of blue stayed lit several inches out around it. Each of us stood in awe, even the retreat worker, watching the blue light greet us.

About the time that I gave over to the idea that I had no idea what I was witnessing, something even more strange happened.

A few smaller golden sparks lighted amongst us, but the slightly larger blue one flashed into a big orb. It literally exploded into a blue ball of light as big as my hand, the bright spark at its center growing stronger with luminous force. The spark in the center continued to float out amongst us, dimming and lighting while the glowing ball around it remained consistently lit.

I know what I saw visually and it fits into no other phenomena I can source. Etherically I observed a profoundly peaceful strata of Earth’s experience of itself that required nothing of me but to honor it. There aren’t many better ways to spend a weekend.

~*~*~*~

Angel Download

The year 2007 was rather strange for me, for several reasons, largely because two vastly significant segments of my life intertwined. In that timeframe health conditions that I had been managing through an intense spiritual emergency came to a head (which are covered in a subsequent story), I began to have mindful interactions with Star People. I’d read stories of experiences in which people had stellar visitors who affected their neural functioning, in essence ‘changing their hardware’ to ready them for emerging frequencies coming into the planet. I’d never felt myself as part of that strata of experience. I was a shaman, an earth-dweller, a Nature spirit in my own right. I’d had many experiences journeying out into the starry vast Unknown, but I had not experienced that facet of the Unknown venturing to me. Many of my colleagues communicate with that level Intelligent Light, reporting such physical sensations of ringing in the ears or feeling as though a cool drop of water was falling on the third eye as indicators that such a base interaction was occurring. I had no reason to think that I would engage in that facet of spirit communication, and that was fine. Truth told, I always found it somewhat hokey, talking with angels and aliens. By most measures I’ve had my hands full unraveling the myriad experiences of the wyrd throughout my life, so I didn’t need to court something more.

In the fall of 2006 I began to have migraines. I’d not experienced migraines since my first bout with them in 1999, the time I now look to as the beginning of my spiritual emergency, or what could have been one of several such etheric crises. What made this episode of discomfort different was that my face went almost completely numb on the left side, and I suddenly could not hear well and had problems reading. All sound seemed to be at a great distance, tinged with a persistent low ringing. Visually it seemed as though I had suddenly become dyslexic, only it wasn’t just that letters and words inverted on a page. I had begun seeing symbols that were unrecognizable along with upside down letters and blank spaces mid-sentence. With the rapid onset of all of these symptoms I returned to the neurologist I’d seen years before. Medical exams yielded nothing changed or harmful in my brain. The neurologist tried to convince me that I had always been dyslexic but at the age of thirty-five just “hadn’t noticed” until now. Being the sort who knew she wanted to be a writer at the age of five and who set her entire scholastic agenda to that outcome, I knew this was a new development and that I had not been latently dyslexic. My sense was that something major was going on etherically, a very profound shifting of synaptic wiring, so to speak. Medically, no diagnosis was reached.

Headaches persisted over the next few months and I began to have a very difficult time articulating my words. The visual phenomenon had abated for the most part, but my hearing was still quite affected by what was happening to me. I consulted my spirit guides ongoing, who informed me that my etheric form was shifting at a rate far more rapid than my physical form could comfortably withstand. As well, they told me that I was clearing out chakral clutter, which was resulting in various chakras elevating into vastly different vibrations than I was used to overall, and that other chakras were feeling very uncomfortable as they had not reached that point of elevation yet.

While I felt their assessment to be fact and I found peace in that confidence, I was physically miserable. The headaches became more severe and I sought out a fresh perspective on my neurological landscape. In early March of 2007 I went to a different neurologist who also held a rather holistic practice as an osteopath. She immediately confirmed that I had not suddenly become dyslexic, but that indeed a cerebral event had occurred. From her perspective it was imperative to assess just what that event was. From my perspective I wanted to see how the body’s mapping was changing to suit my new etheric territory. I consented to the testing that she wanted to do, which initially included another MRI. The results of this MRI were different from the one I’d had six months previously, revealing scarring on the brain as the cause, according to my doctor, of the physical symptoms I was having. In order to rule out deeper implications for the cause of the scarring she ordered more tests.

About a week later I was cruising down Raleigh’s outer beltline when in a flash I felt a ripple go through not just my body but the whole car and space around it, and I saw a split second visual of a group of lanky silvery grey Beings standing in a walled space surrounded by huge boxy electrical conductors. Though blended they felt predominantly feminine, and they were looking back at me through the windshield the way one looks at animals through glass in a zoo. As soon as the Beings realized that I could see them they gasped and appeared rather sheepish, imparting a very clear sense of playfulness at being caught stirring the cosmic cookie jar. In another blink, before me was only highway. I heard the murmur of a collective voice say, “She knows we just pushed this down.” I heard other voices, but they were hypnologic, fluid, not unlike a melody. I heard this soft strain the rest of the way home.

The intensity and pervasiveness of this experience was very much like my strange mind-reading experience at Walmart, only the data coming in this time was purely pleasant. As I drove along, bemused, the meaning of this exchange was perfectly clear. I’ve read many instances in archaic history and modern experience of Star Beings collectively injecting radical transformation to passively open up options to an energetically stagnant populace. I never had cause to disbelieve it but I’d never personally experienced such. This intervention had been personal in that I felt it, but it also stretched beyond me over the land, in the space between the Earth and the firmament. It was not personal and yet was custom fitted to every Being who could receive it in this plane.

For all the strange encounters that I’ve read about, this one I saw happen—an image opened in my mind that did not originate from me – and I knew it was a radical transition being gifted us instantly. The entire event lasted about six seconds and afterward I felt like I was surrounded by a silvery aura that was not my own, like an etheric cushion so I wouldn’t hurt myself with my new information, a buffer to assimilate.  I laughed the rest of the way home. I realized then that my wyrd had moved up to an entirely new level.

Medically, my doctor performed a lumbar puncture to discern the origin of the scarring on my brain. The results of this were normal, though an unrelated but peculiar outcome was the revelation that I apparently tended to have a lower than normal level spinal fluid, which can create a collection of annoyances, none of them particularly threatening. I walked away from the physical observation of the changes in my body knowing that my brain had indeed been remapped, a cause for concern to my neurologist, though to me it was a mirror of what I knew to be happening in the shifting template of my life force.

The last event in that sequence of changes came almost ten days later. In the early hours of sunlight I lucidly became aware of existing in two spaces at once. I was aware of myself lying in my bed, though I was also lying in what appeared to be an encampment in another plane.

The scenery was a small arrangement of beige tents and bedding flanked by tall waving grasses of a meadow. There was a rather bleak feel to the space, though, as if it was a temporary meeting place between realms, a multi-planar MASH unit. I found myself lying on a beige pallet on the ground, surrounding by about 20-30 others reclining nearby. They too were consciously aware of their location and of being outside the bodies. I recognized one of the people as a childhood playmate, someone I’d not seen in years. A Being stood over me, fairly masculine in energy, and quite a large presence. I felt him reaching into my head, specifically into the area of my brain that bore the scars. I felt him moving things around and I became extremely agitated. I fought him quite hard, all the while having an inner dialogue with my spirit guides. They told me that it was his job to “install” the etheric component of the changes that had been made in my physiology and that it was up to me to decide if I wanted to allow it.

“Will the headaches stop if I allow this?” I asked them.

They informed me that gradually they would abate with this new balance of energy.

“What will it change in me?” I asked.

As soon as I formed the thought, the Being plunged its “chip” into my brain. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my body and crackle far out into my etheric form. My ego was quite distressed about its gruff methodology, though I knew that having uttered my last question I was expressing positive intent. By the time the energy traveled several feet out into my form I felt marvelous. I felt an indescribable cellular rapport, as if I was finally able to experience all of myself in a basic formed manifestation.

Indeed my neurological symptoms did calm significantly after the culmination of this series of events. I began to see silvery white orbs on a daily basis that I know to be the consciousness of creatures guiding us into a much wider practice of experiencing ourselves in this plane.

~*~*~*~

Intentional Insights is a Q& A column inviting you to look inside yourself. If you have a question that you would like for me to address in my column regarding a brief Soul Reading or questions about spiritual healing and shamanism, please send them to me at Kelley@soulintentarts.com, or contact me to schedule a full-length Soul Reading.  Intentional Insights is a production of Soul Intent Arts. Follow me on Twitter!

~S. Kelley Harrell, C.Ht. ~ www.kelleyharrell.com ~ @SKelleyH Author of Gift of the Dreamtime: Awakening to the Divinity of Trauma Soul Intent Arts ~ An intertribal shamanic practice for Universal wellbeing ~ www.soulintentarts.com Intentional Insights ~ Q&A From Within ~ Podcast ~ www.intentionalinsights.com

Keeping my Eye on the Ball--A Tale of Forbidden Love By H. Byron Ballard

The cool and heavy presence of it is an invitation to dive deeply, head-first. After years of reading cards – decades, really, I took up scrying a crystal ball. I did it as a lark because we were doing some fundraising for a local Pagan non-profit and lots of people were reading cards. It would make a nice change for the attendees and give folks an option. Something unusual that you don’t find at many “psychic faires.”

And, besides, I told myself, a Witch ought to be able to read a crystal ball.

Many years ago, a good friend who is an interior designer gave me a ball as a gift. He’d found it somewhere and it made him think of me. It came with a footed sheshamwood stand, whose feet are the heads of little dragons. The ball sat on the shelf of my altar table for years. I would trot it out for the occasional public event, whether ritual or lecture. About once every year or two, I’d set it out under the full Moon for a cleansing. But it really didn’t need to be cleansed because it never got “dirty.” I never used it.

I had learned candle-and-mirror scrying in the late 1970s and had played around with scrying in a black bowl filled with water. The technique was interesting to me, but the cards were so familiar. I hardly looked at them once the spread was down and could focus on the person opposite me, the one with the problem or worry or question.

Tap, tap, tap. My finger would reach out along the big spread and I’d touch a card, look the person in the eye and answer the question. Tap--this column is your immediate past. Tap--this one in the center--current events, what’s happening right now. Tap--see these two? We’ll play around in the next six months and see what’s up.

Familiar and comfy, like your best fat jeans.

So between fundraising and idle curiosity, I turned at last to the ball. I removed the silk cloth from it and sat with it at my dining room table. Turning it this way and that, I found myself intrigued by the shape, the wealth of dimension. After decades of shuffling a deck and putting down an array of flat cards, there was something about the upright round crystal. Something unfamiliar and inviting.

My particular ball is about four inches in diameter and has a flaw near the equator. It’s a deep flaw and that may be the reason my friend didn’t want to use it in his interior design studio. But it has wabi-sabi and I like that. I grew up believing that a flaw is necessary in things, to keep from offending either the faeries or the gods. And in my Appalachian world wabi-sabi was easy to come by.

The notion of taking a class on ball-reading didn’t feel right, so I sat down with the ball a lot--to figure out for myself how to do it. Even though I tried to put “The Wizard of Oz” out of my mind, my first few attempts were like watching a movie on a very tiny screen.

At the fundraiser, I explained to my first customer that I was new to this whole gig and asked for her patience. I also promised her a back-up card reading if the ball was a no-go. Taking off my spectacles, I unfocused my eyes slightly and held the ball in my cupped hands.

As I focused on the flaw, images started to appear around it. There was a fireplace and a living area. I described what I was seeing to the woman opposite me and she listened politely. A cat walked into my image and I told her about that. “Which one is it?” she asked, and I described the cat, saying it had gone to the rug and curled up.

She told me the cat’s name and I nodded, still watching the ball. Another cat came into view and I described it, too. It walked past the one on the rug and jumped into the chair near the hearth. My client’s back stiffened. “Is she on the chair?” she demanded. I nodded, sorry to get the cat in trouble. “She knows better than that,” the woman said, shaking her head. “She isn’t peeing in the chair, is she?”

That I could not see. She was disappointed that I couldn’t tell her anything about her future but I think she was pretty impressed that I could see her living room, even if I did tattle on the cat.

I’m still most comfortable with the cards, my old dear friends. The worn deck goes most places with me, especially this time of year. And at Samhain, I always honor the neighbor woman who taught me to read playing cards more than 40 years ago.

I am pleased that this old dog can learn a new trick. The heft and coolness of that ball have a delicious allure. I’m still not adept at scrying it, but I enjoy it very much. So, if you ask me for a reading, you might find me doing both. First the ball and the funny story of your living room. Then the cards to see the truth. Suspenders and belt, maybe, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ladi Wen By Bendis

The Ladi Wen by Bendis

Lately I have been studying goddess stories and mythology throughout time. In my studies, it has been very evident the the changes in Her stories are a direct reflection in the lives of women. One such character, be she goddess or faerie, is the Lady Wen in Wales.

The Ladi Wen is a Cymric bogeyman, and of relatively late date, as attested by the mix of the native Cymric feminine form of white gwen and the form of 'Lady' in Ladi though she fits in with the variety of evil spirits abroad at All Hallows' Eve. She is typically represented as the spectral apparition of a woman (often headless) dressed in white. She was used as a bogeywoman to frighten children into obedience. The following poem used to be commonly recited and mentions the Ladi Wen:

A tail-less Black Sow and a White Lady without a head
May the tail-less black sow snatch the hindmost.
A tail-less black sow on winter's eve,
Thieves coming along knitting stockings.

The following are some of the legends associated with the Ladi Wen:

In Wales, there are places named White Lady's Meadow and White Lady's Lane. In former times, the white lady was said to appear, and points towards Ewenny. People said she knew where treasure was hidden, but could never go to find it. She was seen wringing her hands, as if in great trouble. A man once stopped to speak to her, and she was pleased. He asked what he could do to help her, and she answered that if he would hold her tightly by both hands until she told him to stop, her troubles would leave her. The man did as she asked, but the loud barking of a dog caused him to look around and release her hands. With a scream she cried, "I shall be bound for another seven years" and vanished.

At another place, a woman in white would occasionally appear. A farm worker returning home one evening met her. She approached him, saying, "Your wife has given birth to a babe. Go and bring the boy to me at once, that I may be saved." The man was surprised to hear this. He was afraid to do as she asked and was advised to have the infant christened before taking him, for fear he might die before his return. When he reached the spot where the white woman waited for him, he found her crying bitterly and wringing her hands, for one of the conditions of her soul's redemption was the kiss of a new-born and unbaptized child.

A shepherd, minding his master's sheep was resting in a sheltered nook where a huge rock covered with heather shielded him from the fierce sunshine at noontide. He looked a few paces away, and saw a white robed girl scattering a few roses. The shepherd waited until she was gone out of sight, and then went from his nook to gather the flowers. He looked at them, and said, "Oh, what beautiful flowers!" He replaced them where they had been scattered. Suddenly the maiden reappeared, looked at him kindly, and smiled sadly, but never uttered a word. That night he took the flowers home, and placed them in water. In the morning, he found three gold coins where the flowers had been.

A plowman was busy plowing a very large field. As he worded, he noticed a maiden robed in white, smoothing her hair in the sunshine, and beckoning him to her. At first, he took no notice, but as she repeated the signal, he worked up the courage to respond. The maiden told him she was a King's daughter who had sunk with a landslip into the ground. She could only be saved by a man who, without stopping or turning around, would carry her to the nearest churchyard, and throw her down with all his might. The plowman promptly picked her up, and ran with her to the nearest church. He was about to fling her off his shoulders when he suddenly heard something so loud that he looked around, and let her fall. The maiden flew into the air, crying that she must suffer more severely now, and wait another hundred years for a man with a more steady hand.

Another location had a white lady who was supposed to guard treasure, which was kept under the flooring of the tower. A man addressed her once, and she took him to the spot where she asked him to lift a large flooring-stone. This he did, and in a hole under the stone, he found an old crock full of golden guineas. "Take one half," said the white lady, and leave the remainder for me." He did as he told, and replaced the stone. One evening he thought he might as well have the other portion, and went to the spot and lifted the stone, and filled his pockets with the gold pieces. Just as he was leaving the castle, the white lady appeared, and accused him of theft. He denied having taken the gold, but she made him take off his coat, and in doing so the money fell out. The white lady then set upon him, and, to his dismay, he found she had claws instead of fingers, and with these, she nearly tore him to pieces. He shouted, and tried in vain to get out of her grasp, but he was not able to do so until she had badly hurt him. He went home, his clothes all torn, and was accused of having been in a drunken brawl, which he denied. Soon after he became ill, and over time, became worse. Nobody knew what his illness was, and eventually he wasted away. Before he died he confessed to his adventure, and people called his complaint "the white lady's revenge."

I found similarity in the story of Culhwch ac Olwen (Translated by Lady Charlotte Guest) at http://www.ancienttexts.org/library/celtic/ctexts/culhwch.html

“The maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. The eye of the trained hawk, the glance of the three-mewed falcon was not brighter than hers. Her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. Whoso beheld her was filled with her love. Four white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. And therefore was she called Olwen.”

Guest connects Olwen to Ladi Wen. Could Ladi Wen be a goddess, still hovering with us, attempting to reclaim us to her heart? When discussing Ladi Wen, she is described by Guest as, “a bright vision, clothed in white, with glossy, coal-black locks hanging over her shoulders and with a pale, care-worn face, having an expression of intense pain.”

I find I have great interest in these stories and look for where they cme from and can often see how they represent the disempowerment of the Goddess. In reading of her disempowerment, it was clear that we, who once loved and adored the Goddess, were turned by another god and in that she became something different. In all of these stories, we can read between the lines and hear the Goddess calling us back to her. She makes herself available but either through fear, distraction, of though our own greediness, we turn from her.

At this time of Samhain, it is a good time to pay her honor. Look for her in your dreams, in your visions. Call to her when you seek the spirits from across the veil. Release her from her bondage and offer her your hand.

Mama Donna's Spirit Shop

Mischief by Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.

Mischief

         

Reader, do you remember the scene in the movie Meet Me in St. Louis where the kids are throwing furniture on the bonfire in the street on Halloween and Tootie (Margaret O’Brien) approaches the door of the “evil neighbor” and throws flour on him?

          For reasons having much to do, I suspect, with the Puritan foundation of the U.S., an enormous amount of mischief is associated with the hallowed evening we call Samhain. In Detroit, for example, it’s Devil’s Night. People commit acts of vandalism, and set fires. Trying to fight the “devil,” city officials have recently organized an Angel’s Night wherein volunteers monitor the streets to stop the vandalism.

          Possibly the most interesting bit of Halloween mischief occurred on October 30, 1938, when Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre broadcast a realistic adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel, The War of the Worlds, on CBS radio. Wells’ novel was set in England in the 1890s, but in Wells’ adaptation the fictitious invasion took place in New Jersey. The drama was a simulated news broadcast that interrupted a musical show, much as our Eyewitless News broadcasts interrupt with breaking news—“This just in.” Wells’ listeners were captured by the drama. People rushed to New Jersey, there was a public panic, and eventually the police had to be brought in. Ever since, TV networks have broadcast disclaimers during movies about atomic war, plague, and the late, great Y2K bug.

          I’ve noticed a new mischief. I collect witches. From August through October, I shop for new ones. But you know what? I’m finding fewer and fewer witches. I find vampires and movie monsters, but there are almost no witches. Children are being “kept safe” from Halloween. Retailers are being pressured not to sell witches. Preachers are still preaching that their devil is behind our holiday.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is the author of Pagan Every Day: Finding the Extraordinary in Our Ordinary Lives (RedWheel/Weiser, 2006), a unique daybook of daily meditations, stories, and activities. Her earlier books are Finding New Goddesses, Quicksilver Moon, Goddess Meditations, and Practicing the Presence of the Goddess. Her day job is freelance editing for people who don't want to embarrass themselves in print. Barbara lives in southern California. To purchase a signed copy of Finding New Goddesses, just send Barbara an email at bawriting@earthlink.net.

Moon Schedule from Samhain to Yule by Dawn "Belladonna" Thomas

(Times are Eastern Time)

Full “Snow” Moon – November 2^nd 2:14 p.m.

4^th Quarter – November 9^th 10:56 a.m.

New Moon – November 16^th 2:14 p.m.

2^nd Quarter – November 24^th 4:39 p.m.

Full “Oak” Moon – December 2^nd 2:30 a.m.

4^th Quarter – December 8^th 7:13 p.m.

New Moon – December 16^th 7:02 a.m.

Moon Void of Course Schedule

Date                                   Starts                                  Ends

Planting Days

November 3^rd, 6^th, 7^th, 15^th, 24^th, 25^th, 26^th

December 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th12th, 13^th

Harvesting Days

November 4^th, 5^th, 8^th, 9^th

December 6^th, 7^th, 14^th, 15^th, 16^th

On Finding Myself Middle Aged With No Role Model I Could Relate To Because I Am Not a Crone by Mama Donna Henes

Although I have been passionately devoted to the Many Splendored Goddess in her complex multiplicity for more than thirty years now, I am not a believer in the Triple Goddess paradigm. It has never resonated with me because it belies what I believe to be the true nature of nature. The Triple Goddess in her tripartite phases is widely understood to represent the complete cyclical wholeness of life. She Who is Three is likened to the moon, the tides, and the seasons, whose mutability She mirrors. And therein, lies the rub.

I am sorry, but thirty years of researching, teaching, and writing about Celestially Auspicious Occasions — the cycles of the cosmos and the earthly seasons, and the multi-cultural ritual expressions that they inspire — I can state unequivocally that the moon has four quarters, not three, and that there are, as well, four seasons in the year.

For millennia, the three faces of the Triple Goddess have, in fact, accurately reflected the stages of women’s lives — the developing youth, the nurturing mother and the wise old woman. She still corresponds with the real life expectancy and experience of most women in the world even today who live pretty much as they always have. The reality of their existence dictates that they grow quickly through girlhood into early and prolonged maternity then, if they are lucky enough to survive multiple childbirths and general poverty, they pass through menopause directly into old age.

While certainly there is still much to learn from these models, the old triple-header construct is no longer all-inclusive. It doesn’t include a description of my life or the lives of other contemporary women in their middle years living in modern developed countries. It does not address our issues and needs, nor does it embrace our unique and unprecedented position in society. It does not even recognize our existence. The old stereotypes simply do not apply to us.

We have outgrown our tenure as Maidens and as Mothers, yet old age no longer follows immediately after menopause, which is why so many midlife women don’t see ourselves (yet) as Crones. Where is the authentic archetype for us? There are now, for the first time in herstory and history combined, entire multi-national generations of women for whom the Triple Goddess paradigm no longer resonates. For us — nearly 60 million climacteric women in the United States alone — the tri-level ideal is flawed.

We occupy a truly unique position, poised on the brink of uncharted waters. This extended and vigorous midlife period which we are now beginning to experience is largely unaccounted for in myth and archetype for the simple reason that such longevity has never before occurred for the great masses of women as a whole. We desperately need a new body of role models, examples, and teachers to encourage us as we explore the unfamiliar terrain of our changing lives and create new and joyful ways of being in charge of our own destiny.

Clearly it is time for a change of paradigm. Which is as it should be. Life is about nothing if not change, which is, after all, the greatest teaching of the cyclical Goddess. Her power and inspiration lie in Her infinite flexibility, Her adept adaptability, Her unbounded ability to always, always, always change. The Great Goddess, supreme mistress of the art of transformation will surely respond to the changes in our lives and times by enlarging the vision of Her Self to include Her fourth dimension -- and ours. The Great Goddess is, even now, beginning to expand to include us in Her archetypal embrace.

In the absence of a traditional mythic example to spur me on and sustain me through my midlife changes, I perceived the need to invent one. So I formulated a fourth stage of development that would place me after the Mother and before the Crone in a newly defined continuum of Womanhood, thus providing me and other women of my generation with a recognizable role model for our middle years: The Four Fold Goddess: The Maiden, the Mother, The Queen and the Crone.

This construct of the four stages of a woman’s life is a much more accurate description of the current Way of Womanhood. Her four periods of growth and transformation resonate deeply with contemporary women. And they seem so natural, somehow. They are in complete metaphoric alignment with the pervasive way that peoples have always ordered existence into Four Quarters. The Four Quarters of the Moon, the Four Seasons of the Year, the Four Solstices and Equinoxes, the Four Elements, the Four Cardinal Directions of the Earth, the Four Periods of the Day.

Is this hubris? Who am I to challenge an archetype that has been so powerful for so many for so long? Well, I am in fact, a proud member of the pioneering Sixties Generation, and consequently, I have a certain modest amount of experience in rebelling against the status quo of old archetypes and striving to replace them with new, more inclusive and relevant ones. Our generation has demonstrated time and again that it is possible to create our own characters, compose our own scripts, and author the sagas of our own lives. We are our own role models. Bereft of affirming depictions of our lives, today’s women-of-a-certain-age are more than ready, willing, and perfectly capable of creating our own.

The mythic model that I envision is recognizably like me, like us. Not yet old, yet no longer young, she stands in her proper place — after the Mother and before the Crone — in No Woman’s Land. She plants her flag and claims her space in this previously uncharted midlife territory. Still active and sexy, vital with the enthusiasm and energy of youth, she is tempered with the hard earned experience and leavening attitudes of age.

She has been forced to face and overcome obstacles and hard lessons including her own shadow, and in so doing, has outgrown the boundaries of her old self. Agitated with the unessential and restless for authenticity, She sheds all attachment to the opinions of others and accepts complete responsibility and control for her own care, feeding, and fulfillment. She is the Queen of Her Self, the mature monarch, the sole sovereign of Her own life and destiny. Here, finally, is an archetype that fits.

The Queen paradigm promotes a new understanding of what it might mean to be a middle-aged woman today who accepts complete responsibility for and to her self, and it celebrates the physical, emotional, and spiritual rewards of doing so. Becoming a Queen is not automatic, nor is it instantaneous. As Simone de Beauvoir said, “One is not born a woman, one becomes one.”

The Queen bursts forth from adversity and previous constraints, actual or imagined, to become a proficient player in the game plan of Her choice. The Queen does not invite hard times and trouble, but She chooses to use them well. Actualized, organized, efficient, self-sufficient, competent, ethical, and fair, the Queen has struggled for and earned Her authority and respect. Determined and firmly centered on Her own two feet, She dares to climb, step after step, with nascent surety into the heady realm of Her own highest majesty.

Once on her throne and crowned, the Queen glows golden with confidence, competence, and grace. She is fully aroused and takes great pleasure in the feelings of freedom, elation and wellbeing that come from personal empowerment. This thrilling post-menopausal period of vitality, renewed energy, enhanced self-esteem, optimism, and enthusiasm comes to us in direct proportion to the intensity of our own conscious, conscientious engagement in the process and consequences of transformation.

Another gift of self-enfranchisement is the potent and extremely liberating sexuality of the Queen. Shining from the inside out, Her attractiveness and attraction is rooted deeply in Her self-actualization, self-worth, and inner strength. She exudes a primal excitement, Her power palpable in her very presence. Her desire reaches the boiling point and her inhibitions melt in the heat of Her renewed passion for life.

As long as I live, I will have control over

my being—you find the spirit of Caesar in me.

-Artemisia Gentileschi

Italian painter

1593-1652

Donna Henes is an urban shaman, ceremonialist, speaker and the author of the award-winning amazon.com best seller, The Queen of My Self: Stepping into Sovereignty in Midlife and three other books. She publishes a monthly Ezine, “The Queen’s Chronicles,” Inspiration for women who want to enjoy the fruits of an influential, passionate, and powerful maturity. For your free subscription visit http://www.thequeenofmyself.com/.

Solitary Ritual – Samhain By Dawn “Belladonna” Thomas

Samhain is a time to honor our ancestors. It is also a time to prepare for the winter and the journey through the dark of the year. It is a time to look inside - a time for introspection.

Preparation:

Background Music

Candles: black, white, and red (these represent the phases of a woman’s life)

Cup with water

Salt

An apple

Sharp knife (to cut apple)

Marigolds

Photos of deceased loved ones

Fall related items (colored leaves, acorns, wheat, corn, etc.)

Chalice with mead (or another beverage)

Casting the Circle

Walk the circle three times with the cup of water with salt and say:

This is the time of the Dark Mother who stands alone. This is a time to think about the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. I honor Hecate the crone aspect of the Goddess. I also honor Persephone as she guides the souls of the departed through the Underworld. The veil between worlds is thin and it is a good time to connect with my loved ones. The Circle is cast.

Calling the Elements and the Goddess

Hail to the Spirit of the East, Element of Air. You are the source of cool autumn breezes that rustles the fallen leaves. Please join me tonight.

Hail to the Spirit of the South, Element of Fire. Please warm me with the fire of passion and creativity of the colors of the season. Please join me tonight.

Hail to the Spirit of the West, Element of Water. Your rains are filling the parched earth with life giving water. Please join me tonight.

Hail to the Spirit of the North, Element of North. Oh Mother Earth, you are beginning your retreat for the coming darkness. Please join me tonight.

Oh Great, Hecate, please lend me your torches to guide me during my work tonight as I walk through the crossroads in the darkness. Keep me safe. Please join me tonight.

The Work and Meditation

Play background music and pick up the apple. Cut it in half so that the five-point star is shown. Eat one half of the apple and leave the other half outside as an offering and say:

This is the time of year when I acknowledge and honor my ancestors and loved ones.

Take this time to share your thoughts and memories of them. You can either speak the stories out loud or just think about the memories. Meditate on how your life has been affected by their presence. After sharing stories and memories, pick up the chalice and give thanks, then drink.

Opening the Circle

Great Goddess Hecate, you guided me through the dark while I honored my ancestors. I feel safe in your presence. Thank you for being with me. Hail and farewell.

Spirit of the North, your bounty will provide for me during the winter months. Thank you for being with me tonight. Hail and farewell.

Spirit of the West, your cold water has quenched my thirst. Thank you for being with me tonight. Hail and farewell.

Spirit of the South, your fire has shown that I am passionate and creative. Thank you for being with me tonight. Hail and farewell.

Spirit of the East, your breeze has cooled me and prepared me for cooler weather. Thank you for being with me tonight. Hail and farewell.

The Circle is Open but remains Unbroken.

Merry Meet, Merry Part, and Merry Meet Again!

Blessed Be!

Spirited Veil by Crone Garnet Hawk

The Spirit's of the dead are stong this Samhain Eve.

Dancing amongst us to bring our minds light.

They know our intentions and won't take flight.

Revealing the veil that makes this eve our Great Mother's Rite.

The rite of darkness, the veil of light, being as clear as possible on this Ritual night.

Bringing us closer as we can possibly be, to those gone before us.

Closer to loved ones and more.

As this world unfolds on this glorius nite.

All this alluring to celebrate our New Years rite.

 

So Mote it Be

 

Crone Garnet Hawk

Samhain 2009 Albuquerque,NM