ashtoreth: (Default)
This is my love song.
Dare I to introduce this account with the Homeric words Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero[ine] who travelled far and wide in the attempt to find the perfect opening? Perhaps.

For I will, depending on the aetherial winds that do blow in with the light of day, wander in pursuit of delicate and fleeting thoughts born of night and shadows. With my face turned toward the sun, I dance in the night's path, calling unto Hekate and Helios to be the gentle patrons of these letters.

Which is what this account shall be. Letters written and set adrift on the arcane electric seas of the computer realm. Dear...

But to whom shall they be written? Myself, lovers, potential lovers, or just to the muses? For those curious eyes that wander the electric seas and find themselves touching briefly upon these shores? For all of the above? Yes, for all of those I would whisper to on the wind, in the sound of the sea, in the moonlight, from the sun dancing on wave top...

Talk to me.
I come bearing totems of belladonna & yew.
Ashtoreth Eldritch is both my pen and magical name for public use in writing and arcane circles. I tried keeping an account for writing only, but that didn’t work out so well for me. I am a witch & I cannot keep the magical separate from my writing.

Here on these pages, I am exploring the landscape of my soul. The place names will be both similar and different from the place names found in other mythic texts, for we all tap into the deep wells of the mythic subconscious as we manifest them in our waking lives. The some-times narrator of these travelogues is ‘the Witch’. The Witch is the mythic aspect of myself that does not follow the rules of modern society and walks through the older landscapes of the Dreaming with the Ancestors and the Shining Ones.

"Witchcraft is a poetic reality - born from the dragonflies that took shape in the sparks of the first blacksmiths hammer – as He forged Beauty in the cave of Wisdom."
- Frisvold & Ristic: The Nocturnal Gospel (tbp)

It's all blood & roses from here on in. ~Peter Grey
The power of the Witch lies in having every option open. Here, I will bring discipline, spiritual and mental clarity back to the forefront of my practises. Consider it, if you will, a public workbook and ritual for rewilding life.

Witchcraft is, for me, a carnal road: a road that is walked both in flesh and spirit, inseparable if it is to be complete. This red and white path of blood, bone, and breath weaves eternally through the realms of the quick and the dead. Where we walk, we walk in Power. So much of the witch's power has been given away in the misguided attempt to be culturally acceptable by the masses. Witchcraft is a living relationship between knowledge, pleasure, and power. It is a constant within our lives when we follow our path correctly.

Therefore, it is my desire to share some of my thoughts, impressions, and experiences encountered whilst pursuing and living a magical life with like-minded individuals. In these pages, I seek to reclaim the way of the witch. To live fully and freely as dictated by my conscience and will. To remake the world in my mythic image and dance with the Powers under the sky wildly and fiercely.

Some thoughts will necessarily be for my consumption only, or to be shared with closer friends, not for any reasons of pseudo-elitism, but from the necessity that some thoughts only are comprehended by those who speak the same language of the 'Otherness of the Eternal' which permeates the vision of those walking an ecstatic path.

It's in my blood.
Deep in the shadows, the imps of ink danced. They whirled and capered sending ideas to the sleeping Witch, giggling while black tendrils seeped into her skin and into her soul. They danced, they dissolved, following the flowing black ink into the Witch, melting into her Shadow. Here are accounts of the worlds at play beneath the common reality of ordinary life: worlds of non-Euclidean geometries, of ancient tomes and murmuring madmen, of ancient legends of undying evil, and of the mad gods at the centre of the universe.
Time to stand and walk with pride.
I have a few accounts out in the wild world of social media.

By far, my favourite is Plurk. I like the way the timeline scrolls and functions, as well as the 240 character limit for messages... and the capability to post to Twitter and Facebook. Find me on Plurk here - Ashtoreth's Notes from the Underground

I also have a WordPress account. It serves as a mirror of this blog and has my Twitter feed live on it for those interested in my twitterings. You can add this account to your reader here: Notes from the Underground~ Abbreviated

The information for the Twitter account~ Mrs. Wormwood.
ashtoreth: (walker between worlds)
It's another grey and sleepy day with the rain alternating between mist and deluge with neither rhyme nor reason behind it.

And, it is a day I feel called upon to pray; to touch and acknowledge the Power of Creation as we approach the dark gate of winter and the stillness within.

And so I do, and it is good.

From the deepening green of the forest canopy, a bright green flash of green drops to the ground. A grass snake, delivered from the downpour and sheltering in the boughs of a tree, has chosen to seek another refuge from the weather. My eyes lose track of it in the shaggy grass and I am left wishing it safety in its quest.

My eyes travel back up to the trees and I see now green is edged and lined with brown, red, and gold. Spring's verdant fire is withdrawing back into branches, back into trunks, back down to slumber in the earth. Summer's flame burns brightly still on the dogwood; whose berries provide mast for squirrels and birds alike. Further along the bounds of the wood, staghorn sumac regally bears purple berries while yarrow heads sway golden in the wind. Autumn rides in, wet and wild, and I give thanks~

Thanks for the water,
Thanks for the trees,
Thanks for the dying and dancing leaves.
Thanks for the fruits of summer's sun.
Thanks for the darkening days and their promise of rest,
Thanks to my Ancestors as they watch from the West.
ashtoreth: (Default)
Such contradictions a new school year always brings. Fresh on the heels of a new creative start, brought about in turn by a fresh location in a black-mould free home, a new year with an extremely demanding set of students began. In the midst of that chaos, I did get one(!) story segment written. I have the second one mostly ready to go. Ambrogio has been telling me of the events that happen, and when, and yet I've been too exhausted to sit and type (much less write by hand) for the past two weeks.

No more! Today I came across an article in Daily Om and this quote just resonates with me a great deal:
Getting worn out and run down robs you of receiving what you need from the universe.
I needed to see these words today. I know that I can change my nonexistant energy levels and begin to live the energised, creative life I envision for myself. The article continues: Whenever you are feeling run down, take an honest look at how you have been thinking, feeling and acting. You will likely find a belief, behavior pattern or even a relationship that is out of alignment with who you really are.

I can put my finger on several key issues right now, and will be working to change how I contribute my energy to those situations and people. I will also be consciously watching my language about how I am narrating my own life. For example, the phrase, "I am so tired." is going to be eliminated as of now. I will replace it with "I need a little more rest." and then take steps to give myself that rest as I change my orientation and perception of events.

Autumn magic... I cannot wait to see how it does work on me, my outlook, and my creativity.
ashtoreth: (A on fire)
Just bought a bottle of Apothic's new blend Inferno.
A new blend emerges from the flame of a time-honored craft, creating a most unexpected and masterful encounter. This small batch wine has been aged for 60 days in whiskey barrels. Red and dark fruit combine with layers of maple and spice, giving way to a long clean finish.
I heartily approve and have found a new love.
ashtoreth: (stellar sidhe)
I can now see floor -- cleared floor -- in all the rooms! What was 40 boxes is now 4.

The time-sink was organising as I unpacked. No more piles of material to be 'sorted through later' because that just ends up being piles of stuff that gets rearranged and never properly put away. It is all properly put away in its place and I am well pleased.

Had a small health concern with my daughter. She got infected with Lyme disease this summer, but as she was asymptomatic (no rash, no fever, no bull's eye target), it was only by chance that she got properly diagnosed. They sent her blood off to test 'just to be on the safe side' and I am thankful they did. And, as a result of all the consults, I was able to get my first reading of Star.Ships by Gordon White completed.

Quick impressions -- everything he says about academia (as a former rat in that race) is spot on correct, doubly so about Egyptology. I felt quite vindicated and will buy him the drink of his choice should we ever meet in person. As for the rest, it is brilliant -- go read it! -- and renews my passion in singing:
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sí nef aearon!
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!

We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas
~J.R.R. Tolkien

Sing to the stars. They like it.


Jul. 20th, 2016 07:15 pm
ashtoreth: (sunflower)
emergingSlowly, I am coming to call the new apartment home. It is filled with boxes and bags at the moment, but mostly in the public spaces. My own space is (mostly) unpacked and set up to my liking. I have set aside the space I have wanted for a long age to write, meditate, exercise, and work magic in. The same can be said for the children. They have decorated and personalised their spaces as they wanted, and I feel that this has lent a wonderful energy to the move. The common area is a mess, but each of us has a haven that is our own. Slowly we are coming to consensus over the common area.

I have gotten rid of a lot of old clutter and things that I was guilted into taking from others. In that, I have taken a leaf from my brother's book -- he's always been adamant about his style, and while he does have some objects with sentimental value attached to them, he never took everything when given puppy dog eyes by my mother. Having a month to move has given me the luxury of examining everything that I've brought with me -- and if I didn't want it, it has been donated and/or otherwise rehoused.

I feel lighter. I also feel like this is my home -- with my stamp on it and not the decorating dictates of others (mother and cousin, mostly). Defying gravity, indeed.

And it feels good.
ashtoreth: (froud faery queen)
Yesterday, I physically cleaned the new apartment. Today, I cleaned in other ways. Part of that cleaning was to go out into the yard and clear out the plastic crap left behind by the previous tenants. After I got the plastic detritus out of the trio of small trees, I made offerings of fresh water and incense to the spirits.

I did not realise I had an audience. The neighbour children were staring intently at me and I made the offerings, and after I made eye contact with them, they went screaming into their apartment shouting , "Moooooooom!"

Quiet cackling then occurred.

So, if currently questioned whether I was a good witch or a bad witch, I feel that I'd have to honestly answer, "Some from column A, some from column B."

Deal with it, Munchkins.
ashtoreth: (Default)
Be careful what you enchant for -- you just might get it.

A paraphrase, of course, but many good things in life sometimes are a reworking of the old. For some time, there has been a pressure on me, a log-jam of things building behind me, waiting for the block to burst and give forth. This summer, it has happened in a sudden and (fortunately) mostly contained within a controlled chaos.

Close friends know of the landlord battles for repairs that I've been engaging in for years, the trips to court and escrow accounts... this year, they've come to a head. The foundation in my hallway is cracked, and there is raw sewage seeping up into the carpet. Our local health department doesn't hold kindly with that, and the landlord is now required to effect repairs. The laundry list of repair woes was given directly into the hands of the CEO of the holding company, and she was horrified by the list and the fact that nothing was ever done. I suggested that the issue lay with one of the property management companies she had hired to oversee the property. However, this fix necessitates a move. Now, we have July to move to a new unit while this one is gutted and renovated inside and out.

Given the layers of magic woven into this home, we didn't really want to move permanently. Not yet, at least -- the permanent move has specific directives involved with it that are still future enchantments. Thankfully, we reached the conclusion that after this unit is renovated (and I'm thinking that it will be a 5-8 month project, at least) we can move back in or elect to stay in the new unit. Cementing the agreement, we will be keeping this address as our street address (saving me the red-tape nightmare of informing foreign bureaucratic entities of the move). Given how fond we are of this location, I'm feeling that we'll choose to move back.

This week, I'll be starting to take down some things and speaking with the spirits to let them know where we'll be going. It's a short journey away and they will be able to follow and/or visit should they choose. If only they could carry boxes for me.
ashtoreth: (a on white)
Following hard on the heels of inertia and discontent with a dash of restlessness, I've pulled the plug on my very dusty and long neglected Fa(r)cebook page.

And then I redecorated my WordPress blog. It was a lazily productive Sunday for me.

Then in the way of the universe, I was wondering if that was a wise move -- I am ambivalent about FB at best -- and was pleased with a bit of synchronicity in the form of Gordon White's latest Rune Soup blog post.

Time to move on from the endless recycling of the same memes, lazy "likes" in lieu of conversation, and start talking to actual human beings more.

It's a radical idea, but then again, so is Witchcraft.
ashtoreth: (straife)
A chill morning arrives, and as the air slides across my bare skin it sings to me of ice and snow from far western mountains that it has crossed on its way to the sea.
Within each shiver, I envision a meadow of flowers blooming close to the sun as they nestle in the Earth's bones. I can only wonder what stories the wind shall tell after it crosses the Atlantic...
I hope they are good ones.
ashtoreth: (A-gold)
The storm last night, when it arrived, was late.
Heralded by tornado warnings and lightning,
the rain beat upon the window panes,
sounding as if it wanted to break in.
ashtoreth: (a on white)
Against a foggy white backdrop, a black silhouette emerges:
a shadow of our past echoing into the future via the now.

Some days, I envy the Amish.
ashtoreth: (spiral fae)
The day dawned in beauty, with soft rain and the green fire of life burgeoning forth. Summer is born in triumph~ softly ferocious and full of promise.
A saint's halo might be gold, but a Faerie halo is burning green and worth more than any gold on Earth.
Life burst forth, ready to share the wisdom learned whilst slumbering underground.
ashtoreth: (horned witch)
Lá Bealtaine/Walpurgisnacht~ a witch's holiday no matter how you call it; & the black-haired man arrives once more in my dreams... and I am wearing purple when I greet him.
ashtoreth: (A-gold)
Bereft of dreams this week, I have fallen into a dark age of reason where other forms of divination are serving as guide-posts on the path. I have been putting craft back into witchcraft.

This month, I began an experiment with affirmations -- with a witch's twist. I am not trying to program my day with the usual suspects so easily dredged up on the internet, but have taken a page from Andrieh Vitamus's book instead. I am waiting until I go to bed and using the half-hour (plus or minus) window to program my chosen affirmation into my mind. The follow-up to this is recording what dreams, symbols, conversations, etc occurred during the night and using them as starting places for research if needed, or just as way markers on the map of daily living.

I've also taken up sigil making again. For a long time, I didn't work with sigils -- mainly due to the fact that I didn't enjoy the process or my drawn results. The thanks to returning with a lighter heart and fresh spirit to this craft work goes to my working with the Zentangle method of daily meditation. The process is as enjoyable as the result -- and every stroke is perfection. I learned to let go of preconceived notions of a perfected end product, and freed myself to begin sigil work again.

In other areas, Spring has left the callowness of youth behind and is maturing nicely into Summer here. My desire to go out and walk again is rising along with the sap -- although it does on occasion fall into depression on seeing all the human detritus left behind on the walkways and pavement. Life amongst the walking dead, indeed. They can't stop me from re-enchanting the world, though, and so I shall.

I would love to know, how are you re-enchanting the world this week?

ashtoreth: (lioness that snarls)
Black dog, I see you slinking into the corner,
tail tucked between your legs, red eyes looking back at me -- sulking.
I almost let you win this round.

Black dog, I hear you whimper as I take up my pens again,
the blank canvas of my days desire to have scribbles in wild rainbow colours.
My days deserve it, no matter how much you may protest.

Black dog, I may have to live with you and listen to you breathing in my ear...
but, Black dog, I hold the leash today, and you will go where I say.
ashtoreth: (priestess of avalon)
Image: Mercy by David Stoupakis
Artwork by David Stoupakis The Witch, blown at last to land beneath the cold, clear gaze of the Sun as she shepherds away the remaining night clouds, huddles on the strange cobblestone beach. The stones are smooth and cool on her skin, the lingering moisture penetrating her skin to torment battered muscles aching from riding the wind. 'Perhaps this is why the others use brooms,' the thought brings a wry smile to her lips even as her fingers curl into the moist cool sand beneath the stones.

She rests there a few moments before moving into a stretch that is half bow and half salutation to the sea dancing on the eastern horizon. Standing, she stretches once more, feet planted firmly upon the earth, her arms reaching up to the heavens; a silent acknowledgement that she works to bridge the worlds so magic may flow freely between them. A weary, satisfied smile graces her face as she turns to the west and the hills beyond the high tide line. There will be warmth in this new place, she knows, and perhaps coffee to ease the aches and chase the chill from her bones.

And it is good.

The above is an excerpt from my morning pages (03 April, 2016) after a particularly stressful day previous and a wild nocturnal sojourn prior to waking.

Lately, I am off the map.

My dreamscape has changed in subtle ways. There are still familiar places, but they are dramatically different in physical appearance and I feel like I have more -- not control over, but more akin to ownership over the places now. (Old issues resolving and integrating? Quite probably.) This is fitting, as I am taking more ownership over more areas in my waking life.

To that end, I have banished "if only" from my presence, my thoughts, and my lexicon. I have, at last, taken mercy upon my injured soul.

I cannot say that I am fully looking forward to this new map and the journey through the landscape -- for I am certain that the ghosts of old hobgoblins will be called up on occasion and try to haunt me -- but there is the excitement that spring brings and the excitement of (re)discovery to propel me forward on the path.

And it is good.
ashtoreth: (horned witch)
Artwork by Curtis Eberhardt

In the small hours,
when night opens its eyes to the hidden world,
I mounted the wind and flew.

Screaming my rage in an ecstatic orgy of spirit-fuelled grief, I served myself~
my own personal bean sí~
until drained, my grief died with the wind under the cold, pale eyes of dawn.

Cold and clear begins the day, and I rise with it~
body aching and hair tangled -- hag's daughter, indeed --
but my heart is light, eased of its crushing burden.

Photograph by Curtis Eberhardt Photography
ashtoreth: (cracked)

I feel hollow -- not even filled with ash, but empty so that if my masque is removed, my garments will fall to the ground in a dark heap with nothing left for the crows to gorge themselves upon.

I want to throw my books away with their plans and colours and happy meanderings of ink -- foolish delusions of a spring that has rotted before it has begun.

I smell the freshness of the earth after the rain has touched it -- and lingering beneath it, the shit-stench of last year's waste vainly fertilising this year's fields.

I hear the sound of heart my continuing to drum under the screaming of my soul.

I know the sun will shine and warm me once more, but that day seems an eternity away.

Image: Fortune Teller by David Stoupakis
ashtoreth: (becomming)
The soft jingle of bells grows louder while flashes of colour tease from between brown trunks and branches. A happy bark from a dog follows and the April Fool dances closer into my life.
Once more I am tempted.
Once more I shall join the motley crew and dance, laughing, off the cliff into the mysteries of summer.
ashtoreth: (dragon of eden)
Eä rises triumphant above the horizon carrying the sun-seed into the season of light.
Sing & rejoice in this time of planting~ the earth warms with potential & calls to us to dance as the March hares drum out the rhythm on the ground...
Wake up, wake up, wake up!

October 2016



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