On that day, the sun exploded~

Mar. 1st, 2024 06:49 pm
ashtoreth: (sekhmet)
Today is the two week commemoration of the Sun going nova in my world.

I am, now, at peace with this and am curious to see what is going to come in the aftermath of that catalyzing event. The past two weeks, I have been laboring to heed the messages my anger was screaming to me.
Sekhmet of the seven arrow, fearsome and furious, you who arose from Hathor's rage, O bright and blessed one.
And, I have been working on reaffirming to myself that anger is indeed a valid emotion in the face of betrayal, and that it can catalyze change when one is stuck. I feel no shame in feeling angry, even still, though it is cooler now and needs to be tended lest it turn to bitterness. A task easier said than done. I've been doing the work each day. It is easier some days than others, and that, too, is part of the process. Thankfully, there is an endless supply of pomegranate seeds to spit on the ground.
O gracious one averter of plagues, healer of ills, mender of wounds, who hears the prayers of the ailing and the injured...I thank you for your blessings.
A revelation of this whole affair, is that while I have been doing some inner work, it was triage work. It was Band-Aids on Band-Aids to keep my soul from hemorrhaging out of me.

Frozen flight.

No longer. The sun exploded and everything thawed under an incandescent white-hot sky.

I've got work to do, and reason to do it.

~*~

P.S. Mid-to-terminal February was beastly. This is the offspring called March~
Chimera (n.) chi·me·ra /kīˈmirə,kəˈmirə/ (in Greek mythology) a fire-breathing female monster with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail. (in my life) the month of march. C
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Wednesday writing prompt

Feb. 21st, 2024 10:49 am
ashtoreth: (shamanka)
 Find something that is hard & try to put it on the page approaching it from a different angle.

fingers  empty  wooly  grasshopper  bottle   snow

~*~

Guilty fingers, putting pen to page
black tracks that linger on snow white paper.

Defying my mind that flits from thought
to thought to thought, halting only for bouts of brooding
a resting grasshopper perched on an exposed vein of rock,
moving once more when the heart brushes it aside
wrapping the exposed tenderness in a woolly cocoon,
softening blows until no thing can reach it.

Guilty fingers, putting pen to page
black tracks that linger on snow white paper.

Might this be the nudging of my angels,
the vessel of their of their patience empty at last.
"Three days." The words vibrate the silence around me
deep echoing tones of breath blown over the lip of an empty bottle.
"You are allowed three days in the tomb and then you must rise.
This is the Law."

Guilty fingers, putting pen to page
reweaving the shroud into wings.
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~There will always be a Witch.

Feb. 18th, 2024 12:03 pm
ashtoreth: (ashtoreth)
Beyond seven mountains, beyond seven rivers, I found myself sitting perched atop a gravestone shaking dirt from my hair and spitting pomegranate seeds on the ground to read the pattern of the season within.

Geomancy of the finest sort.

Those earthen Mothers sang songs to me, dirges of the Underworld that bring life back to the land. Those earthen Daughters called me to add my voice to theirs.

I can feel the edge of winter now. It's in the fields which have seen frost-crack and flood that are waking. It's in the stirring of spirits - everywhere a crowding rush pushing through hedge, tramping the lane. The land and magic itself, putting on spring coats. - Geoff Caveld #VOH
~Hookland

Giving into their desire, I let their song fill my chest until it buoyed me upward and my feet found the ground. Dancing amongst the seeds, I left a song in the mud for dead dreams and lost visions I tried once to call into being. They are the bones of the winter wood, some still sound, some now rotted - but all loved, all treasured, if for reasons unknown or unremembered.
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Where once there was a Witch~

Feb. 17th, 2024 12:31 pm
ashtoreth: (blonde hooded witch)
Back when tigers smoked tobacco, I had the desire and the eloquence to post parts of my life here; to share in common creative endeavours; and to see what could come to fruition in this vast, new digital landscape.

Then winter hit. Not a real-world winter, but a winter in the soul that slowly froze any sense of self and creativity to near absolute zero. The past years have been a trial of navigating uncertain territory. Hell, my darlings, is not fire and brimstone. It is frozen and dark, sharp of tooth and claw, and will leave you bloodied and frozen in place.

The winter wood is uncertain territory. Flood-eaten paths may deliver you to within the reach of Stay Belows, trap you in mud-mire maze. There is no easy treading. No way through without being reminded that this cold season holds a thousand sharp-toothed mouths.
~Hookland

Fortunately, there have been allies to offer silver-threads of sanity on this journey. In following this shimmering path, light has begun penetrating the coldness and numbness. Spring is about the light of lengthening days as the young sun climbs her northerly path. Warmth, hopefully, shall follow.

When the land is pulled between winter and spring - all exposed wooden bones, fields still shivering at worry of further snow - it creeks, cracks and releases ghosts. Snowbells ring at passing phantoms. Wrens sing of the joys of those spirits who have escaped the soil. #CLNolan
~Hookland.


~*~

Today's allies:

Co-Star: Today you're able to face your past logically and understand it for what it was. These moments let you notice your progress with clarity. You can trust the feeling. 

----

The Ultimate Luxury~

Enjoy your weekend. Smell a tree, read a book, think with the cards for yourself, and look at your hands. What do you tinker with?

Keep going.

Camelia Elias
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