I have but one resolution

Since this week started with Plough Monday and I am still saying happy new year to people I figure I am still well within the amount of time that I can talk about customs around the turning of the secular year.

2016 is over and done, and I was so glad to see it go, and that’s with knowing what 2017 would bring to the world when it’s only 20 days old. (See? I am trying not too be too political.) On the personal front, my year was a big mixed bag. Some highs, like less acute illness and seeing Pearl Jam while in the pit and only about 20 feet between me and the stage, and some lows, like sleep being elusive for months and still feeling like I was scrambling just to keep from falling into a metaphorical pit. Just like at Wep Ronpet in August, I wanted to leave the previous year behind and get a good dose of zep tepi happening. It’s much too soon to know if this is happening but I set some things in motion which might help turn my struggles into some success.

Which leads me to the one resolution, which is also my word(s) for the year.


It’s now five and a half years since I was hit with the “Yay I finished grad school now collapse!” exhaustion which has yet to abate. And it’s been four years since the last time I set out to try to find a reason why I could not recover from doing a Master’s degree. After much stalling and outright blanking out on doing so, I cold called and made my first appointment with a new doctor, which happens at the end of the month. Let’s say I am more than a little nervous about this. And I may throw a fit if I have to deal with another round of blaming my weight for something which started BEFORE my weight creeped back on.

I’m tired. Tired of being tired all the time, tired of struggling just to take care of the necessities in my life, tired of being so worn out all the time that reading more than a few pages at the time had me wanting to nap. This world has gotten more overtly scary for someone like me, a queer gender non-conforming woman who’s a polytheist and magic worker. This is no state for me to do my part in restoring ma’at and I am tired of being on the sidelines.

And I am damn tired of hearing myself talk about, and just think about, how limited I am in what I can do. There’s too much I want to do which involves building blocks of action on my part before they can be manifest. I pray this new doctor will be the first step in reclaiming my life. (Prayers and support from others also welcome.)

Ma’at must prevail. It will eventually, as it always does, but it is an active process. I want to carry it with me at all times. With the reports of hate crimes after the U.S. election I was hit with a strong knowing that now was the time to get my first tattoo. I’ve only wanted one since I was 10 but I could never decide what I wanted for the first design. Then it came to me, the hieroglyph for the ma’at feather on my chest. I asked around, got the name of someone who does great blackwork tattoos in my area, made the appointments, and last Thursday it happened. The tattoo is healing well and swiftly, for which I am thankful. And now ma’at is always with me.

I’m going to need it. We are all going to need it.

Ma'at feather

When the dark comes early

Last month I had a session with my nutritionist. It had been about two weeks since I got sick with a flu to knock me out fully for two days. A rare thing for me, even now. But it was taking me a while to fully recover. I was dragging and lethargic, more than what is normal in my current adrenal fatigued state.

She first told me that the flu going around last month was one which lingered for weeks. (so for any of you who got it and took a long time to recover, there’s your reason.) As such, it was not much of a surprise then that I was still feeling even more lethargic than usual.

She went a little further, and it became one of those times when I am glad my nutritionist is also a friend, an intuitive, a medium, and a co-religionist. We both have claims on us from the Aesir, so there is a common current for both of our spiritual lives. And we know each other kinda well at this point.

She opened herself up, consulted the Unseen spirits, and came back with a message.

My dark time of the year had already arrived. The autumnal equinox had hit at the start of that week, but its energy for me had come in to settle long before. On the physical side everything was alright and I did not need to change one bit of my protocol. But I was already in the dark for the winter. Her suggestions included warm foods, even wearing warm colors (for all my fiery temperament I wear a surprising amount of pastel-type clothing), keeping up with self-care, and supporting myself like I do during the winter.

It helps. Knowing it helps a lot, even if so far I have not been able to act upon this knowledge. I’m doing what I can, and especially after last week, when I had a much-needed visit from my best friend, I am working to keep from putting too much pressure on myself. It’s inevitable that we do a little less during the dark time of the year. The light has waned, the cold has settled in, and much of our energy goes into keeping warm and secure.

There are some things to be done though. So far I do not know what they are, aside from tasks I have set for myself. (ADF study and Ellen Dugan’s hearth magick class, if you want to know.) I’ve picked up some new supplies, like flying ointment from Sarah and cords from Beth. But my challenge now is to make time (yes I know, Sekhmet) to get back to my practices and figure out some things now.

And then to sit back, wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot cocoa with a cat snuggled by my side.

A lack of magics… but only from me?

I am sure you all have noticed an absence of magical update posts for this month. Full, dark moons, Midsummer, nothing.

When you do nothing on that front, you have little to tell. My energy levels were low for a lot of reasons. Heat, lack of sleep, work stress, physical soreness. Even today I still feel affected, meaning it is the first Aset Luminous I am not marking with formal celebration in several years. And I’ve given up on trying to keep up with Pagan Blog Project again, even if there are about ten posts inspired by letters which I’d like to get up.

But this does not mean there is a lack of magic in my neighborhood.

Thursday morning, I walked through one of the four-way intersections to get to the bus. On a few occasions I have used this location for offerings or disposal for hoodoo, and never seen anything else like that happen. So imagine my surprise when I take note of a pile of stuff on the ground. Two red plastic plates, one broken, one with two wrapped peppermint candies and a square of something like cornbread, two platic bags filled with something which might have been plants but I was not about to touch to confirm, and a whole orange. My usual disbelieving mind tried to say that it could not be something like what I thought, that there was another magic worker around. Denial came in part of the way. Then got shoved out on Friday morning.

The offerings remained at the crossroads and I found this at the entry to the cemetery two blocks further down. Those flowers are there quite on purpose. It is the first time I have ever seen anything like an offering there aside from things I have left on occasion over the years.

I doubt I will find out the identity of the person doing this, though I may start to figure out just what they are working toward. It’s also an odd sort of comfort to know I am not the only one in my immediate neighborhood.


Last Sunday I had another post at Pagan Activist to formally start off the Greening Your Magics series: offerings. I am also going to put out this call now for those of you reading. As the series goes on I’d like to get some commentary from people engaging in a bioregional practice. If this is you and you would like to share, leave me a comment please.

And maybe the person I mentioned above will see that post and rethink how they are putting out food and items for the spirits.