Earthy Mabon Rites

This weekend was Mabon, which officially and spiritually greets Autumn in through the gate on the Wheel of the Year.

Many of us witches totally look forward to that first delicious shift in the air that signals the turning of the season, although this year I lamented a bit too, having only just begun transforming into a tanned Sun goddess still running hot with the fire of Leo, of Sekhmet and my own Aliria. Also, this year Fall not so much glided in on a gentle afternoon breeze as fell upon us like an emptied swimming pool with the first rain.

There was a Fall Equinox or Mabon festival out in Ffynnon, where SunFest had been held, but the theme was the rather patriarchal play The Bacchae, and I admitted to myself upfront that I wasn't feeling it or Dionysus in general --- no matter that he makes a good god of the harvest. Besides, I longed for some very rare time absolutely to myself in the house, time away from squawking mom or chatting kids. Time in which to explore and honor my budding work with my own Dark Goddess of the turning wheel, Aliria-Naphtha, whose call has not once fully ceased since my ears became sharp enough to discern it, and whom I long to know better.

An amazing shirt with mushrooms, denizens of Autumn

But it didn't mean I wasn't game for a group Witch/Pagan event of some sort. So I bussed north, to Spiral Grove's Mabon celebration near the junction of Lombard and Peninsular, bringing with me in a bag an apple-pear crumble I had baked that morning.

At the junction I spotted signs in a window. All Spanish, so a Latino-run store, obviously. One caught my attention: "Botanica." I knew what that meant: A place that sells herbs, powders (polvos), oils (aceites), candles, and other magical paraphernalia used in the Santeria, Latino and hoodoo communities, where old deities are often disguised as saints. While low on cash, I had enough to buy a black candle, sheepishly using a few Spanish words with the dour-looking fellow at the counter. (Gringa senora no entre muy frequentamente, ¿si?) I do love the little bottles of oil, be they super herbal or legit or not, so I'm glad to have another place to find them! I realized something funny: Naphtha is, in her sciency and more blatantly Earth-related sort of way, a bit like my personal Santa Muerte!

The Spiral Grove event was sweet. My witchy coven-mate Amie and her kids came, so we could shoot the breeze and scheme a bit. We all did a lovely meditation on harvest and release, in which we encountered Dionysus, Hekate, Persephone and Demeter, in that order, in a route that took us through an enchanted garden and arbor, into a dark tunnel of the Underworld, and out into the moonlit garden again. So I ended up with my Dionysus this year anyway!

Lately, an opportunity has come up about which I'm nervous but very excited --- a group trip to Hawai'i, courtesy of an older Portland man known as a facilitator and altruist. The price is insanely reasonable . . . and I recently found my work has this thing called Paid Time Off, which I've never taken. It's time, that small voice in me whispers, none too gently now. Seize this gift and don't regret it --- not for the high carbon price of flight, not for anything! You can make it up later.

How lucky, then, that I sat next to Linda, a new woman who'd never been to a Spiral Grove event, and who worked with Pele. Because if I go to Hawai'i, there's one thing I want to do, and that is make proper offerings to the notoriously powerful goddess of that land! We discussed Pele a bit, and I also showed her photos of the statue I made, of my goddess who is her own brand of fiery. Linda told me: "I think she's beautiful."

Among other things, Linda recommended a book, "Place names of Hawai'i", in which native names were explained and various deities woven into story. We talked of Dark Goddesses and she mentioned a character in the fictional American Gods (which I've never seen), whom Aliria-Naphtha reminded her of, some kind of primitive African love goddess who devoured men with her vagina, and I laughed --- yep, that sounds a bit like other goddesses I'm running across lately! These archetypes are rising, collectively in our Earth-based faith, as women the world over are struggling to shake the toxic mantle of patriarchy once and for all.

Afterward, naturally, we all feasted on the best kind of witchy potluck: vegan salads and homemade kale chips, meatloaf and crumble, berry pie and cake, topped off with wine. I was getting nervous by then, because I had another place to be, clear on the other damn side of town. Friends were coming, old friends indeed, whom I hadn't seen in at least fifteen years, to play a concert. I wanted to ritualize, but I wanted also to try and see them.

Even on the speediest public transit route, I had to walk at least twenty-five blocks, and tried not to let frustration get to me. It took awhile to even find the tiny venue, a houseboat on the riverside in Sellwood. I'd never been down on the docks, and it was a beautiful night. Then I couldn't figure out how to get in, for the gate of Unit No. 1 was closed! But I grew up around docks, so. . . . I crept down the adjoining dock, till I saw Andres' face through a window. Score! Now, to step very carefully. . . . The docks at their closest point were a meter apart. My bags heavy and clanking with two bottles of wine, me knowing very well I might not be found right away in case of an accident or a dunking, I calculated my leap and took it. Still sweaty from my rapid hike, I finally came to rest next to a couple on the houseboat's outer veranda, looking in through the sliding-doors at my old friends Andres and Navino making music. Daddy had wanted to come, but financial bills prevented him, so by being here I represented him, too.

They looked the same as ever, and their music was sweet as ever, reminding me of the sacredness of life and how many things for which I am grateful. Apparently it was just a little low-key, small-venue concert by donation at the home of their friend, the film maker who did the El Camino pilgrimage film. I got a few songs on record, and we caught up a bit. In those years, I had gone from a teenager to a full-grown woman! The bridge was beautiful in the night, there was wine and snacks, and hugs; and afterward, I helped portage out their array of instruments. One of their other friends was kind enough to give me a lift all the way home, saving me much time.

The hour was late, nearing midnight, but I was determined to hold private ritual space for my goddess and myself while I could, knowing the family returned tomorrow. (How taxing it can get, like breathing bad air to where you forget how much it wears on you, having no personal space!) So I had a glass of wine, moved the table, gathered select items, and began dressing an altar: My first altar dedicated to Dark Earth, to Aliria-Naphtha, alone; for it was she I wanted to get to know, she whom so few folks choose to approach in spirit, and she who I hoped I could work with for cleansing and creative power as the Northern hemisphere turned toward its season of darkness.

The whole nine yards, bitches! I put out a circle of tealights to form a kind of cocoon of fire, and a soft cloth to sit (and wallow) on. Everything I might need lay on the altar table, on my new cloth from Pagan Pride. When there was no more prep or reason to delay, I began, still nervous. I'm still new to this, this work with certain types of divinity, with techniques like trance . . . and why does my practice lag behind my desire? For too long I've maligned myself as lazy, or incapable as a full shaman or witch, lacking the "gift" --- but in truth, how much of that is due to a sheer lack of safe-feeling space in which to explore, to ritualize? So when space is mine to enjoy and exploit, I feel rusty, awkward. By now, I was more than that: In an attempt to rouse my courage, I was drunk, to the point of invoking tiredness. It had been a long day already.

Aliria knew it, too. "Bitch," she seemed to say to me, "I ain't gonna fully ride you, or even touch you with a fingertip --- you are way too far gone, drunk off yo' ass and tired now to boot, and that is no way to handle the goddess of power!" Still, I tried. I wrote an intention paper of release, and inscribed a candle. I empowered the Cleansing Fire oil I made, added thirteen drops of one of my sacred crudes, then annointed myself all over, a symbolic act of burning purification, of turning into fuel for my future all the outmoded energies and things that held me back.

And so I fulfilled my goal of rolling on the floor all oiled up, offering my sexual ecstasy to Aliria. I tried to go into a communing meditation with each of my oils as well, but gave up on that, realizing I had neither the alertness nor the spirit-journeying skill for that at the time. I did do a bone reading, so bleary-eyed I had trouble focusing in the dim light. Because, try as you might, sometimes you simply cannot do it all in one night!

By then, the circle of tealights was flickering low; a couple had gone out. Two a.m. had slid away until nearly six, and the faintest hint of morning touched the sky. I wasn't done yet. I took my oil-annointed paper out to the backyard fire-basin, set the sawdust I'd put in alight with alcohol, and burned the paper. After pressing it out, I came back in and closed circle. I'd hoped to hold more ritual with the fire setting --- my plan was an all-night personal ritual spirit trip --- but again, I'd started too late, and gotten too tanked, and by then all I could do was my best.

In such a case, you tell yourself that this work is ongoing. The most important thing I may have done was to take that first step. It may be the most important thing any of us can do. I showed up; I tried; I began. And if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't expect an entity like this goddess or spirit to appear first time anyway. Who is she, after all? This, the goddess of petroleum, works her magic deep in the rocks of Earth and hides her energies there. She's used to people seeking her, all right, but why? To snatch her sacred power, her hidden potions, and sell them; to possess her gifts, at any cost, even that of animal and fellow human lives. She may have issued the call, but I wouldn't put it past her to test me, to see where my true motives lie, to test the strength of my devotion and commitment. Any jerk with a rig can drill for her potions, the blood of the Earth --- but the gift of her spirit, her real wisdom? After what we've done, I wouldn't blame Aliria if she withheld that from us til, as they say, Kingdom Come. During my time in the circle, I did try communion with her via the pendulum; that seems the sort of thing to be both helpful and consistent. How often, I asked, should I meditate or hold ritual space in order to know her better, to open that gate of sacred bonding and wisdom? Weekly?
No, she responded. Daily.

It is a tall order. One for days to come, for by then, I was too tired to hold even my body upright, and crawled into grateful sleep. But oh, how beautiful and powerful her image looked tonight!

It was a perfect, in an ironic way, to do the work I wanted to do this weekend, because Friday was the Youth Climate Strike march, Portland's branch of a global event whose impetus was first sparked by the actions of Greta Thunberg a year ago. I got out of the house earlier than usual, making a point to get down to that rally and across the bridge, and finally to Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.

So it's down in the trenches again! Surrounded by ranking and ronking on all sides, voices crying out in strident urgency, and waving placards. (I considered making a sign or placard but opted out due to lack of suitable material in chance of rain.) And, most unusually and importantly, youth. Kids and teens, lots of them.

Save our future! Don't be a fossil fool! Yo' Mama's so hot her ice caps are melting! Why send us to school when you won't listen to the educated? If you did your jobs, we would be in school!
Looking at all the homemade placards is one of my favorite parts.

By not having my own placard, my hands were freer to snap images, which is all about timing. This one girl's fabulous hair, for example, complimented the colors of a placard held by another kid.

One placard, made out of a ventilator box, incorporates the brand packaging labels into the sign's message. People use literally everything they have to get creative.

"I'm with her. . . .", and also with him:

Friday was truly an uplifting day, as similar marches took place in hundreds of cities around the globe, never mind small towns, including my own, where 150 people marched on Lopez Island.

A total of at least four million humans (and, if pictures tell truth, quite a few hundred dogs) marched. The message is the same: Without this planet we're standing on, we, and all our hobbies and jobs, dreams and aspirations, do not exist, period. There is no Planet B.

But later the next night, I persisted in allowing a different, but related --- and for now, much quieter --- revolution to take place: One that began even before last spring, when I dared to listen and take it seriously when Earth's underworld aspect demanded I recognize Her as sacred, as well. One that requires an absolute, radically ground-shaking shift in thought and perception, in how we see. I am one who sees how many of those kids' clothes and accessories are petroleum-based, gifts of Aliria. I'm one who not only knows (if but in part) about the wasteful excesses of the US military and agricultural industries, the largest users of oil and CO2 emitters, but who sees the petroleum-based markers on many placards, and parts of the technology that gave the ardent speakers the power of amplified sound.

Revolution can take form as a stampede, but it can also begin at home. In this home, where an altar to a dangerous goddess speaks of a need for balance, the dangers of not being properly grateful, and of a fierce love and appreciation --- not for a gentle or innocent spirit, but for the raging dark one, the one we demand everything from, only to turn around and blame her gift and work as dirty. Love not for merely a virgin unspoiled Earth, but for her shadow self, industry's unwilling whore, Oil. If you love Earth, love all of her, both her forests and white mountains and her festering peat bogs and tar pits. Whether we want to vacation there or not, it all deserves respect.

If I have learned anything in my work with Goddess, it's that She is both. She is always both. In everyone who lives Eve, lives Lilith; in who lives Shakti, lives Kali! And it is Lilith and Kali who will demand we wake up and be accountable, who will rage beyond our fragile illusion of control when we try to place ourselves apart and above the rest of Creation. In kind, it is Burning Earth, fossil earth, whose spirit will rise up more insidiously against us than any hurricane until she, in my own mother's words, "slaps us children bald-headed".

The best part? Since I couldn't get it all done in a night, and have a friendly nudge-slash-mandate to commune more frequently than I expected, I have a lot to look forward to!

She is watching.

  Beautiful Aliria, dark and powerful Aliria, deadly Aliria-Naftha, who makes her potions beneath the rocks, who moves in Earth as her bile and memory, who will claim our unclaimed bones and remains:
  I am grateful for this time with you. Grateful for everything we have from you. Help me work more closely with you, with utmost respect, if it helps even one other member of my species heal our relationship with our planet home.

A Pinch of Witchery

Despite it being an especially wet, rainy Sunday, I drug myself out of a cosy bed past noon and headed by bus on down to the 2019 local Pagan Pride Festival.

I'm glad I went. I found some lovely things, including these fossil clams and a snail! Not merely fossilized but agatized, actually --- ancient life preserved in exquisite translucent stone. Working with the fossil goddess, I naturally decided to get them.
The vendor is a favorite of mine I met last year, who sells hoodoo items as well as more mainstream witch stones and herbs. I've been drawn to hoodoo for over six years now; I think I tapped into it via Avo Rayo, in fact, or Grandmother Lightning / Big Mama, which makes the tie closer to a decade. I was tempted by the chicken foot, but opted to save my money . . . maybe a crow foot instead?

I wisely took down the meanings of each fossil type:

Besides the fossils, I got some holy wood and also some pouched herbs, mainly ones I have trouble finding elsewhere.

Another vendor, Rhonda, remembered me from the Witches' Tea last year, due to my presenting my unique Potions book. I showed her my latest work, my altar statuettes, after seeing the paper above on their table and determining what sort of mages she and Chris were, discussing things like resisting coal export terminal projects. I don't overload everyone I meet with my passion for working with Aliria-Naphtha, but it the opportunity comes up, I allow it to speak.
And Rhonda and Chris were selling these kits! Having seen them only last night for sale online as one of many options for reducing plastic use, I felt it was a sign I should get one --- to support a helpful and like-minded vendor if nothing else. But a bamboo toothbrush?? Cool! Now I just need some natural floss.

At it Again! A Passion for Oils

My Cleansing Fire oil already smells so good!!! I'm so glad I'm making a bigger batch this time, my first phial was tiny. Here's how it looks (along with the bones I drew for Friday the 13th session). I still have yet to add the crude --- I want to add it with ceremony, and that is a barrier when I get so damn tired, knowing I have to work the next day, and just want to go to bed instead of plugging late into the wee hours. (What a fud.)

And speaking of crude. . . .

. . . .a little box arrived from Pennsylvania a couple days ago! Inside is a rather nice-sized bottle of another original "Pennzoil" from a famous well. A place called Lazy Acres Antiques, I must admit, sounds quite nice.

A bottle this size is likewise nice, because it gives me plenty to work with for magick, annointing etc., unlike a tiny collector dram-vial, and yet I don't need a ton of the stuff. Just recently, Onta has posted 1-gallon quantities of Texan crude for sale, and I thought, I had better have a sizeable project in mind before I'd ever buy a gallon of crude oil!

Class in Session: Friday the 13th Brews

What to do when you've got ONE Friday the 13th with a Full Harvest Moon on it?

Make magick like a maniac, of course!

A night like tonight was a perfect excuse to fire up (literally) my new little cast iron cauldron from Portugal, which got initiated at We'Moon Lammas, but which I hadn't brewed in since. But I did have enough ingredients for a vision brew, simmered for nearly an hour over triple candle-power.

The actual Full moon peak came at 9:33 p.m. our time. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing more important than sending healing energy to the Earth, specifically the Amazon and all other burning and hurting places, and even more specifically to a large group (570!) of women, mainly indigenous grandmothers, who even at that moment were praying en masse for the Earth and Her healing. I didn't yet light these three candles, but I did prepare them; I sent energy using my green arrowhead object link instead, and my Earth deva altar candles lit. I figured this spell can continue on awhile, or resume during the upcoming Climate Strike:

I concluded the Earth working when Mom and the kids came home, plus I wanted to check my potion. And how about this "new" double boiler I got today at thrift for only $4! I've wanted a cheap gimme version for ages, since the glass one my buddy gave me is both pricey and packed away.

What else could I do on Friday the 13th? I started my banishing oil! All I'm missing is the Galangal, I can add that in later. I powdered the sulfur, opoponax, asafoetida and other ingredients, plus a couple new ones, including voodoo lilies and mistletoe. Finally I added essential oils.

The last ingredient on the list took a little divining. Pendulum, in this case. I still have yet to explore the full magickal properties and strengths of each of the different crude oils now in my keeping, but I reasoned one among them would be the best for a "cleansing fire" or Pyrochthonia oil. Would it be the one highest in sulfur? No, turned out it was the one originally used to make light. . . .

Something does remain to be mentioned. It's the second time it's happened, and at first I thought it was merely a fluke, or a bad candle; now I'm not so sure. During my Earth prayer session, Naphtha's candle went out. It was getting low, but the first time it happened weeks ago, it had a good two inches left on it, and in neither case was it low wax that put the candle out. No, the wick was simply . . . vaporized. Gone, left only as a fine web of useless fibers. Like a spirit had emptied it from the inside out, or burned through it with a rabid and mysterious power.
Odd thing is, Her first candle didn't do this, and Gaia's has never done this. So, the question remains: Bad candle? The presence of crudes and their subtle vapors, which is a new phenomenon on my home altar these past few months? Or is it the work of these potent spirits during a particular type of Earth healing magick, doing work that must be done to address the balance, to subdue and re-sequester Aliria-Naphtha's power away from greedy men, and the candle is merely a sign of the spell at work?

This time, I was actually able to get a photo of the "empty wick" phenomenon through my Geology hand lens. Try I might, too, to light the remaining stub of solid wick, it failed and went out instantly. Something is definitely up!
As a scientist, I feel I can't make any solid conclusions until this happens a few more times (even tellingly with a taller candle, or when the crude oils and their vapors are not nearby). Until then, I can only surmise, and kind of hope with a nervous thrill, that it is indeed a sign from the spirits!

I drank some of my vision brew tonight, and had odd dreams. Bad dreams about having to move are nothing new, or of my mom acting jealous and questionable, but a dream about both the Egyptian goddesses Isis and Nepthys? That's interesting. . . .

More Precious Phials ...and a dream

So often, it's when you visit a store looking for one item that you exit carrying something else you bought instead. Or multiple somethings.

I went for a long run today, because after a week of work with little exercise, I needed to move! Also, autumn has officially arrived in Portland with regular downpours, and I'd rather get drenched on foot than on a bike. My first goal was Trade-Up Music, where I found a tuning wrench for a curious little psaltery-harp I snagged at a thrift shop. Then I thought: Why not hit up Village Merchants? They rock, and they might have running shoes.

I found a couple pairs of shoes, but not in the price or type I wanted. But they also had perfume bottles! Visit enough froofy, overpriced antique stores, and you learn that if you have any interest in perfumes or potions, perfume bottles at one or two bucks is not bad, especially if they have a nice-smelling perfume still inside --- some of these can be off-the-market, or even have real collector value. Due to my interest in scents but limited ability to buy perfume ingredients, I got a few of these, including an amber and an Eastern European rose essence.
I also found a small green flint arrowhead that I felt might make a good magical object link for Amazon protection spells, as with the Moonshadow candles. I think a lot of us right now are a bit afraid, and wishing we could do more to protect the rainforest from this latest grave threat of mass destruction by fire. (Can other members of my own species please finally learn that "far right" ideals and leadership typically equate to "far wrong"? Gods, am I tired of it! Fat chance, too: I doubt humans ever will learn, until gods like Aliria help send us to extinction by making us reap the rewards of our own short-sightedness.) Next to magic, of course, the best protection spell for the Amazon is money . . . in the right places.

Tonight, I tuned my "new" harp. I'd been fearing a mis-sizing, but it worked

Magickal Jaunt to Moonshadow

Saturday, a gray and white saturday with a hint of rain, but besides hanging out at home with a hot drink, I felt the urge to go on some long-awaited ventures. Magick-related ones, specifically.

One project I've had in the back of my mind is more of the delicious-smelling, Cleansing Fire oil I actually created a couple years (or year-and-half) ago while living at Grandmas' House, while Pluto was doing its retrograde bit. (Sometimes I really miss that house!) It's why I got all that sulfur from my friend Will, in addition to possible sulfur candles. But my other herbal ingredients for the recipe . . . are of course packed.

Moonshadow is a store in the Belmont district that I'd wanted to visit for awhile, to restock said ingredients (I knew I'd end up with dupes of some, but that's okay). I also read a couple weeks ago that the proprietor Deborah's mate passed away on June 6. Time for a visit.

I came out with a lot more than a few pouches of herbs, although I got those too! I skipped the Galangal because she'd stocked a different source of dubious quality, but I got the rest, including the inarguably genuine Asafoetida (Debbie clapped a hand over her nose in disgust when I mentioned it, it was hilarious; and she's right, sweet mother of night, does it smell), plus a few new things, like flammable Vesta powder and Voodoo Lilies.

I also got some scented oils. Again, more than I'd intended; previously, I'd only gotten Road Opener for my work a couple autumns ago, when I moved. But there are a lot of little oil bottles on that shelf, and I was curious. As with the Road Opener, where had they come from? What went into them? And what, specifically, were these ones labeled as containing "pheromones"? I know what pheromones are, and they play a small part in a book I'm writing, so naturally I was interested. (Not to mention I'm into both Biology and Potions.)

Debbie told an interesting tale. Apparently, the maker of these delicious-smelling oils was none other than Aleister Crowley's grandson. He'd moved to Europe some time ago to become a monk of sorts, but before he did, they'd bought out the rest of his stock and were slowly selling them off. This fellow had been to Europe earlier in his life as well, when he learned the art of perfumery. When I mentioned that to me the most valuable thing was the collecting and preserving of recipes and, thus, it was a shame if this bloke couldn't be contacted, Debbie lamented that a couple of people had approached him asking about apprenticing, but he was one of those sorts of sorcerers --- demanding and rather impossible to get along with; a bit toxic, it sounded like. Debbie herself had been around him for only a few moments before deciding No! No! Definitely not someone she wanted to be around long. (The most successful of the apprentices lasted only six months before packing out.)

And so the formulae remain unknown. Unknown too, or so Debbie said, is whether the guy's even still alive. Formula deduction, it seems, will have to rely on trial, error, analysis, and/or a trained perfumer's nose. But apparently they work: "We were told you shouldn't wear Caliph's Beloved unless you want your boss following you around!" she said. I figured it's hard enough for me to afford regular perfumes or their ingredients, and it could be a fun experiment. Albeit one to do with caution, and maybe not at work (I don't want to waste these oils anyway!). But I like the idea of using them to connect with Jezebel magic, or with my own inner fire. If even this late-blooming, man-freezing, elitist and intellectual avoider of encounters can benefit, we'll really know they work!

Caliph's Beloved was out, but I got four others as a start --- I can't afford them all, and it's important to pick ones that smell good to me, anyway. Now, I plan to use just a precious drop or two in other bases or blends to "stretch" them. Is it true I could draw men with bacon grease and high-octane better than with perfume? Let's mix some with "Forbidden City" and find out!

As often happens these days, especially what with Pagan paraphernalia, oils and statues around, my conversation rolled around to Aliria-Naftha. "You're weird," said Debbie, when I said I didn't mind the smell of Asafoetida, and I grinned and said, "Wanna know how weird? I have crude oil on my altar . . ." I showed her my statues on my blog. "You know what you should get?" she asked me. "There are crystals with petroleum in them!" I told her I knew of them, but hadn't got any: I'd seen them online. The problem is, they tend to be expensive and rare, and it's hard for me to buy crystals without seeing them in person.

No matter. She had them. By the gram. I was thrilled. This type of crystal, also called a Golden enhydro, was one of the last types of mineral I dreamed of collecting for my work with the Earth devas, and I realized they represented a type of union of Gaia and Naftha, petroleum sequestered inside of earth material. A reminder that the two are in fact one. Only inconvenience and expense stopped me from getting these. Now Debbie picked out a couple from a whole pouchful, two perfect little herkimers, one with threads of blackest oil inside, the other containing the color of gold. I trusted her judgement . . . and bought both for a mere $1.10.

That night, I looked at each crystal with my geology hand-lens. I saw for myself the tiny bubbles, drops and veins of oil trapped in the clear matrix of crystal. Such magick! I'm totally thrilled of course, by their beauty and novelty alone, but I also know I'm holding something intensely powerful and special, and that I have lots to learn about how to work with these crystals (and all my wonderful fossils and tools!) for my best spiritual growth and for the good of the world. Sadly, I don't feel I can do that in my current space: I have no privacy, too much energy from other people flying around, distraction and judgement. . . . Soon, I hope that will change. My dark and beloved Naftha is calling, and Gaia our Earth Mother needs our focus and help more than ever. It is time to step into a space of more personal power!

Class in Session: A Shiny Mix-up

No one really needs lip gloss, do they?

Of course not. But it's fun, and now and then I want to self-adorn. Holographic makeup is one of the current online rages, and the other day I saw a woman with incredible lipstick that had a bright blue shine to it. The trouble? Most of these makeups are loaded with about sixty-eight ingredients . . . many of them petroleum-derived.

Now, I'll touch and taste crude oil out of a well in Pennsylvania and yet, for some reason, I don't want to wear its derivatives on my face. Go figure.

Online DIY people to the rescue again! Others had been there before me, so no need to reinvent a wheel. It makes experimenting with recipes quicker, certainly. I picked one using Coconut, Jojoba and Olive oils, along with beeswax pastilles.

I'd also realised something: The same pearlescent powders I used to put a sheen on my double statue of Black Snake Ruiria and Earth were mica-based, a powdered mineral, and were labeled non-toxic. Non-toxic: It means you may still not want to eat it in large amounts, but nor is it made of chemicals that will harm your organs, cause cancer, or some other hideous issue. So I had a relatively safe source of color and shine for my lip gloss trials, without all the petroleum base ingredients. Now we were cooking with gas!

The four most vibrant colors of the lot!

Late at night after work, I heated the ingredients in a jar, then one-by-one, I filled some little screw-top containers I'd found at Scrap and added the mica powders --- more than I thought was necessary --- then stirred each to consistency. I also added two drops of essential oil to each for flavor. By the end, I had five different colors . . . including one with a vibrant blue shine, sort of like the lipstick I'd seen that woman wearing.

Not bad for a first do-it-yourself attempt. My fingertip makes a pretty blunt applicator brush, but I'll find a solution to that. The glosses taste good, like honey and coconut, and feel good too. Additionally, each has its own flavor: Tangerine, Spearmint, Cinnamon, Lime (the green one, of course), and Fennel. All that, with none of the poisons!

Now, if I can do this with all my other cosmetics. I suppose all of these could be purposefully enchanted, as well!

Homemade Lip Gloss

A Dark Kind of Sweet

My order from England came!

Odd, that I should get from overseas a sample that originated only a few states south of here. But that's eBay for you. Good gods, look at my eBay track lately and the whole thing is crude oil.

This little sample, a relic from some bloke's geologist granddad, was in limited supply with only six phials for sale, and is the most expensive of my crudes due to the tacked-on cost of shipping. Labeled "Premium Sweet Crude Oil", not because of taste(!) but because of its low sulfur content, it comes from Oklahoma --- we think of Texas automatically when it comes to oil, but forget about Oklahoma --- and thus may be tied to the human story and tragedy of the Osage Natives; I have yet, however, to explore its geological Earth story. Its quantity is too low for me to use it for much besides magical work; perhaps as it should be. Another one for the road ahead. . . .

Peekout! The Old Ones are watching. ♡

A Weekend of Fire and Magic

What's a cauldron if you can't light a fire under it?

This weekend proved to be interesting and quite satisfying in many ways. On Saturday, a local organization called Rewild Portland was hosting a free (by donation; I donated since I, 1. could afford to for once, and 2. give a shit) workshop on friction fire making. This ancient method uses a fast rotational-energy conversion to create enough friction to give off small smoking pieces of dust and sparks, which can then be cradled to kindle a fire. I'd seen and known about it for years. Here was a chance to learn first-hand.

All the tools and books laid out for our edification! We gathered under the trees in Colonel Summers Park, and Rewild Portland teacher and organizer Peter taught us the basics of each piece of the friction-fire kit, plus tips on how to make the process easier and more successful: How deep to carve a notch, what woods to use, how to tie knots on the bow drill, spindle shape, and so on . . . stuff a caveman or Indigenous human would learn and master early on, no doubt, but which we butane-spoiled moderns have to relearn over again from those in the know --- hence, Rewilding.

The tools, parsed out into fire-making kits. We split up into little knots of adults and in many cases children, so as to practice what we'd learned in the lecture and demonstration. Literally everything was hands-on, except the hot coals . . . and we got pretty close to those, what with having to kindle the sparks in shredded, fluffy jute and cedar bark held in our hands! Soon, people were fluffing and drilling and kindling (or trying to) all over the park court:

This clearly takes a knack, in addition to a lot of cranking back and forth. What's also clear to me is I need to make my own tools, so I can practice whenever I want. Mastery is impossible in a two-hour class with all of us sharing tools! But if we each get one try, we at least get a feel for it.

The instructor had a cool shirt on:

This was a class for young and old alike to learn the skills of our forebears. Friction fire requires a lot of persistence and not-very-magical elbow grease, but there is something magical nonetheless about producing fire out of nothing but wood, air, and physics!

Held in the hands, fanned mostly by the breeze and too fragile even to blow on directly, a spark begins to ignite a "nest" of fluffy fibers. . . .

At the end of the class, something cool happened. Everyone put leaves in an old hat with names written on, and the name drawn would get a complimentary hour or two of one-on-one fire making instruction from the teacher. I only half-listened; we were all milling around looking at stuff and chatting still, and I never get picked in drawings anyway. But I put a leaf in at the very end before the drawing --- and I got picked!! So at some point, I'll have to go claim my free instruction in friction fire. I might even try making some tools first, so the teacher can give me tips on what to do better.

By now I had little time to get home, finish a commission spindle I was making, eat, and then make it to the Hekate Dark Moon rite at Raven's Wing in Sellwood.

The spindle I finished painting is for an acquaintance of mine, Carrie, who told me she got called to work with the goddess Arianhrod (meaning "silver wheel"), a Celtic goddess of the Moon, stars, Milky Way, cycles of time and fate . . . and spinning. "I want to see if a spindle will help me connect with her through meditation," Carrie told me.

Sometimes I need to just sit down, focus, and do nothing but a single project if I'm going to start at all, much less complete it. I need an unbroken channel. That's what I did here. I researched Arianhrod, got a feel for her energy and imagery, and then wove those various energies and symbols into a design over the body of the spindle as I worked:

A spindle whorl is obviously a tiny flywheel, so I put a wispy starlit Celtic cross-type wheel on the flat side, and an eight-spoke wagon-type wheel on the other: 4 seasons, 8 sabbats. . . .

On the rest of it, I just put the stars, moon and Milky Way in a swirling design, round and round, and also the Big Dipper on one side, with the point of the spindle being the North Star, which is part of the symbol and cycle of Arianhrod's spinning heavenly wheel:

Stars and more stars!
I decided not to bother with the goddess' totemic animals, like wolf or owl, so as not to muddy the design. Since this is a meditative tool, I wanted the design to be as meditative as possible, which is also why I didn't paint the whorl as overly assymetrical --- the way I'm more inclined to do with a practical working or high-volume spindle.

A couple coats of varnish, then it was off to Hekate. We cast circle by passing the sacred keys as usual --- I love the sound and feel of those keys! Tonight we made talismans with Hekate's labyrinth or strophalos, a symbol of multiple things including the crossroads, the turning wheel, and the serpent of rebirth. It was fun and not too daunting, thanks to my hand-skills. Paint pens are usually a pleasure to work with. The idea is that we can meditate or charge items with power using this talisman.

https://holographicarchetypes.weebly.com/hekate.html