A Fire In The Belly

Warding off the chill of late Autumn is often a challenge: the damp,penetrating cold seems to seep right into your bones. While Autumn is my favorite time of year-who doesn't love the colors of fallen leaves?-it's also the herald of my favorite time of year in the kitchen.

The tastes and smells of Autumn are as invigorating as the landscape. The bouquet of Autumn spices -allspice,cinnamon,ginger,nutmeg,cloves,mace, cardamon -warm the body and soul not only in the kitchen, but raise the energy vibration in rituals during the cold weather months.

Allspice's masculine/fire (think Mars) energy is applied when it is combined into mojo bags or incense to attract luck or money. Cinnamon reflects the feminine side of  these qualities (influenced by Venus) with the addition of success and power. Ginger adds earthy heat; try drinking a tea containing ginger prior to engaging in ritual and feel the power of the Sun/Mars/Ra within. Nutmeg awakens the vastness of the planet Jupiter and has been carried as a prosperity amulet for centuries. Cloves is an excellent ingredient in mixtures intended to raise spiritual vibrations, and it's useful for driving out negativity. Mace is the outer covering of the nutmeg and increases psychic ability because it opens the Third Eye.
Cardamon-the spice that gives Chai Tea it's distinctive flavor- has been used in Asia to 'inflame' the fires of passion.

All of the above mentioned spices correspond to vitality and a robustness for life. Perhaps that is why they appear in various combinations in our favorite savory Fall/Winter foods.

From My Personal Grimorie: Cold Conjuring

As I write this, we've entered the late Autumn. Gone are the bright riot of color seen in the earliest days after Mabon. Now that the trees have shed their leaves, all that remains are their stark, gray skeletons. When the wind blows at night, the wooden bones clatter, and the crisp brown leaves dance in circles. These are the evenings when I settle in with a cup of hot tea to ponder and read by candlelight: I have entered the Place of Deep Indwelling, a palpable place when I feel drawn down, down the spiral of space into the most ancient of times. The cold outside is oddly exhilarating as it contrasts against the warm air inside. I find that some nights, when I cannot sleep, opening a window just enough to allow a finger of cold air curl in relaxes me.

Occasionally, I also do this when I meditate, because I find the shock of cold helps bring clarity quickly when I'm attempting to empty my mind. The primal rawness of cold is a wonderful focusing tool.

If the weather has dipped below freezing and there are icicles, I gather a few clean, fragile points to use in magickal workings during ritual. I suppose they could be stored in the freezer until ready to use, but I have always taken them just before I cast my circle, when I believe they are most potent. I have used icicles in place of quartz crystals with very satisfactory results. Place the ice points on a pretty dish or ornamental tray so that the top of your altar isn't marred as they melt. Depending on the nature of the spell, the water resulting from the melted icicles can be bottled and saved for use later, or poured outside and returned to the earth.

If you know anything about the basics of spell work, then you are aware of the result of putting a poppet or spell bag into the freezer. Placing these things outside ( selectively) will have the same result.

I have found that a bowl of snow has many uses as well: projecting pure, white energy into the bowl while the snow melts will provide a naturally consecrated amount of blessed ("holy") water to be used in the future.
It can be added to any spell that calls for spring water; or used to anoint yourself or ritual items. The water left from melted snow is naturally powerful because it already contains the energies of water, air and earth. It is imbued with whatever minerals it has come into contact with during it's formation in the atmosphere. Snow also has its own particular form of crystal energy. A bowl of  snow can be used for scrying (look for shapes to appear as it melts. Water left in the bowl can also be used for scrying. I have gathered snow in a metal bowl, allowed it to melt, then put it outside to re-freeze and used the surface of the ice for a different version of scrying (Metal or freezable plastic is best. Don't use pottery or glass that will crack or shatter). Droplets of condensation from melting snow that has been heated is especially good to use in ritual washes for the body, tools, or the altar. ( A lovely winter floor wash can be made from heating snow until it melts, then adding pine needles, a pinch of cinnamon, and a drop of lemon or lime. I don't recommend using orange juice as it can leave a sticky residue.) In this way, either snow or ice can be used as the liquid in which to suspend herbs for aromatherapy. I do not recommend the use of either snow or ice in anything you will consume/drink, because they could contain harmful impurities if taken internally. If you do use snow/ice in this way, be sure of the safety of your source.

Finally, did you know that snow can be used to make a figure to be used in the same way as a wax candle?
You don't have to have any artistic talent to do this: it's a little like making a poppet out of snow. Mold the figure by compacting snow roughly into any form you want, visualizing your desire while doing do, or place herbs, etc inside the core of the figure as it is being made. Fix it with your intention, or incorporate it into your spell work. The magick is released as the figure melts on its own.

Hallowtide Visitors

As dusk fell like a silent pall,the dry leaves spin around my feet in little dust devils. I packed all the treat bags I found in the bottom of the tote where my Halloween decorations sleep all but six weeks of the year and headed for the street corner in front of my apartment building. It was barely dusk, but the town had decreed a two hour window for Trick or Treating-perhaps a wise decision since someone in the next town saw a mountain lion stroll through their back yard just last week.

A little weather working had been in order earlier in the week when there was a fear of snow; as it turned out, the evening was mild, if breezy. At the stroke of 8 o'clock all the ninjas, witchlets and dinosaurs disappeared from the streets like magic...or perhaps they were enticed by the Great Pumpkin being shown on four TV channels simultaneously.

In the cemetery just beyond the town limits, the dead began their annual trek to join the living. I didn't see anything, mind you, but I felt them awaken from their long sleep and cross soundlessly through the Veil. There were hundreds of them, their spirits flowing along like a river as they filled the streets.
I wanted to connect with them, to discover who they were in life, and where they visited from the Afterlife. I tried, but no one came.

At last, when I'd given up trying, a lone little spirit came through...it was Tinker, my long-dead familiar. I felt the softness of kitty feet kneading on the mattress, and finally she curled into a ball and snuggled behind my knees as she did in life. We drifted peacefully off to sleep together.

I don't pretend to know anything about the Afterlife except that I believe with all my being that there is a place where our loved ones wait for us. I don't exactly support the concept of Heaven in the Judeo-Christian way, because I think that if there is actually a Heavenly Reward ( as promised), it's a place each of us create specifically for ourselves to dwell until we're reborn. My only thoughts on the subject of reincarnation is that perhaps our spirit somehow blends into the great Cosmic Cake Mix where the essence of who we are contributes to the formation of someone or something new. Perhaps a glimpse of us is recognizable now and again to those we leave behind, and that's why we so often identify a loved one in a gesture, a smile or a vocal inflection. Perhaps memory can call up physically the feel of a long-dead cat sleeping lovingly on a bed. Perhaps it's simply yearning and imagination. Whatever it is, it's valid experience. Does our longing for what we've lost create just the right vibration to manifest into being the Dead? Is that why it's so necessary to keep speaking the names of our ancestors; so they can continue to be with us? I ponder these things, especially during the Days of the Dead,when the shadows are long and silent.

Into The Future...

This Halloween/Samhain marks the third anniversary of the creation of Broom With A View. When I started this blog, I wasn't sure anyone would want to read it, or even what I would want to write about...but the support from the community has been overwhelming, and I am humbled.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...the journey continues.

AmethJera

Pagan Standard Time

image via Google

Week P of the Pagan Blog Project 2013
Let's spend a minute discussing Pagan Standard Time-but only a minute, because in my humble opinion, that's all it deserves. PST is the bane of all ritual leaders, event planners and anyone with a courteous bone in their body.

At the risk of sounding like a Victorian spinster Aunt with nothing more to do than police the behavior of others, I'm here to share my displeasure that this pathetic excuse for continual tardiness still exists in our community...and that some of us still find it hilariously amusing.

I suspect Pagan Standard Time was so enthusiastically embraced by those in our community who needed to extend their angst with The Establishment to all areas of their lives. Eschewing any vestige of what is acceptable in society in general,as it were, is a hallmark of the bohemian/hippie-dippiness of a specific personality type that was attracted to Paganism/Wicca in a bygone era and is unfortunately being
echoed by a new generation eager to practice a form of these magickal paths which they believe reflect back to a Golden Age of Occultism in the 60's and 70's. While I find that period interesting in a historical context, I am left absolutely cold by the attitude of shedding civilities just because we can. Being punctual does not make you any less militant in the eyes of those you seek to impress; it doesn't make you a sellout or a member of (gasp!) The Establishment. Patty Wigington of About.com's Pagan.Wiccan page summarizes it in a nutshell here: http://paganwiccan.about.com/od/glossary/g/PaganStandard.htm

What being "on time" may do, however, is show you are trustworthy, dependable and responsible. All of those things are required of a good leader ( along with many other characteristics, to be sure). It shows you take your spirituality/religion seriously-to both others and yourself. Some of our worship and magickal practice requires specific timing for particular things to happen. Saying, " Oh, the hour for this spell to be at it's peak of power is the ninth hour in Scorpio on Tuesday...but I'm going to be tied up watching a rerun of Bewitched, so I'll just do it at Midnight on Wednesday. The hour and astrological sign doesn't really matter", and then wondering why things didn't turn out the way you hoped? Well, that, dear one, is squarely on you if you lapse into the use of Pagan Standard Time. Humor a side, it is truly inconsiderate to continuously show up late at  rituals or meetings. It affects the entire vibe of the occasion and shows disregard for the rest of the group. Of course there are times when an individual will be unavoidably late due to an unforeseen circumstance, and those occasions are taken into consideration and forgiven.

Pagan Standard Time is one of those things we should cast far from us, for it has outlived it's usefulness- if it ever had any.

Ordinary Time

Pagan Blog Project 2013, Week O
By the sixth century, the Christian Church had developed an order of worship which followed the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. The date of the celebrations following the Jewish Ritual Year and pagan or agrarian observations of the seasons were co-opted by new, Christ-centered holidays. These holidays-holy days- corresponded to the specific events which eventually formed the Calendar of the Christian Liturgical Year.

High Holy Days usually had a corresponding season of their own: Christmastide, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, Advent. Days which were not designated as holidays were kept as feast days of a particular saint. The Communion of Saints was kept in the forefront of the public memory this way.[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordinary_Time] During the Church reforms of the 1970's, Ordinary Time was restructured.

In the Wheel of the Year, we find a different concept of time where every day is sacred just for being a new beginning. Everyday has the potential to be celebrated and for worship to take place, not just the Eight Sabbats[http://paganwiccan.about.com/od/holidaysandcelebrations/Wiccan_and_Pagan_Sabbats_and_Holidays.htm]. All of life-and everyday-is sacred. There is no need of it being a special day to be in awe of Nature's gifts and beauty. We can be thankful for our homes and loved ones and worship the gods whenever we choose. Because of this, "ordinary time" may be the most spiritually beneficial of all times in our common life and community.

A Feeling In The Air

Pocahontas Cemetery.
Photo credit: www.thearmchairexplorer.com

While the weather is still seasonal here in the mountains-that is to say that the days are sweater-worthy and the nights cause the proverbial "frost on the pumpkin", I sit in the gazebo with a cup of hot tea late at night in stillness. This little mining town is a different place after the sun goes down and the sidewalks roll up: Like all places that have know hardship and hard times, that has been visited by suffering, there is an air of bitter sweetness that haunts the night. On one of our frequently foggy evenings, I caught a glimpse of the shadows of someone leading a mule down Center Street not long after I moved here. Their forms were solidly discernible in contrast to the mist. I am quite certain it was an apparition that had come out of the many spiritual portals I suspect exists here. About a week later I learned that there is a brace of stables used when the coal mine was in operation around the corner I saw them turn just before they disappeared: I found the buildings which are currently used for storage on an evening stroll. In 1884, there was a huge explosion in the mine that killed over a hundred men, women and children. Most of the victims are buried in the cemetery just outside of town-many in a mass grave. Their spirits are palpable to me much of the time.

Tonight, there is the spirit of another, however. It is not human: a child of Cernunnos ambles down from the mountain, his hooves barely audible on the brick street. His rack of antlers is small, but his long legs give him an air of elegance as he reaches up into the branches of the apple tree just beyond the parking lot of my new home. As he pulls a piece of fruit free, many more apples rain down on him. He continues to graze and consumes several of the small but succulent fruits. When he is satisfied, he disappears silently into the darkness, leaving me feeling that I have been extraordinarily blessed by Nature to have shared this moment.

As night grows longer, there is only the sound of locusts, but there is a vibration, a thrumming as the Veil thins around me in this place. I know those who have lost their lives or lived in this town will be returning as soon as that thinning is complete and they are able to cross to walk among the living for a short while. So much of the history of this place is connected to Death; yet I wonder if the appearance of the deer isn't a subtle sign that despite this, the annual cycle of Life is very much still continuing amid the decaying buildings.
It seems to me that we focus so much on the past that we forget that how we live here now will be the history of tomorrow. So many of us are waiting for this place to draw it's last breath that I wonder if they have forgotten that a sudden breath of air might be all it needs to live.