Magical Names

A nice fun one in Dana of Crying of the Siren and mine continuing conversations.

I’ve had a few magical names. Only a couple though.

Lady Wolf… take a guess when I took this one? You betcha, within about a month of taking up witchcraft. I like to think this was one of the only stupid new kid things I did. I dropped it pretty quickly.

Kelcy Daria or something equally silly. It meant beautiful dark one apparently and my cousin picked the two names out of Deborah Grey’s “How to be a Real Witch”, which I got three pages into and refused to read more because I didn’t like the tone of the book. It didn’t last long.

My current one? You already know it.

Charlie Twist

Such a simple unimportant name.

Charlie was a nickname given to me in high school that close friends still refer to me by. It was given to me because I bore a huge resemblance, in personality anyway, to Charlie from Long Kiss Goodnight. Turns out Charlie is Germanic for Free Man. Rather appropriate…

Twist came from a dream, or series of them, in which the people within referred to me as the Reality Twister except for one man who I now know is one of the Darkchild boys. He just called me Twist, and long after the first dream had stopped repeating he continued to show up in my dreams and daydreams calling me Twist. After a while I got the hint and started using Twist as my name and lo and behold he stopped interrupting my dreams.

So Charlie Twist it is. It’s unassuming as far as magical names go I guess but it suits me just fine.

… Oops

When Dana suggested our latest topic for discussion I was all yep, cool, lets go…

Upon starting to write this entry I realised something rather late in the game. It’s never happened to me. I’ve never had a spell work in an unusual way… and then I realised I had one, just one, but one that should amuse you all merrily.

About February 2007 I was single and, not unhappy, but not happy, so I sent forth a general need some happiness and sunshine preferably in male form because I’m not in the state of mind for the complexities of other women… ok it was an “I need to get laid” spell. What I got is a story that still amuses my friends.

On this particular night I was sitting at the door of the club (I make an awesome door bitch because I will throw people out for giving me shit) feeling not particularly pretty but having a nice enough night…

About half way through the night this group of really drunk punk guys and their girls come through. No problems, I get along great with punks as they’re generally a lot nicer than people think, smarter too. There’s one of them in particular who hangs back a bit as the others go through and he tells me I look pretty then runs off before I can say anything.

About half an hour he comes running back and kneels down next to me.

Punk: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Sort of maybe (I’m vaguely attached to a gorgeous blonde at this point but not quite)

Half an hour later he’s back:

Punk: You are so amazingly beautiful and I can’t not do this. *drops to one knee* Will you marry me?
Me: Ummm, not tonight. I’ll come dance with you when I’m finished working though *sounding hopeful*
Punk: OK *maniacal grin and runs off*

A few hours later I knock off and he’s still there so I have a drink and dance for an hour or so then decide to head off. I have a wtf moment, grab him by the collar and french kiss him… and run. Let you in on a secret…

You can’t run faster than a punk in combat boots when wearing high heels!!

He manages to catch me, trip me over, we both hit the floor and he gets another kiss… or three. My house mate ex, who was Djing and being an asshole all night, has to step over the pair of us (narrow corridoor) and is insanely miffed at seeing me with another guy which amuses me to no end…

Basically I ended the night on a high. I went home happy, bruised and wondering what the hell that guys name was and stayed that way. Didn’t get laid and didn’t need to…

So that’s my story of the spell that didn’t quite do what I was expecting, but did exactly what i needed it to do when I look back on it.

Balance and Gender Equality

A facebook group I am an active member of recently had one of the strangest set of threads started by a group of teenagers claiming that Wicca was a eco-feminist religion that placed women above men in ranking an importance. All this started from an initial post about a band and continued, rather abusively, on into 4 seperate fans until the main troublemaker (a teenaged, self proclaimed genuis, Jewish boy was banned). While the threads were a waste of space and time they did make me think somewhat on the issues of balance and gender equality within the Pagan world.

We know in the real world that gender equality is a bit of a myth. There are the extremist feminists who on their path to get greater respect for women put down, bully and basically treat men like crap. There are masochistic males who do the same to women or, far worse in my mind, treat them like precious petals. Equality… we’re not there yet. Men still earn more, are far more likely to land that big corporate decision and more likely to be put in charge (and fuck it up)… But what’s it like in the pagan world?

Females make up a larger percentage of the pagan community than men. In general just because they’re more likely to seek out a pagan way of life. In some paths, such as Wicca and Heathensim they are equals, no better or lesser than their male counterparts and in most other paths the point just isn’t considered an issue. All are welcome. In Wicca people have the same opportunity for growth and to achieve rank if they should so wish regardless of sex. In others such as the “Dianic Wicca” men are not so welcome. That’s not to say that they are not welcome at all, just that the overwhelming majority of Dianics are female and that the path itself does not acknowledge the male deities.

Dianic Wicca is a direct backlash against the partriachal system we live in. Our world is dominated by male politicians and a religion led by men, or a man as it is. In it’s own way Dianic Wicca begins an evening out of the energies yet I can not help think that they go about it the wrong way. By ignoring the masculine and the energies that go with it you essentially ignore half of what created you. There is after all a reason a woman needs a man to concieve.

It seems to me that by completely shunting the male we go back to step one, but instead of women needing to defend their rights it’s now the man being persecuted unfairly. That the balance tips back in the opposite direction. Which is no more healthy than being exclusively male dominated. Women and men alike are capable of great acts of both cruelty and kindness. They are equally as intelligent and stupid, and loveing and spiteful. Neither is better. Both have their up point and both their down. I find myself somewhat relieved that the vast majority of people who believe that one is better than the other are part of a very small section of the pagan community.

I sit here and from my perspective on the world I see a powerful force moving within the pagan community. We are a community that for the most part prizes equality. We judge based on the merit of the individuals mind and practices, what they bring to the community, not their physical self. Certainly not their sex. Men, women, family people, single (and happy that way) people, gays, lesbian, bi-sexual… we welcome with open arms people from all walks of life indiscriminantly. Celebrating the diversity of the human mind and body and allowing each person the chance to be all that they can.

I feel that the pagan community is a forrunner in this area. That as we grow as a community we will slowely see a larger change taking place. A change towards acceptance and equality in the world. A more balanced view. I don’t want that pulled apart by extreme feminism or masachoism. Consider it my little bit of hope for the world, that it can be gently prodded with a bit of 2×4, and maybe a battle axe and wand or two, into being a better place for everyone.

Emotions in Magic

Ongoing correspondance with Dana of Crying of the Siren

Emotions can be both a blessing and a curse in my magic. As far as spell work goes is can be of great assistance sometimes. Boosting my magic far beyond normal capabilities, but only for certain types of work. If I’m in a fantastic mood and out on the dance floor it takes the barest flicker of effort to shoot off a spell to see the club filled with people who want to have a good night, or something to boost the spirits of those around me. If I’m cranky it’s next to nothing to pull off a “Leave me alone” spell. However doing a major working is nigh on impossible if my emotional range is in any form of extreme.

I need to be able to be calm and focussed to work larger acts. There’s never a spell with no emotion behind it of course. The need to cast the spell is created from an emotion of some kind. Even if it is simply dissatisfaction with with your life, self, attitude or work place. However over powering emotions destroy my focus and if I can not focus I can not cast. Simple as that.

On the otherside of it is the mindset that gets many people into trouble with magic. Depression, angst, misery and a feeling of lacking. A lot of people make the mistake of attempting to use magic to cure this. It’s a common thing and the minute life starts looking up they drop it. It’s a bad habit to get into, it does disservice to any gods you are involved with and you learn very little from it. I tend to be quite the opposite, which is equally as bad. Whenever I have a “Dark Night of the Soul”, as I’ve seen it put, I retreat from the world. I lack the motivation to do anything including keep up my devotions and magical practices. It’s probably a time that I should be keeping them up as well. Using them, if for no other reason, to keep some form of routine going.

For me this is the hardest thing to deal with within my practice. I am prone to very random semi-frequent bouts of depression and over the years it has severely hindered my development. I think the fact that I have, fairly recently unfortunantly, acknowledged this and am now working on making sure it does not continue to do so is a bright spark I suppose.

At least I’m not trying to cure myself with magic I guess…

Cats, and the art of keeping broken things

This whole post has nothing to do with magic of any kind…

For several months now there has been talk of getting a second cat. My first cat (not first in a literal sense but first in the current), Mao, is bored because he’s on his own an awful lot at the moment. I feel hell guilty about this but there’s not much I can do about it as work’s the culprit.

Yesterday we went and did something about it and got a second puss. We rescued her from the local animal shelter. We renamed her Pasht after the Egyptian goddess (mostly because we couldn’t find any female dictator name’s we liked and figured a goddess was a suitable substitute for a dictator). So now we have dictator kitty Mao and goddess kitty Pasht. She’s asleep in my lap.

The newest furkid

What does this have to do with broken things??

It’s habit I’ve fallen into over the years to collect the broken things. My friends, almsot all of them, have mental illneses of one kind or another. Not necessarily the debilitating kind, but the type you can still function in the real world with as long as you’re careful.

Mao, when I got him, was this terrified ball of malnourished skin, bone and fur. He was tiny and had these really long white furs that stuck straight up out of his body. Looked kind of Franken-kitty. I looked at him and figured that if I didn’t love him no one would.

And Pasht… Pasht came out second best in a fight with a car. She’s beautiful and loving and very affectionate. She’s also only got three legs, is currently missing large quantities of fur and has stitches down her side where they amputated her limb. Yet she’s beautiful to me.

Pasht's battle scars

Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me mentally. I find broken things attractive as they are. Pasht would be no prettier for having four legs, Mao would ahve been no cuter if he was as big and boisterous as the other cats in his cage and my friends are what they are and I’d never want to change them. And if there is something wrong with me I think I’d like it to stay wrong.

There is so much beaty in the broken if you let it catch the light the right way.

Curses

Continuing conversations with Dana of Crying of the Siren

I’ll admit straight up that I’ve never cursed anyone, ever, not deliberately and not accidentally (I hope).

Curses, hexes, black magic, whatever it is you want to refer to them as don’t appeal to me at all. They have their points. I understand why they exist, and why people choose to use them. There is a certain level of satisfaction in cursing someone. Stretching out your magical hand and tearing their world assunder but the question I have to ask is “At what cost?

What does it cost the practitioner when they curse someone?

To curse is to harm, to deliberately, malevolently, in cold blood, reach out and harm another living human being. I know that my Gods would not approve, that I would lose Mercy’s patronage in an instant by doing this. That I would feel like shit for doing this. I would be uncomfortable with myself. I would have to cross lines I drew in the sand long ago that I drew because that was my do not cross. I understand that lines shift and the ocean and wind often obliterate them but there are some lines that stand unmoving for me and this is one of them. I do not harm people behind their backs. I was bullied incessently as a child. I was a tall, red headed, freckle covered geek of a girl. And I’m sure my handling of things like this is directly affected by the way I was treated by others as a child and teenager. I have a problem with you then I tell you up front.

But there’s a bigger question for me.

WHY?

Why the hell would you curse someone? Because you’re pissed at them, because they hurt you, because you don’t like them, because your partner fucked them while he was dating you? I have the solemn and heartfelt belief: If it’s too hard or too much effort for me to deal with it in the real world then I don’t do it in the magical one!

Think of it this way. How much effort goes into a spell? How much thought, time and energy? Why the hell would I waste that on someone I didn’t like. Easier to punch them in the face at the time, in fact if it didn’t mean enough for me to do that at the time then why worry about it later because it’s obviously not important enough to me. I would rather spend the time and effort that would go into a curse cuddling my boyfriend or at a movie with my friends or… just about anything…

So I don’t curse. I can curse if I wanted to, but it would require me ignoring my ethics and morals to the fullest and that isn’t inline with my beliefs at all.

Sigils x 3

This post will have follow ups, it’s mostly a statement of intent.

I have been thinking on, discussing and not doing anything about some sigils for some time. 3 of the to be precise

1. Health - Statement: “I am healthy”  Task: To make me and keep me physically healthy
2. Esteem - Statement: “I am worth it”  Task: To assist my self esteem because it sucks
3. Weight - Statement: none as yet  Task: This one, which is the work in progress at this point, it to assist me to lose weight and then maintain the healthy weight I will be at once I have done so.

Three sigils (?) each with a very specific and long term goal. My biggest debate at the moment is whether I’m making these solely sigils or going the step further and creating servitors. Either way the symbols that represent my will will be tattooed under one of my breasts running down my torso. Kind of like traditional kanji but not actually kanji. To maintain they will be tended to as part of my daily bath and body routine.

The very pain of having them done will be part of the charging, probably followed by large amounts of dance floor charging just to give it oomph.

My Favorite Way of Working Magic…

Is not what you’d think…

More correspondance with Dana from Crying of the Siren

My favorite kind of magic is the very simple, tried and tested, candle magic.

It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s adaptable to almost any need. And I’ve been doing it so long that it’s pretty much second nature. I cna remember most the required correspondances off the top of my head and find annointing the candle and carving it quite enjoyable as far as it goes.

Runner’s up is sigil magic for the same reason. I’m not big on ritual and fancy ceremonies. I want it done quickly and quietly and, more often than not, discreetly. A candle can be pretty scent or mood lighting, it just blends in when I have guests about. Sigils are more portable.

Real Life Interlude

Sorry about not getting my part of the correspondence with Dana up.

Busy as hell at work all week, worked a local convention all weekend and didn’t even start the small commission piece I was hoping to send tomorrow (which is now being sent on Tuesday). I’ll catch up with it all be Wednesday.

My First Occult Experience

Ooooo now lemme see..

My very very first actual occult experience that didn’t have something to do with a child’s awesomely over active imagination, fairy stories or movies was when I was 8 or 9. My much older cousin did a tarot reading for me. It would be quite a few more years before I picked it all back up willingly however.

At the age of 16 stressed and tired, on the verge of giving it all up because the world was too hard I went out for a run. I had the delight of ending up participating in a woman’s worst nightmare. At least I think I did… this is my first real occult experience and the one that till this day scares the shit out of me. From the age of 16 till the age of 17 there are portions of my life that are not real. Not in little ways either. I’m talking personality molding, mentally taxing shit. I was raped, a friend died and I beat the living shit out of someone.

The rape may have happened but it’s highly unlikely. I wasn’t a little girl at 16. I was tall as I am now and a great deal stronger. Not to mention my parents would have figured it out fast, and I don’t recall being allowed to go running after dark near the place where I recall this happening. Doubly so when the person I beat the living shit out of with a crowbar was the guy who raped me, days later, in the same place. He’d have had to go to hospital and it would have been on the news… not to mention we didn’t have crowbars at home. It couldn’t have happened, it literally could not have happened, yet I have very powerful memories of it regardless. The smells, the sounds, the emotions, the physical feelings as well.

The friend who died is one of the harder ones to place. As far as I know he wasn’t real, he lived in a real place that I had been to before. A home with a arched door (like the big church ones) built into the side of Castle Hill (local landmark). It was down the road from a friend of my parents place, but I don’t recall ever being inside it except to visit my friend. I couldn’t walk there yet in all my memories I always walked to the house. So he couldn’t be real yet my memories of this friend were, are, really solid. I could describe the timber of his voice, his haircut, the way he laughed, the odd habits he had. I remember him being quite sickly and frail physically but mentally he was lively and bright. I can tell you about our conversations, draw the layout of the house and describe the decor…

It was a weird year. According to my folks it was just a normal ones. According to the friends I still have from back then it was a normal one and I was the same slightly over the edge over the top person as I always was and have been ever since. I did suffer random bouts of severe depression that year which was put down to hormones and teenage angst (cause hey we all get right), but sitting here now I still can’t tell you what the fuck happened that year. As yet I still mark that year as the year I dreamt through because all I can think of is that I was dreaming it all. And one day I’ll figure out the missing bits, the bits that I know should have something in them but that are stubbornly blank.

So that was is, my first experience with the occult. I’m not sure that’s how most would see it but that’s all I can place it down to. I never did drugs so I couldn’t pass it off that way, I didn’t drink or party hard and I honestly still don’t know what it was all about, but part of my personality, a very strong part of my personality, was shaped by the events that may have never happened so I make a point of never ever dismissing it.

FTR: It was after all this had mostly stopped that a friend went and handed me my first book on witchcraft and wham bam thank you ma’am. Here I am.