Green WitchCraft by Ann Moura (Aoumiel)

I can't believe I am just now getting around to reviewing Green Witchcraft by Ann Moura (Aoumiel)!  It is the third book I delved into when first exploring my own witchy-ness and it runs neck and neck with Scott Cunningham's Earth Power in the race to be my favorite book.  For a magickal person looking for an intuitive, earth based path this book is essential.  Aoumiel shares three generations of witchy wisdom and lays out an easy to get started outline for ritual while sharing bits of witchy history along the way. 

When I opened this book, I knew that I had no interest in organized Wicca.  It just didn't suit me, but I had no idea where to go from there.  This text is what gave me the confidence to define myself as a witch and to initiate ritual practices.  I refer to it often and have used it in conjunction with another of the author's works as a magickal textbook of sorts.  There is so much to learn from this book, that it is once again on my reading list for summer. 

 

Good morning, Mr. Magpie

I was only four or five years old the first time a magpie was pointed out to me.  Staring at those cobalt blue wings gleam in the Montana sunshine, all I could do was wonder at its beauty.   When I opened my pint sized mouth and commented in admiration, I was instantly shut down.  Magpies were "bad" birds.  (According to cattlemen, magpies are the scourge of the range preferable only to coyotes.  Because they will occasionally nibble a raw brand or preen the back of a cow so intently as to cause abrasions, most ranchers will shoot at every magpie they see.)  Feeling shamed to admire such a creature, I turned away from this bird who had instantly intrigued me and over the years nearly forgot about them.

Illustration by National Geographic
http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birding/black-billed-magpie/

Recently, when we moved to Bozeman, I once again fell in love with magpies.  In our new neighborhood, magpies are as plentiful as children which is saying a lot.  People here still grumble and call them "dirty," but I no longer care.  The magpies are my friends.  Superman and I both make a point to speak to them on a regular basis and Miss Busy loves to yell "pie-pie" as she tries to coax them in for a closer inspection.  We have also had many hours of entertainment watching through the living room window as they play, fight, steal, and gather material to build their rather messy nests.

This past month, I have begin noticing that the magpies seem to pay a lot more attention to my porch than to those of the neighbors.  They pluck drying garment from my rail, uproot small plants, leave perfect beak shaped bite marks in my mother-in-laws tongue, and rearrange the decorations on my table.  At first, I chalked it up to knowing that they were safe in my space, but then they started leaving gifts. 

One night about a week ago, I heard a clattering out on the porch.  Considering it was a rather stormy night, I shrugged my shoulders and blamed it on the wind tossing around my mop bucket.  The next morning, I found a resin skull that usually sits on the table thrown back against the rail in the opposite direct that the wind would have moved it.  In the space usually occupied by the skull were two small rocks confirming who the culprit(s) had been.  Then a few days later, I went out in the morning to find a perfect magpie feather sitting in front of my garden shoes. 

As a result of all these goings on, I have made it a point to learn more about magpies.  The more I learn, the more fascinating they become.  In this past week, I have learned: magpies have a long association with witches and the occult, are known to hold "wakes" for fallen comrades, and that a magpie is the only non-mammal who can recognize themselves in a mirror.   They are also resourceful, attracted to human company on their own terms, and take on long term projects. 

From a magickal standpoint, magpies often symbolize a person who could experience more if they would only trust their limited occultic knowledge and the possibility of learning and/or experiencing the supernatural in a less than conventional manner. Folk lore also teaches that witches can turn into magpies, that's one bit of knowledge I'd like to gain.  As with most magickal symbolism, there is also a warning.  Those who relate to magpies run the risk of all alternative learners and relying on incomplete knowledge.  The lesson I personally take from this is: use what knowledge you have, but continue to learn and grow.  Pretty timely advice. 

 



Spiritual Gardening

 

A few weeks ago, Superman walked past my alter and mentioned that it looked rather sad.  He was right. I have since fixed it, only to get wax all over it on Lammas.   With all the time I have been spending in the garden, I have been substituting my altar time with Earth time. If I had a garden space of my own, I would completely move my altar outdoors during the more temperate months. 

 

 

Several mornings a week, I take Miss Busy and Little Moon to the garden with me.  Perched in their double stroller and armed with snacks and sippy cups, the girls settle into a meditate state of stuffing their faces. In the silence that ensues, I invoke the elements and offer praise to the Universe while I weed, sucker, and harvest.  Standing barefooted in my garden with soil on my hands, I connect with nature and am nature. 

Even now, when my garden is not nearly as beautiful as it was when these photos were taken, a rather intense hail storm battered all the beautiful leaves  I find great inspiration in the strength and resilience found springing from the earth.  The plants are beginning to show the signs of weather and age, yet still they are producing food for my family.  In fact, the stress of our recent storm seems to have spurred some plants my cucumbers and zinnias to finally produce.  It makes me think of how we as individuals often require hard times to nudge us along in our own development.  Mountain gardening is a challenge in so many ways, but the struggles associated with it are teaching me so much.  Not just about this ecosystem and climate, but about myself and my relationship with the Earth. 

 

The Proverbial Woodpile

Years ago, when my oldest four were small, I had a homestead not the house pictured.  Although the house was modern, it was heated solely with wood.  Usually the job of bringing in firewood belonged to G.I. Joe and I, but one fall afternoon I decided to expedite the task by including the younger three as well.  The girls took to the task quickly, but Mr. Man had other ideas.  While the rest of us were heading out the door, that little rascal disappeared.  On my second trip back into the house with an armload of wood, I decided to investigate his disappearance I had assumed that he was looking for his chronically missing shoes and found him crouched behind his bed testing the "out of sight, out of mind" theory.  Unwilling to be punked by a four year old, I hustled him outside while he howled about the cruelty of forcing such a delicate individual out into the cold. 

By this time the wood box was nearly full, so I informed Mr. Man that the last two armloads of wood were his responsibility.  He continued to howl about the frigid temperature in the 40's while the rest of us filtered back into the house.  For the next ten minutes, I watched from the kitchen window as he stomped back and forth in front of the woodpile, kicking at the ground as he went.  With out any prompting from me, his brother went out and offered to help him, but was answered with a screamed, "Go away!"  About fifteen minutes into the saga, I went to stoke the fire and returned to the kitchen to see that Mr. Man was laying on top of the wood pile with his arms crossed defiantly, muttering under his breath.  Cracking open the kitchen door I heard his mantra, "I'm cold.  I'm cold.  I'm cold."  Returning to the wood pile, I explained the lack of logic in his protest.  If he would just bring in two arm loads of wood he could stay in the nice warm house for the rest of the day.  In response he added kicking  feet to the crossed arm, muttering pose. 



Hamming it up for the camera: Mr. Man (13) and G.I Joe (16)

 

Eventually, I did get my two arm loads of wood and Mr. Man was allowed shelter from the sub-Artic temperatures found in central North Carolina.  As cute and funny as this story is, as adults we really aren't any different than my stubborn son.  Human nature is to be  addicted to comfort.  Each of us has a well defined comfort zone.  When forced out of this zone we are often stubborn and defiant, unwilling to do the work required to get back to the place we feel safe in.

Those of us on a Pagan life path would probably all agree that peace and enlightenment of some form are major goals in our lives. We have an idea image of what we long to become, but we drag our feet when it comes to study and meditation. When life is busy or stressful we seem to balk at self improvement more than ever and that is when we need centering the most.  That is how we get stuck out on the wood pile when we would rather be snuggled up near the fire. 

Read a article about chakras or alternative medicine, take a quiet nature walk, spend a few moments breathing deeply and visualizing the person you want to be...Thirty minutes of focused "me" time every day will make a noticeable difference now and a life changing difference in the long run.  Every beautiful bird starts out as a humble egg. 

Rewriting the Script

Hindsight is 20/20
Broken window in an abandoned shack outside West End, NC

Last week while I was in the hospital having Little Bitty Baby I didn't get to birth at home, Superman just couldn't come to terms with the plan I had the chance to discuss Paganism with two of the nurses.  Living in a rural area with very little outside influence, neither of them really knew what a Pagan was beyond "not a Christian." 

The first to ask was "K" the sweet nurse assigned to my care.  She had seen the listing under my religious preference and about mid morning just had to ask,

"What is a Pagan?"  Having a strong community of Native Sioux in the area I responded, 

"Paganism is a nature faith similar to the Native beliefs and is based on a reverence and oneness with the Nature." Very basic and simplistic, but I didn't want to overwhelm her. When she appeared to understand, I went on to tell her a little about my belief in The Power or Universal Energy and the inner connectedness of all that is in the Universe.  All of which she related to the faith of a Scientologist family member note to self, look up what Scientologists believe. 

"Don't you worship multiple gods and goddesses?" 

"Some Pagan's do," I responded.  "I am Pantheistic, meaning I worship no deities.  To me, deities are a way to break down the different aspects of The Power into more relatable units or personalities.  I reverence The Power as a whole." 

To tell the truth, I was pretty proud of the conversation.  I held my end and didn't flub around for answers too much.  Later we talked about auras and how science can now see the electric and magnetic energy the body emits. 

The following day when I returned for Little Bitty Baby's weight/ bilirubin check I convinced the doctors to let us go home the same day I gave birth I had a second, less successful conversation with "D".  Apparently the listing of "Pagan" on my chart had led to quite a bit of discussion among the nurses and "K" had done some explaining on my behalf, but "D" still had some questions.  After reiterating what "K" had told her, "D" asked,

"What does Pagan mean?" 

"Really, Pagan is the umbrella term for all European based Nature faiths.  The word pagan itself really just means rural.  It was the country people of Europe who held on to their ancient beliefs the longest during the spread of Christianity."  It was an answer straight from a witch's textbook, but she still looked confused so I continued.  "Druidery and Wicca are both forms of Paganism." 

At the mention of Wicca, the light went on. 

"Oh, I use to work with a Wiccan.  She was strange, she even did magic."  Uh-oh, this is definitely not the time to announce that I'm a witch.  I pulled a quick answer out of my hat. 

"Witchcraft is a part of Paganism, but not all Pagans are witches."  She seemed satisfied with the answer and the conversation moved in a more neutral direction-the baby, but on my way home I couldn't help but start rewriting the script. 

What I wish I had told her was this. 

"Magic and witchcraft really isn't anything like what you see in movies and on TV.  You know how Oprah talks about releasing intent into the Universe to make positive changes in your life?  That is the basics of spell casting:  using your own energy to communicate with the Universe about what you would like to see happen." 

I imagine she would have looked quite shocked and I would have finished up with,

"Anybody can cast a spell, but not all spells are successful.  You've probably cast a few yourself with out even realizing it." 



How comfortable are you about explaining your beliefs to others?  Do you sail right on through or flub along as I do? 

A Dangerous Mind

It is a generally accepted fact that thoughts, negative or positive, contain power.  Since witches frequently work with and rely on this power to make changes in the world around them, nobody should be more familiar with this fact than a witch.  One night last week I forgot and learned a valuable lesson. 

Maybe it all started because I don't get angry very often...or because I was tired...or because I am enormously pregnant...what ever it was, it was completely uncalled for.  In many ways, I hate to even admit that it happened because I did inflict harm on someone.  Someone I love very much and who would never consider harming me: Superman. 

Sleep has been a difficult issue at our house lately.  As my girth has grown immensely with this pregnancy, I have developed as serious case of insomnia.  That, combined with the fact that our bed is has a miniature version of the Grand Canyon running down the center of it, some times makes nights insufferably long.  I toss and turn trying to find a comfortable position and when I finally settle into something semi-suitable poor circulation causes my legs and feet to start twitching madly.  As bad as this is for me, I at least have the option of attempting to nap the following day.  My poor husband just drags his exhausted self through the day with the hopes of getting a few hours of sleep the following night in the same defunct bed with the same crazy, tossing, turning, twitching wife.  On the night in question, it just got to be too much for him to bare.

It was a particularly hot evening and I have to admit we were both already feeling a little off.  I had found a semi comfortable position and was starting to drift off when the twitching started.   Fatigue had me that evening and my body was determined to sleep, so I proceeded to head toward la-la land not noticing that the equally exhausted man beside me was about to bubble over.  Just before I was about to doze he nearly vaulted out of the bed, snatched up his pillow, and stormed to the couch muttering about his lack of sleep, the fact that I did have a nap option where he did not, and maybe that I took excessive advantage of those naps. 

A bit taken back and hurt by the mutterings, I followed him to the living room to try and make things right. When it was apparent that he did not want to return to bed and that he simply did not even want to talk to me, I returned to our bedroom wide awake.  Sleep was no longer an option so I decided to try and read, but found myself struggling with the comfort issue once again.  Sitting on the bed made my back hurt and it seemed like I had to reposition myself after every paragraph. 

I longed for the slightly elevated level of comfort the couch would have offered my awkwardly shaped figure. 

I struggled to focus on my book and instead dwelled on the comments he had made on his way out of the bedroom. 

I wished he were in the bed and I in the living room so I at least had to option of finding some dull show on Hulu to lull me to sleep. 

I imagined him sleeping blissfully. 

I got angry. 

Book open and forgotten in my lap, I begin to simmer.  Soon I was sending pointedly hostile thoughts in his direction.  I didn't think his attitude was fair and I wanted it gone.  Specifically, I wanted him to know just how uncomfortable I was...how uncomfortable I had been for weeks.  After all, it was his baby too and missing a little sleep was minor compared to all the discomforts that had seemed to pile up on me during this pregnancy.  Unkind and negative thoughts erupted from my mind and when I had exhausted my list of grievances, I started all over at the beginning.  Of course, they were petty grievances, but with the state I was in they grew like mushrooms in manure. It was a vicious cycle and who knows how long it would have continued had my overly pregnant self not had to make a bathroom run. 

On my way through the living room, I noticed that Superman instead of blissfully lounging in sleep, was laying in a somewhat contorted position on the couch.  He was also grumbling incoherently and moaning.  Urged by my stressed bladder, I continued on to the bathroom, but when his condition hadn't changed on the way back through I knew I had to wake him.  Physically distancing myself from the negativity I had created in the bedroom had caused my anger to dissipate and I sat on the edge of the couch and woke him as a nice, sane wife should.  I gently spoke to him and asked what was wrong.  His answer caused my stomach to heave.  Soon after moving to the couch he had developed a terrible headache and what sleep he had managed to get had been plagued by nightmares. 

For all the times I had sent him positive energy to calm a rough day or ease an illness, it had never occurred to me that my anger and it's negative energy would effect him on equal footing.   Of course, I wanted to right the wrong I had done and immediately set about surrounding him with healing power while easing him back toward sleep after bringing him back to bed.  Luckily, it was a lesson learned with minimal damage done.  He forgave me and all is well, but it is a lesson I will not soon forget. 

Circle Round: Raising Children in Goddess Traditions: Starhawk/ Baker/Hill

Holiday traditions and meanings are something most of us learn a little at a time as we grow up.  The holiday is celebrated every year with little variation and in true child's form we soak it up and make it our own.  We don't question what these special days are or why we celebrate them, they are simply a part of our life and we believe that we understand them almost instinctually.  So when the world changes and we are left to discover a whole new tradition on our own, books like Circle Round are essential. 

I originally bought this book as a parenting tool, but have found it to my personal favorite to facilitate my own learning on the topic of Pagan holiday's and celebrations and believe me it is one of many books I have that address the topic.   Trying to implement a new celebration into the life of a family can be frustrating and awkward at times, but the ideas and activities given in Circle Round really make it fun and easy.  As an adult, I have gained so much better understanding of the celebrations by reading the holiday section of this book, I sometimes forget that it contains a plethora of other information as well.  It has chapters on basic traditions (circle casting, centering), a full section on activities to teach about the Elementals, and another section covering a child's growth and the rites of passage between infancy and adulthood.  Well written stories and songs (with music) accompany many of the topics to help facilitate memory in a positive way. 

To be completely truthful, I have not sat down and read this book in its entirety and I doubt that I ever will.  For me, it is more of a reference book to be returned to again and a again for ideas and inspiration.  I am really looking forward to using it frequently with Miss Busy and the new baby when they start to explore the natural world and their own place in the grander scheme.