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Halo's Journal

~ Enchantment, Philosophy & Fairies – Magic and the mundane, kissing.

Halo's Journal

Tag Archives: Ritual

The Wildness of Weeds

14 Saturday Nov 2020

Posted by Haloquin in Art Craft and Beauty, Enchanted, Following Delight, Magic, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bardic, daily practice, Druidry, learn witchcraft, Magic, Neopagan, Pagan, paganism, Poetry, Ritual, Witch, witchcraft

Let me be wild and free,
not the wildness of wolves,
but the wildness of weeds.
The tenacity of swallows,
the dancing of bees,
the blossoming hawthorn,
the sunlit sea.
Let me be wild
and let me be free.
Not the wildness of storms,
but the wildness of me.

~By Haloquin
First published in Touchstone, OBOD's community magazine.

Stepping outside of the known into magic, into the wildness of that which is untamed, is the path of a witch. There are paths of magic which are tightly controlled, where precise words must be said at precise times, and there are paths where one follows the ebb and flow of the moon, the tides, the whispering winds. Both paths have benefits. A formulaic ritual gives structure and consistency, it gives guidelines for when one lacks energy to innovate, or the self confidence to trust the tug of intuition. It carries the magic of repetition and trains the mind to follow set pathways which have a history of working. The wilder paths, however, take self-trust, and teach it. They require listening, but that means you are always seeking the path of least resistance. They weave into your everyday life and movements until you are crafting magic with every step, every breath, every word.

This is true in so much of life. There are structured ways of doing things, and more intuitive ways. Cooking, dancing, making music, making love. Even answering emails, planning your day, going to sleep. Often a balance between the two makes for the best life. Structure as a container and foundation – deliberate and daily checking in with the magic through prayer, meditation, ritual, offerings – and honing one’s intuition and the courage to follow it – paying attention to the niggling feeling in the gut, the pulling and longing in the heart, the flow of life and making a wish on the first star of the evening – combine together to build the skills you need to live a magical life, and the habit of thinking to use them, along with the freedom to step outside the expectations of the everyday and into an enchanted way of being… 

What is it that you do, or could do, every day to remind yourself of the magic in your life? To start bringing it to your attention more fully? What container can you build yourself to encourage the wildness of magic which brings the possibility of miraculous transformation?

In case you’re stuck, here are some ideas:

* Step outside at bedtime and make a wish on the first star you see

* Spend a few minutes each day paying attention to your breathing, whilst sitting still or whilst walking. Your breathing is where you connect to the world. Where the edges of yourself opens to the energy around you.

* Stop and hug or say hi to your favourite tree every time you walk past it, or at least the first time each day that you do so. Remind yourself that trees are alive and respond to us.

* Sing a little song to your houseplants. They can hear us.

* Pick a prayer to whichever god/s or spirit/s most appeal to you. This could even be your Divine Spirit. Ask for their blessing on your day each morning. 

* Tell the trees your dreams. Let the spirits know that you remember that you are a spirit being walking between this world and the dream world. Remind yourself of this often.

* Feed the birds. Each time you do it, dedicate the action to the spirits of the air.

* Begin to notice when the world feels brighter, more alive, enchanted…

Above all else, make it playful.  Dance with the world and the world will dance with you.

Originally posted on Patreon. Thank you to my Patrons for your support! If you like what I write then please do consider supporting me as a Patron here. Your support means I can write more for you! And you get the posts early… *tempts*

You can also tip me via ko-fi, it all helps!

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Over to you in the comments. What will you do to invite that magic and wonder deeper into your life?

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Temple of Tales

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by Haloquin in Enchanted, Magic, Queenship, Storytelling

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

A World Enchanted, Beginnings, Magic, Persephone, Ritual, Stories, Temple of Tales

I’ve been working on a new eCourse! A set of video-rituals working with the story of Persephone to help you claim your sovereignty…

This will be the first in a series of magical journeys through myth and fairytale which will each take the participants into the space of magic which lives within stories, the place of the gods, so that you can create the life you wish for.

Explore the Temple of Tales!

Explore the Temple of Tales!

What happens when magic and stories meet?

Have you ever heard the voice of a goddess, whispering in your ear to walk with her for a time? To share her story? To guide others through magic into their own tale?

We call this Persephone’s story, but really… is it Kore’s? Is it the tale of who the Goddess becomes, or who she was once, and always will be?

Kore was the daughter of the grain mother. A flower child she played. She was stolen away from her home and forced to face the greatest challenge we know; death. And on entering the underworld, Kore found pomegranate seeds. Bright red jewels. She hadn’t chosen to face the Lord of Death, or enter his home – few ever do – but she did choose to eat the seed of life that comes from death.

No-one else could have found life in the land of the dead as she did. No-one but a child a life could have claimed that crown. She became Persephone, Queen of the Dead, but she is always Kore, daughter of the grain, daughter of the seeds, just a little more grown up.

 

We live this in our lives. We make choices, face challenges, grow up. But we are still who we have always been, deep down. We still carry the seed we started from. Our genetics, our roots, our childhood dreams shape us and the roles we choose. Even if we choose in opposition to these beginnings…

The question is whether we choose roles for ourselves that allow us to grow, to flourish, to rule over our own lives. How often have we chosen the path of Sovereignity? The path of Queen (or King)?

What do you choose now?

Originally posted on A World Enchanted.

Solsticetime!

24 Saturday Dec 2011

Posted by Haloquin in All Posts, Following Delight, Magic, Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Ancestors, challenge, Devotion, Food, gratitude, Living Life, Magic, process, Ritual, Solstice, Winter

From now on, the days get longer, even while the world gets colder.

This has been a busy season, and yet… I have been saying ‘No’. I have been slowing down with the season. I have been seeking the stillness. Returning to roots; food and fire, hearth and home.

Turning inwards and outwards at the same time. Learning about the Runes, seeking my ancestors, discovering how I have grown.

I spent last weekend with some of my living family, last night with my friends. Between the two, however, it was time to Feast with the Dead.

Prompted by Ms. Dirty’s Midwinter Madness (Magic, I mean Magic!) challenge to feed your ancestors something that they’d actually recognise I finally did a bit more concrete digging around who my ancestors were… found out more about where they were from than what they were like: Poland, Normandy-via-Essex-via-Kansas/Mass., South Wales, London… a thread of Germany in there. Mostly Northern Europe really.

In looking for traditions, well, I didn’t find very much that I was certain of. I didn’t dig as deeply as I’d have liked to either mind. Many of them were Christian and, though I’m not quite sure which flavour, I figured a Nativity scene would probably be appreciated.

Candles and cooking seemed like the best way to go.

Kitchen Ancestor Altar

I acquired a piece of red cloth to use as a tablecloth and to, most likely, embroider as an ongoing ancestor-connection project later/over the years.

I found the recipe for rock-cakes my Great-Nana used to make.

I researched Polish foods and created a recipe for stew which fitted.

I bought milk to make mac’n’cheese.

I cleaned house and lit a fire in the hearth.

Fire!

Lighting a candle for Hella who has been a long time presence in my life, and candles for the gods of my traditions and of my ancestors, I set out a cup and biscuits and invited those that wanted to join me in the kitchen to tea.

While cooking I felt them near; bustly, strong, female presences. Making food that nourishes is important work.

My partner and I sat down to eat with a place set for my ancestors, but, until I sat alone with a cuppa and a rock-cake and let my mind still I didn’t feel them clearly as I had in the kitchen. You have to listen to hear, of course.

An acknowledgement.

Recognition that they cannot do other than be part of my foundation, cannot do other than support me – though they could rock that foundation if I don’t act with honour.

A reminder to trust my instincts.

A sense of caring.

I left food out overnight for them to help themselves.

Food!

In the morning, I was surprised to see the teacup was still full of tea. Seemed to me that, really, it should have been empty…

Run, Run! – or The Beltane Fire Festival

18 Tuesday May 2010

Posted by Haloquin in Magic

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Devotion, Faery, Faery Queen, Journey, Living Life, Ritual, Scotland, Storytelling, Strangeness of Life

Go! Go!

The May Queen has passed!

We watched her, saw her, ascend, descend over the steps before us.

We watched, saw, the fire-lighters start the nied fire.

We watched, we saw, the path cut through the crowd, past us, past us, the procession moved past us.

We ran!

Run! Run!

Do not lose her! Never lose her!

We ran, ran, over the grassy hill, down a tunnel of bodies bemused by the sudden space where magic had passed us.

And found ourself stopped. In the cold. Behind the wall of blue-faced men who told us no.

Stopped. Lost. Cold.

No. We smiled. No. We can say no too.

We said no, said yes.

Our band of fey-folk flew apart, found our places. Mine and hers, my beltane-friend, our place was running!

We followed the Queen, she led our hunt!

We flew, cross the hill, round and about, past people bemused, over rocks and dips that lifted us gently over their treachorous forms (one fey-folk twisted her ankle, others sat with the stillness of the rocks holding their bones, we, somehow, flew unscathed, the earth herself letting us pass).

We flew! Flew! From space to space, always, just and perfectly, keeping pace.

For long stretches we flew beside her, so close as to almost touch her, but always striving to respect the boundary which kept her safe. (So grateful, I am, to the blue-faced folk that kept us all at bay. So grateful, while I longed to touch her. So grateful for that line, uncrossable, sacrosanct.)

Sometimes the crowd became too tight, too close, too confused, and we flew away, to the edges, still running.

Time and again we let the stillness touch us. I pointed the direction, she led the way. Together we flew, together, mapping out  a perfect path.

At every space the procession stopped we found a niche, once the fire-space came upon us unexpectedly and we watched, entranced, by the spinning flames and the red-people charging, the white-people keeping the line, the line that must be crossed. The pain of division.

We saw Him die and rise again, his dance frenzied in the strobe-light of camera-flashes.

Their kiss, love shining from them like a star.

The red and white, chaos and order, together, united, in love.

Each element, a gift in themselves.

The whole path winding round and round, the serpent of great Beltane found.

We watched, we flew, we laughed.

We were touched by madness, running in the wake of her winter-hunt, running like the joyous hounds of hell as the sun-fire rose and burned away the last of the winter’s dark.

We ran, flew, followed… and we rejoiced.

The fire festival, a ritual carving its own space through a crowd, deliberately confused.

This was no mere spectacle, but a marvelous sacrifice of life to life for life in life.

Life rises like the sun.

The May Queen blessed us all.

The fires of our hearts ignite as the sun kisses our skin, and they will never die.

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