My “It’s All Real” Moment

Names have been changed to protect the moderately innocent.


“Ew, what did he do to you? Are you okay? Is that a bruise?” I’m concerned like I always am. I spend half my day entertaining my fellow classmates and the rest hating them. Those asshole jocks are the worst. I love my best friend. I love him more than my blood. It isn’t his fault he likes dudes.

“More of the same. Just a few fags here and queers there. Plus threaten to beat me up, but not have the balls to do it,” Jamie gives me his bitter smile and I want to hug him, but we are in school and we have images to maintain. Pretty much the only thing keeping him from being bullied hardcore is our united “fuck you” front. People are scared of him even though he’s …well, really petite. His attitude is ten feet tall and I’ve made it very clear I will fuck someone’s day up on his behalf. Fuck. Them. Up.

“George and his lemmings?” I mutter under my breath as I search through my pockets for a pill. It’s been a long hour and a half of classes already and I am ready to check out of active listening.  I would love to catch a buzz, but I’m not brave enough to smuggle weed to school, so pills it is.

“Yeah,” he sees what I am doing and holds out his hand. I only find one, but shrug and give it to him. He’s had a worse day than I have. We’re a strange conundrum. Me wearing goth/grunge and him in tie-dye. Some days it’s opposite, but we’re an odd mix of free love and go fuck yourself.

“I’m thinking of doing something about that. I think he might actually do something to you soon,” my eyes tear up and I blink them away. Bad things have been happening to gay people lately. I think of Matthew Shepard and my heart squeezes. I wish I had kept that pill for myself now. This shit is too much some days and I didn’t do my physics homework. Again. Who has time for Sine, Cosine, and Tangent when life is such a fucking, horrible minefield? He stops at the water fountain and I stand there glaring at everyone. No one is dumb enough to stop and talk to me today.  The hot blonde guy from my AP classes smiles at me and I flip him off. He scurries away and I sigh.

“Yeah. I get that feeling too. I want a fucking cigarette,” he looks at me hopefully. I shake my head in the negative.

“I’m out. Maybe Dana has one? I haven’t seen her all day though. I think she’s skipping to hang out with her new boyfriend.” I pause to worry about my cousin, but let it go.

“Fuck,” he growls. He’s so adorable I want to squeeze him.

“Want to ditch?” I ask hopefully. Only one more year left. One more gods forsaken year…but, Summer is almost here and the walls are closing in on me. Soon we won’t have to deal with this shit for 3 glorious months. I can work and we can hang out all day when I’m not at work and smoke and drink (if we can steal any booze) and meditate at our ritual spot on the hill near my house. Our sort of boyfriend that we share will build bonfires and we can have all sorts of fun under the stars….I shake myself out of that fantasy when Jamie speaks.

“Nah…better not. I don’t have my car today. Mom’s mad about me not coming home all weekend,” he smiles at me I shake my head fondly. I love him.

All day I worry about my best friend in the world and the homophobic assholes that give him shit at our school. I worry and worry and worry, and finally formulate a plan. Jamie and I are witches. We don’t tell anyone though. I mean, he has enough problems as it is. We keep that part of our lives super double secret. Only for us. I told my Dad too, but he doesn’t care. He thinks it is a phase. Of course, Mama Baron (Jamie’s Mom) thinks his whole not liking girls is a phase too…I see her casting me hopeful looks now and then.

I’ve been a witch for a while now. Okay-I’ve been a witch for about 3 years, but I’m getting good. I can cast circles. I can meditate like a mother fucker. I can raise power. I’ve got spell books. And I have a recently acquired book of less than “white” spells…a grimoire that Jamie and I have taken to referring to as “the evil book” because so many of them give us the heebie-jeebies just to read them. I go home and I read through the book. I find a simple spell-a candle spell for warding and protection. It has definite dark elements, but I don’t care at all. I want my friend safe. I want him safe and sound. I want him alive. I want him to be left the fuck alone.

The next morning I get up 2 hours before I usually do to get ready for school. I strip down to my underwear. I figure, I have to show I’m serious and nothing is more serious than nudity before the Lord and Lady, right? I feel worried about using the spell. It seems so…dark. But I light the candle and I begin to chant. I lose track of time completely and chant for a long time raising power. The candles on my altar glow in the early morning darkness of my room.

“Universe send a way to rid my friend of this threat. Rid my friend of this threat, rid my friend of this threat….” Finally, the power builds to a peak. The energy rides me and I can’t stand it any longer. I let it go. I release it into the universe to work my will and collapse exhausted on the floor. I stare at the clock until I am almost too late to catch the bus. In a blind panic I banish the quarters and release the circle before hopping into my pants and scrambling out of the front door.

A day goes by, and nothing. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I begin to feel like an idiot for thinking I have the ability to effect the universe. I don’t tell Jamie what I’ve done. No need for both of us to be disappointed.

That night I spend a long, sleepless night and finally settle down at 3 in the morning. I’m late in the morning and I sleep on the way to school. When we get to the red brick menace of my teen life I stumble off of the bus with a fuzzy head. I need coffee or Mountain Dew or something. I fumble in my pockets for change and I’m standing pressing angrily on a button that isn’t cooperating on the soda machine when Jamie comes up to me with a smile plastered on his handsome face.

“What happened, did you get laid or something?” I mutter irritated. Fucking pop machine. He kicks the machine for me and I rock it. Finally, a satisfying kerplunk and I have my much needed caffeinated beverage in hand.

“Did you hear?” He says in his irritating, awake voice. I grunt and chug the sweet, caffeinated, bubbly goodness.

“George isn’t here!” He is so excited he bounces in place. I pause and spit some of the soda back into the bottle.

“What do you mean?”

“He got bitten by a brown recluse spider and he’s in the hospital. He might die! Isn’t that awesome?” He chatters on and we head for homeroom together. I’m in a daze. Holy shit. Holy, fucking, shit.

It works.

It works.

It’s all real and it all works.

And I might have killed someone. Admittedly, not someone I would miss, but shit.

As it turns out I didn’t, in fact, kill him, but he curiously didn’t bother my best friend after he returned from the hospital. His buddies really didn’t bother him as much either.


This is the real story of how I finally realized that I have the ability to utilize a power, and I am responsible for it. I have never done any workings of any kind without the harm none clause since that day. This is the real story of how I figured out that IT IS ALL REAL. The Gods are real, the energy is real, and I am not crazy. Little did I know I would have to learn this lesson a second about the Gods for it to stick. I may work up the courage to write out that story soon. I’m not sure though. It is a bit raw for me.

Only the names have been changed to protect identities.



It’s ALL UPG-Another Late Night, I Should Be Sleeping, Mini-Rant

I grew up in the craft as a Wiccan. As a Wiccan there are “right” and “wrong” ways to do things. Your alter belongs at the Northern or Eastern point of the circle. You always cast a circle and call the corners before ritual. There are specific items that belong on your altar. I could go on, but I won’t. Over the years I’ve read authors whom I didn’t much enjoy. I would have to say that Silver Ravenwolf was one of them. There was just too much fru-fru everything is lightness and joy going on there. Also, she didn’t cover important things in her teen books that I really needed like grounding and centering. For me, her books were utter crap. I’ve railed against them for years.

Tonight I came to the realization that her books aren’t crap. They’re perfectly fine books. They were just crap for me.

There are some undisputable good ideas in all of “the craft”-casting protection before major workings, elemental tables that have been compiled over centuries from various sources, pretty much anything that is a compilation of hard won knowledge is important-but, BUT, for the most part it is someone else’s UPG. I’m not saying I’m going to ditch casting circles, but if I work with a plant extensively and it is listed as falling into the domain of water elements and for me it feels like fire…I should use it as a fire correspondence. For me. Depending on what I am doing.

Every bit of the craft, even the fundamentals, is based on UPG. A lot of it is corroborated UPG-stuff that works for everyone, but we shouldn’t be discounting our own gnosis for spellwork. We should be documenting and altering our spellwork according to our own experiences.

It’s all UPG.

I’ve wasted a lot of energy being disgruntled over  what I considered to be half assed advice in the past. No more. I simply won’t recommend books that I feel are subpar to my friends and anyone I am teaching, but I no longer think I feel the need to rail against them. My way is my way. My way is not necessarily better or worse than another.

The Snippets Shall Become SOMETHING

I’ve decided that I am going to make the snippets a story. Two First Person POV’s (I think). I’m going to have it open with this bit that I wrote forever ago. I think I was channeling. *grins*

I’m in my club. The place where I come to unwind. My haven and my <hell.  It's too dark and the strobing lights flash too bright across my corneas. I imagined what it would be like to throw myself to the ground and have a fake seizure.

Too much work.

The music pulses steadily and mechanically in a way that no human could ever produce. The techno lacks the passion of a human being. The minions of the speed scene move in time, compelled, compulsed, by the beat to push their sweaty bodies against one another; the straining erections and over-stimulated central nervous systems of the drug drenched driving everyone to do things that they would normally reserve for a bedroom, or at least a dark alley. The writhing mass of humanity is both alluring and revolting at the same time. I want to be in the center of the crush surrounded by groping hands and tongues and grinding bodies almost as much as I wanted to set fire to the building and watch them scramble for safety. Like dropping a rock into a pond. Will the ripples would catch me if I do something so drastic?

I smile into my Vodka tonic and shake my head. My, how I hate humans sometimes. But I’m not here for them. I’m here for him.


Prey-The Initial Meeting for the Snippet of Things Loki Convinces Me to Write When I am Working

The tall, tan redhead with the dreads isn’t here tonight. He watches me over his glass. I’ve never seen anyone who can look, but not look, and still be eye fucking me the way this guy does. He has long, slim fingers. He uses them to cradle his glass in a graceful way that reminds me of dancers and royalty.

Jack on the rocks. Every Wednesday for the last 6 months he has come here, to the club where I work, to drink and stare. He isn’t the first customer to give me the wandering eye. As a bartender, I’m used to chasing off the stray amorous advance, but this…his eyes. They’re always on me and I swear sometimes they aren’t normal. Sometimes they flash an odd golden green before settling back to a darker human shade.

2 months ago when I handed him his drink I noticed that when they’re normal his eyes are a very pretty shade that might be described as hazel with a ring of grey and starburst of hunter green surrounding his pupils. Our fingers touched and I had to work with a hard on for the next 45 minutes.  

I’ve never told my boyfriend about him. Jack on the rocks. The master of the eyefuck. He’s my little secret. He looks and I pretend not to notice him looking. One drink and then he disappears. Even though every twitchy fiber of my body seems attuned to his presence from the moment he arrives in the building I’ve never seen him leave. I always turn to check on him and find a 10$ tip and a dirty glass. I would say he’s a ghost, but they don’t drink and they definitely don’t tip.

It’s like clockwork.

Tonight is different though. It’s Wednesday again, and I’ve worked the entire shift without a visit from my favorite customer. At the end of the night I’m staring at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. I brush my curly brown hair out of my bright blue eyes with a small sigh. Probably time for a hair cut, but I never seem to have the time. I’m tired and my solid shoulders have a slump. I rub my eyes and sigh again, wishing I were already home and in the shower. Wishing I were happy. Wishing I were not so depressed at not seeing a customer who never even talks to me.

I’m doing a last check of the club. The cleaning crew will be in to de-funk the sticky, grungy dance floor in the morning. The black, granite bar is polished to a high glossy shine. All of the glasses are clean and in order. I check to make sure everything is restocked and ready for tomorrow when a throat clears behind me.

“Jack on the rocks,” the low voice sizzles down my spine. I jerk my head around and there he is. My hands shake as I pour him a drink and slide it to him. He nods in thanks and tips it quickly down his throat. He doesn’t linger over it.

“This won’t stop once it starts,” his voice has a sandpaper edge, but it melts like butter on my ears and causes heat to pool in my groin.

I nod. I don’t see him move. One moment he is on his stool, one hand propping up his chin, and the next a hot tongue is pressing the last drops of whiskey from his glass into my mouth. In a whirl, he’s gone and I’m left hard and panting staring stupidly around myself at the empty, lonesome night club. I shake myself. If it weren’t for the taste of whiskey in my mouth I might be able to convince myself I’d been hallucinating.

If it weren’t for the taste of whiskey I might be able to sleep tonight.

Not Crazy

I’ve been having an unusual phenomenon from the spirit corner these days. Occasionally, I have the random thought that maybe I am crazy or maybe Loki really is dangerous to my sanity. Whenever I have those thoughts I get a projection of a rabid dog/clawing slashing canine-esque monster.

“This is what you think of me?” He seems to be asking.

No, certainly not, but I reserve the right to consider danger and to wonder if I’m tip toeing down the path towards the loony bin every once in a while.

“You’re not,” He reassures me.

…only it isn’t always reassuring when an incorporeal being assures you He is real and that you aren’t crazy.


If You Ask Loki for Something Be Prepared To GET IT NOW

I’ve wanted to move for a while. The other day I REALLY wanted to move. I seethed and raged about wanting to move. I muttered and bitched and felt sad because I’m not near my friends.

Loki overheard. I didn’t ASK, ask Him to get me back where I want to be, but He is nothing of not perceptive, and He takes care of the people He loves. He is a caring, loving, sort of God. Sometimes His love is the kind that makes you want to thump your head against a wall.  

His answer to my dilemma? (I live 100 miles away from the city I fell in love with while I was in college.) Have the person we are living with decide to sell their house RIGHT NOW. With no warning there were realtors in my home talking about the fact that they could move the place exceptionally quickly. As in, the woman knew a person who might want the house the minute she stepped foot outside of the door.

…My life is a red, hot, stressful mess right now.

Thank You, my sweetest friend, for the chaos You’ve tossed me into. More than diamonds or gold I wanted to be back in the city where I will be closer to my friends.

Hail The Gift Bearer! Hail Loki!

Many Paths Lead to God-The Madness Path Leads to YOUR God

I will start this post by saying I haven’t dug around online looking for Heathens or Pagans that do what I do beyond a small group I found when I was initially smacked upside the head by Lord Loki, God of Mischief, Muse, God of Flipping My Life On Its Ear. I have been sifting through some blogs here and there and thinking about the things that the group I talk to discusses day to day. This post arose from several different intersecting lines and Loki grabbing me by the face and rubbing my nose in my personal fears and fascinations.

From my admittedly limited experience in the world of direct divine communication and friendships with people who ALSO have direct divine interactions I am slowly gaining the understanding that there seem to be several “paths” that one can take on the road of spirit work where one undertakes lessons to improve oneself, satisfy and worship the Gods, and help the community. There are probably an unlimited amount of permutations each of these paths could take and they can overlap, but at least as far as the Heathen/Northern Trad/General Pagan Paths seem to go this is what I’ve come up with.

I will begin with the person who simply tosses a Hail out to the Gods, burns some incense, and mostly likely has sporadic direct communication or perhaps never has direct communication with the Gods. Either they don’t want to or it wouldn’t be useful in this life for one reason or another, or maybe they will later, but they don’t right now. I don’t really have a name for these people other than lay Heathen or lay Pagan, to borrow from Christian terminologies that most of us are familiar with.

There is the path of the Devotee. The Devotee is someone who may or may not have direct communication with a deity, though this person has chosen to worship a specific deity or dieties  within a specific tradition. They may have been prompted or they may have chosen the deities they worship on their own. As far as I can tell a Devotee is not necessarily Oathed to a specific deity even if they spend their time in adoration of said deity or group of deities.


There is the Path of the Sacred Mother, which seems to often be tied together with Sacred Queenship (& perhaps Kingship)/Sovereinty/Godspousery. These paths all seem to be tied to caring for others, the land, the people of the community, and ourselves in a way that does honor to the gods, our ancestors, and our inner divinity. To be a Sacred Mother I believe one must actually have bourn a child on the astral or on the mundane plane at some point in your spiritual evolution, in other words not necessarily during this life time. To me Sacred Motherhood is a healing path. The Sacred Mother instinctively is capable of helping others patch themselves back together, control their energy flow, and is generally an even keeled person, but they are also easily able to tap into the universal power of creation. The ability to tap into the universal creative power MAKES them the best sort of spiritual healer because they can create or manipulate present energy into the energy the person or land (or whatever) they are trying to heal most needs. Sacred Motherhood can easily be tied to Sacred Sovereignty because there are elements of being tied to the community and other things that cross over, but I’ve decided Sacred Motherhood is different because it isn’t bound to Oathes and it isn’t bound to service or even necessarily the elements or the land. Divine Motherhood taps into the universal womb of creation. You can be a Divine Mother (and I haven’t considered this one much, but if there is a Divine Motherhood there MUST be a corresponding Divine Fatherhood) and a Sacred Sovereign, but just because you are on The Path of Sacred Queenship or Kingship doesn’t automatically mean that you have the ability to tap into the same energies as a person who finds themselves in the position of the Motherhood Path. I would say that though both Paths incline a person to service the Sacred Mother would be less likely to be compelled to help others by the Gods and more likely to be a naturally helping person already in their lives. Not that the Gods won’t utilize us and our natural talents for their purposes.

I feel like I’m starting to get muddy, so I will move on.

There is the Path of Sacred Sovereignty (Queenship/Kingship). This path seems to tie in closely to Godspousery, but I think it would be possible to have one without the other. In Godspousery a person has married a deity-there are many ways to do it I’m sure, but …think married. They are in service to the deity they are married to and they love that deity. They learn from them and have frequent interactions with them which can range from physical feelings of touching and direct communication to occasional interaction, but the core of Godspousery seems to be daily devotion and real love from both the deity for the human and from the human to the deity. Like every marriage they can have their ups and downs, but they seem to be harder to break than a mundane marriage and just because the human is irritated and DONE with the whole thing doesn’t mean the deity in question will be. Along with Oathing I would think a sacred marriage would be one of the areas where I would be most cautious in committing myself because-some things reverberate beyond this life time. A sacred marriage I suspect is definitely one of those things. Sacred Sovereignty comes when a person is on a leadership path. Perhaps the leadership is personal and not public-learning to be a better person, a considerate person and do things that take into account the benefit of doing things fro more than just yourself. Also, this can be tied into the elements-the land, air, water bodies, or in my case I believe the celestial bodies is where I am tied. There is a LOT more to it, but I think this bare bones enough for this discussion.

Can you believe I haven’t even talked about what I was originally setting out to talk about yet? All of the paths I have talked about about seem to be widespread as far as the infinitely small percentage of the population spirit workers account for-at least in the Northern Traditions, but I’ve read about and heard of Godspouses from other pantheons/traditions as well. A lot of my information is filtered heavily through Lokeans (imagine that…Hail Loki!), and almost all of my direct experience has been with Himself, Angrboda, and Fenris. I mentioned all of this stuff so I could talk about The Madness Path. I am not naïve enough to consider that only Lokeans can utilize the Madness Path in coming fully into themselves and the worship of the divine, but I do believe that Lokeans, as the people of a decidedly bent deity to begin with, are more open about talking about their problems and more accepting of those with problems than average paganism and heathenry-Mental, Physical, and Spiritual problems.

I’ve been getting prompts lately to consider what a madness path might mean. Not that I should be taking one, but whether or not I already have. There’s a thought. Have I already travelled The Madness Path? The Madness Path seems to be thus: Go Crazy for a while. Go completely, off the deep end crazy. Destroy your life as you know it. Rebuild into a stronger, better, faster-solid and unshakable you. And since you’ve already been crazy JUST BEING YOU isn’t frightening any more. Because hell, you’ve been crazy. I don’t think that a person has to be institutionalized or in therapy to have travelled The Madness Path.

Being crazy-losing myself completely-is a horrifying and frightening concept for me, but I think it is so frightening because I have done it already. I have changed my entire person for another’s pleasure and had to dig around and find myself and rebuild. I have beaten myself into the dirt in the pursuit of scholarship. I’ve starved my body and beaten myself up at the gym. I took almost 10 years of my life to make every conceivable poor choice available to me and I did. I’ve created my own hell and come back to be a reasonable person. I would say I’m even more level headed for having done those things, but it takes looking back to see my actions and the way I was feeling for the madness it was. I didn’t feel crazy at the time, even though I was doing things that a person who was good with themselves wouldn’t do. I think that is part of the trouble with a Madness Path. You don’t know you’re on it till you are done travelling it. I also don’t think that The Madness Path is meant to be a life long, indefinite path. I think most people travel it for a while-to greater and lesser degrees. Everyone has a time in their life where they break apart. What makes the times when you fall apart The Madness Path is what you build from the ruins around you. If you fall apart and stay apart you continue on the path. If you fall apart and build a staircase you climb it to another, more stable, less ego centric path.

I am terrified of The Madness Path I think not because I couldn’t travel it, but because I have travelled it and only a crazy person would want to revisit the worst part of their lives. The lessons we learned during that time are invaluable, however, and that is why I believe they lead us to our personal Gods. Those lessons do a great deal to let us know what we ultimately want to be in the universe and in our lives. I think Loki, being a deity unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, takes advantage of The Madness Path and those on it more frequently than others. He’s not afraid to get down into the trenches and get his hands dirty. He will help you make a huge mess of your life, but then he’s also good enough to help you start digging out as well. Most of the time. Unless you need to do it yourself.

I’m not sure if he was holding my hand while I dug out of my problems, but I can see his touches here and there when I was making my messes. I also want to say that The Madness Path can be joyful. I was happy making my messes and grinding myself into the dirt. I was ecstatic. Until I spiraled into darkness.

But I found my way out. I graduated from college. I met my soul mate. I came into my understanding of the Gods. I became fully MYSELF and care less about what other people think than I would have if I hadn’t travelled my path and fully explored my own Madness.

Loki says I’m starting to ramble and I agree, so I will part with this:

I don’t think we need to fear The Madness because chances are we won’t realize we are dealing with it until it is over.