the little witch 4

Leaving a bad situation is good, but the further away I got, in time and in actual distance the more I could clearly see how very bad it was. How did I get away? How did I not crawl up and die? How did I change my destiny?

One word... Magic.

What is Magic you might ask? Magic is different for everybody. People have different names for Magic. Let me first say that I have heard people speak of their own Magic, using their own words. Sometimes people use the word Magic... I am sure you have heard something like this described to you before.

"The weather was warm as I sat on my beach chair wiggling my toes in the sand watching the sun slowly setting in the purple and pink sky. I was tuning my radio when on came my favorite song. I leaned back and as I looked up again to watch the sun touch the sea, there you were... standing right in front of me, smiling, and then hearing your voice say; that is my favorite song."

"When we met, it was like magic."

Because it is. Magic is the All, working in perfect order. It is being present. It is in prayer and is part of giving and receiving. It is a blade of grass and it is an airplane. Did I lose you there?

Well, think about everything that had to happen to grow that single blade of grass. I mean everything. The living dirt (yes dirt is alive) air, sun, water, root systems and seed, birth and death, all there in a single blade of grass. Now think about that single blade of grass and imagine the complications, of insects and ice ages droughts, floods and fires. Yet there it is; growing. Growing among others just like it, and others not quite like it. A whole ecosystem has participated in it's growth, and it.... the blade of grass will participate in your own growth and mine too even though we may never meet. It is part of the whole, the whole world, the whole Universe and the whole Big Bang God thing.

Airplane, same thing. Yes, they might be made by humans, but what is the stuff humans use to make the plane? We didn't pull it out of our asses did we? I mean money doesn't make airplanes, and humans can not take all the credit can we? Also how do those giant things stay way up there? The air, sun, water and dirt has something to do with that... the same elements that helps the blade of grass. The same pulsing beat of a drum way off that makes us all change and grow and move together spinning around in a Universe we know nothing about. OK, we named some planets, and we think there is dark holes out there. But really, we are no closer to the mystery than we are studying a blade of grass, or an airplane, or a soul.

We are all connected. We are connected to those we hate as much as those we love. Tough one eh? It is for me. I would rather think I am only connected to the sparkly people. When I feel a connection with a kind stranger who might offer a smile, I most likely would call it magical far more quickly and often, then say a stranger who just cut me off in traffic. Right? The sparkly people a magical.

But, what if that person who cut me off on purpose then made me and five seconds delayed, making it so I had to stop at that next red light and therefor was three more minutes later down the road missing the huge car accident just a few minutes ahead of me. Do I have a connection to that person? Yes or no? Certainly I was saved from being hurt or killed in that accident by the driver that cut me off only 5 minutes before. You know, the one I growled at.

Magic is in the finding the reality of the connective-ness we all share. That means the nice sparkly people (hey you all) and the people in my life who hurt me, who were unkind, or uncaring, or unthoughtful, or whatever. Not sparkly.

Magic in it's purest form is the connection, finding it, naming it, embracing it, celebrating it, honoring it and sometimes, letting it stay and letting it go. It is the flow. Yes. Magic saved me. What is next? I can't wait to find out. So far it has been quite a ride.

So if you wonder why I have so much joy for the simple things, it is because they are indeed quite magical. I don't use that term loosely either.

More to come on this subject. It seems I am on a roll.

the collective

~crow

the little witch, 1

This is a story about a little witch.

As I wrote about before in "little me", I don't know much about my ancestors. Recently seeing picture of relatives, and even of myself for the first time has sprung something wide open. I have been thinking about how this is probably why I love and covet things that are old. I gather other people's history, and make it mine by placing it in my home. I gather, I collect. Not on a broad scale, but I do love old objects. They make me feel connected to a history. Last year I started to collect old photos of priests and Nuns. You will see how that ties in further on. But now, I have some provenance, even if it is in a two notes, and some scanned photos.

As I wrote in "little me" connections with my Father's side of the family was pretty well wiped out after my parents divorce, (thank god they divorced, or more like myself and my four siblings were abandoned by my Father.) The passing of my Grandfather sealed it. His wife, my grandmother died when I was young. I have only distant glimpes to that side. I do know that my paternal Grandfather was a Minister. I remember being baptized by him. I remember looking down at a crisp white envelope I was holding in my hand and wondering what he gave me. I guess that might have been my baptism certificate, something I never saw again. My Grandfather was a Preacher man. My Grandmother was a Preacher's wife, she was also a Mother and an Artist.


On my Mother's side there has been an even more severe cut off to the past. It is rumored in my family, that my Maternal Grandmother was the child of a Catholic Priest and Nun. She was raised by her "Aunts" who were her Mother's sisters. They were Scottish, from the McGraths that came here to America. I don't have any history, as it was always vague. Were they my real Aunts? Everyone thinks so. Luckily, my Grandmother was a huge part of my life. She was the coolest Grandma ever. She drove her cherished Chevy Camaro even at age 80. She loved listening to police radios, square dancing, and she was certified in nautical navigation and in ham radio communications.  I remember her loving the Micheal Jackson tape I brought and played at her Summer house. She said it had a real good beat, and really got into it. She smoked ciggarettes, but said she didn't inhale (way before Clinton said that) Her name was Marie, no middle name. Just Marie. I remember when her Siamese cat had kittens in my bed. We we were sharing a room while she lived with us for awhile. I raced across the state in the middle of the night when I got a call that she had fell ill and was dying. I didn't make it in time to the hospital to say good -bye, but I did sit there with her lifeless body, smiling at her spirit. I loved her, and was very close to her. My Paternal Grandfather, died when I was very young. Not much was spoken about him. He was not a nice man. Perhaps someday, I will find out the heritage there. But his surviving daughters, my Mother and my Aunt, do not speak of him. I know why. My Mother remarried a man, my Stepfather, who is also a son of a Preacher. Interesting. The patterns.


So, I am the Granddaughter of two Preachers, and a Great Granddaughter of both a Priest and a Nun. This is sort of connected to my last blog entry "real live witches!" This begins my story of how I became to know who I was, under all of the fear, shame and pain. I hit bottom, and picked myself back up. I slowly began to realize my path, and it saved my life. When I say saved my life, I mean it. When a young girl is sexually, physically and emotionally abused by the very person who is supposed to be there to protect her, a part of her spirit gets broken forever. It also sets her up for more abuse. It is what she knows. It is the familiar.

This is the account about how I picked up all of the pieces, landing on my two feet, reaching my hands up to the sky, and breathing in all that was meant to be.Writing all of this out will be a challenge for me, but I am up to it.  I will have to do this in small parts, so this is the start. The story of how I found that I had something holy pulsing through my veins.I inherited a certain something, that can't be fully explained, but I will do my best to express my truth to you, if you want to listen. Events that happened before I even knew about these ancestors.

What made you, you?

the preacher's wife

the lost art

~crow

water

Water is what we are made of. I am sure you have heard the human body contains anywhere from 55% to 78% water depending on body size. Water is also where we live, being that the earth is covered by 70.9% of water on the Earth's surface.

Water, as a life force is an interesting element to study.

Water has been viewed as a feminine element for centuries. Ancients believed water to be of a feminine energy. It was also associated with the Goddess.  The inverted triangle symbol has been used to represent water, as it is associated with the shape of the womb. .


Water is connected to the West, and is associated with healing and purification. Holy water is used in nearly every spiritual path.

Water is a force to be reckoned with. As we have seen recently in the floods of the Mississippi river and it's tributaries. Water goes where it wants to and cannot be stopped, although humans have been trying to fight it's forces forever.

But if we do not fight it, and begin to understand that water is, who we are, and where we live, we can then dismiss our minds for a moment to absorb this: How water reflects our consciousness. This article by Wellness Goods has some great photos comparing microscopic samples of water molecules from the book, Messages from Water by Japanese researcher and visionary, Masaru Emoto. The photos speak for themselves. I remember in the movie What in the Bleep Do We Know?, starring Marlee Matlin, touching on the same subject.

Basically they take a microscopic photo of a water molecule, then they pray to it, or threaten it, or play different music to it (the water) then take another photo after. The photographs are amazing, and I would be hard pressed to find a non-believer of this data. It is quite amazing. Water, that is.

This is one of the basis of my theory of "magic". That you can change some things in your life by the pure will to do so. The only tool you need is belief. You have to believe it is going to happen, or it doesn't.

Now, if water can be changed (quite beautifully) by a prayer or music, imagine if we tapped into that source. Think about all this water, and what we as a people can do, simply by being a connected energy force.

But we are humans, and we are conditioned not to believe in the magic we knew as children. Adulthood ravages our pure intuition and belief in the spiritual and physical source that flows through us and through the universe.

Come on you un-believers.

~crow