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Shortly after my mom died, the goddess Sigyn told me our relationship would change soon. She did not elaborate, but I did not have long to wait.

(To recap: I became sworn to Freya in college, and Freya gave me to Sigyn a few years ago.) About a week or so after mom passed on, Sigyn told me I was free. She assured me that she would always be part of my life, and she would help me through my grief and would still send butterflies sometimes, but I no longer belong to her. I would never need her again the same way I needed her while caring for mom. This is a grief unlike any other. I would now grow closer to another goddess.

A friend of mine insists that her dog is pagan.

Well, if one defines “pagan” as “following the thews (customs, life-ways, religion) of one's thede (= tribe, people),” I guess I could buy it. Witches (insofar as we follow anything) follow the Witch religion, dogs follow the Dog religion. I would imagine that the Dog religion is a pretty basic biological religion, with an ethical code strongly based on loyalty.

Rather like human paganism at its best, actually.

Then, of course, there's the Kitty-Cat religion. I'm certainly not privy to the inner mysteries here, but so far as I can tell, Cat religion is monotheistic.

There's one god, and it's Me.

Maybe that's where the Abrahamics got it from. This would fit with my theory that monotheism is essentially narcissism writ large.

I'm playing here, of course, but the question is a serious one: can animals—let me be specific and say non-human animals here—be said to have religion? The answer, of course, would depend on how one defines “religion.”

A Reptilian Massacre Continued:

Because these six higher dimensional women knew the science of transferring consciousness, they transferred their spirit, their essence into their 13 trained priestesses, as they were massacred. So that it would not be lost (the knowledge that they, the six, carried).

In traditional societies as far removed as Zuñi Pueblo of the American Southwest and the Kalasha valleys of what is now northwestern Pakistan, the Winter Solstice is marked—among other activities—by footraces.

I've long wondered why this would be so, but this morning—watching the Sun leap up over the horizon—it suddenly occurred to me why.

It's sympathetic magic. The Sun is a runner.

Every day, the Sun walks across the Sky. Even on the day of his birth, he walks from one horizon to the other. Well, he's a god; he can.

(During the Bronze Age, when we became a Horse People, people began to say that the Sun drove across the sky daily in his chariot. In those days, nobles and warriors rode horses and drove chariots, unlike us common folks who walked; when we rode, it was in ox-carts. Surely, went the logic, the Sun was more like nobility and the warrior-kind: hence his chariot. These days, though, we understand that to walk is more sacred than to ride.)

Three-some weeks until the Evenday and his due Eastern rising. This morning he came up still considerably south of east.

“He'll have to run to catch up,” I thought.

Aha.

There have been a few moments in the last few months where I feel I have come close to losing it. As I look over my journal I notice a secret language of symbols - flames, birds or mighty bolts of lightning - which hint at what was going on. 

In the dream, Katie and I are at Paganicon when Pete Buttigieg walks by.

(Actually, the entire coven is there, but apparently the rest of them are somewhere else at the time.)

We're standing by the bleachers (!) when this happens. (Remember, we're in Dream Country. In real life, there are no bleachers anywhere near the P-Con hotel.)

Katie greets Buttigieg and, remembering us, he returns the greeting. Apparently we had encountered him previously and invited him to a coven meeting. As he's tendering his regrets and explaining why he won't be able to make it (too busy with the campaign), I slip my arm around his waist and sit him down next to me on a bleacher.

(Even in the dream, I can't imagine doing this to any other presidential candidate. That he's gay too, and kind of cute, lends a certain intimacy to our interactions, there's no denying it.)

I notice as I do so that he's getting pudgy. “Too much bad campaign food,” I think.

Well, dreams are dreams, and reality is reality. But mark my words, for what I say is true.

Some of us, like me, are not all that crafty so simplicity is key. This 3 ingredient recipe takes all the fuss and muss away so you even enjoy the process of creating your own calming balm. This concoction will not only soothe and nourish our skin but it also is very good for your soul. Gather up the following: 

• 1 cup shea butter
• ½ cup almond oil
• 1/2 cup coconut oil
• 15 drops each of 2 neroli and vanilla essential oils
• Double boiler and water
• Wooden spoon and whisk
• Small Clean jars with lids, 4 ounce

Melt shea butter and coconut oil in the top of a double boiler. Remove from heat and let cool for 30 minutes. Add in the almond oil (you can substitute olive oil, jojoba oil, any organic, liquid oil that is organic.) After experimenting a good bit, I discovered that the fresh and lightly citrus scent of neroli in combination with vanilla is extremely comforting and also tremendously relaxing, It is so pleasing, you may even consider using it as a perfume. I

 Stir in almond oil and blend. When the l oils start to partially solidify, add in 15 drop each of the essential oils. Stir in, and then whip the mixture until a butter-like consistency is achieved which will only taka few minutes. If you’re like me, you immediately try it on your own skin so do indulge yourself, you earned it!