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I’ve been hesitant to share this story here because I didn’t want anyone to misinterpret it as a sales pitch. As much as I am a full-time tarot pro and therefore constantly in shameless self-promotion mode, my blog here at PaganSquare is about magick, tarot and community, not making sales. 

The thing is, when one is a professional diviner, the classic lines between the magickal and the mundane blur quickly and easily.

The last year was very happy one for me, and full of wonderful travels, meetings with new friends, and blessings were poured like rain.
I really hope that the coming year will be also fulfilling and peaceful; and "let the God/s you honor, will send you everything you wish for, and gives their blessings to your friends, families, children and neighbors"...
For my first post in 2016, I want to share some of my devotional poetry again - written in honor of Thoth-Hermes-Djehuty.

I have my soul
ignited with your light…

*

when I whisper the words of love
I feel your wings
around, protecting me;
when I speak your praises -
it’s the only reason to know how to speak,
when I live for you -
it’s the only reason to remember again,
how to breathe…

Our giant new television came with high definition. While my husband marvelled at the crispness of the picture and the exciting quality of the sports events, I noticed something else. 

The illusion of reality had disappeared.

One of my yoga students approached me after class. She wanted to discuss a scene from a book I’d leant her.

“You know how the author is teaching a yoga class, and one of his students breaks down crying and he cradles her head in his hands and acts as her witness? And then he shows her how to be her own witness?”

I nodded.

“Well I was wondering if you could that for me?”

Sure. No problem.

Home. We don't really know how we feel about it. We may reject the place that raised us and seek to escape its troubling pull. Or we may long for an idealized home and set out to find it. But home is something you can neither escape nor find in its perfection. Rather, “home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” (Robert Frost) We can't avoid the imperfection inherent in living with those we haven't chosen. And even those we choose can disappoint us, and we them.

One of the gods I regularly worship is Hermes, who among his other associations is god of the marketplace, and god of lies.  If you've ever purchased a car, the link between the two shouldn't come as any surprise; lies are part and parcel of what makes money work.  In fact, it's reasonable to argue that money is itself a lie, or built on one.

That does not erode money's influence or role as a holder of energy (value), although the fact that some people avoid money entirely is understandable.  Rather than resist the lies, I prefer to use them to my advantage.

I took an unscheduled blogbatical as we moved into the darkest time of the year, but I have emerged excited that I missed celebrating perhaps the most important historical festival for my patron deity.

Today is when the festival honoring Poseidon, called Poseidea or Poseidonia, was celebrated in antiquity.  It's a reconstructionist's nightmare, because virtually no record of what went on has been discovered, but the good folk of Elaion put together a Poseidonia ritual based on their understanding of what festivals were usually like.  I didn't see the announcement until just after the agreed-upon time to practice apart together, and I was already late for Quaker meeting, so I had Poseidon close to mind as I joined my local Friends in worship.  (I am not a Quaker, although I attend meeting for worship; I have pondered how Quakers and polytheists fit together for awhile now.)