PaganSquare.com - WitchesAndPagans.com

I’ve been thinking about the ancestors a lot lately; it’s that time of year. In fact, they’ve even asserted themselves when I wasn’t seeking them, like the day I experienced a vision of a Minoan priestess undertaking a rite of prophecy through the ancestral spirits.

From the earliest times, the Minoans revered their ancestors. At the Autumn Equinox they held celebrations of the dearly departed, feasting and performing rituals in the shadows of the beehive-shaped tholos tombs where their ancestors’ remains were interred. They probably also honored the ancestors at grain harvest time, which comes around the Spring Equinox in Mediterranean climates. Some of the Minoan temple complexes had pillar crypts in their "basement" or underground levels, providing another place for offerings and communication with the dead.

Recently, my good friend and Daughter's of Evecolumnist, Crystal Blanton wrote a powerful piece for the Wild Hunt about Ferguson, the shooting death of Mike Brown, the riots, and the wider implication this type of systemic racism. She solicited thoughts from Pagans in the public eye about where and how we can confront, heal, and grow community when events of power, oppression, and racism plague our world. There among the many voices were my friends, New York City activist and witch, Courtney Weber and teacher and New Jim Crow activist, T. Thorn Coyle. For the piece I offered this opinion, which Crystal used to sum up the article:

"I really am struggling with this because I want to believe that love is still the law. I want to believe that humankind is better than this savagery that is power, oppression, privilege, and racism. I want to believe that love is stronger than fear, but I can’t help but know that every mother of a brown child lives in fear that her child will be the next Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin or Mike Brown. In times like this I ask how do we as Pagans lead and be vessels for change? How do we become the Goddess’ conduit?

I used to sing Ani DiFranco's song "As Is" and think of others. Now I think of myself.

And I've got
No illusions about you
Guess what?
I never did
When I said
When I said I'll take it
I meant,
I meant as is.

I have a body. I am a body.

My body is many things. My body is soft and supple. My body is flexible and strong. My body is prone to allergies and skin irritations. My body is ample hips and delicious curves. My body is endometriosis and blond hair. My body is tiny wrists and scoliosis. My body is tattooed kindness and frequent urinary tract infections.

I am soft, supple, flexible, strong, prone to allergies and skin irritations. I am ample hips, delicious curves, endometriosis and blond hair, tiny wrists and scoliosis, tattoos galore and UTIs, too.

My body experiences chronic pain. That's part of being in my body.

I am chronic pain. That's part of being me.

And sure, there are times that I have wished that I didn't have the physical issues I have. It has been comforting to think that someone else's body could not only be tried on, but could fit.

Queen of Swords from the Anna K Tarot by Llewellyn

When making a decision, the Queen of Swords is logical and rational.  She exudes confidence because she knows that she sees every aspect of every possible scenario in any situation.  She is impartial and doesn’t allow emotion to cloud her judgment.  In this card from the Anna K tarot deck, she has both hands on her sword, demonstrating that she has control of her thoughts, not letting them waiver.  Her matter-of-fact attitude can appear just as cold as the winter scene behind her.  When she appears in a reading, you are being told to use critical thinking and be impartial.

This is the second of my series of posts on how I connect to the elements from a Southern Hemisphere perspective living on the western coast of Australia. Previously, I called in Air, in the East.

I now turn to the North, and call in passion, creation, desire, heat: I call to you, o Fire! Standing in the circle, we have already established a sense of presence in the breath of life, the whisper is on the winds, the intention is set, the inspiration has arrived. Fire is called next as it now has the Air to breathe, to ignite a sense of drive into what we do in this space, a flurry of sparks: let's turn that whisper into a roar. 

Compassion spills and overflows
The oceans of my Soul
Each drop moving through
Rivulets of prismatic depths.

A cadence of virtuosity as
Fingers move in pizzicato
Rhythm across ephemeral strings
The sounds of empathetic release.

Seeker of that which is
Just beyond the grasp
Slips like liquid sand through
The funnel of glass measured time.

And Devotion pools at the base
Of sun-parched throats
That willingly endure the pain
To spare another the distress.

Martyr and miracle
Saint and sacrifice
Each flow in opposition
Until the waters clear And the darkened path
Of return is revealed.

Within the shadowy depths
Of quickening waters
Creation heeds the call
As a newly formed compassion
Fills my thirst-quenched Soul.   

The focus of my personal spiritual practice for many years has been the refining of my emotions and the catalyzing of my creative will. The work I’ve had to do to accomplish this has been directed through the process of enlivening my energetic anatomy with the goal of sustaining those resultant changes in physical and manifest expression. For years, I drew on the knowledge base I have of the Eastern practices of breath work, yoga and the Kundalini serpent in combination with magickal workings. These applications worked well, but there was still a large piece missing that felt like a puzzle that has all of the pieces save the one most important end corner. I offered up the hunger I had for a deeper experience to my guides and was called to the Halls of the Egyptian Deities and the wisdom of their ancient alchemy.

Who is she, I asked Maria.  My husband Fred and I were at Maria's studio during our visit to Belize.  We had made a special trip to see her work.  Maria gazed into my eyes and asked: You don't recognize her?

Not answering, I carefully studied the statue--an old woman with a serpent headdress, wearing a skirt decorated with crossbones, and carrying an upside-down water vessel

She spoke to me, I finally said.

You're a healer, Maria said.

I'm a psychologist who sees herself as a seeker.

Healer and seeker are the same.  Both want to heal themselves, Maria replied.  Both want to heal the world.

Can I hold her?  In response, Maria placed the statue in my hands.  As I caressed the figure, Maria looked lovingly: She is IxChel, the Maya goddess of healing, medicine, and midwifery. She is our Mother.

I had gone to Maria's place to see her sculptures. But I found much more than art.