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Queen Catherine of Aragon was sent into exile because she had the nerve to be aging and menopausal.  A popular legend in that particular histo-mythic cycle is that Henry sent her away (sometimes, with Cromwell to do his dirty work for him because that was the kind of stand up guy he’s remembered as) without saying good bye.  She was once married to his older brother Arthur in a castle in the wild but Arthur got sweating sickness and died.  They were only married to each other for a short time.  She then had her first encounter with exile where she lived somewhat modestly (again, accounts vary depending on the histo-mythic teller) and supposedly bargained for fish and sold her plate while her dad and her ex father in law dawdled over what to do with her.  Her father was a war monger with a bunch of kids, he had no problem waiting.  Her ex father in law held his country in a tight fist, he had been exiled so many times by his mother (Lady Margaret Beaufort) that he too could wait.  Neither appeared to find this particularly cruel, and neither did a seasoned politico warrior like Lady M.  Like . . .I get stressed out not knowing what’s going to happen in a day while still being aware of certain potential outcomes.  I don’t know how stressful it is to not know what country you’re going to live in and/or who you’ll be married to.  Queen Cat’s ex father in law drops dead and she is married off to Henry for almost twenty years when she receives the message, u had too many ded babies, lulz.  super soz.  going 2 marry anne bc babies + she is way hot.  she will only put out if i put a ring on it. thx for nearly twenty years of marriage!  Best of luck or whatever.  Or, you know, no message past whatever Cromwell tried to piece together.  Whatever the medieval royal equivalent of dipping out of a pack of cigs was.

She died in exile a little into Queen Anne’s reign, with only a few of her ladies and servants.  Sometimes the wheel (of fortune) is in your favor, sometimes it’s not.  It was for a long time for Queen Cat, but then she never planned for Queen Anne. Partly because I don’t think anyone, even someone who had headed a battle with Scotland like Queen Cat did, could have planned for Queen Anne.

Hey, can I tell you something, one witch to another?

Witches don't dither. Witches decide.

If it's got to be either Yea or Nay, choose one. Weigh the facts and your feelings; consult those whose opinions you respect. All other things being equal, consult divination.

Then make a decision, and own it. Commit. In the end, it may be a good decision or a bad one, but at least you've taken initiative.

In the end, dithering is a refusal of responsibility. I'll let someone else—maybe the “Flow”—decide. Then if it goes wrong, it's not my fault.

But, of course, it is my fault. I could have done something, but I didn't.

I am surprised that the month is already almost over, and what a month it has been. I had been meaning to write since the year end purification festival, known in Japanese as Nagoshi no Oharae (Half Year Purification), or also my shrine, Hantoshi Kansha Sai (Half Year Appreciation Ceremony), but responsibilities, and also tragedies had hit the country, and my priorities had shifted towards these incidents.

I will start from the beginning — that is, at the end of June on the 24th, we held our Half Year Appreciation Ceremony.
At this time, in Shinto traditions, it is a time to reflect on the year so far since New Year’s. It is an important time of renewal — the renewing and reflection of our hearts and souls. It is also to give thanks for the year so far, and to pray for the next 6 months of the year to go well. The date itself varies from shrine to shrine, but this event is usually commemorating the Summer Solstice, or the time around and after the Solstice.

You've probably noticed that every pair of blue jeans has an extra little side pocket sewn in above the right-hand pocket.

You may have heard this called a “watch pocket,” a vestigial sartorial left-over from the days of pocket watches.

Don't believe it. Here's the real story.

Among the ancient Norse, for obvious reasons, it was customary to carry a small image of one's luck-god on one's person. This hlutr-god (hlutr is cousin to English lot, as in drawing lots) would be suspended from the belt in a little pouch of its own.

(Possibly the most famous story about a lot-god in the lore is that of Einarr Skálarglam. Einarr, a Norwegian, was considering a move to Iceland, but hadn't yet made up his mind. In the meantime, the little silver image of his luck-god Frey, which he carried with him at all times, disappeared. Frey appears to Einarr in a dream, and tells him to settle in Iceland after all. “When you dig the hole for your house's king-post, there you'll find my hlutr,” he tells him. Of course, everything turns out exactly as the god says.)

(Incidentally, Einarr's descendants still live on that same farm in Iceland.)

A lot of people ask me how I got into Modern Minoan Paganism and why I'm inspired to write the books and create the art that goes along with that spiritual path. If I'm honest, the Minoan gods and goddesses have been stalking me since I was a teenager and it just took me a while to pick up on their intent - sometimes I'm slow that way. But once I finally got started, all enthusiastic and rarin' to go, I hit a roadblock: There were virtually no resources out there.

Bear in mind, I'm old enough that when I first started researching the Minoans, I had to resort to actual ink-and-paper encyclopedias and history books. And none of those ever had more than a paragraph or two about the Minoans, usually as a sort of side note before the text started talking about the Greeks.

The term “amulet” comes from the Latin word meaning “defense.” Indeed, amulets are a way to protect yourself that dates back from the earliest human beliefs.

I want to introduce you to my lovely Lilly, named after Lilith, our archetype of independence and women's empowerment. Lilly came to my husband, Roy, and I as if by magic.  We were at the vet, picking up the ashes of our beloved Xena, who had only a few weeks before crossed over into the arms of Mothers Bast and Sekhmet.  Sitting in the unusually empty lobby of the vet's office, this kitty suddenly poked her head up over the counter and looked at me, then Roy, then me, again.  I could feel her asking  "Don't you recognize me?"  It was truly remarkable because, a tri-colored torty, she looked just like Xena's sister - Isis - who had passed away months before.  Yes, we lost both our beloved daughters within 6 months, after sharing 20 wonderful years.  We truly felt as if Xena had facilitated this meeting between Lilly, Roy and I from the Other Side.