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Mabh, bring us together;

Mabh, bring us through.

Here at Temple of the Moon, we offer twice daily the old tribal prayers for the welfare of the People: that we may have well-being, that we may prosper, that our numbers may increase.

The first and last prayers of each offering are addressed, of course, to Earth: for us, the beginning and end of all things.

In this time of brokenness, when so much that we know and love is overturned, as we walk a long, Dark Way, I find myself adding to the customary prayers, two more:

Mabh, bring us together;

Mabh, bring us through.

Naturally, they address Earth, our beloved Earth. Who better to call on than the Mother, out of our deepest need?

They call to her by her sacred love name, her name of power, voiced as MAHV: a name of Birth, close-open-close, and the Breath of Life within. This name I had from my teacher, Tony Kelly, many years ago. Call her by this name, and give her your kiss of love—Love to you, my Mabh—and she will take you into her secrets.

Has anybody else noticed that there's nary a vegetable bouillon cube to be found at the stores?

I know, I know. Vegetable bouillon cubes are outré, taboo to serious cooks. Well, la-dee-da.

Me, I like them. They're quick, they're easy and, when you cook vegetarian, tossing one in can add that extra layer of base flavor that makes the difference between good and really good.

But—dammit—there aren't any to be had.

I ran out just before Thanksgiving. Since then, I've looked for more every single time that I've been at the store.

Ix-nay.

Then I discovered the reason why.

You know all those baby-eating cannibals that the Q-Anon election-deniers are so worried about?

“Never trust a man with horns on his hat.”

(Granny Weatherwax)

Yes, it's true: I did meet Old Hornie in the woods at the age of 16.

And no, I'm not going to tell you about it.

I'm not going to tell you about my most intimate sexual experiences, either.

No: those stories, and that story, is, and are, mine to me, not for other ears. This much I will tell you, though: what happened then changed me forever.

You can always tell a newbie by her eagerness to recount—usually at length—her Expeeeeriences. After you've been around for a while, you learn that everybody has had their own. You also learn that you can distinguish the real ones because they're the ones that people don't talk about.

Now there's a fine paradox for you.

Here's the irony: you don't talk because you don't have to. You've been there, you know it was real, and those In the Know can see the changes that it wrought. The eyes will tell you the truth of it. The changes are the story.

Tap Into Your Own Feline Energy Through Black Cat Art

Have you ever marveled at how cats are able to stare at you, unblinking, for extended periods of time? At times they seem to stare at nothing at all yet stay extremely focused in doing so! Other times, they just appear totally Zen in the moment. They are not asleep– but their eyes are closed, a slight smile playing on their furry lips, totally at peace. They sleep, eat, and certainly play when they need to. They are natural born hunters, in touch with their wild sides. The most wild of all domesticated animals, and the most worshipped and revered pets since the times of ancient Egyptians, cats seem to have it all going for them. They know how to communicate to get what they want (sometimes in the form of naughty early morning meowing for their food). They also know how to show affection. Who doesn’t love a friendly head butt combined with loud purring? Let’s face it– cats are cool. Who wouldn’t want to be one?

Aside from a pact with the Horned One, the secret to good health, long life, and eternal youth is to eat lots and lots of fresh vegetables: hence my decades-long Evil Plot to Get the Pagan Community Eating More Fresh Vegetables.

Not that it's been hard, you understand. Everybody likes good vegetables. In modern paganism's Potluck Culture, the bowl is always empty by the time I bring it home.

I first discovered Purple Pickle years ago while living in the Middle East. Every pickle-seller down at the souk would always have huge, eye-grabbing jars of pickled cabbage and cauliflower that glowed a radioactive neon-purple color.

Gods, I'd think. I don't know what they put in there to make it that color, but I don't think that it's something I want to eat.

More the fool, me. The dye, of course, is all perfectly natural.

Oh, and as for that pact with the Horned: let me recommend it.

Vegetables aside, it sure has worked for me.

Old Warlock's Purple Pickle

One of the reasons we don't call Modern Minoan Paganism (MMP) a reconstructionist tradition is that we don't have any texts from Minoan times that we can read to learn how the people of ancient Crete worshiped. Reference texts are a fundamental part of the reconstruction process in many traditions. Why don't we have that resource for MMP?

The Minoans were a literate people; we just can't read what they wrote.

Dear Moon Muser,
In the darkness a seed is being born.

What is it you need?
beauty
love
solace
protection
a home?

Enter this New Moon Time with me...
and feel Her blessings.

I share with you this chickweed vision and this lefty and mantra from my oracle deck.

Give yourself a moment, a blessing, and love.

May your ancestors guide you, as always.

Luv,
Kathy Crabbe
Channeled at the New Moon in Capricorn on Jan. 12, 2021.