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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Counsel to One Seeking a Patron God I

Gods make elusive prey.

Hunter, be relentless.

First off, know your forest. Learn the terrain, the trees, the watering-places. Look for where to look.

Then stalk. Note patterns. Hunt with every sense. Follow the spoor, read each subtle sign: the print in the mud, the broken fern, the hank of fur in the bramble. Listen for movement. Snuffle for scent. Trust your hunter's instinct: your feet will find the way.

At times, stalk actively.

At times, quietly wait. Choose the right spot, and your prey will come to you.

When it does, aim and shoot true.

When you do, brace for the arrow to your heart.

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
Form Following Function

When you publish a book, you discover all sorts of interesting things you probably didn't even think of. Even for me, and I'm an aggressive over-thinker. 

Coming up this week, my second book "Sigil Witchery"  will have been officially on the market for two months. I say officially because technically the publisher release date was 1/8/2018, but it came back from the printers a couple weeks early, so we all got an early Solstice present!

It's been extremely well-received, including spending over a month topping the New Releases in Witchcraft and Magic Studies charts on amazon.  I was prepared for a much larger backlash about the method, or other content aspects of the book.  But really, there hasn't been too much of that (that I've seen.) 

But the thing that has surprised me probably the most? 

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Early March is in in-between time. Back on my native South Dakota prairies, March either marked the very subtle beginnings of spring, or heralded one last round of storms where we'd be in Winter's icy grip for a few more weeks. Here in Texas, it's always a toss up as to whether early March will bring chilling rain and wind or high bright days in the 60s. More often than not, it does both in the same week. It's this magickal time in between, where it's not really Winter anymore but it's not yet Spring, and we start to think about planting but hesitate in case one last freeze or flood comes our way. It's a time to wait, suspended in the liminal space, when things are already heavy with potential. Soon we'll hurtle headlong into Spring, with all its busyness and activity, but for now, we're in that twilight period, where one season is not yet gone and another has yet to begin. 

So who better to guide us through this time than the Germanic Goddess Berchta? Berchta has visited us via the Oracle before, a few summers ago. But her message -- that the seeds of our future lie within us, ready to be planted and nurtured -- seems so appropriate to the time we find ourselves in now. As we think forward to the Spring, we are reminded that the things we will nurture over this next cycle are already deep within us. They are things we nurtured and kept alive through the dark and introspective days of Winter. Our destiny is already within our power, if only we recognize it, fertilize it, honor it, tend to it.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Flame Between the Antlers

Let me tell you a secret.

You know King Arthur, him we call Artos the Bear?

Well: at the heart of his story throbs the Witches' Sabbat.


I first read Rosemary Sutcliff's flawed amethyst of a masterpiece Sword at Sunset when I was still in elementary school—too young, really. It was my first Arthurian novel, and—quite frankly—it ruined me for anything else. Mallory's knights in shining armor, White's sly satirical anachronisms, Bradley's horrible nun-priestesses: none of them quite stack up in comparison to the real thing.

Because that's what you think when you read Sword: this is exactly how it must have been.

Sutcliff's Artos—our Artos—is a Dark Age Keltic chieftain in a gritty post-Roman Britain where Old Gods and Old Ways are still vibrantly, resoundingly alive, a world in which a grizzled old horse-herd, after a lifetime of work in the breeding-runs, can believe that the Horned One has finally sent him the perfect horse. A world in which Artos the Bear is raised to kingship in an impromptu coronation (after a resounding victory in battle against the Saxons) on the Eye of the White Horse of Uffington.

Sutcliff knows three things supremely well: the land of Britain, the history of Britain, and the Old Ways of Britain. In Sword at Sunset, these three knowledges, which are one knowledge, converge in one splendid, shining tale of fierce battles and piercing loves.

And at its very heart burns the blue-dark flame of the Witches' Sabbat.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    While I've come to love Mallory for his language and mystery, despite his medievalism, I find both Stewart and Paxson's Arthurian
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    I took a class in Arthurian Literature in college back in the 80's. I had read some of Mary Stewart's Merlin Trilogy as a teenage

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
My Psychic Life:  The Hotel Vendome

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[The Rules of Exile] Rule No. 7 Trust Your Process

Oh my sisters.  What a week this has been.  The stories kept coming and coming and coming and everything just got grosser and sicker until none of us knew what to do anymore, really.  None of us knew the whole story, whether we were welcomed back to court from former exile or kept to the countryside, far away from scandal to make new lives for ourselves.  The local empire was burning and none of us could look away, even as more and more of us left court to keep ourselves safe, to stand together.  All any of us have been able to do is to stare into this horrible dumpster fire.

I've been asked to tell my story over and over again.  I've held space for my (gender neutral) sisters who have reached out to me privately to tell their stories.

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[Rules of Exile] Rule No. 8 You Have a Right to Sanctuary

Exile has a way of grinding you down.  Sure, finding the hollow of our hunger will make us strong Queens, but that feels really abstract after nine hours on your feet in your copy room mediation cave where you've started to wonder key things like: will you ever read a book again?  Will you ever write again?  Can you still feel feelings?

Add to this, whatever austerity you were once willingly putting yourself through but now you have stopped fantasizing about sex things like a normal person and instead are immersing yourself in fully developed reveries about ground beef.

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