Got the gig! I'm doing a "girls night out" sort event at the bar, for cash. Hopefully, this leads to a regular reading night over there, where I get paid.
I was so confident going into it, knowing my limits and prices, and feeling very confident, but now that it's official, the door has been thrown open to a hundred doubts. What should I wear, what if a hundred people all take the free sample, but none want to go on to a paid reading, what if they all want some deep paid reading, and I collapse from the effort, what if I'm sitting there all lonely all night, what if...what if.... Then, are my prices right? Are my business cards/demeanor/whatever professional enough? I hope I'm not selling myself too short, or not selling myself enough, or too much....argh.
Ah well, it's just one night. I figure, worst I could do is distribute a ton of cards, and talk to a lot of people, and have fun. The best I can do is wow em, land a regular job, and maybe a steady batch of clients.
5.06.2010
5.02.2010
Moving into the big time.
I'm getting involved with a paying gig, at the bar across the street. Bill the Best Bartender Ever wants me to come read a few times a month. The last card reader they had, Bill says, pulled in $200-300 a night. I can do that. Hell, I read cards there more than a few times a month, for falling down drunks, for love, noteriety, and free drinkies, till I, myself join the falling down drunks. I'll come in dressed up, with the little cloth, and trappings, and my dirty and beat down decks. I'll smile, and refrain from swearing, and drink nothing but water and occasionally coffee, and I stand to make a chunk of change. Lucky break! Lucky me. I can do it, for sure. I get all these second guesses, like, "what if I'm not good enough?" But, then I know, I am. Cynics will come play "Stump the Psychic" and I'll find their mother issues. Drunks will come to me depressed, and leave reassured. It's not about the money, it's about the act of touching other people's lives in some small way, in an unlikely setting. I want to share my gift.
3.15.2010
Who am I
In entering this class, and really following magickal practitioners around the web, I'm beginning to think of my place in all this, and my own path. I see people that have been studying and practicing for half the time that I have, and see that they have published books and active blogs filled with information and guidelines. Good stuff, too! I have to think...why not me? Where am I in relation? I never think of stuff like this.
I've been into the occult since I was 11 years old. Early bloomer, right? When I was that age, I was visiting a friend of the family. Apparently, while she and my mom were gossiping over coffee, I looked bored, because she handed me a stack of books, and said "I think you're old enough now, to handle some of this. See where it takes you." The top book on that pile was Modern Witches Spellbook by Sarah Lyddon Morrison, and the next one down was Buckland's complete. I snatched up Morrison's book, and sorta grazed through Bucky's. From that day forward, I was a total practicing witch. At 11, I was combing my mother's garden for usable plants, sticking pins in candles, burying mysterious parcels under trees, throwing stuff into moving water. You name it, I was doing spells for it. Not Wiccan, that shit never sat right with me, although I will say some of the better Wiccan authors have taught me plenty about spellwork, but I could never grasp the whole earth-based religion thing. Throughout my teens, I voraciously devoured everything EVERYTHING occult I could get my hands on. I stayed hours at the library reading mythology and researching ancient gods. I was probably the only fifteen year old to have read Joseph Campbell and Anton LaVey. I experimented with Satanism, atheism, shamanism, and all manner of pagan practices, never embracing one path, never settling into a "religion" of sorts. But always studying the tools of these faiths, the alphabets, herb lore, color indices, astrology, and above all runeworking and Tarot. I've shamelessly and seamlessly included all pantheons and philosophies into my workings, always doing spells, both high and low. I mean, I didn't know shit, but I was always doing something, anything with the little bit of shit that I did know. Sometimes, it even worked! (Lots of abject failures, too)
I got into ceremonial magick at around age 17. An influential person in my life got me into Crowley, Enochian magic, Goetia, and all the really heavy stuff. Only, he did it for all the wrong reasons, and I went along with it all, unprepared. It was an obsessed, dangerous relationship with a sick but powerful person, that culminated with him attempting to kill me. I got out of that life, I put all magic aside, all tarot, ceremonial anything, shelved my books, turned away from Crowley, and just all of in general. I focused on school, family, job, and went back to the magick I knew, loved, and practiced. Folk stuff, love spells, hate spells, runeworking. No demons in bags for me, no thank you.
Till my mid 20's that was satisfying enough. Then I started picking the old books back up, digging for more, reading, learning. I've read a lot of bogus crap, and a lot of genius writings, and I think only now in the past 6-7 years am I able to really look with a critical eye and sort it out.
My path has lead me back to the tarot, and I've picked the Thoth deck up again. Last year, I bought a book to really help me crack the Thoth code. Understanding Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot by Lon Milo Duquette. It threw open the floodgates, WIDE open, to all the old stuff. Last summer, I bought more books in 3 months, than I've purchased in the past 10 years, and I am voraciously devouring each and every element. I have dedicated myself to the path of Thelema, and the Great Work, and whoa. Where I was once meandering through a forest, I'm now racing uphill at downhill speeds. I GET it now. I have a purpose. The good new is this: All my past meanderings have only prepared me for what I'm doing now, this Great Work. It's given me a tremendous knowledge of all things occult, all the connections, astrology, the tarot, stones, herb lore, god and goddess associations. I mean, wrote down the concept of Tipareth before I even knew what it was. What I'm going through right now is sort of a back-categorizing. Stuff I've known my whole life, the god within, the god without, as above so below, the eternal cycle of birth-life-death-reincarnation, that I've seen all around me, meditation, all this stuff...now has a name, and a place on the Tree of Life. Now, it's all got a home, I have a title, and everything makes much more sense now.
I still balk at charts and alphabets and numbers. I shun anything ceremonial and anything that seems artificial. I hate memorizing countless long names. Names are things discovered and given by man. It's a narrowing of the path. When I can feel and be and see and smell and taste and breathe in the element of fire, why must I name it anything but that? Why give it some long Hebrew angel's name or something, when I can summon it through idea and visualization, and literally live in it Names sometimes separate, and make things more confusing when I'm really working. I've been successful and on my path for so long, I'm sort of used to the idea of working without the stuff, the tablets and wax seals.
To be continued, maybe...
I've been into the occult since I was 11 years old. Early bloomer, right? When I was that age, I was visiting a friend of the family. Apparently, while she and my mom were gossiping over coffee, I looked bored, because she handed me a stack of books, and said "I think you're old enough now, to handle some of this. See where it takes you." The top book on that pile was Modern Witches Spellbook by Sarah Lyddon Morrison, and the next one down was Buckland's complete. I snatched up Morrison's book, and sorta grazed through Bucky's. From that day forward, I was a total practicing witch. At 11, I was combing my mother's garden for usable plants, sticking pins in candles, burying mysterious parcels under trees, throwing stuff into moving water. You name it, I was doing spells for it. Not Wiccan, that shit never sat right with me, although I will say some of the better Wiccan authors have taught me plenty about spellwork, but I could never grasp the whole earth-based religion thing. Throughout my teens, I voraciously devoured everything EVERYTHING occult I could get my hands on. I stayed hours at the library reading mythology and researching ancient gods. I was probably the only fifteen year old to have read Joseph Campbell and Anton LaVey. I experimented with Satanism, atheism, shamanism, and all manner of pagan practices, never embracing one path, never settling into a "religion" of sorts. But always studying the tools of these faiths, the alphabets, herb lore, color indices, astrology, and above all runeworking and Tarot. I've shamelessly and seamlessly included all pantheons and philosophies into my workings, always doing spells, both high and low. I mean, I didn't know shit, but I was always doing something, anything with the little bit of shit that I did know. Sometimes, it even worked! (Lots of abject failures, too)
I got into ceremonial magick at around age 17. An influential person in my life got me into Crowley, Enochian magic, Goetia, and all the really heavy stuff. Only, he did it for all the wrong reasons, and I went along with it all, unprepared. It was an obsessed, dangerous relationship with a sick but powerful person, that culminated with him attempting to kill me. I got out of that life, I put all magic aside, all tarot, ceremonial anything, shelved my books, turned away from Crowley, and just all of in general. I focused on school, family, job, and went back to the magick I knew, loved, and practiced. Folk stuff, love spells, hate spells, runeworking. No demons in bags for me, no thank you.
Till my mid 20's that was satisfying enough. Then I started picking the old books back up, digging for more, reading, learning. I've read a lot of bogus crap, and a lot of genius writings, and I think only now in the past 6-7 years am I able to really look with a critical eye and sort it out.
My path has lead me back to the tarot, and I've picked the Thoth deck up again. Last year, I bought a book to really help me crack the Thoth code. Understanding Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot by Lon Milo Duquette. It threw open the floodgates, WIDE open, to all the old stuff. Last summer, I bought more books in 3 months, than I've purchased in the past 10 years, and I am voraciously devouring each and every element. I have dedicated myself to the path of Thelema, and the Great Work, and whoa. Where I was once meandering through a forest, I'm now racing uphill at downhill speeds. I GET it now. I have a purpose. The good new is this: All my past meanderings have only prepared me for what I'm doing now, this Great Work. It's given me a tremendous knowledge of all things occult, all the connections, astrology, the tarot, stones, herb lore, god and goddess associations. I mean, wrote down the concept of Tipareth before I even knew what it was. What I'm going through right now is sort of a back-categorizing. Stuff I've known my whole life, the god within, the god without, as above so below, the eternal cycle of birth-life-death-reincarnation, that I've seen all around me, meditation, all this stuff...now has a name, and a place on the Tree of Life. Now, it's all got a home, I have a title, and everything makes much more sense now.
I still balk at charts and alphabets and numbers. I shun anything ceremonial and anything that seems artificial. I hate memorizing countless long names. Names are things discovered and given by man. It's a narrowing of the path. When I can feel and be and see and smell and taste and breathe in the element of fire, why must I name it anything but that? Why give it some long Hebrew angel's name or something, when I can summon it through idea and visualization, and literally live in it Names sometimes separate, and make things more confusing when I'm really working. I've been successful and on my path for so long, I'm sort of used to the idea of working without the stuff, the tablets and wax seals.
To be continued, maybe...
3.08.2010
The truths they already know
Lately, when doing readings, for both friends and strangers, I've been getting this a lot, "I sort of thought so, but you helped confirm it." or "I was afraid of that." or things along those lines. Sometimes, tarot seems to make whatever nebulous idea, hope or fear, concrete, for someone. The truth exists whether I read for it or not. People know more than they let themselves believe. It's nice to go along with whatever feels pleasant or easy, or makes you happy, but the truth is there hanging around no matter what. The hardest readings come when the truth reveals itself, and the sitter says "but I can't..." Those are the worst. It's difficult to watch friends and strangers box themselves in.
That happened with a reading the other day. A man being strung along and manipulated in a glaring case of unrequited love. Every card looking at it from her perspective, every single one was a sword. Every card from his perspective was a major or a cup. It came out that she lied constantly from the moment they met, and that she only kept him around as a "maybe" because she knows what she can get from him (financially.). Finally, after this exhausting roller coaster ride, I asked "How can S. help himself?" There's the swords. 8 of Swords. In relation to the question, and because the 8 of Swords came up for a question regarding the girl's feelings, before, I said simply. "Be like her. Surround yourself with cold logic, protect your heart, gird yourself with rationality."
"But I can't," he says. "she needs me."
The 8 of Swords? I should have told him the whole thing. It's him, imprisoning himself, he keeps going around and around in this dangerous, painful hamster wheel, because he, in some way...likes it. He takes comfort in being this brokenhearted heroic, romantic soul.
What can I say to that? I don't get paid for commentary, I just get paid to pass along the message. Hopefully it sticks. This time, I'm sure it didn't.
That happened with a reading the other day. A man being strung along and manipulated in a glaring case of unrequited love. Every card looking at it from her perspective, every single one was a sword. Every card from his perspective was a major or a cup. It came out that she lied constantly from the moment they met, and that she only kept him around as a "maybe" because she knows what she can get from him (financially.). Finally, after this exhausting roller coaster ride, I asked "How can S. help himself?" There's the swords. 8 of Swords. In relation to the question, and because the 8 of Swords came up for a question regarding the girl's feelings, before, I said simply. "Be like her. Surround yourself with cold logic, protect your heart, gird yourself with rationality."
"But I can't," he says. "she needs me."
The 8 of Swords? I should have told him the whole thing. It's him, imprisoning himself, he keeps going around and around in this dangerous, painful hamster wheel, because he, in some way...likes it. He takes comfort in being this brokenhearted heroic, romantic soul.
What can I say to that? I don't get paid for commentary, I just get paid to pass along the message. Hopefully it sticks. This time, I'm sure it didn't.
11.01.2009
In addition...
Crowley himself tells me, through his lovely and insightful Thoth deck, that
"Consciousness has fallen into a realm unenlightened by reason. This is the world of unconscious primitive instincts, of the psychopath, of the fanatic."
I'm staying the path. It's cruel and difficult, but I know in my heart that it isn't wrong. I've just sort of been going at it the wrong way.
Hallo-what?
Tonight was to be the one night I had for myself. Every year, for many years, I take Halloween night, and *do* something. I won't get into detail, but I take advantage of the magic of the night, and the thin veil between the worlds. I've seen and learned many things in Halloweens past. It's my night to strip away all the ceremony, light a nice fire, and just fly with the spirits. It's a night of discovery, gifts, and my opportunity to genuinely give thanks. Except last year. Last year, our mundane plans took us far from home, and out till two am. By the time we got home, I couldn't muster the energy to do anything besides fall into bed. And this year. This year, the bar was raging so loud, the sounds filled our whole house and yard, like the entire population of the bar was instead partying on our back porch. It was also raining out there. Inside the house, they were watching loud TV, playing video games, drinking, and being generally obnoxious. I was literally running to every corner, finding it loud, filled with people or junk, and everything became entirely frustrating. I wound up going upstairs to my only "sanctuary" and finding it a disaster. My book room was filled with things that belonged in the attic, my table and chairs filled with clothes and paperwork. When did things get so out of control? Where did my sacred spaces go? My only time, the only thing I ask for the whole year is no longer mine. I used to slip off around 11 pm on Halloween for a ritual bath, then out the door, into our quiet dark yard. Tonight, I circled around and around, till I wound up curled on the foot of my bed, crying. Where did it all go?
Sitting on the bed, crying, I started praying earnestly with nothing to offer but my heart and my whole self. I prayed for control of my own spiritual life. I prayed for a message, some sort of guidance in helping me get my shit together. I prayed for internal harmony, peace, and calm. I then decided, at midnight, that I would rest awhile, and get up later, when the night got quiet. Before I fell asleep, I fell into a deep state of meditation, and got some huge insight. The Universe told me to reclaim the house next door. It's a whole old house, being used for not much more than storage. I saw myself hauling junk out of the front door, and scrubbing the lovely hardwood floor on my hands and knees. I saw curtains hung, and a table and chair in the living room. I saw me creating my sacred space over there.
I slept unsoundly for a few hours, and now here I am. I walked all over my yard, now in pitch blackness and wet. I lurked around the house like a ghost, deciding whether or not to go about my usual Halloween thing here at 3 in the morning. I decided that I got the messages I needed, tonight, through meditation, and later lucid dreaming. I'm sitting here now, with my deck, and this blog to help me clear things up and try to understand this night's events. Everything happens for a reason.
I feel like tonight, and this past year has been very muddled. A spiritual "rock bottom" I think. Too much thinking, too much speculating, categorizing, demonstrating, showing, telling, explaining. Not my way. Not my choice. I was lamenting about not having any physical space to retreat to, well that goes for mental space as well. I still have secrets, and private things, Divinely speaking, but they're very few. I find myself constantly explaining myself, my philosophies, methods, and personal dogma. It's not me. It's not my way. Stressed out and bogged down, in details, it leads to apathy sometimes.
The cards I've pulled have reflected it. As for my vision of utilizing the house next door? "fine," the deck said, "but you'll still have to share it, in some way, and it won't be exactly fulfilling.". As far as a general feeling for tonight? The Five of Swords, Lord of Defeat. Overthinking, internal conflict. I'm right there.
This is my gift, from this night. A lesson in frustration, and the reasons why. Now a way to fix it. I have to take this information, and this failure of an evening and learn from it. Let it motivate me, and give me strength and energy to fix things. Now I see a problem, and now I must pro-actively change it. It might cause conflict in other areas of life, but I have to prioritize.
Tomorrow is still on. Day of the Dead, when we officially visit the graves of loved ones, make offerings, spend time reflecting and praying for and with them. I say officially, because these loved ones are always with us, and we're always thinking of them, but November 1 is always a huge deal. This year, I think it will be especially comforting.
8.13.2009
9 of Pentacles
I have seriously been neglecting my blogs. Ah well, it's summertime. There's no shortage of things to write about, just the time to write them.
I've joined a Tarot team, over on Sparkpeople, and one of my assignments is to do a daily draw asking the question "what is my health-related message for today". I post about it on my team, but always in brief. I'm going to start logging my dailies here, in depth.
Today is 9 of Pentacles, Druidcraft
It's been a rollercoaster week, for starters. Lots of stuff happened, doctor visit, new tattoo, debilitating migrane all day yesterday, lots of new things, and minor changes. 9 of Pents here is telling me that I'm doing fine, but I have to remember to slow down a bit and take care of myself. She's reminding me to make an appointment for PT, and stay active. Something profound, though. She's bordered by a thick stone wall, but etched onto the wall are the 9 pentacles. It's a fence, but staring at the inside of it is a reminder that magic is anywhere. What I might percieve as a limitation, or boundary can still be positive.
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