"Do not lay your personal power at the feet of another".
Merry Meet and Happy Morning Family and Friends!
So, occasionally I will cross reference my rune castings with an online divination tool called Graven Image Oracle. It's an interesting site in which you meditate on a card before receiving the answer to your query. And while I take all online forms of divination with a grain of salt, I like this one because inputting your question is not required, which means the outcome isn't being generated by a specific question, word or phase.
Very often, I am warned of laying my personal power at the feet of another. What does that mean exactly?
I think there are many ways that this might be interpreted. Something as simple as agreeing with someone to a avoid conflict, not standing up for yourself or allowing someone to pressure you into doing something out of sense of obligation are some things that come to mind. In my humble opinion, any time you knowingly allow yourself to be taken advantage of, for whatever reason and to varying degrees, you are laying your personal power at the feet of another. That doesn't necessarily mean that there is always malice afoot. At times, we lay our personal power aside simply for the sake of friendship.
There are however, some people who will knowingly try to tap into your personal power. They believe they know you well enough to have insight or control over the outcome of a particular situation, especially if they tend to benefit from that outcome. Not so much.
"With a fool no season spend or be counted as his friend".
There is a simple way to avoid this...it's called, common sense. People who are intentionally looking to take advantage of your good nature or personal power will almost always slip up. Why? Because no matter how adept they consider themselves to be, dependent upon the degree of their personal interest in the outcome, without realizing it, their own impatience will often give them away. Alternatively, at times, they are so convinced of their abilities that they simply fail to keep in mind one of the basic tenets of Witchery...to "Keep Silent".
"Light of eye and soft of touch, speak ye little, listen much"
These are not just nice pieces of poetic literature, folks. They are from the Rede of the Wiccae and probably one of the first things that we learn as Wiccans. Certainly, there are some that would argue that as a result of how much Wicca has evolved over the past 60 years, the Rede has outgrown it's usefulness. Not so much. One of the first things we learn as children is not to play with matches. We may have since learned the way to safely handle the flame, but if we become careless or arrogant, convincing ourselves that we can predict it's reaction, getting burned becomes a reality. Seriously.
I must confess that, at times, I have failed miserably at adhering to the lessons of the Rede of the Wiccae. As the Oracle suggests, I have, indeed, knowingly lain my personal power at the feet of others. That said, I'm a work in progress and like a child playing with matches, I've learned never to under estimate the "personal power" of the flame.
Played with any matches lately?
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Not Just A Little Something Good...
Merry Meet and Brightest Blessings Friends and Family!
Firstly, I beg your patience, because there is no way this to abbreviate this tale.
That said, I need to begin by making a confession. I had begun to take for granted my many, many blessings. Sorrows, past and present and the usual stress and unpleasantries of daily life began swirling like an ill wind around me, vying for a place amongst all the wonderful things that have happened. I am ashamed to admit that, at times, I allowed these things to overshadow my perception of what was really important.
On a beautiful Friday morning, two weeks ago, I sat gazing out the window and prayed silently, "We need something good to happen in our lives. Not just a little something good, but really spectacularly fucking good". Without realizing it, in that moment, I had broken one of the most basic rules of magickal practice, "be specific".
The following afternoon, my husband had planned to attend a Hindu dance recital being performed by one of his students. He was really excited about it. I however, felt unusually uneasy about him going. It was raining quite hard, it was a fairly long drive and my son would be traveling with him. We argued about it for most of the morning.
A few minutes before they were to leave, my husband announced, "I think I'm going to the hospital". "What's wrong?", I asked. I had been having vague premonitions about this very scenario for months, which I foolishly decided to chalk up to anxiety. I already knew his answer. "I'm having chest pain", he replied. "Get in the car, NOW!", I demanded, and drove 50 mph the block and a half to the hospital
Now, this is exactly the kind of thing my husband would have just blown off as being insignificant, so the fact that he was even telling me at all meant that he was truly alarmed. Once at the hospital however, it was quickly determined that he wasn't having a heart attack, but needed to be monitored for several hours and have lab work repeated just to be certain.
During that time, the ER shifts changed and we were assigned a new physician. "Hi, I'm Dr. Meyers, I'll be taking over your care", he announced. So, you have abdominal pain?" My husband and I quickly exchanged worried glances. "No", my husband replied, "I'm having chest pain". "Did he NOT read the fucking chart?", I wondered. "Oh yeah, chest pain", he replied. I felt nauseous.
The new doctor reiterated the plan of action. They would be repeating the blood work and if all was normal, we would be discharged. The previous tests were all good, so we were hopeful. Then he took things a step further and ordered a chest x-ray and CAT scan of the chest. My husband is a former smoker and given that his mother died of lung cancer 30 years after she had quit smoking, my anxiety level just rose to something akin to "Red" on the Homeland Security Terrorism Threat Advisory Scale.
After all was said and done, Dr. Meyers came in to report, "Well, your CAT scan was normal and if the blood checks out, we'll be sending you home". To say the very least, we were relieved. Things however, were about to become...surreal.
He returned a short time later with a team of hospital personnel who began unhooking my husband from the cardiac monitor. "Well, your blood work looks good, he said. "We're sending you home, but...you have a mass in your lung"
Wait! What did he just say? We both shot him a look of shocked disbelief! He did not just say "a mass in your lung!", did he? Hadn't he just said the CAT scan was normal!? There had to be a mistake!! Was he even looking at the right patient's CAT scan?! No, he was wrong! He HAD to be WRONG!!! I felt as if I might pass out!
"Are you sure?", I demanded. "Is it a mass or a nodule?", I asked. "No, it's a mass", he said. You know, there was a time when I considered myself unshockable, but what he said next was something even I couldn't fathom coming from the lips of a physician. "Listen, the mass is not going to kill him right away", he said. "The important thing is having him seen by a cardiologist first thing on Monday morning, then follow up with a Pulmonologist". "Maybe they'll just "watch" it for six months". At that point, I actually considered the possibility that this person had to be a psychiatric patient who had wandered off the ward, taken the elevator to the ER, grabbed a white coat and was pretending to be a doctor!
Afterwards, I'm pretty sure we were discharged. At least, I sort of remembered a disembodied walk down the corridor of the ER. I stopped our nurse on the way out. "How big is the mass?", I asked. 4.6 centimeters, was her reply. "Good Luck", she said. Her tone was more one of sympathy than sincerity. I shook and gagged on the ride home. Neither of us slept much that night.
I woke up on Sunday morning with the words, "lung tumor' echoing in my mind like some kind of twisted mantra. Alone, I paced the house...not knowing what to do first. My mind played a continuous stream of the worst possible scenarios. After 30 years in the field of medicine, several lung cancer diagnoses amongst family and friends, I can tell you that none of these were beyond the scope of possibility. I felt desperate to know what we were dealing with, yet terrified to possess that knowledge.
I was so distraught that I was physically ill. I desperately needed to calm down enough to take control of both my emotions and the situation.
I admit it, I'm no fucking hero. I called my boss to ask for a prescription for Valium. I told him that my husband was diagnosed with a lung mass and despite him speaking to the ER physician the evening before, he had no idea. He asked me for my pharmacy number and told me he'd call me back. And so he did, a short time later, but what he had done was so much better than any little yellow pill I could have asked for. Not only had he reviewed the CAT scan himself, but he contacted Dr. Robert Korst, the Thoracic Surgeon who was to perform my husband's surgery. Dr. Korst was kind enough to take the time to review the CAT scan on a Sunday morning. Have I mentioned that I love these men?
What we learned was that there was a tumor, the size of a silver dollar, that was "squatting like a toad" in my husband's chest, very close to his spinal column. They weren't sure if the tumor was in his lung or the chest wall. What was certain was that it needed to be removed immediately and it was to be major thoracic surgery. The good news was that the Thoracic surgeon was "fairly certain" that it was something called a "benign neurogenic tumor". We clung to the word, "benign" like our fucking lives depended on it...because they did.
The surgery took place this Monday past, via the VATS (Video Assisted Thoroscopic Surgery) procedure. The initial surgery went well, but was more complex than was initially thought. The next day, it was determined that Ray had a "bleeder" (a small area of internal bleeding) and needed to be brought back to the OR for a second surgery. That surgery went well, the bleeding stopped and he was discharged from the hospital a day later.
On Friday morning, the "not just a little something good, but really spectacularly fucking good", that I'd asked for came into our lives.
From my lips to the ears of the Gods, the tumor was completely benign.
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
P.S. Dr. Meyers, the ER physician, turn out not to be a psychiatric patient as we'd suspected, but instead, was actually an angel in disguise.
Firstly, I beg your patience, because there is no way this to abbreviate this tale.
That said, I need to begin by making a confession. I had begun to take for granted my many, many blessings. Sorrows, past and present and the usual stress and unpleasantries of daily life began swirling like an ill wind around me, vying for a place amongst all the wonderful things that have happened. I am ashamed to admit that, at times, I allowed these things to overshadow my perception of what was really important.
On a beautiful Friday morning, two weeks ago, I sat gazing out the window and prayed silently, "We need something good to happen in our lives. Not just a little something good, but really spectacularly fucking good". Without realizing it, in that moment, I had broken one of the most basic rules of magickal practice, "be specific".
The following afternoon, my husband had planned to attend a Hindu dance recital being performed by one of his students. He was really excited about it. I however, felt unusually uneasy about him going. It was raining quite hard, it was a fairly long drive and my son would be traveling with him. We argued about it for most of the morning.
A few minutes before they were to leave, my husband announced, "I think I'm going to the hospital". "What's wrong?", I asked. I had been having vague premonitions about this very scenario for months, which I foolishly decided to chalk up to anxiety. I already knew his answer. "I'm having chest pain", he replied. "Get in the car, NOW!", I demanded, and drove 50 mph the block and a half to the hospital
Now, this is exactly the kind of thing my husband would have just blown off as being insignificant, so the fact that he was even telling me at all meant that he was truly alarmed. Once at the hospital however, it was quickly determined that he wasn't having a heart attack, but needed to be monitored for several hours and have lab work repeated just to be certain.
During that time, the ER shifts changed and we were assigned a new physician. "Hi, I'm Dr. Meyers, I'll be taking over your care", he announced. So, you have abdominal pain?" My husband and I quickly exchanged worried glances. "No", my husband replied, "I'm having chest pain". "Did he NOT read the fucking chart?", I wondered. "Oh yeah, chest pain", he replied. I felt nauseous.
The new doctor reiterated the plan of action. They would be repeating the blood work and if all was normal, we would be discharged. The previous tests were all good, so we were hopeful. Then he took things a step further and ordered a chest x-ray and CAT scan of the chest. My husband is a former smoker and given that his mother died of lung cancer 30 years after she had quit smoking, my anxiety level just rose to something akin to "Red" on the Homeland Security Terrorism Threat Advisory Scale.
After all was said and done, Dr. Meyers came in to report, "Well, your CAT scan was normal and if the blood checks out, we'll be sending you home". To say the very least, we were relieved. Things however, were about to become...surreal.
He returned a short time later with a team of hospital personnel who began unhooking my husband from the cardiac monitor. "Well, your blood work looks good, he said. "We're sending you home, but...you have a mass in your lung"
Wait! What did he just say? We both shot him a look of shocked disbelief! He did not just say "a mass in your lung!", did he? Hadn't he just said the CAT scan was normal!? There had to be a mistake!! Was he even looking at the right patient's CAT scan?! No, he was wrong! He HAD to be WRONG!!! I felt as if I might pass out!
"Are you sure?", I demanded. "Is it a mass or a nodule?", I asked. "No, it's a mass", he said. You know, there was a time when I considered myself unshockable, but what he said next was something even I couldn't fathom coming from the lips of a physician. "Listen, the mass is not going to kill him right away", he said. "The important thing is having him seen by a cardiologist first thing on Monday morning, then follow up with a Pulmonologist". "Maybe they'll just "watch" it for six months". At that point, I actually considered the possibility that this person had to be a psychiatric patient who had wandered off the ward, taken the elevator to the ER, grabbed a white coat and was pretending to be a doctor!
Afterwards, I'm pretty sure we were discharged. At least, I sort of remembered a disembodied walk down the corridor of the ER. I stopped our nurse on the way out. "How big is the mass?", I asked. 4.6 centimeters, was her reply. "Good Luck", she said. Her tone was more one of sympathy than sincerity. I shook and gagged on the ride home. Neither of us slept much that night.
I woke up on Sunday morning with the words, "lung tumor' echoing in my mind like some kind of twisted mantra. Alone, I paced the house...not knowing what to do first. My mind played a continuous stream of the worst possible scenarios. After 30 years in the field of medicine, several lung cancer diagnoses amongst family and friends, I can tell you that none of these were beyond the scope of possibility. I felt desperate to know what we were dealing with, yet terrified to possess that knowledge.
I was so distraught that I was physically ill. I desperately needed to calm down enough to take control of both my emotions and the situation.
I admit it, I'm no fucking hero. I called my boss to ask for a prescription for Valium. I told him that my husband was diagnosed with a lung mass and despite him speaking to the ER physician the evening before, he had no idea. He asked me for my pharmacy number and told me he'd call me back. And so he did, a short time later, but what he had done was so much better than any little yellow pill I could have asked for. Not only had he reviewed the CAT scan himself, but he contacted Dr. Robert Korst, the Thoracic Surgeon who was to perform my husband's surgery. Dr. Korst was kind enough to take the time to review the CAT scan on a Sunday morning. Have I mentioned that I love these men?
What we learned was that there was a tumor, the size of a silver dollar, that was "squatting like a toad" in my husband's chest, very close to his spinal column. They weren't sure if the tumor was in his lung or the chest wall. What was certain was that it needed to be removed immediately and it was to be major thoracic surgery. The good news was that the Thoracic surgeon was "fairly certain" that it was something called a "benign neurogenic tumor". We clung to the word, "benign" like our fucking lives depended on it...because they did.
The surgery took place this Monday past, via the VATS (Video Assisted Thoroscopic Surgery) procedure. The initial surgery went well, but was more complex than was initially thought. The next day, it was determined that Ray had a "bleeder" (a small area of internal bleeding) and needed to be brought back to the OR for a second surgery. That surgery went well, the bleeding stopped and he was discharged from the hospital a day later.
On Friday morning, the "not just a little something good, but really spectacularly fucking good", that I'd asked for came into our lives.
From my lips to the ears of the Gods, the tumor was completely benign.
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
P.S. Dr. Meyers, the ER physician, turn out not to be a psychiatric patient as we'd suspected, but instead, was actually an angel in disguise.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I have....New Jersey!
Merry Meet and Happy Wednesday Family and Friends!
So, today was one of those days that, no matter what else is going on, I needed to pause, give thanks for my blessings, and have a couple of glasses of wine!
Over the past several years, I've been followed closely by a Pulmonologist. As some of you know, my sister, Leslie, passed away from a lung disease about 8 years ago. Since her illness has a familial form, meaning one that can be carried genetically, I need to be monitored for any changes in my pulmonary status.
Everything was fine, until 2 years ago when a pulmonary nodule was found on my chest x-ray. It was very small, but because the radiologist reported the finding, I needed to be followed for the next three years with CAT scans to insure that it remained stable.
The first CAT scan confirmed that there was a 2 mm nodule and then a year later, confirmed that it was "unchanged". Last year, when I was supposed to have my final CAT scan, it was denied by my insurance carrier. Why? Because I had no symptoms. Now, if I had symptoms and a nodule in my lung, it could be a bad thing, but since I only had the nodule, they decided not to cover it.
Well, my Pulmonologist and I both argued with the insurance carrier to no avail. What I now find really amusing is that one of the diagnoses that my physician used to support the necessity for my CAT scan was the fact that I live in New Jersey". I shit you not...living in New Jersey is actually considered a health risk! Still, my request to have my CAT scan covered by insurance was denied.
Now, common sense should have prevailed and I should have just paid for it myself, but our finances simply could not bear the burden of a $1200.00 medical bill at the time. Besides, I concluded, I don't smoke, was having a blast, feeling well, so I assumed I was probably ok.
Then I learned that someone I love very much was diagnosed with lung cancer and suddenly, I realized all the possible implications of having blown off that follow up CAT scan! Several panic attacks later, I called my pulmonologist for an appointment.
It's customary to have a chest x-ray as a prerequisite to my appointment. My first order of business after doing so is trying to read it myself. This only heightens my anxiety because, let's face it, I have no fucking idea what I'm looking at and even a normal chest x-ray looks bad to a neurotic mind! Shortly thereafter, I rush it over to my doctor's office, where after several more panic attacks, he calls me to tell me whether or not I can stop freaking out! Ya just gotta love a doctor who indulges his patient's neuroses!
When I had my chest x-ray a few of weeks ago, I was nervous. Really, nervous. The x-ray technician asked if I was coughing or having any symptoms. I explained that I wasn't and that I was just following up a "stable" pulmonary nodule, convincing myself that if I referred to it as "stable", it would be. I was also convinced that the technician's demeanor had changed after she viewed the x-ray and hoped I was just imagining it.
This time, I wasn't so sure I really wanted to know the results, so instead of rushing the films over to my Pulmonologist, I plopped them on the dining room hutch where they sat, for three weeks, staring at me, until today when I went in for my appointment.
Sitting in the waiting room was excruciating! And by the time my doctor came in to the exam room, I was in a cold sweat. I examined his face for signs that he was about to give me bad news. He began by asking me if I had any changes, coughing, shortness of breath, change in endurance level. "Why was he asking me this?", I wondered. The fact that these were normal, routine questions never entered my mind. I began to feel nauseous. "No, no and no, I reported. Then I blurted, "but I'm freaking out!". I told him how worried I was about missing last year's CAT scan, about my friend's illness and how I still had no idea what the chest x-ray showed! He nonchalantly flipped open my chart and said, matter of factly, "Oh, your chest x-ray was perfectly normal. No signs of fibrosis. No nodules". I let out the breath that I had been holding for the past three weeks.
Then suddenly I realized, I was...livid pissed! I was pissed at myself for not being more proactive in my health care. I was pissed on both my sister and my friend's behalves. I began bombarding my poor Pulmonologist with a million questions. "What were they doing to detect lung cancer at the earliest stages?" "What were the advances in it's treatment?". "What about routine chest x-rays?" Was there anything new in the treatment of my sister's disease?" "Should I have genetic testing?". And finally, "If the insurance companies will only cover the cost of my CAT fucking scan if I'm already sick, what was the point of having them? Oh yes, I did!
He was clearly amused, yet sympathetic and spent the next 25 minutes answering all of my questions in a patient, humorous manner and then he said, "tell your friend, not all cancer diagnoses are as bad as they sound and don't worry about your CAT scans, you don't need any more". Have I mentioned, I love this man!
I stepped outside after leaving his office, wondering how I missed the fact that it was such a glorious the day. Just as I was about to let out a sigh of relief and take in a cool breath of air, I thought....
"Holy Crap!!! I gotta get out of New Jersey!"
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
So, today was one of those days that, no matter what else is going on, I needed to pause, give thanks for my blessings, and have a couple of glasses of wine!
Over the past several years, I've been followed closely by a Pulmonologist. As some of you know, my sister, Leslie, passed away from a lung disease about 8 years ago. Since her illness has a familial form, meaning one that can be carried genetically, I need to be monitored for any changes in my pulmonary status.
Everything was fine, until 2 years ago when a pulmonary nodule was found on my chest x-ray. It was very small, but because the radiologist reported the finding, I needed to be followed for the next three years with CAT scans to insure that it remained stable.
The first CAT scan confirmed that there was a 2 mm nodule and then a year later, confirmed that it was "unchanged". Last year, when I was supposed to have my final CAT scan, it was denied by my insurance carrier. Why? Because I had no symptoms. Now, if I had symptoms and a nodule in my lung, it could be a bad thing, but since I only had the nodule, they decided not to cover it.
Well, my Pulmonologist and I both argued with the insurance carrier to no avail. What I now find really amusing is that one of the diagnoses that my physician used to support the necessity for my CAT scan was the fact that I live in New Jersey". I shit you not...living in New Jersey is actually considered a health risk! Still, my request to have my CAT scan covered by insurance was denied.
Now, common sense should have prevailed and I should have just paid for it myself, but our finances simply could not bear the burden of a $1200.00 medical bill at the time. Besides, I concluded, I don't smoke, was having a blast, feeling well, so I assumed I was probably ok.
Then I learned that someone I love very much was diagnosed with lung cancer and suddenly, I realized all the possible implications of having blown off that follow up CAT scan! Several panic attacks later, I called my pulmonologist for an appointment.
It's customary to have a chest x-ray as a prerequisite to my appointment. My first order of business after doing so is trying to read it myself. This only heightens my anxiety because, let's face it, I have no fucking idea what I'm looking at and even a normal chest x-ray looks bad to a neurotic mind! Shortly thereafter, I rush it over to my doctor's office, where after several more panic attacks, he calls me to tell me whether or not I can stop freaking out! Ya just gotta love a doctor who indulges his patient's neuroses!
When I had my chest x-ray a few of weeks ago, I was nervous. Really, nervous. The x-ray technician asked if I was coughing or having any symptoms. I explained that I wasn't and that I was just following up a "stable" pulmonary nodule, convincing myself that if I referred to it as "stable", it would be. I was also convinced that the technician's demeanor had changed after she viewed the x-ray and hoped I was just imagining it.
This time, I wasn't so sure I really wanted to know the results, so instead of rushing the films over to my Pulmonologist, I plopped them on the dining room hutch where they sat, for three weeks, staring at me, until today when I went in for my appointment.
Sitting in the waiting room was excruciating! And by the time my doctor came in to the exam room, I was in a cold sweat. I examined his face for signs that he was about to give me bad news. He began by asking me if I had any changes, coughing, shortness of breath, change in endurance level. "Why was he asking me this?", I wondered. The fact that these were normal, routine questions never entered my mind. I began to feel nauseous. "No, no and no, I reported. Then I blurted, "but I'm freaking out!". I told him how worried I was about missing last year's CAT scan, about my friend's illness and how I still had no idea what the chest x-ray showed! He nonchalantly flipped open my chart and said, matter of factly, "Oh, your chest x-ray was perfectly normal. No signs of fibrosis. No nodules". I let out the breath that I had been holding for the past three weeks.
Then suddenly I realized, I was...livid pissed! I was pissed at myself for not being more proactive in my health care. I was pissed on both my sister and my friend's behalves. I began bombarding my poor Pulmonologist with a million questions. "What were they doing to detect lung cancer at the earliest stages?" "What were the advances in it's treatment?". "What about routine chest x-rays?" Was there anything new in the treatment of my sister's disease?" "Should I have genetic testing?". And finally, "If the insurance companies will only cover the cost of my CAT fucking scan if I'm already sick, what was the point of having them? Oh yes, I did!
He was clearly amused, yet sympathetic and spent the next 25 minutes answering all of my questions in a patient, humorous manner and then he said, "tell your friend, not all cancer diagnoses are as bad as they sound and don't worry about your CAT scans, you don't need any more". Have I mentioned, I love this man!
I stepped outside after leaving his office, wondering how I missed the fact that it was such a glorious the day. Just as I was about to let out a sigh of relief and take in a cool breath of air, I thought....
"Holy Crap!!! I gotta get out of New Jersey!"
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Serenity Happens....
Merry Meet and Blessings Family and Friends!
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way".
A friend and I wept with the truth carried by those words. They echoed a sentiment my heart has come to know all too well.
Bad things shouldn't happen to good people. Bad shit should only happen to bad people. Yeah, right! Perhaps in a perfect World.
Bad things happen. Period. I really don't believe that we can necessarily contribute those things to bad luck, falling into bad karma, negative magick. To assume that our Deities are putting us through tests of strength or endurance is nothing more than arrogance. I suspect that the Gods have better things to do than to indulge the over inflated egos of mere mortals.
Let's face it though, when something goes horribly wrong in our lives, we often feel the need to lay the blame somewhere, because the possibility that awful things just randomly happen...would be inconceivable.
My mother and sister died within 6 months of each other and while they had both suffered from long term serious and terminal illnesses, that knowledge brought me only minimal comfort. And just when I didn't think things could possibly get worse, my Dad was diagnosed with cancer and within 15 months, I had lost my entire family.
"What the fuck?!", I thought", totally convinced that I was being punished for something I done, that I was cursed or that it was retribution for some huge karmic debt held over from this, as well as every one of my past lives! I remember thinking, "I must have been a horrible person in another life" It wasn't supposed to happen this way! Or perhaps...it was.
I truly believe that there are reasons for everything we experience and for those in our lives that experience it with us. That is not to say that our lives are predestined, only that there are things that we need to experience, directly or indirectly, either for our own personal growth, to prepare us to deal with some future event or perhaps to help others do the same. These things are just part of the soul's evolutionary process; those lessons that are necessary for the next phase of the soul's journey. So what lesson came to me from all this? Well, I learned that, when I had to be, I was stronger than I ever believed humanly possible.
The energy we expend trying to figure out why bad things happen or who or what is responsible is the ultimate exercise in futility. I've since learned that when when I'm presented with a difficult life situation or worse, one that sucks to a mind blowing degree, the first thing I do is look at it from the best and worst case scenarios. Then, I learn everything I possibly can to prepare for both. After all, knowledge is power! I concentrate all the energy that would have been wasted on trying to figure out who to blame, on what I can do to make the situation better. This immediately puts the control back in my hands. If there isn't anything I can do from a mundane standpoint, I consider what I might be able to do spiritually or magickally and I do it! And...I don't fuck around! I think this is where magick is monumentally beneficial and so much better than sitting around worrying about the outcome while merely hoping for the best.
Still, there comes a time when we need to accept that what, "wasn't supposed to happen this way" did, and may be beyond the scope of what we can influence without Divine Intervention. I believe that therein lies the lesson.
When I was a kid, my Mom taught me a little prayer for those times when I need to be reminded of this lesson.
"Hecate, grant me the serenity to accept the the things I can not change, bring your power to my magick to change the things I can and your wisdom to know the difference".
OK, well, maybe not EXACTLY the way Mom taught me! :)
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way".
A friend and I wept with the truth carried by those words. They echoed a sentiment my heart has come to know all too well.
Bad things shouldn't happen to good people. Bad shit should only happen to bad people. Yeah, right! Perhaps in a perfect World.
Bad things happen. Period. I really don't believe that we can necessarily contribute those things to bad luck, falling into bad karma, negative magick. To assume that our Deities are putting us through tests of strength or endurance is nothing more than arrogance. I suspect that the Gods have better things to do than to indulge the over inflated egos of mere mortals.
Let's face it though, when something goes horribly wrong in our lives, we often feel the need to lay the blame somewhere, because the possibility that awful things just randomly happen...would be inconceivable.
My mother and sister died within 6 months of each other and while they had both suffered from long term serious and terminal illnesses, that knowledge brought me only minimal comfort. And just when I didn't think things could possibly get worse, my Dad was diagnosed with cancer and within 15 months, I had lost my entire family.
"What the fuck?!", I thought", totally convinced that I was being punished for something I done, that I was cursed or that it was retribution for some huge karmic debt held over from this, as well as every one of my past lives! I remember thinking, "I must have been a horrible person in another life" It wasn't supposed to happen this way! Or perhaps...it was.
I truly believe that there are reasons for everything we experience and for those in our lives that experience it with us. That is not to say that our lives are predestined, only that there are things that we need to experience, directly or indirectly, either for our own personal growth, to prepare us to deal with some future event or perhaps to help others do the same. These things are just part of the soul's evolutionary process; those lessons that are necessary for the next phase of the soul's journey. So what lesson came to me from all this? Well, I learned that, when I had to be, I was stronger than I ever believed humanly possible.
The energy we expend trying to figure out why bad things happen or who or what is responsible is the ultimate exercise in futility. I've since learned that when when I'm presented with a difficult life situation or worse, one that sucks to a mind blowing degree, the first thing I do is look at it from the best and worst case scenarios. Then, I learn everything I possibly can to prepare for both. After all, knowledge is power! I concentrate all the energy that would have been wasted on trying to figure out who to blame, on what I can do to make the situation better. This immediately puts the control back in my hands. If there isn't anything I can do from a mundane standpoint, I consider what I might be able to do spiritually or magickally and I do it! And...I don't fuck around! I think this is where magick is monumentally beneficial and so much better than sitting around worrying about the outcome while merely hoping for the best.
Still, there comes a time when we need to accept that what, "wasn't supposed to happen this way" did, and may be beyond the scope of what we can influence without Divine Intervention. I believe that therein lies the lesson.
When I was a kid, my Mom taught me a little prayer for those times when I need to be reminded of this lesson.
"Hecate, grant me the serenity to accept the the things I can not change, bring your power to my magick to change the things I can and your wisdom to know the difference".
OK, well, maybe not EXACTLY the way Mom taught me! :)
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
Thursday, August 20, 2009
That Old Black Magick!
Merry Meet Family and Friends!
So, today I heard yet another news report about a horrendous murder that the media is contributing to use of "Black Magic". This has to be the fourth in as many weeks. Then last night, I tuned into one of my favorite shows, "A Haunting". The episode was about a woman and her son who were plagued by "Sprites", after the woman, who was practicing Wicca, admitted, "I guess I really didn't know what I was dealing with". Oh for the love of nerve!
Now ya gotta know, this is just the kind of hype the media lives for. The fact is however, magick is neither black nor white, it's all in how you use it. What one considers "Black Magick" is nothing more than focused energy with a negative intent. And if someone has ever pissed you off to the point you wished that they get exactly what they deserve, guess what? You've just practiced negative magick. That's called, "Black Wishing" and taking a wild guess here, we've all done it.
We're talking magick here folks and whether you believe in it or not, the possibilities are as limitless as one's imagination. You don't have to be Wiccan or a Witch to use it either. That said, if you're going to indulge in the occult arts, I'll give you my unsolicited two cents. Firstly, know what the hell you're doing and be prepared for the consequences.
Let's be honest though, if magick worked to that degree of accuracy every time we used it, we would all be married to our soul mates, be wealthy, beautiful, the World would be free of disease and poverty and all our enemies would be infested with the fleas of a thousand friggin' camels! If someone commits a horrendous crime, it's not necessarily because they're practicing negative magick, it's because they're crazier than a bag of rats!
Still, there is a ton of literature and a bunch of naive, unstable or pissed off people out there who are more than willing to pick up a book and delve into the darkest areas of magick without ever thinking about the implications. What you have is unharnessed energy in the hands of an idiot with a book.
I'll tell you a little tale of the first spell I'd ever cast. I had just learned that my Dad was suffering with terminal cancer. I knew that a cure was not possible, so I cast a spell for what I believed was "for the good of all". That being, that he suffer not a moment of pain throughout the duration of his illness.
I hadn't been practicing very long at that point, so I didn't think it necessary to cast a protective circle or call quarters or shield myself in any way. I just called upon the Goddess Hecate and winged it! I knew very little about Hecate at that point, with the exception that she was very powerful and was known as the "The Queen of the Witches". Given the magnitude of my request, I needed this to work and didn't care what I needed to do to get it. So, with all the emotion and intent I could muster, I cast my spell, somewhat skeptical of it's success and giving little thought to it afterward.
The next day, I woke up feeling, not.quite.right. It felt like the flu. "Hmmmm.....strange, I thought, maybe it was something I ate". Well, by that evening, I had a high fever, a violent headache, a rash that had now spread all over my body, cough, abdominal pain. I was terrified! I couldn't remember ever feeling worse! I ended up in the Emergency Room, where the doctors suspected meningitis, but were actually taking out medical journals to try to determine what the hell I had. I was ill for two weeks, no one ever did figure it out. My Dad, passed away 9 months later with an arsenal of narcotics for pain in his refrigerator that he never needed to take. Was it worth it? I would do it again in a heart beat, just a little more wisely.
I guess my best advice would be know yourself, know and practice your craft wisely and without ego, be clear about your purpose and intent, acknowledge and honor your Deities. There is nothing more humbling than having your ass kicked by the Dark Mother!
Most importantly, Magick does works and often in the way we least expect it!
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
So, today I heard yet another news report about a horrendous murder that the media is contributing to use of "Black Magic". This has to be the fourth in as many weeks. Then last night, I tuned into one of my favorite shows, "A Haunting". The episode was about a woman and her son who were plagued by "Sprites", after the woman, who was practicing Wicca, admitted, "I guess I really didn't know what I was dealing with". Oh for the love of nerve!
Now ya gotta know, this is just the kind of hype the media lives for. The fact is however, magick is neither black nor white, it's all in how you use it. What one considers "Black Magick" is nothing more than focused energy with a negative intent. And if someone has ever pissed you off to the point you wished that they get exactly what they deserve, guess what? You've just practiced negative magick. That's called, "Black Wishing" and taking a wild guess here, we've all done it.
We're talking magick here folks and whether you believe in it or not, the possibilities are as limitless as one's imagination. You don't have to be Wiccan or a Witch to use it either. That said, if you're going to indulge in the occult arts, I'll give you my unsolicited two cents. Firstly, know what the hell you're doing and be prepared for the consequences.
Let's be honest though, if magick worked to that degree of accuracy every time we used it, we would all be married to our soul mates, be wealthy, beautiful, the World would be free of disease and poverty and all our enemies would be infested with the fleas of a thousand friggin' camels! If someone commits a horrendous crime, it's not necessarily because they're practicing negative magick, it's because they're crazier than a bag of rats!
Still, there is a ton of literature and a bunch of naive, unstable or pissed off people out there who are more than willing to pick up a book and delve into the darkest areas of magick without ever thinking about the implications. What you have is unharnessed energy in the hands of an idiot with a book.
I'll tell you a little tale of the first spell I'd ever cast. I had just learned that my Dad was suffering with terminal cancer. I knew that a cure was not possible, so I cast a spell for what I believed was "for the good of all". That being, that he suffer not a moment of pain throughout the duration of his illness.
I hadn't been practicing very long at that point, so I didn't think it necessary to cast a protective circle or call quarters or shield myself in any way. I just called upon the Goddess Hecate and winged it! I knew very little about Hecate at that point, with the exception that she was very powerful and was known as the "The Queen of the Witches". Given the magnitude of my request, I needed this to work and didn't care what I needed to do to get it. So, with all the emotion and intent I could muster, I cast my spell, somewhat skeptical of it's success and giving little thought to it afterward.
The next day, I woke up feeling, not.quite.right. It felt like the flu. "Hmmmm.....strange, I thought, maybe it was something I ate". Well, by that evening, I had a high fever, a violent headache, a rash that had now spread all over my body, cough, abdominal pain. I was terrified! I couldn't remember ever feeling worse! I ended up in the Emergency Room, where the doctors suspected meningitis, but were actually taking out medical journals to try to determine what the hell I had. I was ill for two weeks, no one ever did figure it out. My Dad, passed away 9 months later with an arsenal of narcotics for pain in his refrigerator that he never needed to take. Was it worth it? I would do it again in a heart beat, just a little more wisely.
I guess my best advice would be know yourself, know and practice your craft wisely and without ego, be clear about your purpose and intent, acknowledge and honor your Deities. There is nothing more humbling than having your ass kicked by the Dark Mother!
Most importantly, Magick does works and often in the way we least expect it!
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
Friday, August 14, 2009
Further Proof....
That Jesus is everywhere!
My apologies in advance. My son, Justin, was behind this (no pun intended!)
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
P.S. I'm so going to hell for this!!! Oh wait, I don't believe in hell. Never mind.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Strange Days Indeed!
Merry Meet and Happy Monday Family and Friends!
So last night I didn't sleep well at all. Just as had begun to fall asleep, I began to hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. "Oh that's just great!", I thought to myself. My dogs are terrified of storms and become very restless during them. Usually all four dogs will either huddle under my bed or pace around the room panting and whining until the storm passes. This storm was odd in that the thunder began a couple of hours before it developed into anything significant. I finally fell asleep somewhere close to 2 a.m.
It didn't occur to me until I looked at the clock this morning that, "Oh crap! It's Monday!". I had overslept and now would get a late start getting ready for work. For the next hour so, I rushed about and finally realizing that, since there was no way I was ever going to get to work on time, I might as well be really late. I decided to walk.
I enjoy walking to work. I listen to the birds sing, connect with the elements and just lose myself in thought. I find that by the time I arrive at my office, things don't appear to suck quite as much as I originally thought! Besides, stressed out and pissed off is never a good way to start the day!
I had just turned my first corner, when I noticed three men in dark suits standing in front of a small church near our home. "Church services? On a Monday morning?", I wondered. Then I noticed a hearse parked at the curb. This, in retrospect, seemed appropriate given the way the day began.
The men were chatting directly in the center of the sidewalk where I needed to pass, which was vaguely awkward. I felt it would be rude not to acknowledge them, but what was I supposed to say? "Good Morning" didn't really feel appropriate under the circumstances.
As I passed by the hearse, I got a decidedly creepy feeling. Then, as I approached the men, as if choreographed, they all stepped aside to let me pass by and in unison said, "Good Morning!". Ok, so perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the weirdness of the situation, but at that moment, I just found this all really friggin' amusing. "Apparently not for some of us", I responded before I could stop myself. Oooops! Outside voice!
Thankfully almost all of us found it amusing!
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
So last night I didn't sleep well at all. Just as had begun to fall asleep, I began to hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. "Oh that's just great!", I thought to myself. My dogs are terrified of storms and become very restless during them. Usually all four dogs will either huddle under my bed or pace around the room panting and whining until the storm passes. This storm was odd in that the thunder began a couple of hours before it developed into anything significant. I finally fell asleep somewhere close to 2 a.m.
It didn't occur to me until I looked at the clock this morning that, "Oh crap! It's Monday!". I had overslept and now would get a late start getting ready for work. For the next hour so, I rushed about and finally realizing that, since there was no way I was ever going to get to work on time, I might as well be really late. I decided to walk.
I enjoy walking to work. I listen to the birds sing, connect with the elements and just lose myself in thought. I find that by the time I arrive at my office, things don't appear to suck quite as much as I originally thought! Besides, stressed out and pissed off is never a good way to start the day!
I had just turned my first corner, when I noticed three men in dark suits standing in front of a small church near our home. "Church services? On a Monday morning?", I wondered. Then I noticed a hearse parked at the curb. This, in retrospect, seemed appropriate given the way the day began.
The men were chatting directly in the center of the sidewalk where I needed to pass, which was vaguely awkward. I felt it would be rude not to acknowledge them, but what was I supposed to say? "Good Morning" didn't really feel appropriate under the circumstances.
As I passed by the hearse, I got a decidedly creepy feeling. Then, as I approached the men, as if choreographed, they all stepped aside to let me pass by and in unison said, "Good Morning!". Ok, so perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the weirdness of the situation, but at that moment, I just found this all really friggin' amusing. "Apparently not for some of us", I responded before I could stop myself. Oooops! Outside voice!
Thankfully almost all of us found it amusing!
In Darkness, Light!
Tracy
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