My job is not the usual retail work. I never know what I’ll see on any day, but one thing I see fairly often is people coming in for the components of uncrossing (uncursing) spells or rootwork. You can tell who’s in serious need by how much sleep they look like they’ve lost.
Something given as a gift is said to increase luck, so with my boss’s blessing, the ones I get a strong sense of urgency from get an extra root or herb for luck or peace, to be discovered when they get home. That’s lagniappe — something extra and unadvertised you get with a purchase. A donut shop that advertises a baker’s dozen for the price of a dozen isn’t giving lagniappe; one that sneaks an extra of your favorite kind in the bag just because you’re a good customer or were nice, is.
The feather is a free chart on the Coats (Anchor) website; I converted it to DMC and a black feather. The poem is my work.
Written: January 2019
…seeing each other for about four months. I’ve tried to be reasonably protective of his privacy here; he didn’t sign up for my brand of internet mostly-obscurity. He said he’s cool with the level I’ve been keeping, which has been a matter of balancing respecting his space and discussing where so much of my work in the past couple of months has come from.
I can feel things with us deepening, starting to turn serious; he told me yesterday that he feels the same things happening and welcomes it. I’m wary of serious, because that hasn’t worked out well for me in the past, multiple times. But I like him a lot, and a big part of the changes I’ve been through in the past year or so has had to do with not letting clinging to the past or worrying about the future screw up the here and now. He’s worth trying out my new wings on.
The past haunts the present, but you can change that by gathering up the lessons of the past and leaving the errors and failures behind. Do not let them transmute into fear of failure or loss that will shorten your reach. Risk is involved — change always comes with risk, and there is much energy for change and movement in this situation — but the rewards are as great or greater. Aim high!
You see truly and deeply in this situation; he is a mature and reliable man, steady, calm, and benevolent, full of inventiveness, creativity, and compassion.
The emotional and the spiritual are not at all inimical to each other, but be certain the former doesn’t overwhelm the latter in this time.
This card is another example of why I love this deck so much. The card traditionally represents clinging to the past in a detrimental way. The figure carries too many overfull cups with her from a troubled past; the road behind her is long, twisting, rocky, and colorless, and the foliage is dead. She has to concentrate so hard on keeping the cups (which are all she looks at) balanced that she has walked over a flower that was in her path; it is in pieces on the ground and there are blue petals from it on her skirt. She also fails to notice that she is perpetually walking into the present, a place of living flowers and a brighter, fresher, smoother road. So long as she concentrates only on the negative things from the past she carries with her, she will continue to unknowingly turn the promise of the present into the ruins of the past.
Not bad for a little cardboard rectangle, is it? And yes, message received.
The Beekeeper turned up at my workplace yesterday with three bottles of homemade mead. He’s been experimenting with it on and off for a few years, but this was his first metheglin (spiced mead). He used his own honey, of course — wildflower, though he said he’s looking forward to trying a first batch with tallow honey soon — spiced with vanilla, allspice, cinnamon, and cardamom.
I went and gathered ceramic cups and brought them down, and the four of us proceeded to get plastered behind the herb counter. When customers arrived, free samples were given, for as long as it lasted.
The mead was amazing, a pleasure to the eye and to the nose as well as to the tongue — gold, shimmery, pouring into my oddball collection of blue and green raku-fired wine cups and tea bowls. Never mind champagne, I told The Beekeeper in the glow of alcohol and good company and shoving back the winter gloom for a while — this is the stuff to pour all over someone and drink off their skin. He has a smile that can give that gloom a push, too.
This is the closest to an original design I’ve ever done; visual design isn’t my thing, but I’m pretty happy with this. The color change in the mead is too subtle for my not-so-great camera, but it looks good to the eye.
The cup is eyeballed; the mead pattern is from ‘Ensamplario Atlantio’, a free collection of blackwork filling patterns. The poem, as always, is my work.
Written: January 2019
The pomegranate has come to have great personal meaning to me as a symbol over the past year or so. My Chiron return (which is into my natal Sun sign just for extra chaos) and my croning hit very much together, and I found myself watching as many of the skins and labels I’ve worn throughout my life fell away. It was sometimes a relief, sometimes deeply painful, but never easy. I found myself wondering as more and more skins fell away if there was going to be anything at all left when the process was over.
That was when Kali came to me in a dream, holding an onion in one hand and a pomegranate in the other, and said I was going to find out which I am — made all of skins, or bursting with fruit when the skin is peeled away. That image has come back to me time and again as I’ve struggled to find first the answer and then what I’m going to do with that information.
This is the quickest project I’ve done in some time, about 4 hours from first to last stitch. I’m really pleased with how this one came out, especially with the blackwork, which I always enjoy doing.
The blackwork pattern came from somewhere on the internet; I couldn’t find any provenance for it. If anyone knows, I’d like to give due credit. The poem is my work.
Written: January 2019
Maman has watched over me most of my adult life even though I’m not an initiate, always more intensely present here in one of her strongholds, but never entirely absent no matter how far I’ve roamed. Where it was more natural for her to do, she appeared as Brighid, but they’re only two aspects of one being. In either guise, she’s been a strong protective, teaching, and supportive force in my life.
She oversees my tarot readings — as Kuan Yin does my I Ching readings — especially since I started using the Santa Muerte deck; that one belongs to Maman without question. She tends toward loving but very pragmatic and blunt advice, which doesn’t always make the tourists happy, but has made me increasingly popular with locals who take their tarot seriously. I’m honored by and grateful for that gift.
I’ve had this project in stash for quite some time; I was worried about starting it because it was always my intention that it and the work that goes into it be in her honor, but I’d heard a lot of negative stuff about the mini charts and lack of detail. Concern over putting in a lot of work and then finding out it wasn’t worthy was enough to keep me from starting for nearly a year. I had some concerns since starting it, too; that’s why part of her face is done out of turn. I decided to get down to business and see if this was a waste of time and effort before too much went in. I decided (obviously) that it is worth what’s going into it. (You can see my progress to this point on my Instagram account.)
This is the first fully-realized longer poem I’ve written in several months. It’s a syllabic with an extra twist — 15 lines of 15 syllables each. My visit to the apiary is obviously still bearing creative fruits, and I’m looking forward to showing this to The Beekeeper.
The background is free-use, from pexels.com. The poem is my work.
Written: January 2019
I told a painter friend that I like daisies. He turned up for lunch a couple of days later with a huge painting of one for me.
The daisy looks a lot more like mouse-ear chickweed to me, but I doubt that’s going to be a common observation. 🙂
I’m envisioning a wall of these — all smalls in a funky mix of whatever frames work, from stash and free charts as much as I possibly can. I’ve already found half a dozen. The cloth won’t be stash because I keep almost none (pieces from oversized pre-cut lengths, which this is), but I have more than enough floss to mess with.
I was inspired by doing the first one, and even more inspired by The Beekeeper’s response to it. There isn’t much that feels better than “You made this for me?” followed by “Wait, you wrote this, too?” and the hunt for a hammer and a nail. That’s just the best.
The chart comes from Cross Stitch Collection; the poem is my work.
Written: December 2018