witch name, witches, witch, witchcraft, magick, magic, titles

Guest Post: Self Determined Titles by Michael DeCamp

~~~Bloggers Note: Michael is a guest blogger here, chosen due to the number of years I have been blessed to know him and also for the verified potency of the “energy bombs” he sends to me. These bombs are sent both upon request, and occasionally, they are sneakily dropped on me simply because he feels my drain from half a continent away.

Michael is responsible for many interesting and helpful posts in the group I visit. The entire group has had many wonderful discussions thanks to his posts. He poses questions for thought, offers answers and insights on others’ questions. He shares knowledge gleaned from real life experiences. He is not a part of Sacred Hands Coven and I have never been graced to meet him IRL, but have been blessed to have him as a personal friend for a few years now online. Thanks for permission to post, Michael!~~~

 

As we go through this life, we come across words that hold meanings for us as individuals; meanings that differ from person to person.

Before my awakening, to me, magic was what I saw on TV and in movies. Merlin was a wizard of myth and legend, and magicians were tricksters. Later, I was made aware of Native American titles: Medicine (Wo)Men, Shamans, and Dream Warriors, each with special gifts.

After my awakening into the start of my path, I chose the title of healer. It was the first ability I worked on and studied. However, as I grew into my other abilities, the title I chose changed. I thought of myself as a magus, a sorcerer, enchanter, and even an adept.

The more I learned to do, the more my ‘identity’ changed, as my identity changed, so did my title. Again, these titles were self-defined. Determined as I saw how they fit me as a person.

Finally, eleven years after my first awakening to the spirit/occult/divine path, I came to my final title. My personal identifier. I had just stumbled upon my current path; a path of balance. It was during this reaffirmation of my beliefs and values that my personal title identifier changed to what it remains today. I am an Energy Weaver.

My gifts allow me to tap into multiple energy threads. I see different energies as different and distinct colors. I follow their courses through everything perceived. It is a very uncommon ability, apparently. I have discovered only a handful of individuals who relate to energies, and their uses, in the same manner.

This is who I am. This is my personal title.

I hope that others, through personal introspection and exploration, can find who they are. Perhaps you don’t need a title. Perhaps you identify with a title already. Whichever the case, as long as you are comfortable with whom you are within the mindset of magic and the occult; this is what matters most, in my opinion.

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Kirt's forum post

From the Forums: Magic: Not for Use by Special Little Snowflakes. by Kirt A White

~~~Bloggers Note: Yet again, Kirt highlights a problem we all too often seen in the forums and even more sadly, in real life practice. The problem is one of cutesy fantasies or Hollywood misconceptions intersecting with real magickal practices in ways that can prove dangerous to snowflake practitioners and fluffy bunnies.

 For some reason a great many of the interesting and helpful posts in the groups I visit seem to come from the same handful of people, one of whom is Kirt. He offers real life experience and common sense knowledge in easy to understand language to further the knowledge of newbies and others. He is not a part of Sacred Hands Coven and I have never been graced to meet him IRL, but from what I have read of his posts, he strikes me as one of those guys you want to hang out with in a coffee shop all night talking over life, the universe and everything! Thanks for permission to post, Kirt!~~~ ***Only a handful of slight corrections, to spelling, or punctuation for when the spirit and passion overtook his typing. All the intelligence and spirit is his own.

 Long rant from dealing with stupid people. If you need a “trigger” warning, pull up your big boy panties and grow the fuck up. There’s your warning.

Apparently, I have to add “fluffy bunny trigger warning” because some people find it impossible to see the word trigger without thinking PTSD, [Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder] then, suddenly assume they know what the post is about.

I’m sorry to tell you this little fluffy bunny but you are a human being. We all want to be special, we all want to be more than we are, and we all hope that the magic in us somehow sets us apart from everyone else. The reality is a few steps to the side of that, sadly.

Magic is a force of creation and destruction, it permeates through everything, and nearly everyone uses it, or can learn to use it, to some extent. Being able to use magic does not automatically make you an Archon of the divine. In this life, in the here and now, you are a human being, whatever you may have been in the past is just that, in the past. While you are ultimately the culmination of your experiences, each new life is a new beginning, a fresh start to learn new things. All the respect, admiration, and abilities from the past still need to be earned. The path to your gifts may not be as hard but it must still be walked. When a god or goddess calls you their son or daughter, realize that that is an affectation, like priest or priestess, and not a sign of actual familial connection. You are physical they are not. Even if said deity influenced your parents to create you, you are still the product of your human parents and not half god or goddess. A god cannot reincarnate backward into flesh that is not how it works and a deity is too evolved, it would need to break shards of itself apart into new souls, that still doesn’t make those new souls… that deity. Connected to it, sure, but no longer a part of the whole.

While I’m on the subject of deity, quit whitewashing them to try to make them more PC [politically correct] and user friendly. Some of them, simply are not friendly, nor should they ever be. Even the most benign face of the Morrigan will not hesitate to gut you like a trout if you piss her off, she is the ultimate battle bitch no matter which face she shows, sweet and cuddly mother she will never be, nor should she be. The darker gods are dark for a reason and need to stay that way. We need that energy; it would be like trying to turn Cernunnos into a kind father figure. True, he may have his moments of that, but at his core he is a god of primal maleness. Sex, ego, and power are his weapons of choice and he is good at them. Not every deity is a harmonious balance of masculine and feminine. Trying to make magic more PC is just completely ridiculous and downright disrespectful to the beings we pay homage to.

There is too much ignorance going around. People calling on gods with no idea who they are calling or how to properly summon, calling gods of different pantheons without checking to see if they can get along with each other first. Younglings constantly wanting to be spoon-fed the answers without using their brains to look shit up. Magic always has a cost, it may not seem like it sometimes but there will always be a price to pay, and part of that price is that you put some honest effort into your spell work. Magic won’t work for you if you just can’t be bothered to put any energy onto it.

Clarifying comments and original text found: https://www.facebook.com/groups/MPWNF/permalink/10155327282571466/

Beware the Muzzy Headed One!

Some of you may have noticed a lack of posting, yea verily even a lack of coherence and much rambling when I do post lately. Reading my posts, days later I notice simple errors in spelling, grammar, or punctuation, which are humiliating. I apologize for this. I have recently had some health issues I am tackling and it seems one or more of the 16-18 daily pills they suddenly set me on affect my ability to think clearly, well, and sometimes at all. We will not examine the weird weepy or skitzing out like a nervous cat mood issues and the inability to type or text due to shaky hands, as those go away quickly. The muzzy headed feeling, yeah… not so much.

I have a decades long history with man-made drugs. The muscle relaxers I took after a bad electrical shock in the early ‘80s made me almost catatonic. As such, instead of taking the typical two 5 mg pills every 4 to 6 hours as the doctor first advised, he worked with me and I ended up going down to a half pill every 12 hours and was still a useless blob, lying on the couch, almost insensate and drooling all over myself.

Then, there were the pain meds I got in ’92 after the first back injury at the airport when I was one of the two people lifting the 380 lb former football player who just had knee replacements. Yeah, I know I was an idiot but it was my job, and I was always uncommonly strong for a woman. My back reminds me every day that I screwed up there. Regardless, the first drug at normal strength made me stop breathing and engendered a frantic ride to the hospital. A loved one rode along, poked me every few minutes, and reminded me to breathe. The doctor tried various degrees of dosages of that one, and three other popular painkillers over a weeklong period. Yes, in a controlled setting. Hey, the good news is we discovered I can take prescription strength Tylenol and Advil.

A few years later, in the hospital, with the twins trying to sneak out early at 31 weeks, they even discovered morphine is my friend in small enough doses. Morphine also worked great this past November when the raging infection recently hospitalized me for about a week. This was a few weeks before they amputated Floyd.

Yes, thank you, I would love to insert a tangent here. For those who know me in real life, I know you saw this coming.

Anyway, while in the hospital for eight days and hopped up on morphine and Tramadol, (Hey! Another one I can take!) I was pretty damn bored. When I am bored, if I cannot write for ones of the blogs or on the books, my mind tends to wander off on its own, unattended. While this has proven dangerous in the past, under some circumstances, I was “not allowed” to get out of bed, so the hospital is still standing, yes.

Of course, those who have actually met me realize the “cannot get out of bed” rule here was treated very much like the last eight weeks of the twins pregnancy and the “total bed rest, except from bed to chair once a day” rule. I swear on all that I holy sacred, not ONCE did either of these doctors think to forbid chairs that rolled once I got into them! Besides, with the twins, we were set to move to a bigger place up the street the middle of the 39th week of their pregnancy. Being an anal retentive control freak back then, I had to do all the packing, labeling and arranging of boxes. Gods, I love rolling desk chairs! The old tenants had to be out the 15th, the 16th the management company looked it over and cleaned allegedly. Yes, I admit I was filling, moving and stacking boxes and small pieces of furniture on the 17th, until my dad caught me. Hey, even though labor started around noon the 18th, the twins hung in there like entrenched troopers until the 20th anyway! Nevertheless, by then, they were 39 ½ weeks through gestation anyway which is perfectly acceptable for twins!

Okay, back to the original tangent. Yes, there was one. Some drugs make me weird, or loopy. That was when and where Floyd got his name. Sitting in the hospital and staring at my damn foot hour after hour, I decided to name my toes. Yes, I know it was rather late in life for me to get around to this all-important job, but hey, I was still several weeks away from turning 55, so I felt okay with the timing of the accomplishment!

First, I decided the little toe would be Floyd, for obvious reasons. If reasons are not immediately obvious, you are very young. If you think for a minute, it should come to you. If I have to explain it to you, it loses the element of fun. The next toe would be Ringo, of course. This one may be less obvious, so I will merely remind you to think of your fingers and my reasoning becomes perfectly clear! The center toe, well duh, he is Malcolm. Yes, I know this breaks with the musical theme I had going, and I never watched the show, not even once, but I will remind you… lots, and lots of MORPHINE!

Once I got there, I was lost. I had nowhere to go. I actually searched my brain for what seemed like hours before a solution presented itself. I think the clock said something like eight minutes had passed. Finally, I realized all I had to do was approach it from a different angle! Geesh! What a maroon not to have realized before the perfect names for the ones remaining. Of course, the great toe, the largest toe, whatever you want to call it, was the Notorious B. I. G., what the hell took me so long to figure that out, I will never know! When you think of Biggie, you always think of the number two name that hung around with his name like… well, I cannot think of what it is like, but it was clear to me the number two toe had to be Tupac!

Whew! That was a half hour in the hospital well spent. Pity that was on like the first night or the second day I was there. I cannot recall which. Trust me, it is better I leave the rest of my weird, drug induced, week-long tangenting to your imagination.

The point is, and believe it or not, I really did start this post with a point a few days back, though the clock reads something more like forty minutes ago. I swear, all these clocks lie like politicians, but do not get me started on politics. Oh hell no! That is for the Rants from the Treehuger site, not this one. The point is, I will have an appointment later this week with my doctor about the muzzies, and the other weirdnesses I have developed. So, I hope to be back to posting again soon. Maat knows my “working on it” folder is up to about two hundred partially created posts now, and it grows every week. Until the posts begin again, I am trying to keep up with the comments and questions. So, I will go do that now, before I find another tangent to follow.