Sunday, November 22, 2015

Lunar Whizbang Gratitude Ritual

We all know that gratitude is the key to insane happiness (Pintrest says so...). In fact we're told to be grateful so often that it can feel like a trite and puke worthy exercise in Fluffdom.

But warm fuzzies aside, the real gift of gratitude is gaining perspective and in a tangled life and confused world--

to get a fucking grip.

Gratitude rituals can be powerful but only  if you DO them.  The Key to a gratitude practice with a PUNCH is specificity.  The magick is really in the details.

Curl up and join me for a Lunar Whizbang Gratitude Ritual...

If you enjoyed this ritual, print the outline for your journal or grimoire! Change the words, rearrange to suit your tastes, do it standing on your head in the bathtub...just do it, Moon Babies.

Click to enlarge image

 May the Universe Shower You with Batshit Crazy Blessings, friends. 

From my black heart to yours, XOXO

Saturday, November 14, 2015

The Power of Ugly


It's the worst affliction we could possibly have. It is the most abhorrent and pitiful thing we could possibly be.  
Be self righteous, be rude, be ruthless, be ignorant, be moronic, be stingy, but for the Love of Pete--

 Don't. Be. Ugly.  Anything but Ugly.

In the paradigm of the Airbrush, the Cohesive Personal Brand, and the Promethian casket...

We could use a little Ugly. 

In a micromanaged and engineered culture that insists upon Aesthetic but actively undervalues Beauty,  Ugly has morphed and taken on new meaning. 

Ugly no longer simply implies grotesque and unseemly.

Ugly means unattractive.
Ugly means imperfect.

Getting Ugly at The Local.  Photo courtesy of An Insomniac Dreaming

Ugly is bloody, sweaty, unmanicured, photoshop resistant, footprints on the floor wax, bulging out, unashamed, crooked, cracked, eccentric, wobbly, wounded, worn out, unwound, unrefined, lipstick on the cup, marred, palimpsest, naked, flailing, cackling, exposed, sunburned, puffy eyed, sore throat, compostable, inedible, inappropriate, impolite, passionate, fluctuating, Liberating, microorganisms, skinned knees, fleshy, rotting, dying, gamy, sinewy, bony, squishy, Raw, on fire and FUNNY, God is she funny...

You can laugh at and with Ugly. I could use a laugh, couldn't you?

There is a dangerous freedom in Ugly. 

Ugly gives zero fucks.

The most powerful part of Ugly is that it's Real. You can feel Ugly with your human fingers and taste Ugly with your human tongue. You can BE wholly, completely and utterly Ugly in holy ways that Cute can't even touch.

There is Power in Ugly. People are frightened of Ugly. People are stupefied by Ugly. They don't know what to do with it.

But not us. You can keep your pretty and nice.

We'd rather be scary and interesting. Maybe rich too...

There is Hope and Healing in Ugly. Imagine all of the things you can let go when you pick up Ugly-- all the expectations you can flush down the toilet, all the crosses you can lay down, all the shame you can kiss good bye forever. 

We can breathe here. We can BE here.  

When you whip out your Ugly, you are unstoppable.
When you dare to be Ugly, the rules don't apply to you.
When you wear your Ugly secret doors fly open.
When your Ugly rears it's head, there is a Love waiting for you.
When you unleash your Ugly you are hip to all sorts of magick.

So, let me see it. Flash it on the world.

I'll show you mine, if you show me yours. 

From the bottom of  my Ugly Heart,

Thursday, November 5, 2015

The In Between Spaces

The crossroads. The hedgerow. The covered bridge. The Dusk. The alley.

The in between spaces.

Places that are neither here nor there and packed with potential.

I've mused about this time of year previously and how the magick of early November, that quiet time after the plastic stickiness and insanity of Halloween passes--but before the mania of the Holiday boot meets your ass is exquisite.

It's an in between space and often disregarded and sniffed at as boring, dreary, and worst of all: Brown.


It's an e x h a l e. There is the instinct to hunker down, to retreat, and to prepare.

A sedation much like the delectable fuzzy state of being beneath the covers and knowing you don't have to wake up just yet.

November comes with an elegant austerity and a renewed love of the mundane and creature comforts.

 I find myself craving the simplicity I see reflected in Nature around me. The subtle shifts of color, the peculiar quality of the quickly fading light and the rudimentary skeletal beauty of branches and tall grasses. Bright mornings. Persistent Fog.

Nothing mussy. Nothing fussy. 
November gets things done.

It's a welcome lull that's ripe with time for reflection: Did I manage to do half of the shit I said I would do this year? It's a time to think back to all of the unexpected misadventures that ran parallel to the "plans" we made and begin hatching and conjuring what will fill up the coming year.

This time is filled with burrowing, trimming away, sweeping out, making medicines, stocking the pantry, savoring transitions, s l o w i n g  d o w n, watching my breath turn into hot clouds, pretending to be invisible and stalking around in the growing night...  

What do you have planned for the space in between?

Much Magick, XOXO