my grimoire.

    my favourite time of year,
    fleshed out in apricot leaves and ginger skies
                                 both as healthy as the real things –
              the year’s wheel is just as invigorating
            as the one before

                      I am oft looking through the notes
                scrawled in the margins to myself
                        and it is curious to see
                      the realism come to life – or is it
                      catalysts that my fingers have become
                 swept away the fireflies in the night

            I live by the burning fires now
                        onyx around my neck,
                     the stars in my eyes

               the sermons have changed from light and love
                         to strength and stability,
         the more primal aspect of the heart
                       but the message is still the same;

                     there are smudges and stones
                   snarls and demons, witchery and shadows
                               but there is the sun and the moon
                          within what you would call the dark

                      it is not so much transcendence as it is

                               or would that be evolution?  

The Sea Witch’s Diary II


The Celebration of Svetovid on Rügen (1912), by Alphonse MuchaThe Slav Epic

The lore of Svetovid doesn’t seem very extensive from what I’ve come across. He’s thought to be a pan-Slavic version of Perun, and has a great many names that he goes by: Swiatowit, Beli Vid, Zvantevith, to name a few. He is often described and portrayed as having four heads, two in the front and two in the back, that represented either the cardinal points or the four seasons. White stallions and the horn of abundance are also associated to Svetovid, as well as the sun.

In my spheres of influence and life, I have a great number of Aries and Tauruses that are very close to me. I grew up and have lived with these two signs my entire life, and as a Scorpio to the truest sense, I can tell you that being around stubborn and focused people has had its ups and downs. Hindsight is telling me that this shouldn’t have been much of a surprise, but I really wasn’t expecting Svetovid to reach out to me.

Of all my deities, Svetovid is the most enigmatic. We spoke the first time near the end of a long pendulum session. I was tired and getting ready to close off the connection, but every time I did, I had this nagging feeling that I was missing something. So I gathered myself up and did one more call out, and this lad reached out. It was tricky figuring out who he was at first. He would give me indirect clues and flashes of images of war, spears, bloodied grounds that looked like the Highlands. Svetovid wasn’t demanding or angry with how long it took me to figure him out, though I got the feeling he was gently irritated, and that’s the only way I know how to describe that.

While Svetovid and I have not had a chance to converse properly since our first meeting, I feel him always, and most especially when something perks him up. He watches my back, but only for the things that could really fuck me up. Minor scuffles and annoyances are not of interest to Svetovid, and that’s just fine. If I were to describe his presence

Thus far, I’ve added a figurine of Svetovid to my altar, as well as offered my knife (not an athame) in his name. I bought the figurine from TheSlavicWay on Etsy! Great product, quick shipping, and well made. I’m looking forward to adding more for him to my altar soon – I will share when it’s complete 🙂

Figurine of Svetovid on a Sun base.

The Sea Witch’s Diary I

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks now because I’m really bad at starting something. But when I get going, I just go on and on, so hopefully a janky beginning will be the start of something good!

I am a practicing witch, and have been since I was in middle school. The first deity that spoke with me was Hekate. I had been slightly panicking because Mom was dangerously close to finding a small wall of dirty laundry tucked behind and beside my bed (I don’t know why, I was weird). I have always, always had an interest in the occult/supernatural/arcane/magickal, for as long as I can remember. So, at random I threw out a quick little prayer to Hekate, saying if Mom didn’t find my mess, I would do the dishes with no fuss that night. She never found it, and I did the dishes, saying all my thanks while I did so.

That was my first touch of working with deities, and I have always found it fitting that it was Hekate, the Goddess of Magick first and foremost, who gifted me the start of what I have now. Since then, my deity companions have swelled, and each I am grateful for, so I share their name in thanks.

Hekate. Skadi. Hades. Tsukuyomi. Svetovid. Nyx. Dinlas.

Some have been with me for a number of years, and we are well acquainted with one another. Others, we have forged a bond that cannot be broken, and will only grow in the years. I look forward to spending my life with these deities, it is a comfort to know they are there.

That all being said, I want this particular space to be dedicated to sharing what I know and learn on my journey. There is no wrong way to practice the Craft, but I like to hope that by sharing my journey, others will be inspired, or at least learn something.

Blessed be! ✨

the maiden the mother the crone

the deepest waters run the stillest in their depths
 she learned their language at an early age
    tossed through waves, bathed in tides
 the sun treated her kindly, tickled her skin
 freckles doting on her like a grandmother
she entrusted her being to the way of life
    and when she spread her arms into the grass
  they gave bountifully, singing with her

       what you give out will always come back
    and she gave with fervor, her love strong
           her belief unshakable
        she gave her heart and expected nothing back
    She took notice.

clandestine hut, tailored to her soul rather than her hands
    bundles of sage dangled where the cats played
                   a comely face tread the hollow of the room
        fire lit, eternally bathing her feet in warmth
    newly finished runes etched with care
           wooden floor to hold their magic
      dried bones and crushed leaves, satchel of sunflowers

     in the house of the mother, you are welcome;
  the earth is robust here, the waters are demure
           the moon gives herself freely, with abandon
     while the skies embrace her fiercely
              she knows the love of the world, and with it

             She grows.

the waxing moon tugs her
       ripening her soul and mind, her body ready to gambol
    where she came from is not far from where she went
               and her daughters live among the woods,
       caretakers of their home
            prodigious in their own rights, sailing the love of the maiden
      while the crone watches over them

  you cannot fish an empty lake, nor sort herbs in a dry garden
        there was nothing the sea’s moon hadn’t taught her;
                   leathers hung in the corners, waiting for new life
           to be gifted to Her, when she needed them

   the love she carried was not of small proportions
            and it was not a light burden to bear
        but the only ones who called it a burden
              were the ones who fished the empty lakes,
              who farmed the dry gardens.

we even took the high road.

trapped in the grip of a cruel joke
our gods have no reason to be behind this,

and so they will protect us, and challenge
us to become
all the things we never thought we’d be ;

please pause.

our hearts need a rest.