Archive for February, 2009

Which window will it be today children…?

So today I finally got this broad band sorted-or I thought I had! Things aren’t quite right yet; tomorrow will see me fertling with settings yet again. :-( The signal keeps disappearing; currently the only place I can receive anything decent is in the window!!! Oh the joys of shared BB. I am very grateful to have it tho’.

On top of all that I have come down with a hacking cough, topped off with a temperature and upset tum and I was only saying recently I’ve not been ill for a year -yes! I’ve got a big mouth!

So to any of you who do healing, reiki or spells, please send some my way, otherwise a candle and/or a prayer or two will do.

Anything to help me recover and get back to normal!

In the meantime I am reading, reading and reading. I picked up a few books from BC the other day; one herbal book which has made me look outside with glee at all the good and growing things in the garden. If I had the energy I’d clear out my cupboard that houses my magickal herbs, potions, oils and such stuff. But, I think I shall wait until I feel better before tackling it. 

The other was Paul Huson’s “The Devils Picture Book”, probably the best book written on the Tarot or so I’ve been told! Leafing thro’ it I’m tempted to agree, but I’m biased; I love Huson’s books! Well, the jury’s still out on his “Mastering Herbcraft”… but I digress, TDPB was only £2:50!!!! Praise be to Bargaintia, Goddess of bargains! :-)

So I have plenty to read, along with the latest Cauldron to digest. Plenty to study, peruse and browse through while I cough and splutter my way through the pages, catching up on various study projects.

Hm… life is magickal after all! 

©Cymraes2009

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Retail Heaven collapses.

She twisted around on her feet, first this way and then that, “This is Pride Hill!” she exclaimed in surprise and confusion! There was no doubt, there where the seats and the shops, Butchers Row behind her, the market clock towards the bottom of the hill and Barclays Bank to the top – beyond that Marks & Sparks, and further down Woolworths, or at least it had been before the Credit Crunch!

Yes, this was Pride Hill on a gloomy cold damp winters day, people milling about, rushing into shops, here and there, stopping occasionally to talk, the Big Issue seller calling out their ware, the people walking by without a bye or leave… 

I’m here on the Astral, she thought, aware that she was in meditation. But why Pride Hill of all places? 

The Presence by her side, just out of her clear sight, grew in her awareness; she had almost forgotten about him in her surprise at being there. Something within shifted and slowly she saw not just busy shoppers rushing up and down Pride Hill, but grey featureless figures. Grey Souls as she had come to know them in their former meetings. The folk of every day life, lost on the seas with out any Divinity to call on; too busy, too caught up in the delusion that ‘this is all there is’! Nothing to brighten them, just greyness. Grey lives; grey souls.

Look closer… the Presence thoughts in hers.

She looked at the greys closer, now becoming ever so slightly clear to her were their  faces. A man with a scarf wrapped around his neck, tucked into his coat, eyes cast down as her walked by her astral form, came very close, and she saw it in him, and then another and another!

“Their third eyes are closed!” she breathed, “All of them!” 

Spinning around she ran amongst them, looking into their grey faces in disbelief, now she could see why they so steadfastly stayed on their course, refusing to believe in any form or kind of God, Gods, Goddess’s or any spirituality; they couldn’t they couldn’t they couldn’t… their third eyes were closed!

The reality washed over her and she felt lost, exhausted and bereft at the hopelessness of it all. She collapsed to her haunches watching, her astral breath coming in short gasps. It was hopeless… they could not see beyond the norm!

The Presence moved a little closer, seemed to become more intense and her attention was taken by bright colour moving amongst the Greys. A Bright Soul, moved towards them, and another, and another, she got to her feet and moved with the Presence to the side of Butchers Row, as an explanation filled her head.

There are many many more Bright Souls now, more than at any other time. Mankind is at a pivotal point in time, and there are yet more Brights to come.

“But how, if the Greys are so closed and unseeing?”

Look… a spindly finger pointed forth towards the shoppers milling up and down, Greys with a few Brights among them, and as she watched them all, she became aware of a light in their hearts, faint at first in a few, but as her perception slowly grew, the Divine Spark in each one became clear. Even the Greys…

There has been a subtle shift in the Heavens; the devastating results are plain to see, no-one has been left unaffected. With change come wisdom, with wisdom comes change. Things are changing and as they do so will the focus of attention, away from the material things that have held the attentions of the Greys; those that create these distractions are no longer as powerful now that the focus has shifted. The greatest hold has been broken. The Light within will show the way for Mankind to follow; it is his destiny.

She knew in her heart of hearts this was true, but was sad that this was the way of things. That there was no other way to awake the Greys. But then, they were distracted from the way of things by all the nonsense in their lives, as she had been once, before her awakening. Thoughtfully she turned, and walked up Butchers Row lost in thought but aware the Presence had gone, she was alone and with the next step, back in her meditating body in her Temple at home far from Pride Hill and the Greys.

 

©Cymraes2009.

This is a work of fiction and no likeness to any person, living or dead is intended… or is it?

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The daisy chain.

The children bunched together in a corner of the primary school playing field, just the few of them at first, but others soon joined them.

The hubbub of play rang out across the field, as the rest of the school, happily played in the spring sunshine, winter games giving way to summer playfulness. Older boys played football, games of tick went on and long skipping ropes, twirled with girls queuing up to take turns. 

Sitting alone, making daisy-chains, she looked up to see the crowd of children gathered in that one corner, over by the houses.

This was her first year of school, and when the field had been opened up earlier that week, she had wondered over to that spot herself. The white wicker gate seemed strange to her so she had investigated, only to be told off by one of the play ground attendants, Mrs Pritchard.

The gate was out of bounds, so why were the children there?

Her curiosity getting the best of her, she slipped the daisy-chain around her wrist and slowly walked over, she saw how more and more children seemed to be drawn to the throng.

As she approached, keeping an eye out for Mrs Pritchard of course, a sound, strangely rhythmic came to her ears.

Chanting!

The children were chanting!

Gathered in a inner and outer mass, she was aware of inner movement, but as others flowed into the outer semi-circle she could not see what exactly was going on, but she was close enough now to hear the one single word they all were repeating over and over again!

witchwitchwitchWITCHWITCHWITCHWITCHWITCHWITCH!

She watched, closer now, but apart from the throng, mesmerised by the chanting, horrified by the happening. 

Who were they taunting?

Suddenly a shout went up!

The throng quickly melted away, leaving only the inner few, who too ran away, leaving only her and the witch, bent with age, eyes manicly wild, hair streaming around her like Medusa’s snakes, gnarled hands gripping a broom, poised, brushes outwards. 

Their eyes met, and the woman pushing the broom in short stabs towards her said, “Get away! Get away! Get AWAY!”

The child quickly saw the truth. This was no witch, but a scared little old white haired lady!

“But I don’t think you are a witch,” she said innocently, “I’m not like them I wont hurt you.”

But the broom came up, and instinct told her to back off.

She took her first few steps back just as Mrs Pritchard walked up to the gate, draging the boy who had started it all by his ear, followed at a safe distance by gawping boys and girls.

The boy began to apologise, but she could hear his heart was not in it, it was his pain that gave rise to the false words.

Her five year old heart skipped a beat.

She backed off even more.

A strange fear creeping through her soul.

Looking around her to see if anyone noticed as she went back, all alone, back to her patch of daisies, sacred to her Horned God.

©Cymraes2009

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