I want to do for myself, by writing this blog. It will be an exercise in personal development. To overcome the hurtles of my own self-consciousness. I feel like I am a terrible writer. And honestly, I have no real desire to become some sort of a famous writer. I just want to prove to myself that I can learn how to articulate myself and my thoughts the way I want to. That is the true reason for this space I have carved out for myself, to know that I can do this, or at least develop the ability to do so. The only way you get good at something is to practice, right?
And that is what I do do, constant practice. Constant shaping and learning. Creating and destroying. Breathing and exhaling.
I am a student of conjure and witchcraft. I read cards, bones and gaze into glass fishing floats, but I am by no means an expert. I hope to highlight on my experiences and exercises in learning my chosen methods of divination. I speak with Spirits, my Ancestors and occasionally the Gods. I listen to the voices of birds and I catch their network of song that webs itself through the forest. Whispering secrets, news. I want to know what they say. It's like a foreign language, when you can pick up little bits that you know... but the rest is a mystery, yet tinged with a creeping familiarity.
My path began when I first moved to where I am now; the lush rain forests of the Pacific Northwest. Something stirs people here, something here wakes them up. I know I'm not the only one who's been roused in this deeply magical landscape. I live under the watchful eye of the old mountain, his presence is commanding and even though he is such a feature of this landscape, he will still surprise you! Popping out behind the clouds, a stand of trees, around the bend of a trail. That crafty old man. Cinder cones dot the land in my area, volcanic activity in its slumber. Twirling blankets of cloud and mist descend upon the buttes and small valleys, beckoning you closer and closer to become lost in their cool wet grasp. Creeks and rich swamps surround my home. Thick brambles and black rabbits that graze in graveyards. Creatures unseen wander amid the trail goers and playing children in this quaint urban area, and those with eyes to see, can spot them. Those with the knowing, can talk with them.
Won't you join me?