#let them have spring >:((( demeter should end winter just so they can be happy actually

[whaliiwatching]

galathes give me hug please 2k24

—

for @zagdusa-rights of their lovely hades oc

#hades game #hades oc #galathes #theyre so pretty im gonna dieeee #let them have spring >:((( demeter should end winter just so they can be happy actually #(knows nothing about hades) #i went a little too much on the highlights but I LIKE IT. SO #yes the flowers also are important #gladiolus. classic #wallflower for fidelity in adversity #queen anne’s lace for safe haven #im never big into fandom ocs but. them #i would kill and die and live for them #thanks ken :D

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays Shana!! I really love your prompts about Greek mythology. Could you write a continuation of Hades or God's and Monsters?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Zagreus is mid word when he stills, eyes going distant. "Huh. I'll be right back."

"You're joking," Megaera says flatly. "You can't just drop this on me and-"

"Technically, Than did that." He would really prefer if Zagreus didn't pull him into this. "I'll be quick. She's calling me, it can't be anything good."

"Who's she?" Megaera demands but Zagreus is already gone. She scowls and turns to the others. "Who's she?"

"Eliana, maybe," Sisyphus offers, completely unruffled at Megaera's ire. "At least take a look out the balcony. This is the highest point in the court and the view is really spectacular."

It is. Thanatos hadn't known the underworld could be beautiful before he'd seen what Zagreus had built.

Her eyes narrow. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, I can't say for sure," Sisyphus shrugs, his lips almost curling into a smile. "I wasn't really there for the beginning."

"I was."

They both turn to Patroclus. Eurydice is the only one of them that's suitably wary of either him or Megaera.

"He grew poms in my clearing first," he continues. "It's where we grew things until it became too full and then he created this. Zagreus has woven protections around it, to keep others from stumbling upon it accidentally, but I'm sure you could find it if you looked."

Megaera crosses her arms. "I'm not leaving."

Patroclus shrugs. Eurydice looks longingly towards the door and Sisyphus seems to actually be enjoying himself.

Thanatos stiffens, pain with no physical cause blooming from his chest. "He's died."

"Really?" Eurydice asks, taking a step closer. "He doesn't really do that anymore."

"Except for show," Sisyphus adds, frowning. "But you're both here."

Before Thanatos can decide how he feels about that, Zagreus is slipping back through the mirror, flicking off blood from his arms. "Sorry about that, Artemis wanted a favor."

Thanatos cannot have heard what he thinks he did.

"Artemis?" Megaera repeats dangerously.

"Oh, she told Aphrodite by the way," he adds casually, then pauses. "Actually, she was pretty surprised to see me, so I guess Artemis just called me and let her figure it out herself. Cold."

"Well, this is all unraveling," Patroclus says, but he doesn't seem that worried about it. Not nearly worried about it as Thanatos thinks he should be.

Zagreus shrugs. "They can keep a secret. Also it's been almost fifty years already, this can't go on forever. I suppose I could just challenge Demeter outright?"

"Do not do that," Eurydice says.

Thanatos wants to sit down.

"Have you LOST YOUR MIND?" Megaera screeches, grabbing Zagreus's shoulders. Her nails dig into him, but he doesn't bleed. "You can't do this! You can't - have you - this is crazy!"

Zagreus shrugs, pressing her nails deeper into him. "What's she going to do? Kill me?"

"There will be war," Thanatos says quietly while Megaera seems lost for words.

"Long overdue, if you as me," he says casually. "She's killing a lot of people, Than. She's undermining the other gods and making things worse for everyone all because she lost her daughter. She's turning against her own domain because her grief is more important than her duty. I can't make my mother talk to Demeter. But I have the power to stop her, to put an end to this winter. So I have to stop her."

"This isn't your responsibility, Zag," Thanatos says quietly.

"No," he agrees, expression souring. "It's my mother's. But if the goddess of spring won't do her duty and put an end to winter, then I will."

"Why?" Megaera asks, something small and scared in her that Thanatos hasn't seen since the first time she heard of Zagreus attempting to escape. "Why does it have to be you?

"I am a son of life's beginning and of life's ending." Zagreus says gently. "I know there is balance. I exist because of that balance. When I was born, I had too much of my father, and Nyx filled me with my mother's blood, because I can only exist when there is both." Thanatos hadn't known that, hadn't known how exactly his mother managed to save a stillborn Zagreus. "Who else, Meg?"

She doesn't have an answer.

There isn't one.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #geekyladypumpkin #hades game

[littlesparklight]

Headcanons for all six of the Kronides, how they are for and with each other!

Hestia with: Demeter - they always spend a couple moment of every feast/time Demeter comes to Olympos together, just the two of them, since that’s how it started. Hestia might cook for everyone else, but Demeter makes Hestia kykeon (and no one else’s will do). Hera - they sit and read, or spin, together, quite often. Hera is the only one who could convince Hestia to leave Olympos, or anyone at all behind, since Hera knows what it means to have to leave when you don’t want to. Hades - they sing together; Hestia is the only one Hades will sing aloud to and with, a holdover from the age within Kronos (even if there were two and then three more people in there with them). If Hestia asks Hades to come up to Olympos for a visit, he will. Poseidon - he turns to Hestia first, whenever he’s uncertain; it might be just a brief reflexive mental urge, or physically about to turn to her if they’re standing nearby each other, and usually never goes anywhere, but it does happen. Zeus - she sits him down sometimes and combs his hair (aside from Hestia, only Rhea and Hera have done this). Zeus came to her after chaining up Hera and saving Herakles, while she thought it might have been a bit of an overreaction, she wasn’t particularly happy with Hera using Hypnos on Zeus just to go at Herakles again, so she said nothing and just fed him some dessert.

Demeter with: Hestia - particularly cold, dark winter nights, Demeter will turn up in Hestia’s rooms and that is as much about missing Persephone as it’s a holdover fear of the dark and silence of Kronos’ insides. Demeter often keeps pet lizards, and they’ll always be named Hestia (Hestia isn’t so very charmed by that, but she tolerates it). Hera - they garden together, and they once tried to see how large they could make a single pomegranate fruit; no one else gets why they laugh like loons sometimes when catching a glance of a pomegranate together. Hades - no one else knows, but he used to come up top and just sit quietly with Demeter; they’re not quite there yet so they can resume this, but it’s getting there. Demeter still has a piece of ruby, one of the first pieces of mineral Hades called up after taking kingship of the Underworld. Poseidon - much like Zeus, he could make her laugh (he has a better sense of humour than Zeus, however). She used to like to race with him in horse shape; not so much any more. Zeus - he can make her laugh, and, contrary to everything, sit quietly enough she enjoys his company. Zeus was the only one who could get Demeter to dance, and they would wreck absolute shop together during the war.

Hera with: Hestia - the only one Hera has confessed any fear of, not the dark, confining places, to. The rare times Hera likes to bake, she does it with Hestia. Demeter - Titan war duo powerhouse after Hera joined the war later, and they still spar. They talk shit about Poseidon and Zeus together sometimes (most notably after Zeus has cheated), but they don’t touch either Hades or the situation with Persephone and Zeus involvement in that, Hera doesn’t actually understand why Demeter was so angry about it. Hades - she tells him the secrets she doesn’t share with Hestia. They hold each other back, the moments they each need it. Hades chose each and every gem set in one of Hera’s favourites necklaces himself. Poseidon - they wreck shop, both together, and against each other; in the war they were one of the more explosive but highly effective combinations. When Hera is most furious, she goes to Poseidon and they go race his chariot over the waves and talk shit about Zeus. Zeus - he lights her up; where Zeus’ sense of humour and pranks might get on other people’s nerves or seem inappropriate, Hera loves it. They can be absolutely terrifying if they’re scheming together, and they usually take a moment every morning, before Zeus goes to sit on a mountaintop somewhere for Important Reasons, to talk about things relating to the sphere (evening is for personal things).

Hades with: Hestia - he’s the only one who knows she has nightmares about Kronos escaping Tartaros, and so Hades make a point of going to the edge/the locked door and checking it every now and then, sending Hestia a letter telling her it’s still secure. Hestia makes sure Hades always gets something pastry-like with him filled with the jam of strawberry fruit whenever he’s been to Olympos. Demeter - they used to wind down during the war drinking mint tea. He tried to offer her Iasion back some time after his marriage with Persephone, Demeter refused even if she appreciated the gesture, and Hades would freely admit he’s impressed by her refusal. Hera - connected to the secrets one above, Hera is the one Hades talks about when it comes to sensitive things, like the fact he’s glad Persephone didn’t want children because, even if he might be able to have them, he’d fear something similar to the prophecies Zeus has had to deal with (he is still the eldest male, after all). Hera learned about gem stones, both from Hades and because of him, so they could talk about them together. Poseidon - they race together, very rarely. They get along better when both of them are drunk; Poseidon almost managed to get Hades to sing with him once, but Poseidon doesn’t remember and Hades is Very Thankful for that. Zeus - another powerhouse couple in the war. Zeus doesn’t lean on Hades as often as he might sometimes wish to do, which makes the moments Zeus does do so mean so much more to Hades. They exchange letters more often than Hades comes up to Olympos.

Poseidon with: Hestia - he helped her build their first hearth, as temporary as it was. Has made her a saltwater spring that feeds a little fountain in her kitchen garden, and he would never admit to it but he’s very pleased Hestia asked for it. Demeter - used to go to great lengths to come up with ways to get Demeter to laugh; he tested all of his jokes on her first, and if she didn’t laugh they were immediately discarded. (He still doesn’t use any of the ones Demeter didn’t laugh at.) Hera - they’ve cracked half a dozen schemes together, mostly as a way to let off steam. Hera, aside from Hestia, was usually the one Poseidon ended up sitting with in the dark inside Kronos, usually because, even if they’d bicker, it made him feel alive. Hades - offered to switch kingship domains with Hades, not because he didn’t want what he’d ended up with, but because he could feel a draw, despite what cosmic chance-necessity said about it. Asked Hades what his favourite gemstone among his earthly treasures were, and unfortunately laughed himself sick when Hades showed him a piece of pink rhodochrosite that’d grown so it looked like a flower. Teased him if it was about Persephone, and Hades denied it (it’s actually not). Zeus - they fight more often than they do not, but if anyone else (not him or their siblings) tried to fuck Zeus up, Poseidon would be on the war path. Thinks Zeus is a bit of a bore not fucking like he does (but hey, more for him!); Zeus thinks Poseidon should think about what he’s sticking his dick into more often.

Zeus with: Hestia - she knows a lot of Zeus’ secrets. Even if she doesn’t agree with him, he can go to her and get welcoming calm and affection. Was awfully surprised she didn’t want to marry, since that seemed like something that would suit her well, but Zeus is just as relieved as Hestia is that she made such a strongly formal vow of not marrying and tending Olympos’ hearth instead. Demeter - they have (if more rarely now, and certainly not for a good while there in the middle) fun together, which was the reason Zeus attempted to marry her, and the reason Demeter refused, and in hindsight, he agrees with her; they’re better like this. She gives him flowers, sometimes. Hera - sometimes turns into a cuckoo and comes to sit on her shoulder; when she takes him into her hands he knows she’s forgiven him. Chose the type of gems to put in the jewellery Hera wore for their wedding (Hades got them for him). She’s ruthless, and he loves it; until it’s turned onto him, that is. Hades - almost asked Hades once why he tolerated not just the tripartite rule but also Zeus being given the ultimate kingship; Hades interrupted him before he could and said that Zeus turning this into a tripartite rule was all proof Hades needed that Zeus was in the right spot. Zeus wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s very grateful for Hades’ quietly determined big-brother-energy. Poseidon - has taught Zeus more about fighting than anyone else, and that’s as much from their more proper spars and literally fighting with him. Would trust Poseidon with wife and children and his own life, but not his kingship.

#greek mythology #greek gods #hestia #demeter #hera #hades #poseidon #zeus

[depressedacadamia]

So you want to Play?

Prompt + Pairing: Historical AU, ‘Play’ + Hades and Persephone

A/N: I'm so so happy with the way Day 4's fic turned out- Super happy! I never thought writing for the greek gods would be this fun but I defintely want to do more of it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! <3 from me!!

Read on A03                 WritersMonth 2021

“Your Majesty, there is a visitor for your daughter,” the guard informed the Queen.

Demeter seemed unimpressed. “Who? And where are they from?”

The guards went silent with only the sound of mumbling and hushed whisperings.

“Well?” Demeter raised an eyebrow.

“It is King Hades of Erebus,” The guard said dutifully. Queen Demeter nodded and dismissed the guards.

The princess who had been eavesdropping immediately came skipping in with her dress bunched under her hands as she made her way towards her Mother with excitement drawn all over her face.

“Is it true mother? Is The King Hades of Erebus himself here to visit us?”

Demeter, who did not see much taste in Hades herself, simply gave a curt nod that did not match the enthusiasm portrayed on her daughter's face.

“Is he coming in? When will I see him? Mother, don't you agree that he is most handsome? I do envy any woman whom he may court- Do you think he would ever ask to court me, Mother? No, that would be ridiculous, do you think not?” Persphone rambled, her facial expressions varying with her words.

“Absolutely not.” Demeter’s voice was stern with her daughter. “ Do not entertain such fantastical ideas, Kore. Hades, I believe, is here on official business. Nothing more. And please, do wear something of a higher caliber- Make no mistakes, I do not intend for him to fall for your beauty, but I do not wish for us to embarrass ourselves in front of such an important personality, is that not correct Kore?”

Persephone sighed and nodded. Her body slumped as she dragged herself to her room where her dressing maids had found her a more ‘appropriate’ outfit for the visit. Persephone could not say she wasn't disappointed- Oh just how romantic would it be if Hades was here to beg for her hand in marriage or even the chance to have a simple outing with her!

And yet, her outfit was… unlike her. Normally, she wore yellow and pink- similar to her springtime colours and the domain and land which her mother ruled over. However today it seemed that her mother wanted nothing of Perepjhone’s innocence today. Her dress was gold, glimmering like the sun and with it was a green cloak, emerald green, like the blades of grass around her beautiful palace. There was no doubt that it made her look beautiful, the gold contrasting with her dark skin but she felt off.

The dress felt foreign around her body as she made her way to the throne where she was to take her place beside her Mother. Her hand was on the banister as she called out.

“Mother! Are you sure this is mine? I do feel that it seems much too grandiose for my tastes!” Persephone made her way into the throne room only to be met with the sight of a dozen guards all standing around a man who wore an elegant black suit, and was adjusting his golden cuffs.

Persephone noticed that the guards were not their own. Were they under attack? She did not have a weapon on her- what was she to do!

“Kore,” Her mother said in what seemed to be an affectionate attempt, “ King Hades is present. Do make yourself scarce and take your place.” Her hand batted towards her daughter’s throne and immediately, Persephone bowed, her head kept low as she hurried towards her throne and quickly took her place.

Before she sat, she made a small curtsy toward the King who in turn nodded back at her.His hair was long and messy but it suited his face. His eyes were so dark brown, Persphone swore that they were black. They had to be. She was drunk on him, his face, body- everything about him. He dressed like a man who knew what he wanted and Perphone could only wish that she was it.

“If you do not mind,” Persephone suddenly interrupted, earning a glare from her Mother, “What business is it that requires your presence here and not one of your messengers?”

Hades let out a small laugh and when he spoke, Persephone thought she might just melt. “ Do you not wish to see me? Is my presence here too unnerving for a spring princess?”

Persephone’s eyes largened and she shook her head frantically. “ Oh no! That is not it, your Majesty. It is simply that someone with as much power and business as you should not have to waste so much time travelling to simply put in a small request or discuss a little business when it could wait until one of the solstices.”

“Humour me Persephone,” Hades' eyes somehow darkened.” Do you often get suitors?”

Persephone was lucky that her blush was not visible. “What is such a question?”

“Yes, indeed, Hades- What is such a question?” Demeter’s eyes narrowed at the King whom she had known, realising she could trust his intentions no longer.

“My dearest Demeter, it is only a question. Why must you get so protective over her as if she is only a babe?”

“She is my only child, so please hurry up and take your leave Hades.”

“Mother!” Persephone gasped in horror, “We don't speak to our guests in such a dismissive manner. I am sorry, your majesty, my Mother must be getting old. Normally, she would never behave in such a manner! It must be the weather- when it gets colder, the crops begin to die and it does have the most disastrous effects on one’s behaviour. I apologise profusely. Please, let it be seen that you are taken to a guest room.”

“Kore!”

“My name is Persephone or Your Highness- I’d appreciate it if you were to call me either of those, Mother!”

“See it that King Hades here is put in the best guest suite available. Perhaps one furthest away from the chambers of Persephone. Thank you,” Demeter, ignoring her daughter's outburst, told the maid who immediately guided Hades towards the staircase. Hades paused and turned around.

“What about my legion? They have travelled far, Demeter and I would be deemed an unfair ruler if I were to force them to deal with the nearing winter and station them outside your doors.”

Demeter sighed. “Please also see that the Legion are suitably equipped.”

Persephone was almost singing melodies from her excitement. She couldn't wait to tell all her friends about this day! Artemis and Apollo wouldn't believe her when she got to tell them. In fact, to make sure they would hear of the incident when it was as clear as day in her memory, she rushed to her chambers and immediately set out to write them a letter.

Her quill dipped in the ink as she wrote out the exciting events of the day. She had finished her intimate description of him that lasted at least a page and the events that had acted out in the Throne room. She was about to end the letter but she had been called for dinner which she had been informed would be with Hades.

Almost skipping to dinner, she smiled- She would be supping with Hades tonight! How exciting! She had to make sure to include this in her letter to the twins!

She took her seat with glee and despite the fact that her favourite dessert was not being served, she did not seem to portray any sadness.

“Kore? I would have thought you were to say something about there being a lack of your favourite dessert,” The servant cleaning up after her murmured into her ear as she picked up her plate. Persephone shrugged, still smiling brightly.

“Now Hades, why are you here? You have yet to grace us with your reasoning for travelling all this way. What could be so urgent that you came this distance through this weather? Especially to a palace where you know you have no place.” Deemter added a snarl to the last line.

“Mother!” Persephine begged under her breath.

Hades chuckled. “Demeter, still as stiff as usual. Well, I came here to discuss the everlasting problem of Gaia. It seems she is infatuated with the idea that she could combine forces with some other armies and avenge her Son, Kronos,” Hades explained.

“And why take this to me? Why not to any of the other stronger, more armed lands? I’m sure Ares or Athena both have advanced plans on how to deal with this.”

“They are all well informed about current affairs- you, on the other hand, due to your insistence to avoid any foriegn affairs that do not concern you, are not informed. I come as a helper of sorts. Prepare your armies.”

“Is that all?” Demeter asked, her tone arrogant.

Hades smirked. “There may have been other reasons for my coming here. Benefits perhaps.”

Demeter inhaled sharply. “ Such as?”

Hades gave a small glance to Persephone who was oblivious to all of this before he waved her off. “I must say the wine you serve here is delicate. I must buy some for my home In Erebus.”

“I’m afraid, My lord, that this wine is only available here, in the Springlands,” Persephone informed him.

“Just like you,” he murmured.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh nothing.” He batted his hand. “That is truly a shame. In that case, I do hope I can pinch some before I take my leave?”

“Of course,” Persephone answered.

“In that case then, I must be off to bed. I have a tremendously long and tiring journey to make tomorrow.” And with that announcement, Hades took his leave towards his chamber.

Persephone was ecstatic as she practically ran back to her chambers to finish writing her letter to the twins. She couldn't wait to continue telling them all about the dinner and just how beautiful Hades had been!

As she pushed open her door, she found that her letter was missing. She searched all over her desk but could not seem to find it anywhere.

“Oh my, where could I have left it?” She mumbled to herself.

“You would not believe how handsome he is- he has the most ethereal face and his eyes! Oh I get lost in them continuously and when he speaks, one cannot help but be drawn to his lips. How I wish they were stuck to mine for eternity! They are the softest lips, almost like the skin of a newborn babe, that one could ever see,” A familiar voice read out.

Persephone, remembering that those were the very words she had written in her letter, turned around and to her most dismal horror, found Hades leaning on the wall furthest away from her desk and closest to her bed, clutching the letter in his hand.

“Oh, do give that back, will you!” She cried as she ran forward, trying to save herself the embarrassment. Hades sidestepped, making Persephone fall straight into the wall as he read another section of the letter.

“His aura is undeniably superior to any other suitor I’ve ever met! But unlike any other suitor, he is not here for me! It does break my heart that such a man, so handsome in his appearance and -dare I even say- seductive in his personality, is not here for me and instead here to discuss important matters. Why, if I were to ever get a simple night with this man, I believe that my lifetime satisfaction would undeniably be reached.”

Persephone could feel the will to live quickly draining her body as Hades read out her utmost desires- worst of all, the desires which she had tried so hard to conceal from him!

“My dear Persephone, who knew that you held such desires? And to think you were simply an innocent face?”

“Give that back Hades!”

Persephone, this time realising he would try and sidestep, grabbed Hades and with all her strength which she had accumulated from her training lessons that her mother simply insisted on, pushed Hades onto the bed before scrambling on top of him and reaching over him to try and pry the letter out of his firm grasp.

She had nearly grabbed the letter when Hades switched it to his other hand and so to prevent him doing it again, she grabbed both of his wrists and immobilised them above his head before prying the letter out of his hands. She breathed happily as she held the letter in one hand and pushed down on both of Hades wrists in the other.

“Persephone,” Hades murmured, his voice deeper.

“I won!” She smiled on top of him, her head falling closer to his making her small afro bob slightly .

“So this was a game?”

Persephone shuffled around, unaware that she was straddling Hades. “Yep. And I beat you!”

Suddenly, Hades ripped his hands free, gripped Perephone’s hips and used his momentum to flip them so that he was lying on top of her, only being supported by his arms which lay beside her head. She looked up at him.

“If you want to play, Persephone, you’ll need to know a few rules. 1- I’m always on top.

#Writersmonth #hades #persephone #hades fanfic #persephone fanfic #demeter #hades x persephone #persephone x hades #hades x persephone fanfic #persephone x hades fanfic #greek gods #historical au #greek gods fanfic

[imsorryimlate]

Specific references in Pomegranate Seeds, sorted by chapter

Title of work: Pomegranate Seeds

A reference to the myth of Persephone and Hades, where Hades is the god of the underworld who kidnaps Persephone – the daughter of Demeter, goddess of agriculture and harvest – and makes her queen of the underworld. He gives her a pomegranate to eat, and for every seed she swallows she has to spend a month with Hades in the underworld. During the months she is with Hades, she is gone from her mother, and that’s why autumn and winter exist (since Demeter is grieving the loss of her daughter). Spring and summer are the months when she is back with Demeter, and Demeter is once again happy. The myth has lots of interpretations, but my favourite is the one where it is said to be based on the trauma of both daughter and mother as they are separated when the daughter gets married and enters a new household.

Even though Giorno’s mother didn’t treat him well, her death was most likely traumatic to him. He enters the new household of Dio (Hades) and every time they touch each other in a way that isn’t befitting father and son, one could say that Giorno swallows another pomegranate seed, and it binds him to the underworld. In this case, the underworld would both represent the criminal world, but also the trap of their incestuous relationship that he then cannot leave, should he want to.

No specific references in chapters 1 & 2.

Chapter 3:

Demetra – Giorno’s mother doesn’t have a name in canon, so I made one up. Demetra is the Italian version of Demeter, which is the name of the Greek goddess of agriculture and harvest. The goddess is the mother of Persephone, and the title of this fic – Pomegranate Seeds – is a reference to the myth of Hades and Persephone.

The biblical paintings in the church – John the Baptist (martyr) was beheaded, and Judas (traitor) hung himself. The imagery around Eve, the snake and the red apple, well… depending on how you interpret the story in the Bible, this could mean that the scene doesn’t represent a fall from grace, but rather that it was God’s intention to have humanity step into the broader world.

Dio’s books – I mostly just had a look at my own bookshelf, but I purposely included Nabokov, Machiavelli, and Plato. Nabokov, of course, references his infamous novel Lolita. Machiavelli was an Italian politician and philosopher during the Renaissance, and he’s most famous for his book The Prince, where he gave rulers quite… devious advice, not shying away from unethical and corrupt means. Therefore Machiavelli and the derived term Machiavellian often denotes (political) deceit. And Plato, well, in his text The Symposium he speaks of the ancient practice of pederasty in a very positive manner, and claiming that it is the purest form of love.

Aniara – I picked the book because it’s my sister’s favourite. It is a book-length epic science fiction poem that narrates the tragedy of a large passenger spacecraft carrying a cargo of colonists escaping destruction on Earth veering off course, leaving the Solar System and entering into an existential struggle. This is the “space-travel” Giorno later reflects on while in the bath.

No specific references in chapter 4.

Chapter 5:

The next reference to Machiavelli – Giorno thinks about Machiavelli and the question if it is better to be feared or loved, which is something Machiavelli writes about in his book The Prince, where he states that it is better for a ruler to be feared than loved, if they cannot be both.

No specific references in chapter 6.

Chapter 7:

Reckless – Giorno notes that Dio wants him “recklessly, passionately”. This is one of the two times the word “reckless” is used in this story; the only other time being in the first chapter when Giorno’s mother dies after her car collides with a reckless truck. Dio’s desire for Giorno is tied together with that accident, as if it’s equally dangerous.

Jewel – “Yes, Giorno would like something like that; to show Dio that he was a prized jewel, cut to fit perfectly in the curve of his palm.” This line directly references the Song of Songs 7:1 “Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand.”

Eden – “How truly unfortunate, that the most tempting fruit should be found in the middle of Eden.” The garden of Eden, in the Bible, is where life is first created by God. It can therefore also symbolise family, where life also is created. So what Dio essentially says here is “what a shame the most fuckable person is found in my family”.

Draconic tendencies – Giorno having “draconic tendencies” is a reference to his earlier thoughts about Abbacchio hoarding Bucciarati like a jealous dragon.

Chapter 8:

Buttercups – Giorno picks a bouquet of buttercups for Dio, and buttercups have traditionally been associated with childhood. It is meant to express that Giorno, no matter how mature he himself is convinced that he is, still has a childish edge to his affection. As a fun aside, the Latin name for buttercups is Ranunculus, which means “little frog”.

Leda and the Swan – the painting Dio has in his study. It is, of course, an erotic yet controversial motif in itself, but there are some references to the Greek myth it is based on. In it, Zeus disguises himself as a swan and copulates with Leda. It is not entirely clear if it is by rape or seduction. Zeus, of course, is known for his sexual escapades, his violent temper and jealousy, but here he disguises himself as a swan, which is an animal that in European culture often has symbolised love and fidelity. This story of a shady person disguising himself as someone loving, to enter a relationship where consent is dubious at best, well… I think the implications are clear. As a fun aside, the name Zeus and the name Dio are directly connected.

Uneasy lies the head – the whole quote is “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown”, a saying from Shakespeare’s play Henry IV, Part 2, meaning that someone with great responsibilities won’t be able to rest properly.

The prodigal son – it’s a reference to a parable in the Bible, from Luke 15:11-32. The story goes that a son requests his inheritance early, spends it all irresponsibly, and then returns home to beg his father to let him work for him. His father, however, welcomes him home with open arms and throws a feast, which indicates that he has hopefully waiting for the son to return.

Nakedness – the scene in Giorno’s room, where he lowers his duvet to display his “nakedness”, the word choice here is important. Except for Genesis 42, all biblical occurrences of the common idiom ”to see the nakedness of” or “to uncover the nakedness of” are explicitly sexual, usually referring to incest. The Classical Hebrew word 'erwā is not “nudity” but “nakedness”, in the sense of something that is unseemly or improper to look at or expose; often used to denote forbidden sexual relations.

Chapter 9:

Wine-dark – Dio’s eyes are described as wine-dark, which is a reference to the use of “wine-dark sea” in Homer. It’s an epithet used in the Iliad and the Odyssey, of uncertain meaning. What exactly does it mean that the sea is “wine-dark”? Is it a reference to the stormy sea being unpredictable, like someone who’s drunk on wine? Or does it tell us something about how ancient Greeks perceived colours, where maybe depth and opacity levels were more important than hues?

Ambrosia – Giorno compares the taste of Dio’s seed to ambrosia, which is the food and drink of the gods in Greek mythology.

Lollipop – Giorno is sucking on a lollipop while he’s out shopping. This is a shameless reference to the most culturally recognised image of Nabokov’s Lolita, where Sue Lyon, the actress who portrayed the character Lolita in Stanley Kubrick’s film adaption of the novel, is sucking on a red lollipop while wearing heart-shaped sunglasses. It’s worth noting, however, that the character Lolita doesn’t eat a lollipop in the novel or Kubrick’s film, and the images were only used for promotion. Either way, the lollipop has nonetheless become a symbol for playful, youthful temptation.

No specific references in chapter 10.

Chapter 11:

Dio’s alarming beauty – Giorno reflects on how beautiful Dio is, that he is alarmingly beautiful. This is a reference to a quote from The Secret History by Donna Tartt: “Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming.”

Chapter 12:

Kisses – there’s a lot of descriptions of kissing in the beginning of this chapter, and it is all a reference to the biblical book Song of Songs. “Honey-sweet kisses that melted his tongue” is a reference to Song of Songs 4:11 “honey and milk are under your tongue”. On a more complicated note… “those kisses, Giorno drank them from his mouth like they were life-giving water” is a reference to Song of Songs 1:2 that should be “I want to drink kisses from his mouth”, however, most translations will read “let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth”. It’s really complicated as to why I and others would translate it differently, but in general it has to do with the manuscript and the Masoretic editors’ vocalisation, which in turn has a lot to do with evaluating Classical Hebrew grammar and poetic conventions… I am going to spare you that lecture, but I still wanted to let you know that you won’t find that wording in most English translations of the Bible.

The garden, Eden, and juvenile sex – this all ties together. The garden of Eden is, in the Bible, where life is created and before “the fall of man”, it is a place of peace and innocence. Now, it might seem strange to refer to innocence in a story like this, but there still is a certain kind of innocence to their relationship, especially on Giorno’s end. They are described as “easy and unafraid, in full view of God”, which again is a reference to the biblical creation story; after “the fall of man”, when Adam and Eve have sinned, they are suddenly afraid of God and tries to hide from him, and for the first time shield their nudity, since they have now lost that innocence. So, Dio and Giorno being unafraid in full view of God is another reference to them being fairly innocent. At least that’s how Giorno conceptualises it.

Satyriasis – a word for excessive sexual desire, and an outdated term for hypersexuality. The word was developed in relation to the satyrs of Greek mythology, who were lustful woodland gods.

Nipple play – Giorno sucking on Dio’s tits, well… quite obvious reference, but if you missed it; it’s a reference to breastfeeding and nourishment.

Sunlight – in Stardust Crusaders, Dio tells Polnareff that he too has pain in his life because he can never see the sunlight, since he is a vampire. In this story, Dio isn’t a vampire, but I still wanted to include this pain. Dio’s love for the sunshine, and the depravation of it in his childhood, is my attempt to reconceptualise it.

Chapter 13:

Ice cream – elder flower sorbet has a tendency to taste like laundry detergent if you’re not careful, so Mista definitely picked the wrong flavour that time.

Know thy enemy – “know thy enemy” is a famous quote from The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

Chapter 14:

Paradise burning – more Eden references, they never truly stop.

Loins – in Classical Hebrew, one specifically emphasises that a child has sprung from someone’s loins to indicate that it is a biological child rather than an adopted one.

Deadly sins – Giorno notes that one of the seven deadly sins, sloth (that is, excessive laziness and indifference), doesn’t come as naturally to him as others would (such as lust or pride).

Know thy self – another reference to the famous quote of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.

Companion – Giorno thinks about how the universe has blessed Dio with a companion that can keep up with him, which is a subtle reference to the creation myth in the Bible. There, God creates the first human, Adam. Adam attempts to find a companion amongst the other creatures, but cannot find an equal until God creates another human – incidentally, God creates another human from Adam (by his rib), which of course parallels with Giorno being created from Dio, since he is his biological child.

Clay – the dream Giorno has of Dio forming him out of clay and breathing life into him is another direct reference to the creation myth in the Bible, where God forms the first human out of clay/soil/dust from the ground and breathes life into his nostrils. Similar creation myths are found in several ancient Near Eastern religions. If you want a little more “fun” fact, the first human is named Adam, a name he gets from the Classical Hebrew word for “man” (as in human – not male), which is adam, and the word for “ground” is adamah, which ties to all together quite nicely.

Nakedness – Dio uncovers Giorno’s nakedness, and just like in chapter 8 it’s a biblical reference. Except for Genesis 42, all biblical occurrences of the common idiom ”to see the nakedness of” or “to uncover the nakedness of” are explicitly sexual, usually referring to incest. The Classical Hebrew word 'erwā is not “nudity” but “nakedness”, in the sense of something that is unseemly or improper to look at or expose; often used to denote forbidden sexual relations.

Chapter 15.

Cuddling – after having breakfast, they cuddle, and their position is described as Giorno resting his head on Dio’s left arm, and Dio draping his other arm over Giorno’s waist. This position is a reference to the biblical book the Song of Songs 2:6 “His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.”

Angel lust – Dio gets hard after Giorno chokes him, which he says is a perfectly natural reaction to being choked. Which it is! “Angel lust” or “death erection” refers to the phenomenon of men executed by hanging having an erection, because of the increased downward blood flow. After observing this, doctors in the 17th century started prescribing choking sex to men with erectile dysfunction, and that’s partly where erotic asphyxiation comes from.

England – the phrase “lie back and think of England”, alternatively “close your eyes and think of England” is an old-timey reference to unwanted sex that one doesn’t enjoy – specifically used for sex within a marriage, which at least back in the day was more of an economic arrangement than a love affair. Disgustingly, it means “just lie back and endure it”.

Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh – this is another reference to the creation story in the Bible. The specific verse is Genesis 2:23, when God has created another human to be a worthy companion of the first one. Adam, the first human, has searched for a companion among the animals but been unsuccessful to find an equal. But when he meets the newly created Eve, the second human, he exclaims “At last! This is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (since she was created from his rib). That “at last!” is very sweet – and fits in this story too! Dio has finally found a worthy companion to share his highest highs and deepest lows with.

Chapter 16.

Roses – Giorno buys a bouquet of roses for Dio. This is intended as a contrast to the buttercups he picked for Dio in chapter 8, being that roses are a much more “mature” flower than buttercups, therefore showing that Giorno has matured. Also, the fact that he buys the bouquet of roses while he picked the buttercups indicate a certain loss of simplicity and naturalness in their relationship.

Fin.

#/ #// #/// #//// #///// #just fanfiction stuff pls look away #i tried to make this a private post but tumblr be fucking with me #pomegranate seeds references

[openeyeswidesmiles]

✨ Hello witch-fam and happy (late-cough-again) Ostara! 🌼 Please be aware there is a video companion to this piece, I usually try to make a written component because frankly I sound better on paper! If you are interested in the video please feel free to check it out and don't forget to like and [subscribe|https://youtu.be/ASzBJ9yAZL0]! I wanted to share a little wealth about the sabbat itself. Before I start I’d like to set a disclaimer: I strive everyday (and I do mean everyday) to make sure the people around me have access to every bit of information that I do and more if I can help it; it’s the reason that I’m in the library field. Today I’m going to be sharing some popular and some unpopular opinions on the lovely Ostara but this is purely for educational purposes. In no way, shape or form am I ever telling anyone how to celebrate or believe. Rather I’m looking to share alternative and common views held by many within and outside of the community. That being said, let's jump right into it 💐 Ostara, sometimes referred to as Ēostre or the Vernal Equinox is the time when day and night are at perfect balance and equal to one another. It’s the official start of spring! A time of movement and motivation, shaking off those last bits of fatigue and winter affects. Ostara can be celebrated between March 20-23 with the 21st and 22nd arguably being the most powerful of days. If you’re in the southern hemisphere and go by your own season you would likely be celebrating between September 20-23. I’ll be starting mine on the 20th and finalizing it on the 23rd. If you’re interested in what that looked like you can check it out [here.| Will be here shortly] Here we are celebrating the marriage between the Maiden and the Green Man. It's a time of fertility and union, love and rebirth. Other Spring Deities 🌷The Maiden 🌷The Green Man 🌷Ēostre 🌷Ashanti 🌷Kore 🌷Dionysis 🌷Venus 🌷Aphrodite 🌷Freya 🌷Demeter 🌷Osiris 🌷 Persephone Symbols and Symbolism 🌱Fertility, new life and rebirth 🌱Seeds and eggs 🌱Ribbon and baskets 🌱Gardens and sprouts 🌱Seeds and foliage 🌱Birds and flowers and innocence 🌱Chickens and lambs 🌱Rabbits and hares Plants 🌿Thyme 🌿Pansy 🌿Tarragon 🌿 Violets 🌿Honeysuckle 🌿Crocus 🌿Daffodils 🌿Jasmine 🌿Hyacinths 🌿Peony 🌿Ivy 🌿Lavander 🌿Nettles 🌿Sage 🌿Dandelion 🌿 Ginger 🌿Narcissist 🌿Tulips 🌿Rose 🌿Spring greens Crystals 🔮 Clear Quartz 🔮Agate 🔮Rose Quartz 🔮Amazonite 🔮Garnet 🔮Jasper 🔮Amythest 🔮Aquamarine Colors ✨Pastels ✨Light Colors ✨Green ✨Purple ✨Yellow ✨Pink ✨Blue Incense 🌰Jasime 🌰Rose 🌰Strawberry 🌰Fresh Fruit or Floral smells Activities 🥚Scatter Eggshells 🥚Decorate Eggs 🥚Charms: Hope/Love 🥚Egg Hunts 🥚Create Wreaths 🥚Spring Cleaning 🥚Decorate your Altar 🥚Garden 🥚Earth Meditations 🥚Flower Crowns 🥚Charm foods and amulets Foods 🍞 Eggs and Dairy (as always feel free to substitute) 🍞Sprouts and Spring Greens 🍞Seeds and nuts 🍞Jellies 🍞Hot cross buns 🍞Honey Cakes 🍞Ostara Bread 🍞Lamb History and Lore Ostara is said to be the origins of where we get Easter, regardless of this belief there’s a bit of conjecture on it’s true origins. If you’re looking for an in depth explanation of the who, what, when, where and why feel free to check out my [Master Resource List|https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1bX797jQoOEjij4k9x8-URgJr3iyy8FmMA0bZnb4kvBM/edit?usp=drivesdk] for a jump start into your own research. For my purposes here today we’ll just be going over the basics as well as I can explain them and some interesting tidbits. Remember, regardless of what texts say if you feel a connection to deity there should be nothing to stop you from fostering that connection. At the end of the day your practice is yours and yours alone. I’m simply here to help spread the wealth of knowledge at our fingertips. The first written mention of Ostara was in or around 725 by a rather well known Medieval Christian monk named Bede the Venerable (not to be confused with Beedle the Bard). That being said unlike some of our other christianized pagan holidays there’s no known writings of Ostara that pre-dates the Christian religion of Easter, neither the Jewish season of Passover. That being said nearly every civilization that was receiving Spring would share similar views of the time period. From here there are many wonderful legends and fascinating lore pieces of Ostara and her holiday. Bede wrote that Ēostre was the Saxon equivalent of the germanic Goddess Ostara. There’s a large debate among scholars of whether or not Bede fabricated the goddess or not. By the middle ages it was very popular to decorate eggs for Easter sunday. It’s interesting to note that the word Ēostre is a descendant of a Proto-Indo-European root that means “to shine” and therefore has linguistic relations to many other sun goddesses, which Ēostre is often attributed to be a sun or dawn goddess. The whole hullaballoo is mentioned again with Jacob Grimm around 1839 in his book “Deutsche Mythologie”, which stated roughly that the pagan festival had many commonalities with the May feast and that the eggs were a borrowed tradition that were absorbed by the Christians. Quick little fun fact: Ēostre sounds a lot like “East Star” which was the same star that the wise men followed to get to Jesus. What about the Egg and the Hare? One story states that Ēostre found a bird wounded on the ground in winter and so to save him she transformed him into a hare. Despite taking the form of a hare the bird was still able to lay eggs and so would decorate them and leave them for Ēostre as tribute and thanks. Another fun fact: Ēostre sounds a little bit like it could have some relation to Estrogen, the hormone in charge of (particularly) female reproductive systems. Wait, don’t leave yet: in 1890 the latin “estrus” was revived which was said to be the female equivalent of the word “rut” (yeah like animals who uh rut)which really makes some kind of sense now doesn’t it? Just another point on the fertility symbol scale, for both eggs and Ēostre. There are countless stories of the egg and the hare that all seem to stem from similar ideas. In many cultures the hare or rabbit is looked upon as a symbol of fertility, we all know the saying about rabbits! And eggs are no surprise to be considered symbols of fertility either! Eggs hold life and opportunity. They're the promise of something more. Many cultures and many countries have their own celebrations around this time and it’s not unfathomable that they could have at some point gotten confused or intermingled. Regardless of if you celebrate and whether or not you have preference for one belief or the other Ostara and it’s companion holidays are filled with springtime and joy! As such we can all take a little piece of it and enjoy that springtime is finally here at last! I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, you can find my list of resources through the list provided [here|https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1bX797jQoOEjij4k9x8-URgJr3iyy8FmMA0bZnb4kvBM/edit#gid=0]. Simply look for the tab “Pagan Holidays” and scroll through until you see “Ostara”

#witchy #witchblr #youtube #youtuber #ostara #easter #wicca #pagan #paganism #sabbat

[moonwitch-grimoire]

Thursday December 21st 2017, Yule & Winter Solstice

Final day of Sagittarius, 6:39 pm, Waxing Crescent Moon

Today’s Post includes:

Yule traditions

old gods vs monotheistic gods

balance of dark and light

wheel of the year

some Yule stuff to do

Blessed Yule and Happy Holidays, brothers, sisters, and angels on earth!

As avowed, today shall begin my chronicles, logging magic knowledge and my personal activities. Where possible i will provide resources, and a lot of my information can be found elsewhere on my blog in other posts! 

As usual I didn’t wake up into 4:20, which is a lit more distressing than it is funny, actually, and since I’m lazy, i ordered a pizza and watched the latter half of a Thor movie, WHICH got me thinking about winter and it’s gods! 

History Time:

As I’m sure many, but probably not all, of you know, Yule and Christmas and Hanukkah all contend for time in December (though i don’t see why we can’t all just get along) But they all used to be during different times! Yule used to be in mid January, Christmas was late spring, and....i actually don’t know about Hanukkah, so I’ll do some research and get back to you (or you can drop me a line and teach me!) After Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity in the first century, it spread through the empire, and once it was made the official religion of Rome, people started spreading the good word (for better or worse).

What the priests and monks did was migrate the real date of Jesus Christ’s birth to winter to better line up with the Yule Festival, the Druid Alban Arthuan, and Saturnalia, which had previously been the Empire’s Winter festival celebrating Saturn/Kronos, lasted for 7 days, and let all classes and races interact equally in ancient Rome and it’s colonies. By grouping the ‘Wild Northerners’ festval and the old Roman festival together with the new official religion of the Empire, the Christian church managed to ease a transition of power through the late 1st century and dark ages. 

So what does this tell us? Other than a lot of aggressive anti-whatever-religion-i-am-not stuff, multiple festivals were celebrated in winter. It was a time of feasting, peace, and revelry where everyone was seen as equal and good, which is a comforting thought. There was a whole lot of meat to feast on, since feed for the animals was short, there was no war or battles (George Washington is an outlier and should not be counted), and the night was long, which meant everyone was inside around their fires and candles, with nothing to do but eat. 

This meant there was singing and dancing, lots of drinking alcohol, laughter and games, and, my personal favorite, story telling. People would gather in the largest house in their village, or in their family’s main house, the town hall maybe, and feast and celebrate. Obviously in places like Egypt where there was no snow, things were a bit different, but as Yule was a mostly northern Germanic and Scandinavian festival, we can comfortably exclude the Egyptian’s (for the moment). This was a time of unity and connection. Check your weapons at the door, give the poor money and food, unite in revelry and sing loud enough the ceiling shakes. 

Saturn (or the Greek Kronus/Chronos) was the center of the festival Saturnalia, as he was the titan king of time. Demeter and Persephone would also receive tithes, as Proserpine was in the underworld with old Pluto, and Demeter was moping in the overworld. It was a time of renewal and rebirth, sacrifices for  a return of the light and quick return to spring. The Norse Aesir also got their fair share, Loki among them, as he was both the snow they fled and the fire they thrived on. Odin, as cheif of the Aesir and the Allfader was of course top of the list, leading men on the hunt and sitting at the head of the table for feast. Thor and his goats got involved, and everyone prayed and worshiped the sun goddess, in hopes that she would be reborn and return. And the Christians celebrated St. Thomas day and the relocated birth of Christ festival

Traditions:

Yule was chiefly a festival for rebirth, the end of the old year and birth of a new one. As the Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, early cultures who lacked knowledge of a round Earth found the briefness of the sun distressing if not downright terrifying. So they worshiped their sun deities while placating their winter deities and hoped and prayed. Lucky for them the days got longer shortly after after even if the winter carried on. 

In order to preserve the power of nature subdued under all that snow, people would bring in evergreen boughs, winter plants and greenery to decorate their homes, which is now the boughs of holly, trees, and garlands we know so well. The survival of life was crucial and these evergreen boughs gave both hope and joy, since everyone knows there’s nothing quite like the smell of a pine tree. 

The giving of gifts started relatively simpler than presents, but as a gift of money, food, clothes, or some other item someone needed desperately. Inviting the poor into the homes of the rich to feast and be warm and safe in this dark time was a tithe to your fellow man and to the gods. This was especially prevalent in Scandinavian culture, since Odin was known to walk about disguised as an old man and they who brought him into their home would be richly rewarded on good fortune or more practical payment. 

Story telling. In a time where there were little to no roads, freezing weather, and only the rich had horses, donkeys or steeds of that kind, travelers were considered stupid, brave, or both. In the old days, many of these travelers were bards and storytellers. They too were invited in, bringing familiar tales everyone knew but the very youngest, always with a new element or twist, or else tales of far away from different lands. In exchange for a warm bed and a good meal these bards spun tales of the gods, heroes, magic, and adventure. 

The gods and God:

 Being Omnitheist (a tale for another day), I have a very peculiar look at how the old gods and the Abrahamic gods interact. but looking at it from a step back, we can all agree to some extent that Christianity moved throughout the empire pushing out the old gods to make way for He Who Is Three (the Christian God). For better or worse, those are the facts. However, clearly, we haven't forgotten them and they are still with us. No one is the good guy or the bad guy, no one god is to be blamed for what has happened (though I think some of the tricksters and lords of chaos and conflict are in the line of fire for recent events) And Yule, of all time sis when people should band together in acceptance and love. I guarantee, your personal deity will not damn you to punishment if you hug someone with different religion this holiday season.

The Balance of Dark and Light:

In my opinion, the saddest truth of the universe is that no matter how much we wish it, we cannot have joy without sorrow, happiness without pain, or Light without Dark. The world must stay balanced, not necessarily perfectly balanced in a single position, as this generated stagnation such as the Egyptians experienced. In order for the motion of the world to continue, there must be loses followed by victories allowing the scales of Dark and Light to tip and lean, never upending themselves but never still. 

Furthermore, Dark is not always Bad, and Light is not always good, but again, that is a tale for another day. 

Yule is a time of balance, of rebirth, it is the darkest time of year when the world is (supposedly) buried in snow and cold, the darkness hounding every moment and shows the end of time. And the beginning. This is a time of unity, compassion, camaraderie. Now is a time for love and acceptance, rich and poor, old and young from every culture, religion, background, race, and place. Soon a new year will come, bringing fresh flowers and sunshine and beauty and light. But for now we band together, Halfway through the dark.

As For Me:

I gave up on Christmas a long time ago. I won’t tell anyone to stop celebrating it and i will not forget what it’s supposed to celebrate but for my Christmas has too many dark memories, now more than ever. But Yule! my souls sings the praises of winter and snow and shadow. Yule is my chosen winter festival, though some may choose to celebrate them all! So tonight, for the first time in longer than i care to admit here’s my game plan:

post this long ass post

set up my alter and light candles for my gods (more below)

cleanse in moon water and smoke, both myself and my space

rebuild and reinforce my wards (Tale For Another Day)

Worship (TFAD)

play (more below)

My alter is actually my bedside table. i do use it as such, however, as soon as i lay my alter cloth there, it becomes a sacred space. Tonight, my alter will have acorns for rebirth, a small oak branch that fell on my head once, a pumpkin from Samhein, a variety of crystals including bloodstone (which is good for yule) and moonstone (because i love it). my candles will be white tea lights, here used for purity and peace, and some moon water and fruit as an offering to the gods of winter, rebirth, snow, and spring.

by ‘play’ i mean revelry in as classic a form as i can. I have chocolate lava cakes in the fridge, there’s pizza in there and my room mate is also cooking. I’m going to listen to some old timey music and watch a couple movies about witch craft and yule magic. I can give out a list of that stuff if y’all’d like to know what i have in mind. I’ll do a little casting on myself. I’ll probably sing and read a bit and maybe convince my friend to go walk with me and play Pokemon GO. That may seem out of the mood, but going outside in the night, feeling the yule energy and saying hello to every tree i pass is something I feel is important. Catching the 10 new Hoenn region Pokemon they just released is just an added bonus. 

Above all Yule is a time for rebirth. Now is when you wanna cleanse and rework your wards, shields and protective spells. It’s a time for new ideas and concept, staring a new journey! Now is a good time to start new projects and become a better you. I have faith in you. 

If you read this far, you’re a champ! Lots of love this Holiday season and Blessed Yule!

Blessings upon you from whosoever you choose to accept them from and merry meet again!

-Echo Celani

#chronicles #text #yule #winter #winter solcitice #long text post #old gods #long post #under the cut #happy yule #yule festival

[tipsycad147]

Libra September Mabon – The Second Harvest

By shirleytwofeathers

Mabon (pronounced MAY-bun, MAY-bone, MAH-boon, or MAH-bawn) marks the Second Harvest, the end of the grain harvest (which begun at Lughnasadh), and rests on the Autumn Equinox. The Equinox mirrors dwindling of life (and eventual progression to rebirth), as well as the struggle for balance; day and night are equal for a single day.

Celebrated with wine, apples, garlands, gourds and cornucopias.

With decorations of orange, russet and maroon.

Honouring the ageing Gods and Harvest deities.

Various other names for this Lesser Wiccan Sabbat are The Second Harvest Festival, Wine Harvest, Feast of Avalon, Equinozio di Autunno (Strega), Alben Elfed (Caledonii), or Cornucopia.

Mabon is a celebration of life and death, and giving of life again, the cycle of the seasons. Mabon is a time to enjoy the fruits of a hard year’s labour, to stock up for the long winter. No matter how you celebrate Mabon, or how it came about, or whatever it’s true name may be, it is important to know that Mabon a time for giving thanks.

At the Autumn Equinox we all take a moment to pay our respects to the impending dark. We also give thanks to the waning sunlight, as we store our harvest of this year’s crops.

During this festival it is appropriate to wear all of your finery and dine and celebrate in a lavish setting. It is the drawing to and of family as we prepare for the winding down of the year at Samhain. It is a time to finish old business as we ready for a period of rest, relaxation, and reflection.

The pagans of antiquity didn’t have the ability to determine astrological positions as we do today. The European peasantry, therefore, celebrated this Sabbat on September 25th; actually, the Celts marked their days from sundown to sundown, so the Mabon celebration actually started on the sundown of our September 24th. Today, with the help of our technology, we can calculate the exact day of the Equinox; the date when the sun enters the sign of Libra, the Balanced Scales, which appropriately fits the Equinox.

The Druids call this celebration, Mea’n Fo’mhair, and honour the The Green Man, the God of the Forest, by offering libations to trees. Offerings of ciders, wines, herbs and fertiliser are appropriate at this time. Wiccans celebrate the ageing Goddess as she passes from Mother to Crone, and her consort the God as he prepares for death and re-birth.

The Teutonic name, Winter Finding, spans a period of time from the Sabbat to Oct. 15th, Winter’s Night, which is the Norse New Year.

As a holiday, Mabon represents the time of honouring the dead, visiting burial sites, giving thankfulness for the end of the harvest season and the bounty it provides. These are the themes of closing, letting go and remembering. For the year, the harvest and for those who were lost to land of Avalon during the year.

Decorations and Activities for Mabon

Activities vary with region and tradition, as well as personal preference. Some ideas include making a Sun Wheel or wreath. Also, one could mirror the Celtic tradition of dressing a corn stalk in cloths and burning it in celebration of the harvest and upcoming rebirth.

Simple altar decorations can be obtained by taking a calm “pilgrimage” through your local woods and collecting leaves, acorns, berries, and other things symbolic of nature’s bounty. Some chose to sprinkle Autumn leaves around the house and on the sides of walk ways as decoration, though this may not be convenient if one lives in the city or doesn’t enjoy the cleanup. Alternately, the changing leaves can be dipped in paraffin and put on wax paper. After the leaves dry, they may be placed around the house or in large jars with sigils of protection and/or abundance carved lightly into them.

Additional seeds and grains can be set out as offering to our fellow creatures, and provide a healthy chance for birds to join in the celebrations as well. Symbolic designs can be made out of the sprinklings if one chooses. Those less fortunate should not be omitted from the celebration. Small, meaningless (to you) packages of food and drink gifted to a homeless person will make their day!

To honour the dead, it is traditional to place apples on burial cairns as symbolism of rebirth and gratitude. This represents the promise of the Great Spirits for renewed life (a new incarnation). Furthermore, it is a time to honour the elders, who have devoted so much time and energy to your growth and development. Something special is in order for these gracious people.

Going through your personal gardens with thanks and lovingly harvesting what is ready is also appropriate. Breads may be baked in the shape of the Sun, combining fruits or vegetables and grains, incorporating both of the major aspects of this Harvest. The seeds of various plants are stored through winter for replanting, and therefore, the plant’s rebirth in the Spring. A feast for friends and family always provides a cheerful abundance of energy and thanks.

Although many view the Harvest season as a celebration of life, it is also a celebration of death. The bounty you gather from your garden provides nourishment for you, family and friends. But it is also the death of those plants and vegetables which have been harvested from that garden. Thus Mabon is a celebration of the cycle of life.

This is a Celtic festival of thanksgiving, so what a better way to give thanks than to prepare a meal with the harvest of your garden. Those that indulge in wine can brew a new batch of this home made nectar of the Gods. Those that do not indulge, can brew preserves and jellies from grapes, raspberries and blackberries. Don’t forget an apple pie for dessert.

A main course can consist of meats, most often red meats. But this is just a suggestion. In this day and age of healthy eating, you should prepare a meal that fits your personal lifestyle. However, your side dishes should consist of late summer and early fall vegetables.

During your meal, share tales and happy stories about those you lost during the year. Or share your experiences and review the lessons you feel you have learned during this past season. Reflect on your deeds and actions and give thanks for the gifts you were given.

After your meal, share the chore of cleaning up. This is a way of showing honour and respect to your host and hostess. Think of it as a physical action to show that you understand the interconnection of all life and the desire to respect what you have been given and thanks for receiving those gifts.

During the evening hours you can continue the festival with a formal holiday ritual. There are as many ways and suggestions for conducting such a ceremony as there are people on this planet.

End your evening in private reflection. It is important for anyone practising a spiritual life to reflect on his or her actions. Record your thoughts, your emotions and your experiences. This is the true value of your book of shadows. And there is no better time to take stock of yourself and your life than during a High Holy Day.

Ritual For Mabon

This Ritual is best performed during the early evening hours, just after Sunset, as this is the time of day which corresponds to the time of year. Sweep area, starting in the North and moving deosil (clockwise or sunwise direction), with your magickal broom to cleanse the Circle area and “sweep away” any lingering negative energies. Lay out the circumference of your Circle with cord, stones, etc., as necessary.

Set up the Quarter candles (North-Green, East-Yellow, South-Red, West-Blue) and/or other items symbolising the elements at the Four Quarters (use a compass if not permanently marked out). Set up your altar as desired, and face it to the North, covering it with the red altar cloth.

Place all of the items listed below in their proper places upon it. For this ceremony, decorate the altar with the cornucopia filled with harvest items, and whatever else feels right. In addition to your usual tools and props, upon the altar should be:

Red or Brown Altar Cloth

Cornucopia filled with Fruits and Vegetables of the Harvest

A Red Apple

Bolline or another Sharp Knife (for cutting the Apple)

Altar Pentacle or a Plate (to cut the apple on)

A Bell

A Second Wand decorated with Coloured Ribbons (to use in the Demeter/Persephone portion of the ritual)

A Wicker Basket (to carry the Decorated Wand in)

Incense – Any of the following either alone or mixed together to make an Autumn Blend: Frankincense, Aloes Wood, Jasmine, Cinnamon, Musk, Cloves, Benzoin, Myrrh, and Sage

When all is set up, take a shower or bath for purification and don your ritual robe or other ritual attire. Be sure to wear your magickal jewellery. Sit quietly and meditate for a little while – to ground and centre before beginning the Ritual. When you feel ready to begin, play some quiet peaceful music for the ritual.

Cast a circle in whatever way is familiar to you. After the Circle is cast, begin the Mabon sabbath Ceremony by sitting quietly for a few moments, then say these words aloud in dedication:

“Lady Autumn, Queen of the Harvest, I have seen You in the setting Sun, with Your long auburn tresses blowing in the cool air that surrounds You. Your crown of golden leaves is jewelled with amber, amethyst, and rubies. Your long, flowing purple robe stretches across the horizon. In Your hands You hold the ripened fruits. At Your feet the squirrels gather acorns. Black crows perch on Your outstretched arms. All around You the leaves are falling. You sit upon Your throne and watch the dying fires of the setting Sun shine forth its final colours in the sky. The purple and orange lingers and glows like burning embers. Then all colours fade into the twilight. Lady Autumn, You are here at last. I thank You for Your rewards. I have worked hard for these gifts. Lady Autumn, now grant me peace and rest.”

Sit quietly again and reflect on the meaning of the Autumn Season for a little while.

When you are ready, pick up your wand and hold it in your power hand, face the North and with your arms outstretched (kneel or stand) and say:

“The Wheel of the Year turns on and on, bringing us all to and from each Season, and from and to another. What will be is. What was will be. All time is here and now in this Sacred Space. I now pause to watch the Wheel turn and cast this Circle on this blessed eve to celebrate the Season of Mabon, the Autumnal Equinox – the time of the Second Harvest. In this moment between time, I come to praise the bountiful ageing Goddess and Her consort, the God of the Harvest. I wish to give thanks and feel myself as a part of the relentlessly turning wheel of life, death, and rebirth. O Great God of Wine and the Harvest, who has been known as Mabon, Dionysus, Bacchus, and Thor – Grant me strength and understanding throughout this season and always. O Great Goddess of the Harvest and the Underworld, who has been known as Demeter, Persephone, Modron, and Morgan – Teach me the secrets of the Mysteries and the ways of magic.”

Place your wand back in its place on the altar.

Spread your hands out over the Harvest Altar and say these words:

“The time of change is upon us again – the Equinox comes, the Wheel turns… The Goddess and the God prepare for Their journey to the Otherworld, as the Earth and all of Her children prepare for the time of quiet and reflection that lies ahead… May I use this Autumnal period to seek for the strength and power within to assist me on my own quest for vision, feeling, and peace… May I see and feel the presence of the Goddess and the God within, though without, the Earth begins Her slumber… Keep me in Your light…”

Lower your arms and sit quietly meditating again for a while.

When you are ready, stand at your altar facing the North and raise your arms in greeting. Say:

“Between the worlds I build this sacred altar. Outside of time, this rite leads to the ancient way. Where I may find Demeter of high Olympus And conjure magic great. Be here, I say.”

Place the decorated wand in the wicker basket and carry it to the North. Say:

“Persephone returns to the Underworld. Weep not, Earth Mother, For the Divine Child of love is here.”

Carry the basket to the East; say:

“Persephone returns to the Underworld. Although the Light is fading, It shall return to the Earth.”

Take the basket to the South; say:

“Persephone returns to the Underworld. The cold of winter comes, But only for a short time.”

Finish by carrying the basket to the West; say:

“Persephone returns to the Underworld. The Earth shall lie in slumber Until the Light of this Divine Child Once more grows in strength and shines full upon us.”

Place the basket on the floor before the altar. Ring the bell three times.

Take your bolline in your power hand and the apple in the other. Say:

“Reveal to me your hidden secrets That I may come to understand your sacred Mysteries.”

Set the apple on the altar pentacle (or plate) and cut it crosswise (with the bolline) to reveal the pentagram in the core. Contemplate this hidden sacred symbol for several moments. Then say:

“In life is death, in death life. All must follow the sacred dance into the cauldron, Time after time, to die and be reborn. Help me to remember that Every beginning has an ending And that every ending has a new beginning.”

Take a bite of the apple.

What is left put outside later to share with the birds.

Say:

“Holy Mother, Demeter, Comfort and protect me in my times of tribulation. Instruct me into the Mysteries. You, with your daughter Persephone, have the power To lead me to new understanding.”

Now is the time for meditation and any spellworkings you may need or desire to end your sabbath celebration. Appropriate Spellwork for Mabon include those for protection, wealth and prosperity, security and spells to bring a feeling of self-confidence. If no spellwork is to be done at this time, then proceed with the Cakes and Ale Ceremony – or whatever is your practice, followed by Releasing the Magic Circle.

Please note this ritual is based on the Northern Hemisphere correspondences of elements and their colours, and directions and so on.

Mabon History

Mabon (May-bawn) is also known as the Feast of Avalon and the festival of the Wine Harvest. To the Celts, Avalon is the mysterious place for the land of the dead. and literally means the “land of apples”. Thus this is a holiday for celebrating the bounty of the harvest and the desire for the living to be reunited with their deceased loved ones.

But the holiday is also named for the Welsh God Mabon. Mabon means the “great son”. He was the son of Modred, kidnapped at the age of 3 and later rescued by King Arthur. His life represents the innocence of youth, the strength of survival and the growing wisdom of the elderly. Perhaps it is this view of the cycle of life that brings Mabon to his most popular role, the King of the Otherworld and the God of Darkness.

His myths overlap with other Gods such as the Welsh God Gwyn Ap Nuad, which means “white son of darkness”. He is seen as the God of war and death, the patron God of fallen warriors. Once again this is a representation or connection to the Land of Avalon.

Sources:

Wicca.com

Magickal Winds

Proud To Be Pagan

https://shirleytwofeathers.com/The_Blog/pagancalendar/category/september-days/

[libramoon2]

Between Worlds

Between Worlds ~ Persephone to Caela I want to write her story, but it isn't ready to write. I imagine it as a painting, swirling colors and intricate spectral figures, everything moving at once, a kaleidoscopic panorama. When I was a kid, I used to wish on the Moon, the big Full Moon. It was so much grander than any sparkling star. I would twirl around and around on the dewy summer grass, electrified by blinking fireflies. Then, I would flop down to watch the sky swirl like a Van Gogh Starry Night. What kind of Solstice celebration would she have? Would they have comparable seasons? They would have to have a whole new system of astrology, if anyone bothered with that Earth-based lore. They would have ceremonies, celebrations, dancing and romancing and offerings of special performances to keep in touch with the mysterious. They would be a spiritually aware people, happy in the shared wealth of their culture. They would know to honor, value, celebrate the individual as the ultimate resource of the common wealth. Empaths have no ambition based on suspicion, no need for hierarchical arrangements to be secure in one's place. The year, or whatever passed for one, would no doubt fall out differently than our years. What constellations might appear? How many moons? Does it matter? Important occasions are marked, harvests and births, rewards for hard labor, sacredly meaningful losses that we move beyond through honoring sacrifice. What else must be honored, must be held holy? There would be celebration for the occasion of the moment when the spirit is strong within the tribe, when there is need for release, tears and laughter, impassioned artistic rendering, raucous song, frenzied dance, the strong scent of blazing emotions gone wild in the loving safety of tribal union. ************** She found the children, understandably frightened but so far unharmed. The telepathic ability which had condemned their parents had helped to save them. She knew this to be a time of crisis, a crossroad, which must open an opportunity to end this unnecessary enmity, these unnecessary tragedies. Caela was called. She chose to answer. She was uprooted as a child, but within the caring arms of community. Within that communal embrace, she was able to learn her power, use it for the communal good. She enjoyed a happy, balanced life with family, friends, fulfilling work, peaceful spirituality, the grace of natural beauty. At the point when her life as it had been had taken her as far as it could, she was called to a sacred journey, a mission for her own continued growth of soul, and for the transformation of a world long divided, a healing of the wound dividing the people of her world. It all came as a natural progression. She was always given all she needed to be able to give what was needed by those she served. Gentle eyes, but much more, eyes anyone could stand before with no shame. Self-evidently these eyes were ready to accept and respect what they saw. She speaks to me sometimes. No, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. She speaks to me in my own voice, though, perhaps, in a different register. She comes to me in a dream, a recurring dream. It was so clear and powerful. She is beautiful, full of life, full of magical power. I feel safe with her. Perhaps she is some kind of totem, spirit guide. Perhaps she is someone I could become, in the fullness of time, as some kind of metaphoric singularity, familiarity, familiar inner voice who has always guided me. I feel a special affinity to cats. They are so completely themselves. I love the strong sensual flowering scents of Spring. Yet, I am a creature of the Winter of low lights, of shadow and multiple realities. I call her Caela. She makes me happy in a special, secret way. I have a sparkling, shining secret. No, it's not schizophrenia. In a way, it is sanity. She helps me to understand who I am, who I could become, free and self-empowered. She is like a fantasy mother who is giving me everything I need to face my fortune. She is a gift from me to me. Moon in Virgo, maybe? I’m losing track. It’s all one long wintry night. None of that life so mine so few months ago seems real to me now. I am not that person who lived there. Can't go back; don't have a clue how to go forward. Celia's still taking care of me -- I have no financial woes. I can stay here for probably longer than I would ever need to, meeting all my 21st century needs, even indulgences, without having to concern myself with paychecks. One less thing. Pandora cuddles up to me, lets me blubber and cry all over her. She doesn't make the demands of human friends for coherency, consideration, a semblance of self-control. Yeah, I miss me, miss them, miss us. It's like I'm being told, simply, in strict terms, that here and now I am not that girl, that womanchild. I am not clear on who this metamorphosed me is becoming. A great, golden cockroach comes to mind. But I am not ashamed. I have no family to fail, no social position to lose. I am not a golden butterfly, simple grace flying from flower to flower. Often I feel like a wraith, between worlds -- not of one or the other. Am I my namesake? But in what realm am I Queen? No, I am not taking over your place, sweet Pandora, so solidly Queen of the household. There is solace in the awareness of another life, a natural way of being. I am Persephone in her mother's home. It is Demeter who has been taken by the minions of death, her body barely holding on to life's sweet definition. Strangers minister narcotics to soften the veil, blur the journey. That is where the dream comes from. The potent journey; the aging mother, crone, no longer a complete integral of her tribe, no longer anchored to her long-time position in life. Is she called to a sacred mission? Is she a possible guide to my own salvation? What do I need to be saved from? The endless days that make no sense, unanchored, dependent on inspiration? It is getting dangerously close to dawn on this not long enough winter night. I can't bear to see the light as if ordinary routine of weekday activity could be my expected, accepted norm. I feel so much more naturally alive in Caela's world, as I diligently figure it out in a faithful inner theatre of cinematic splendor. This has got to be a good thing, this insistently reveling imagination that hugs me with warmth and ecstatic emotion. So much more than a distraction or psychotic state, I believe it is meant to heal and elevate. But what do I know, pretending to be somewhere other than this sad little apartment in this sad little neighborhood, someone more grand than sad little me. This lassitude is not like me, or not like the me I like to be. I do remember other times when life was too much with me and restlessness without activity overtook me. I need a visionquest. I can attain that even from this restraining lassitude by projecting my mind onto another, more vital, life. I can follow that path of no resistance, encounter demons and deities, solve the puzzle, claim the prize, reemerge, shimmy down the beanstalk refreshed and reinvented. Perhaps I must. It's hard to know, living on all these levels, in all these layered dimensions of cosmic meaning to random happenstance, how to go about continuing. It's not the drugs -- anyway, they are only mild antidepressants along with that old central nervous system shut-down stand-by measured in proofs below 30. I'm a self-medicator from way back; but I have considerably grown up and cut way down. I refuse to touch Celia's pain medication, even though she left quite a nice stash behind when they evacuated her. Or, what is the word? They removed her from her former life to watch her die. I should evacuate myself, get back to where I once belonged. I should get over this private pity party and find my way to be useful and productive in the world. I am drawn into this fantasy universe as if it were the one that was real. I imagine channeling is like this. So now I am the gypsy witch of fairytales casting my scrying eye into other worlds. Anything's better than being nothing, no one, lost, drifting, alone. Yeah, melodramatic and untrue. I have wonderful friends who I just can't seem to reach out to. But, you know, I know, I'm used to being alone. It's restful, familiar, delightfully irresponsible, just me. Yet I'm never alone with my insistent imagination ever entertaining me with charming characters playing out stories. I will self-indulge for awhile, take advantage of this luxurious lapse into insanity to see where it lands me. I can't think of any reason not to that makes any sense to me. I'm sure if I get too loud the neighbors will complain. Just a ditsy witch with her cat and inner crucible, listening to jazz, smoking herbs, drinking wine, writing fantastic journeys. If Celia wanted more from me, it's too late for her admonishments now. Danny wanted nothing from me. Maybe some absolution, but I'm not in that business. What do I want from me? That's the question worth pondering. Maybe Caela will tell me as I follow her visionquest through the brave forest, discovering who we are, what we can do, where we belong. Hours melt into hours, navigators' objects move across the sky outside this progressively filthier window. I feel the luxury of my hand losing itself in soft fur as Pandora purrs beside me on Celia's couch. From time to time as it occurs to me, I pretend to write cogently, for something to pretend to do. Yes, I know there are vast ventures of exciting adventuring, or even simple chores I could engage in, if I could engage. Gulping down wine when the feelings get too close to the surface probably is not helping my thinking to find coherence. The radio music gives me an illusion of being somewhere, some connection to a greater world out on the airwaves. I can ride those airwaves like a magic carpet to imaginary places, people to whom no responsibility can be owed or expected. I somehow hypnotically manage to do the few daily chores necessary to maintain me, cat, plants, to keep real squalor at bay. Going through those motions with minimal consciousness is not responsibility. I don't have to answer for or explain myself, keep up a conversation or show appropriate emotional responses. How did such simple everyday bits of business become so exhausting to even contemplate? It's not just that I'm not the person others expect of me. I am no one at all. There is no cohesive sense of me to explain or hold together an acceptable identity. My memories don't feel of me but like some old tv drama series of connected stories. Do you remember that episode when Persephone and Tom made love on the beach at dawn, hidden in the water though there was no one else around to see? Or that one in the earlier seasons when Danny explained to little Persephone why he wouldn't be living with her and her mom anymore? Seasons and seasons of this long-running soap opera in which nothing is ever resolved; no strong central character emerges complete with her happy well-rounded life, a joy to her friends, a boon to her neighbors. Or is that Caela, the refugee? Not that I think I can find myself in her; lose myself in her is more where I'm aiming. But maybe, Goddess willing, I can lose myself in her, live out her story in my inner movie, to find myself later, after the show, curled up in the shelter of some hidden woodland tree, a sprouting seed learning how to be this new creature as I become. Or maybe I'll just get lost in my own insanity, no good to anyone. Happy pitty party to me, lazy and selfish and brazenly morose. Who do I think I am? Secretly: Once upon a time a princess grew into a queen, and then into a crone, and then into a legend that never dies. When all she wanted was a world that made sense in which she could feel free to be alive. But that makes no sense. That's not me. Must be the alcohol talking -- in vino a lot of nonsense, hyperbole, and sloppy thinking. Caela wouldn't need wine. But they would probably have come up with a process for making fermented fruit juice, along with everything else they would need to come up with as a community creating their own existence outside civilization as they had known it. So much to consider in creating a new world. I suppose this one happened bit by bit and all at once like most endeavors over time. Is that how it happens? Threads and consequences moving together imperceptibly until there you are, hemmed in by rules and customs and history? If we travelled back along every thread to the less than conscious decisions creating consequences along the way, we would probably find much better ways of making it all work out. But I'm not that conscious or conscientious; nor are most people getting by or getting behind in our narrow little worlds. Those with real vision come off just sounding crazy. Caela's people, despite their unique situation, would most likely fall into their own level of complacency over time. Goddess, what would you have me do? I feel there is some purpose of yours in all of this, not just my little personal devolvement into insanity. Of course that feeling of destiny could easily be a symptom of insanity. No doctors! No prodding or psychotic drugs or setting myself up for nasty incarceration or reindoctrination to normalcy -- whatever that is. I will follow my own damned path, wherever. So, Goddess, I guess we are in this together until you abandon me too. Those dreams of sinking into mushy ice on blue frozen tundras, there is a way through, beyond -- or am I frozen in stasis, merely waiting for the frostbite to reach vital organs? It all remains to be seen. Walking unsteadily between the worlds, I could fall forever I suppose. But wouldn't that become its own level of complacency, falling without thought, receding into a normative back-drop for lazy, selfish, morose self-entertainment? Let's pretend there is a future-place where all the threads come together in colorful, festive array that make perfect sense on reflection. It's just a matter of making it from here to there. So, dear imaginary Caela, what can you tell me? I feel a kinship to Caela. It's not just because she is a creature of my mind, woven from bright bits of thought, feelings, fantasy. It's like she can see inside me and understand as I look into her, learn her. She does not look like me. I envision her as slightly tall, strong frame, dark hair and eyes, swarthy skin, quiet, pensive, yet with a strong sense of somewhat ironic humor, a merry open laugh, sweet loving smile, mischievous grin, dancing countenance. She is intelligent, not erudite. She is compassionate, loving, kind with that strong solid kindness that tolerates fools with enduring good humor, never maudlin, never haughty, but never obeisant or credulous. She stands tall, moves gracefully, takes in each scene, each lesson, each conversation or reflection deeply, holistically, completely. She is intimately connected to her people and place, yet always able to stand apart and accept her own vision. She is quite imperfectly human, and very comfortable with exactly who she is. She loves and lives without reservation, yet with deep, complex reflection and an eternal sense of wonder. She is not representative of her people nor her time, yet she is completely enmeshed with them. I feel comfortable with her. Her presence in my mind calms and inspires me. She is an amazing friend and confidante. I feel compelled to tell her story though it is nothing like mine. Probably there are metaphoric parallels that I, my deeper self, knows I can learn from, can delve into to discover my own intimate secrets, to grow and heal. If I fall into this other world of my own creation and never return to conventional reality, it will harm none and expand my horizons. But that is getting way too ahead of where I am now. Most likely I will go through this little experiment in traversing into a different realm, find myself on the other side an experienced dimension-shifter, cosmic traveler, no more lost to insanity than most who dare to follow the art star to personal freedom and multiple awareness. Okay, Caela, tell me a story. Tell me stories for a thousand nights in whatever time zone we can agree on. My mother told me stories all my life. She was very certain of the line between fiction and fact; but she was also aware of the kind of truths that can best be understood through myth, fairy tales, poetry. Celia, in your death bed, do you see and understand your morphine dreams? Are you just fading away, or are you finding answers to your lifelong mysteries? I know you no longer need or want to talk to me, to share with anyone your last ecstatic visions or drooling pain. Will I feel that why too at my end? Right now I only want to live in my spinning fantasy with Caela on her world where it is all quite wonderful and far away from here. It's not that I get to control this world of my creation while the real world is too far out of control for me to come to terms with. It's that I get to make wonderful discoveries, to leave the routinely painful neighborhood of planet Earth and think big thoughts, experience my wild and crazily manifesting dreams. Pandora wants to cuddle, presses her purring body against me. Another magical companion on my road to Goddess knows where. Tom has left several concerned messages: why don't I respond? Isn't he my magical companion? My wine glass needs refilling. The curtains are drawn against impending dawn. I thought of calling Danny, but there's too much to say. I'm not ready to say any of it. Thank Goddess I have this time, this place, to dissolve and, hopefully, resurrect. What do people do when their reality fragments and they have no realistic choice but to keep moving forward, doing the day job, paying the bills, supporting the family, acting responsibly? Guess that's why pharmaceutical companies make the big bucks on anti-depressants. Then there are those who crack and become homicidal suicides. It's always the quiet ones, so they say. I can understand that. When I was more actively alive, I was so much noisier. Not that I'm about to be outwardly dangerous, or actually suicidal. I'm just going on a little sabbatical within a dreamscape. I can see her now in her teen years. She is full of passion and purpose. She is in love with the lover of her life, waiting for him to pursue her. She is happy and reasonable and ready to take on the world with no idea what awaits her. Transitional times. Caela wouldn't have the astrology as we Earthlings developed it, being under different skies. Still, I see her as a Scorpio. She is a healer by going within and sharing deep content. She has power of her own, independent yet entwined in her relationships, deeply intuitive, a person of total integrity. Talk to me, Caela the naturally wise, of the integration of my soul. I feel split into ethereal bubbles wafting into unknown space. I will concentrate, become as one with my imagined healer. I know you will carry me through into my best destiny. I will learn and emulate you, my very personal hero. We will become a legend in my mind to carry me forward. I am moving forward, though not at pace with the outside world. I am on my own time and space with my own reasons. I am on my educational sabbatical, exploring an other world, other ways of being human, to discover who I am, separate from everything I've known. I get to overdramatize in my own private theater. And I harm none, I get to do what I will, imagine what I will, will what I imagine to hold me with divine mothering arms, rock me with lullabies and fairytales. Twilight's future is the heroine's journey. I understand, compassionately, that too much choice is overwhelming to an individual trying to navigate a reasonably safe, reassuringly livable, life. That should not excuse or glorify obstruction against less usual ways, more ambitious or far-seeing strategies. Caela does not feel the pain or outrage of the outcast. She is happily enmeshed in her community, comfortably acknowledged. The solitude and self-directing she has carved out to accommodate her gifts, honed into skill for her best contribution, are well respected. If she wants to leave the group to follow her own dreams and visions, that is her choice and right. The newer generations of her people no longer keep an outcast identity. They are woven into, continuing with their own threads, the rich fabric of a community that creates their experiences and goals. Her daughter, as an integral member of this younger, self-integrating generation, lives in a large home of like-minded self-identified professionals and their children, sharing familial chores, responsibilities, celebration, physical and emotional care. Caela is happy on the outskirts of the community in her small, cozy cabin. She visits and enjoys visitors, but spends much of her time on her own. I am learning who these people are, slowly gaining their acquaintance. They are more real, immediate, than the world outside my self-absorption has become for me. I ask questions about how they live, what their world gives them. My grateful mind forms moving pictures, so beautiful, engaging. The scenes, the backgrounds, change to meet my changing expectations. It doesn't matter if I ultimately put it all together in cogent words. It is the world I need now to be formulating, a soothing, enlightening meditation. I keep getting caught up in the details. Lovely, soothing details, like doing sums in grade school. Weather. What would the differences in planetary physics do? And even if I am no scientist, how have they developed economic and cultural norms? How have the planet's -- let's call it Eden -- natural lifeforms (because if it is capable of sustaining life it probably already does) dealt with the invasion of life from Earth? I surmise they would have brought embryonic and seed life on the spaceship to continue farming once land was reached. Would there have been combinations, mutations, some species devouring others to become dominant in that ecological niche? I recall attempting some preliminary research about space colonizing, some proto-musings about this race of genetically engineered empaths that seems to have morphed in my subconscious into Caela’s witchfolk. At that time I got too caught up in immediate living, abandoning forays into an imagined far future. If I get too caught up in these endless details I could ensnare myself and be unable to continue. I can let them percolate, let the questions come to a head and seep through my imagination. Looking deeply into my metaphoric crystal, I can watch these people, see their details play out, feel out what feels right for these far off colonists and their descendants. In the mysteries of time and space and fantasy, I can watch these people I command into existence assemble into their customary daily lives for my inspection. See the scenes. Note the salient points. Feel the poignant stories. Those devilish details don't daunt me. They will fill out as they will, as I will, once the grounds percolate and become more clarified, more real than reel (omg, what mixing of metaphors, what a mish-mash of maudlin strings). Willingly giving myself over to this fantasy, somehow this is who I am, at least for now. It feels right and safe. It's like I want to be scared, but can't feel it. But what is there to be scared of? I am protected by the great power of prepaid bills and social anonymity, the strongly purring cat beside me, the blessings of alcoholic bliss, and a total lack of real world responsibilities. Whoever the Hell I am, must be some mumbo-jumbo mystical power there. Caela would know about that kind of power. I see the beginning of a beautiful friendship, despite the boundary difficulties between worlds. As long as I've only myself to answer to, reality can be whatever I agree to. Young Caela was able to adjust and thrive because she was tuned in to herself, to her own perceptions and power. Her parents, Lev and Letta, they exist within her, but so does all that psychic energy moving through her. To make use and sense of that, she needs integrate experiential impressions, integrating a trusted sense of self. How moderate can temperatures be? Do we have the ranges we do have because of some specificity of size or shape or orbit and distance form our Sun? I'm not picturing Winter on Eden, despite its frigid everpresent reality for me here and now on Earth. Fall I can see, the harvest season. But why not several harvests like in the sunny warm states? Out in the farm areas beyond the city's structures, they have greenhouses, even hydroponic technologies from the ship. Even if the planet has a variety of climate zones, they may have settled in an area less likely to freeze. Would it be sweltering in the Summer in the city? They would know how to build for minimizing that, design to encourage cooling winds, maybe have air conditioning. They would plant trees according to ecologically thought out plans for shade and water retention and air cleaning. The cultural norms would include a slowness of outdoor perambulations, light-weaved clothing. I see bright colors, even in the enclosed atmosphere of the built-up city. There is an appreciation for art, culture, color, design. It's not that they don't enjoy diversity. They are worried, frightened, that they will be left behind, out-classed, unable to successfully excel in competition for what they think to be scarce resources, even such nonmaterial resources as public appreciation and prestige, as well as whatever passes for wealth in their culture. They have closed themselves in to this city. Those of true valor and adventure have gone off exploring. Those who can't abide fences and rules have been sent to the outer reaches to work out their destinies as farm labor or defense trainees or bucolic eccentrics. People jammed together with their secret inadequacies and fears can build up a psychological squalor. People who present as clean, upright, hard-working citizens can be harboring petty and grand mal demons who rule over their potential better natures and insist on penance without respite, respect or concern. The empaths are not immune from demons, though are to some extent insulated from personal devolution by their mutuality of feelings, the ability to if they so choose never be alone. They will be able to take advantage of distance from the closed in city to develop a culture of their own design. Thesis, antithesis, synthesis. The dialectic of socially evolving mankind prevails. This is not a story about man against nature or man as part of nature, but about human nature; but we are not alone in the Universe. There is no clear division of background and foreground. The picture includes waves and landscape and sky and all the rest, as far, as near, as detailed, as the artist bothers to render; as the eye bothers to see. All I can do is look deeply into the crystalline vision, and respect, describe, reflect my impressions, my perceptions, my emotions and their creations. Jase was Singer's father, not Aron. She had heard Maris talking with her father, Lev. Aron was Maris's husband, father of her three daughters, though apparently not of her youngest, her son, Singer. When the troubles started getting serious back in the city, Aron had not felt his wife and children worth the sacrifices of standing by them. He was not an empath, had only married one. He had become resentful over the course of that marriage, feeling that Maris was better than he was in every way that counted. She was, but not because of some special talent. She was naturally practical and loving. He was naturally neither. He had been young and charming, confidentally ambitious but privately shy. Over time he had become uncomfortably aware that this wonderful prize of a wife he had won neither made him a better man nor failed to see his flaws. Be careful what you wish for. Keep your eye on all the clauses and subparagraphs. Relationships won't heal us, only give us comfort and anchoring when we do the work to heal ourselves. If Jase were Singer's dad, not Aron, Singer was full empath, unlike his sisters. Jase was a sweet, good-humored drifter of a guy, strong and smart, always ready to help out, but mostly a loner. He and Maris had been close friends since childhood, back in the city. Neither were the kind to deny their feelings, or broadcast them. Maris and Lev had become good friends since the relocation. She was at the moment ranting a bit, reminiscing a bit, in the company of a friend she found easy to talk with. He was happy to listen. He certainly had his share of venting, ranting, sharing memories secondhand. His wife, Letta, Caela's mom, had become unreachably ill, unable to participate in conversation, to show evidence of reciprocating his love which he now sometimes felt bordered on tragic. Like children everywhere, Caela picked up bits and pieces of gossip and common knowledge listening to adult conversation as it drifted through her day. She had never met Aron, but did feel the distinct negative tinge given to memories of him by those who had known him. Everyone loved Jase. She supposed Singer had gotten the better of the bargain without consciously thinking about the matter at all. She loved Singer and Maris, similarly though differently from the way she loved Lev and Letta. They were all family, intertwined lives. Though she was a few years older than Singer, they were left to play together while the grown-ups worked, often looked after by one or more of Singer's sisters. There weren't a lot of children in this new community. Everyone did what they could to make sure all were cared for, all the necessary work got done and done well. Everyone taught what they knew, shared tools and techniques, learned what they needed to. Separately and together they figured out how to make a life that worked. Singer and Caela took on what chores they could as time went on. Still, there was plenty of time for playing, just being, figuring out who you are and how that's done. Friends are good mirrors, sounding boards, brain-storming aids, quiet companions. True to Maris's intuitive naming, Singer loved to sing and was incredibly talented at contriving a wide range of soundings from his voice and various musical instruments he was finding ways to fashion from what came to hand. He could keep those around him singing and dancing as well, lightening chores, enlivening leisure. Certainly he was quite a popular figure, central to celebrations. He took this popularity in his gently smiling way, always generous, always bubbling with fun. Music is magic. It excites, inspires, and heals. Caela found she could heal in another way. She knew without thought that she had profound feelings of empathy, profound insights, much more than was ordinary for the extraordinary people of whom she had been born and nurtured. She had from earliest times learned without knowing she was learning to encapsulate the feelings driving into her from all around that she might work through and understand them without being overwhelmed. It had always been like a special extra mother within her teaching and protecting, perhaps an extra gift from Letta who had not been able to learn such necessary protection well enough for herself. Though little girl Caela had tried and tried to use this gift of separating, working through feelings to move in with care and incisive healing, to help her beloved mother, Letta, cope with the demons that crippled her mind, she had not the power to effect that cure. Letta had not learned to protect herself. She had not felt the need in her protected environment where her naturally strong healing abilities had given her a fine, well-respected career. She had never expected a need to prepare for her denouncement or the escalating troubled times eventuating in exile from the life she depended upon for emotional anchor. Though Caela's efforts to heal that breach continued to be heartbreakingly unsuccessful, the failure did not deter nor break her. It was like layers of strength being built by practice and reflection. She found, bit by bit, that she could look into the core of dis-ease and injury to encourage and accelerate natural healing processes of those who suffered. She was also drawn to learn about healing plants, meditative practices, techniques of touch and movement. Not all callings are so strong. Perhaps she had been learning from Letta, even from the womb, to take this offered gift farther, to develop the instinct for self-preservation needed to make it a blessing rather than a curse, even should her world fall apart. Lev had been a writer in the city, a journalist of wry social and political commentary published regularly in the most popular news magazine. In this new life, he was finding artistic and physical outlet in learning carpentry -- a craft he had never been exposed to in his former life. It amused and amazed him how much he enjoyed working with his hands to miraculously create a useful product. He had been quite appreciative of Maris's skill in weaving beautiful fabric of the fur and plant fibers of their now farming community. He continued to appreciate her creative skill, even more so, as he learned his own craft. Former city business types were having to relearn how to be alive, become people they had never known they were, processing radical change, a broken linear norm revealing to them that it was only a convenient fantasy. For Caela it was all perfectly natural, the colorful adventure of life. Nothing is promised. A great deal is possible. Singer's sisters, Mirra, Cali and Arla, were cheerful, responsible, warm and witty like their mom. Even in appearance they resembled her and each other, though they had not yet achieved her manner of calm wisdom. Though they might appear less vivid younger copies of Maris, each had her own distinct flair and essence. They were all wizards of cloth, weaving, sewing, designing clothing and other useful textile wares. They had their own cottage industry, producing for their own use and trade as well as teaching others who wanted to create their own clothing and furnishings. Though no one had thought the need to come up with "money," there was plenty of rudimentary trade. For big projects, work and outcome were shared. It was expected that everyone help out as needed. Beyond that, individual enterprise took over. Tools were shared on rough timetables open to disruption by urgencies. Adaptations often had to be invented suitable to available resources, repurposing, devising tools and processes as necessary. Of course there were angers, resentments, frustrations, but this is where the skills of empaths excel. There are those naturally soothing presences who help to keep good feelings flowing. There is not the kind of awkward or tragic miscommunications to slow useful negotiation. It helps that there's plenty of cohesive goodwill, shared sorrows and celebrations, respect grown from working together, playing together, sharing humor, philosophy, and everyday concerns. Recipients of an interconnected web are intimately in tune to enlightened self-interest, true vested interest in success for all.