I did take up the suggestion that yesterday was for magicking. On the walk home from work, during the hour of Saturn, I reached out to Tzymir, making energy offerings and taking His cold into me. When I'm in a good headspace, mysticism and writing are very similar for me. The "feeling" that tells me a connection is open or an offering is appreciated is the appearance of little bits of knowledge, "worldbuilding" if you will. A new aspect of how Tzymir related to his siblings, an aspect I hadn't considered about his death, the knowledge of his last words to Wodanaz as he was bled out.
I'd wanted to do something in the hour of Jupiter but that was prime dinnertime so I didn't get a chance until we were well into Mars. Mars wasn't great, but I also don't want to get too close to scrupulosity so I went ahead anyway. I dusted the altars, lit the candles and incense. As the smoke rose, my thoughts seemed to filter through it, settling to the floor around me. When I do this stuff, I know I am happy I've done it. When I don't, I miss it. And yet it's so easy to let it slip away from me.
I took down the wand I acquired over the summer. It's quite delicate by my standards - copper tubing and stones and solder, nicely put together, less than a foot long all told.
My spear, I got the distinct image from Wodanaz.
Kinda small, because you wanna talk to me in images, you get my snapback replies.
It's a representation_. A metaphor you can touch._ And he didn't call me dumbass because that would have been undignified in the context but... I certainly felt like it was impled.
I sat on the chair opposite the central altar and folded my legs up. I'd pick up all the things I'd set down soon enough, but that knowledge was why I could let them go for that minute, and the next minute, and the next.
In that handful of minutes, I felt the spear in the hollow of my throat, and we talked. I feel like I'm constantly forgetting how to do this and relearning.
I'm a worrier. I haven't always been one, but I learned the hard way what happens when you're not - you lose things and you don't even realize they're gone at first. I do, anyway. So I've gotten good at holding on to things and, paradoxically, I've gotten good at letting things go. It's the control that I need. If I set everything on fire, well, at least I didn't lose any of it by accident. If everything's gone, I don't have to worry about what's gone.
I don't live the kind of life where that's an option anymore, not really. Small children need structure and consistency, and Bug good enough at losing things for any three of me, plus I'm pretty sure P would at least have a hard time choosing between me and the yarn stash. Things being here to stay is, well, here to stay, and so I have to make that work.
Making it work means a system that's capable of building a scaffolding around my brain. It means the tracking lists, the notebooks, the google calendar, the notifications. It means an app that reminds me to meditate, and another that prompts me to take my meds, and maybe now one tracks the planetary hours for me.
On top of all the thinking I've been doing about how I want my practice to look when the year has finished waning, this has been a good week for thinking about where I (and a lot of people people) want to be online. I'd been thinking about that already, especially in regards to this site vs tumblr vs my blog, and why do I have a blog anyway these days?
And I don't know why I have a blog. The idea of not having a blog-blog is weird, but also, the internet is different than it used to be and maybe I'm not the kind of person who needs a blog-blog anymore? Or maybe I've just found another way to burn shit down.