Youthemeus

Because there are few things we can be sure of….

For all my Southern Hemisphere friends….

The actual card does not have the copyright text running through it!

The actual card does not have the copyright text running through it!

To address the lack of easy to use calendars for us “Down Under”, I have created some postcard-sized “Southern Hemisphere Sabbats & Esbats – 2015”
I hope that you find them as useful as I know I will!

On the reverse side it reads:

“May the light of the Moon, Stars and Sun 
Guide your path for years to come.

I’ve got a couple of hundred and am selling them on eBay for a silly price (10 for $6.50 with free postage). Basically, this only just about covers the cost of printing and eBay fees!

Link to eBay:  http://r.ebay.com/BwXuDR  (Sorry, these are only available in Australia)

(For all you sunset lovers out there, that sunset was over Glenelg Beach, SA)

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Song of The Earth Witch

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Song of the Earth Witch

My strength, my thoughts, my guile is found,
both in the earth and all around.

With corners called, the towers surround.
My words, my spells with intent compound.

E’en, from my lips my chant doth sound,
Yon circle spins my magic round.

And when my work is all laid down,
I plunge my roots deep in the ground.

The shadows fly, my wishes bound.
So mote it be! Let this resound.

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The Crone and The Keys

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The Crone and The Keys

“You have the keys to life,” she said,
As she sat and scratched her wizened head.
“And I can teach you nothing else,
than just to look inside yourself.”
Deep in her ancient eyes, I saw
Ninety sunsets, maybe more.
The autumn woman, wise old Crone,
Turned, pointing, fingers all a-bone.

“You, maiden! You, mother! You, future me!
The secret of it all, you see,
Is to let love guide your every step.
And treat all Magic with respect.
Your path is long, the climb is steep;
You’ll lose more than you ever keep.
You’ll heal, you’ll grieve, you’ll laugh, you’ll grow.
You’ll need our Craft where’er you go.

But when journeys o’er, and the years retreat.
Be proud, my dear, of a life complete.”
And turning, she pressed her hand in mine,
“Live well, live long – and don’t waste time!”
I watched her rise; her joints complained.
Very little of her light remained.
Then gone she was, no trace to find,
Of that sage old Crone and her infinite mind.

© youthemeus 2014

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I am the wind

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I am the wind, I am the air.
I am the breeze that kisses your hair.
I can caress, I can bombard.
I can play gentle, I may blow hard.

I bring the rain, I bring the snow.
I scatter dust wherever I go.
I blow through the hills, I blow on the beach.
I blow some things just out of your reach.

I carry seeds, I carry fire.
I lift the birds, higher and higher.
I have power, I have great force.
I can make all ships alter their course.

But, in the dark, when we’re alone in the night,
I am your breath, the whisper of life.
I am your friend; since your very first gasp.
And I will be with you til you breathe your last.

I am the wind, I am the air.
I am the breeze that plays in your hair.

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Hail, Lady Moon

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I asked The Moon,
“Dear Lady, how is it to be The Moon?”
She sighed,
“Child, I have a heart that breaks and heals and breaks again.”

I asked The Moon,
“Why Lady, do you grieve so?”
She whispered,
“When men see me in my glory, they remember how much they love me,
and we dance like joyful lovers.
When I am quiet and dark, they forget me. I must dance alone.”

I asked The Moon,
“Beautiful Lady, why then do you go from our sight?”
She breathed in my ear,
“Because those faithful souls who truly work my magic will do so in the velvet blackness. It is they who heal me and persuade me to return once more to shine for those in need.
These silent, invisible ones are my children, the shadow walkers, the cloud sailors.
They are with me, in the dark. ”

I asked The Moon,
“My Lady, may I love you thus?”
She kissed my brow, “Why dearest one, you have always belonged to me. I have watched you sleep each night, sang my secrets into your dreams. We are as one.”

She sighed and shook her platinum hair, “Now come to me, let us paint the trees silver and keep the people from their slumber.
It is time to dance behind the clouds and set the dogs a-barking.
Come to me, my very own, my beloved Moonchild.”

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St. George’s Day 2014

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Today is a day to pay respects to my English heritage. Therefore, I make no apologies for the origins of the blood in my veins.
I love my Mother Country, her gentle curves, her secret groves. I love her brutal moors and dramatic shoreline. I honour her quiet places and her ancient stones.

In the marrow of my bones is the rich soil of her lands, the chalk of the south and the granite of the north. Her tides ebb and flow along the estuaries and fill the bays and coves; so, too, my life and experiences flow and flood

Nestled in the mighty oak or hidden under a summer willow; there you will find my peaceful heart. Sown throughout the fields – both young green and wise gold – is the story of my life. The blackbird sings me home and the buttercups celebrate my return.

This is my England.
Noble, ancient, magnificent, beautiful.

Today, I rejoice in having been born in such a blessèd country.
Today, more than ever, I am English and proud.

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In praise of the witches’ cackle

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In popular culture, the witch is often portrayed as an ageing crone, chanting over a steaming cauldron and cackling in the moonlight.

Moonlight, cauldron, crone, chanting; we understand the significance of all of these. The significance of the cackling, however, is harder to define.
Is it diabolical ecstasy or a sign of madness? Are we drunk on power or dizzy with the moon?

The answer to these questions is very simple.

We witches cackle because when we get together it is impossible to keep a straight face. The outside world looks on as we invoke our gods and goddesses; perhaps thinking that we greet them stony-faced and in mournful humour.
The reality being that, as each entity and energy draws close we feel the power and joy that they bring.

No-one can experience the dark humour of Hecate or the mischief of the Elementals without a little grin. How many times have we giggled as the candles blow out, or the charcoal won’t catch light? When we stop taking it all so seriously and just enjoy our craft and our rituals, laughter surely follows.

In our community, we are blessed with the company of like-minded souls, misfits and raggle-taggle wanderers. We gather together, as one, in our motley crew then we form a circle and celebrate. We dance, we sing, we cast and we laugh because we have pushed away our cares for a while. We are in the presence of our ancestors, our deities and our magical family.

In the witches’ cackle is the beauty of belonging, the joy of sharing and the song of our soul.

To our cackling brothers and sisters: we hear ourselves in your laughter and we bless you for your happy noise.

Our circle is open but unbroken.

~ Youthemeus

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Let your spirit fly free…

This is an utterly exquisite video accompanying a beautiful song.
Blissed out and replete.

Have a blesséd, inspired and joy-filled day.

Namaste,
~ Youthemeus

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The parable of the ant.

The leaf:  his raison d’être

The leaf: his raison d’être

Today, I watched as a worker ant struggled to get through a tiny hole in the fly screen.
He was carrying part of a leaf, it was bigger than he was.
All around him other ants toiled with their loads, following one another in a seemingly endless line of leaves and ants.
Fixed on their purpose, they journeyed on; no one of them broke ranks except the little ant at the fly screen.

He pushed and pulled, trying different angles and approaches; but he just could not get the leaf to go through.
Because he would not let go of the leaf, he could not get any further.
I wondered how he was going to resolve his dilemma. He wanted to get to the other side of the screen but he did not want to let go of his leaf.
This leaf was all he had, his only treasure. How could he possibly let it go? What would be the point of being on the other side of the screen if he did not have his leaf?
Who was he without his life’s purpose?

After a long while, the ant seemed to pause. He put down the leaf in the dust and approached the screen.
The ant tentatively poked his antennae through the hole to see what was on the other side.
He pulled back from the screen and returned to his leaf. He moved it one more time towards the screen, as if willing it to go through on its own.
Once more he stepped away from the leaf and returned to the screen. He poked his antennae, then his head, his thorax and finally his abdomen through the hole.
Now fully on the other side of the screen, he gazed wistfully at his beloved leaf; his one possession, his companion, his status symbol, his raison d’être – the leaf.

Without warning, a small breath of wind spirited the leaf away as the ant looked on.
He turned away from the space that once was his leaf (his very life) and studied his new surroundings.
The ant found himself in the shade of a beautiful plant that was green, lush and thrumming with activity.

He saw other ants, free from their leaf-burdens, traveling up and down the stalks of the plant.
Not one of them was traveling behind another, they walked side by side, or on their own.
Some ants even traced lazy spirals on the leaves as they expressed themselves.

This is what the little ant knew was waiting for him. This was his chance to be his authentic self.
In order to become real he had to stop being part of another’s reality.

By letting go of his old behaviour, he received more than he could have imagined.
By stepping out of the line, he became the master of his own path.

Today, I learnt from an ant.
I am shedding my leaf and pushing through to other side.
Why don’t you join me? I hear it is lovely over there.

 

Namaste
~ Youthemeus

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Walk your own path

 "Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet" ~ Thich Nhat Hahn


“Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

There really is no substitute for the lessons that you learn from your feet.

Wherever they walk, they are telling you your story.
You. Your feet. Your journey.
Only you have walked this way, only you have taken those steps.

Whilst it is good to have fellow travelers alongside for some of the trip, don’t let them distract you.
They too have their own paths to negotiate. You cannot follow them and stay true to your own lessons.

Don’t be enamored of others’ tales of wondrous lands and celestial beings. You are your own saviour.
Those who wait to be saved or scooped up in loving arms will wait forever.
Don’t give away your power or discernment to those who weave a fantastic tale.

You are where you are.  You are present in this moment, in this place and in this time.
It is your story, not a fairy tale that someone has written on your behalf.
Own this space. Own your feelings. Own your weaknesses. Own your strength.

If you are constantly following others like a lost child, then that is how you shall remain.
Do not live in constant fear of being left alone on the track.
Unbind yourself from the template of thinking that does not truly belong to you.
All you need to know is within. Take the time to find your voice inside yourself, not outside.

Be at peace with the world around you and step gently on this good earth.
Do no harm, speak only truth and leave the circle quietly if the drum does not beat in time with your heart.
There is no need to groan or thrash around like a fish in a net. You are not trapped.
If it does not serve you, walk away.

Your feet will soon let you know when you are back on your own path again.
Resume your lessons with gratitude for all that you are and all that you have inside.

Walk your own path.

Namaste

~ Youthemeus

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