So okay, I’m Pimping my Wares, again. What’s a girl to do? I’d come round with hitched skirts, a corset and a wicker basket if that would help, but sadly I am not allowed. *Don’t ask!*
So what do I have to offer you?
Well, I have the most ‘Delightful Gothic Victorian Mini Coffin, Funerary box, Memento Mori, Spell Box.
For more information click here it will take you directly to my Etsy shop.
As I have mentioned before, I do hope, before long, to have a shop page on this here web page/blog, but these things take time.
I also want to say, if I haven’t already, (I do tend to repeat myself – old age I’m afraid), if you don’t reside here in the UK and like what you see, not to worry. Please get in touch with me and I can work out the P&P to whatever corner of the World you reside in – we do and have posted far and wide… a piece has just gone to Australia. You can then choose if you wish to continue- though I do have to add, sadly, that you will be responsible for any Taxes due on your side of ‘pond’, ‘land mass’, ‘World.’
I have another Pewter/Silver finished Coffin, a little less ‘Victorian’, one that has been decorated with the Skull of ‘t’old Lad.’ Though, of course, it’s me and so there has to be the odd Fallen Angel.
I also have a Green Man Trinket Box and a Green Woman trinket Box for sale. They can be bought independently or together.
All of the pieces I created are under the guidance of Spirit and occasionally the Deities I work with.
Each piece I make sits under the Dark /New Moon and is consecrated before being offered for sale.
Each piece is a one-off, and while I may be tasked by Spirit to make others none will ever be identical. I do NOT Mass Produced items.
Oh My Dears, I can’t believe it has been so long. I think I may need to get a cleaner to spruce the place up, though the cobwebs do add atmosphere don’t you think?
Iwas listening to the radio (BBC Radio 4 of Course, I am a woman of discernment after all), and they were discussing the coming of Autumn (or Fall for you over the seas), some commentators were saying that it has arrived early- though it can never be too early for me, and because of that, the Spiders are getting little amorous and so we can expect many many more cobwebs and the sound of little feet scampering across our ceilings!
You know the female eats the male afterwards don’t you!… Think on *Wink*
Back to what I wanted to say, well after the heat *I’m melting.. I’m melting* and the drought of Summer… *Hic*
I have great news for those of you waiting for some delightful goods.
I have been busy working away, like a little Beaver… * no sniggering over there- what dirty dirty minds you have * and have a number of Coffins going up for sale as well as some delectable Portable Shire and/or Altar Portraits.
As always, each item I create is directed by Spirit and or Deity.
As I work under the Dark of the Moon, each item is and has been charged under the still of that Darkness.
All Items are as always ready for your own magical purposes, and I can not tell you what to do with them. I can only make suggestions.
So may I suggest you pop over and keep an eye out on my little corner of Etsy! – You can findme here
I am hoping soon to sell my goods through this website, but that’s a work in progress.
Etsy does say that I do not sell Internationally, I am willing to consider it. I just want the buyer to be aware of the cost etc. Those flying horses seem to need more and more feeding every week.
If you see something you ‘like ‘fancy‘ that calls to you, please contact me either via Etsy, my FB page – or even on here and I can give you a price etc. for postage and packaging. You, however, are responsible for any Taxes on your side….
There are, unfortunately, some items I am reluctant to post, as sadly they are too fragile and have resulted in breakages, which has not only broken the heart of the buyer but mine too has been ripped into shreds and is now held together with staples and copper nails! I think I may have a painting of it!
I highly recommend listing to The Spirit Box YouTube channel, and not just the one where I chatted to the wonderful Darragh. It’s full of the most amazing people, talking about their spiritual life and practices.
And, there’s a plus, if you feel you want more, you can also find it, and Darragh, on Patreon, where there’s a ‘Hell’ of a lot lot more.. and all for a price of a cup of coffee… now that can’t be bad, can it?
It has been one of those liminal long weekends, where days seem to blur and flow together. The cause of this has been the celebrations of the Platinum Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II here in the UK, with bunting and street parties and many displays of Royalist joy.
I am not a royalist, but I am mindful that Queen Elizabeth II represents a constant through out the turmoil and change of the last 70 of social, economic and political upheaval. Though the Royals have not always set the best example to society, and will no doubt continue to display defects in their humanity on regular occasion, the consistency and dignity (in the royal sense) that the Queen has brought is something worthy of recognition.
In truth the Jubilee should have taken place in February but if its too cold and wet for British Pagans to be working skyclad for Imbolc…
So today, to make up for missing the last few days – hey it’s been a weekend and Bank Holiday here, I pulled three.
Three cards..though I have in my head, and while I was shuffling the song ‘Three Coins in a Fountain’.
However, looking at the cards they seem perhaps apt for what is going on in the UK at the moment. It’s the Queen’s Jubilee. her Platinum one. That means she has been on the throne of the United Kingdom and 14 other Commonwealth for 70 years.
To the left is The Queen of Swords, an Ice Queen, with her two wolves, (Charles &William).
On her left shoulder is a white snowy Owl with its eyes of Infinity. In her right hand, she holds a snake-headed sceptre in her left the Orb. The Sword symbolises temporal power, yet unlike Curtana, the Sword of Mercy used in the Coronation of Queens a & Kings here in the UK, this one has sharp points. Ouch – As we know ‘History’ has power. The Orb, the Globe in her right hand is Opaque and Cold. One could suggest Dead. The orb represents the World, of which The Queen or King was once and still by some believed to have absolute Sovereignty and power over -given to them by the Divine. If you look closely and you can see her hand is a claw, holding on to it, holding onto its power.
The second card I pulled, laid on the opposite side of the spread, is the Queen of Pentacles. At first glance, it appears we have a totally different scene. The land looks fertile and lush, flowers are in abundance. Yet the Queen is looking down on the Disc/coin (pentacle) in her hand, in somewhat a sad or even lonely way. This Disc has weight. Perhaps despite the abundance all around her, the weight is becoming too much. Or too expensive.
Let’s take another look at the land. While she appears to be surrounded by growth, her feet are in the dirt, and the grass growing there is spasmodic. There are bare patches. All that bounty is behind her. The throne is archaic, and in contrast to her and the background, it is in black/grey scale.
As for the rabbit…well run rabbit, run rabbit run run run.
Poverty and Rabit stew go hand in hand.
The centre card Is The Hierophant, or the Head of the Church – the Pope, standing between two pillars.
Yet unlike Joachim and Boaz, these pillars are stripped down to the bare necessity. They are not pillars of Strength and Beauty, but Law and Liberty, or lack of. When the Hierophant opens up his gown what we see is that he is hollow and empty. His inner gown is the same colour as the background of the card. He has a vast space within him.
His head is large and Alien-like. Intrestingly this Heiroophant carries no keys to Heaven, so he can’t show you the way to Paradise.
Standing in front of him is not two acolytes but three. Three is the Magic Number …!!! As they stand before, only one, the one on his right, is challenging him, is questioning. His answer is to beckon them closer and points to his triple cross, His power. His ‘God-given Power. He assures them they should follow him, be absorbed by him, swallowed up and conform. Though the one on the right is perhaps a little hesitant and is daring to argue their point. Challenging the Status Quo. The Hierophant here and the colour of the cards make me think of Boris, our PM.
Maybe it’s time for a change. While all the pomp and ceremony looks fabulous, especially on TV and social media the reality for many here in the UK is one of Poverty, fear, hunger and homelessness.
You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told. The reality of it is not what you think. It’s not something people in polite company should want to talk about, never mind tell their children. It should have never been made into some kind of fairy story.
There was no agreed Hieros Gamos and no heavenly blessings laid brightly upon my head.
If the truth be known, I was a girl of twelve. Twelve. How could I consent? How could I understand what it meant?
I was asleep on my bed, laid innocent in the darkness, dreaming as children do. Then for some reason, even now I am not sure what, I woke up to see him standing there. He stood in the shadows, so still, a man in pale linen, watching. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but it was no vision, no fantasy. He moved faster than the breeze and was upon me before I could escape. I tried to scream, to call for help, but he stuffed my mouth with white feathers.
When he Penetrated me, he tore asunder my betulot, ripping me open for the world to see. My soul shattered and fragmented, in that very moment, I dissipated. Hiding for centuries in the shards of Other.
He said it shouldn’t have been like that. He said I should have submitted willingly and with Grace. He said I didn’t deserve the honour that had been given to me. I told him I didn’t want it. He snarled. His lip curled and brought an averse cruelty to his uttermost beauty. He said it was my own fault, he said he had to Overshadowed me. He said girls like me should be grateful. He said we never were.
Afterwards, he slept, exhausted by his tribute, while I lay upon the dank remnants of my broken seal and his celestial shpriz. Rivers fit for Babylon flooded out from me, before pooling upon my belly and from thence parting Fourways. Broken boundaries that could never be mended.
As the Morning Star rose, he disappeared, leaving a bouquet of Broken Lilies at the bottom of my bed. Their piercing stems forever directing the gaze of men to my humiliation.
The ashes of Tamar’s were not for my head and unlike Dinah, I had no brothers to claim back my asset.
Who would have believed me if I’d said I’d been plundered by a Virtuous Brother of the Fallen?
After he’d left, I scrubbed myself clean until my skin bled. Raw outside as in. I cried and laughed uncontrollably. I thought if I pretended it didn’t happen it would go away, but I couldn’t get it, get him out of my mind. I was scared to sleep in case he came back. When I fell into a fitful slumber, he returned in nightmares. I felt him again and again, as he wrapped his wings around me, his hands touching and his fingers entering places they shouldn’t.
I took a needle and scored my arms and legs, thinking the pain would take away the agony I felt inside. Nothing worked.
Then came the nausea, the sickness in the morning. Bile would erupt from my empty stomach, burning like a flaming sword as it rose, bitter.
When I could no longer hide the changes I fled to my cousin’s. I thought she’d understand, for it was known within the women of the family she’d suffered the same.
It seems Divine rapists have no respect for age.
I’d expected she’d offer me solutions, be that herbs or sanctuary, but instead, she counselled me not to rock the Ark of our Covenant. She told me to return home, face the music and do my duty. She said I was to keep my mouth shut, for what good would it do girls like us, to tell the truth.
As my shame grew heavy and unsurmountable, my breasts, like Abishag’s gazelles, rested heavily on the mount of his creation. And I wept. They say I sang Magnificently, but they lie, for it was a Lament, conceived in Terror and one I was unable to confess.