I Think I Can

Creator Unknown

Creator Unknown

My religious practices, up til now- have been hit or miss. I’m not the best adult, not the most *organized and together* person. I have forgiving Spirits who I do a lot of work for, in the world, but I’m never meeting my own expectations, so I suspect I’m not meeting Theirs.

In about two weeks, I’ll receive Collares (necklaces) that will mark me as a baby Santerian. If I manage a Misa (spirit court) before this, no doubt my spirits will voice their assignments, requests, and more!

So, while entering the religion should please a great many of Them, it’s also a Gateway to Things to Do (or Not Do).

Add the small children I work with ( who are forever pulling my hair, breaking my necklaces (3 to date) and getting me dirty)- and…well, you see.

Not to mention, the chickens.

In which much has occurred.


Since my last post-many, many things-big and little have occurred.

I lost my dear daddy to a month-long battle with lung cancer.

I moved, bought a house on the river in OR.

Started a new job in a preschool.

Discovered that I have a back problem- spondylolisthesis- a vertebra slipped forward. Apparently this is a thing now, and I am needing to make changes around it.

Decided to become a Santera.

My life in incredibly beautiful, simple and complex at the same time. I’ve never been more happy or more worried.


Love, Beauty



Isn’t this wonderful?

Originally posted on Paganarch:

On my lunch break from work I walked along wet streets, trying not to think about the internet and things on it.

And I saw this, on a crosswalk signal pole, barely there, barely noticeable except for those who might look, who might stand waiting for the light to change to cross the rivers of asphalt, a love poem of the best sort:

“Why does beauty remind us of something we cannot remember?”

And I smiled.

Another quote for you, this one from me:

You can weave love, like stories, into the warmest of cloaks to wrap about you against the coldest of winds.

Not all shields must be made of wood or metal, and not all which protects you must prevent you.

Be well.

All of you.

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Using All The Best Things!



Enjoy the beauty, now. In each and every now.

Originally posted on Cauldrons and Cupcakes:

Image from CareerSolvers.com Image from CareerSolvers.com

“Start living now. Stop saving the good china for that special occasion. Stop withholding your love until that special person materializes. Every day you are alive is a special occasion. Every minute, every breath, is a gift from God.”Mary Manin Morrissey

While I was at university I went to a babysitting job. The family owned and ran the canteen at my college, and worked long hours. They were incredibly proud of their new brick home, and invited me in as if I had arrived at Buckingham Palace.

Over the white shag-pile carpet lay thick plastic runners. Plastic slipcovers encased every piece of furniture in the lounge. It was the height of summer so I was offered a seat on a towel, placed on top of the plastic-covered and uncomfortable sofa. I drank my cold drink from a plastic cup and ate my cake off a chipped…

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Why Freya Makes Me Cry



As a dedicant to the Venusian energies, and the spirits therein- Oshun, Freyja, Aphrodite, etc- my life is very much this way. Asking myself “what’s the most loving or harmonious action I can take?” And not just noticing beauty, but being beautiful- all make for the exquisite beauty of this post.

Originally posted on Freya: The Gold Thread:

Started out writing a post about the love notes, ended up writing the “why she makes me cry post”. It is what it is….

I “check in” with Freya every day–kind of like I check my email–to see if She has any words of inspiration to pass on. I do it because it’s part of my commitment to Her, to write these love notes and post them for people. It’s not because I’m particularly holy or special; I just do it because I promised I would.

I’m very sensitive all over–physically, emotionally–and it’s easy for me to be overwhelmed, so normally I keep my emotions and ability to sense things tightly locked down. But in order to hear Her, I need to open up. I When I open my shields up, I usually get a feeling, an image, and anywhere between one word/or concept and a full sentence or two…

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Appreciation is Profound




Recently, I put up a quirky little flippant Facebook post that read something like:

“Comment and I will share something I appreciate about you.”

And it is Magic! It is.

About 18 people responded, and I have over 200 friends, so I can only imagine how many people decided not to comment, or why.

And then I kinda panicked…I had *NO CLUE* what I would actually say to these people.

Commenting, though- is an act of magic, it allows my friend a moment of vulnerability, among the cats and the Gaza Madness, a moment to say “Me, please. I would like to know what you think. I would like a compliment, an appreciation.”

I’ve seen appreciations at work. In schools sometimes a sensitive teacher would go around and everyone would stand to receive a compliment or appreciation. I didn’t make the connection in the beginning, but we are all apparently, little kids waiting for the opportunity to be praised.

And wow, how it has affected me. It is so moving, so touching, so challenging, that I can’t even do more than two or three a day. I am sure that some people believe I have forgotten them. I have not. I am merely overwhelmed with emotion. These aren’t flippant, cursory compliments like “Your hair is lovely.” or “You make me smile.” I’ve been telling people how I see and feel and experience them, and it has often left me in tears.

Often, the recipient has responded with tears of their own, or merely a heartfelt “Thank You”. Their friends, often whom I don’t even know, will comment on what I’ve said. Sometimes-though this was not my intention-they respond with an appreciation *for me*. A friend called me “Love’s True Daughter”, and I have taken that as my mantra. It was so strikingly beautiful, elegant, true, and everything I have ever wanted to be. *sniffle*

It’s turned out to be an important part of my continued healing.

***Possibly slightly triggery***I’ve been working with my inner child (who was a victim of incest) and the perpetrator of this crime, called her “Stephanie”. I keep telling her that she isn’t really Stephanie, I tell her that she’s “Love’s True Daughter”. It means the world to me.***End Triggeriness***

I’m crying right now, at the beauty of this elegant, little, experiment. I hope you find a way to do something *just like this* for your loved ones. I think I’ll put out the call once a season, and maybe one day graduate to snail mail letters!

Make your magic, even if it’s just tiny, beautiful things.