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theloraxformula

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i have a farm. and blue eyes. and a nice nose. and red hair.
wonderings, pictures, tidbits
bubble and squeak.
my name is ash.
slytherpuff, female, manic depressive, bellydancer, insomniac, feminist, bubbly drunk, hedge,hearth, and green witch, welcome to my world.
there are massive amounts of
the following: harry potter, batman, and various hippie dippy things. good day to you.

I was reading about the daughters of Nyx and other Dark Moon Goddesses (as well as Lilith! like them and I was reflecting on the power of female sexuality and how I’ve been depreciating myself as a whole based around the waning interest of men aaaaaand this older guy I’ve thought was beautiful for months asked me to hang out with him…and I didn’t notice it at all. I just assumed he was asking me what I was doing professionally, not what I was actually doing that night. I got really upset with myself for it  after, buuut I think it is interesting that I was reading about the sacredness of feminine independence and finding content in being alone as well as healing yourself in times of darkness in your life….and then this happens. I def. feel like these sacred ladies sent me a test? It all sounds very petty, but my mental state has been in  a fucking whirlwind these days— self worth issues and wotwot.
The Furies peaked most of my interest and reading about Lilith made me respect her, but something about her scares me to the point where I don’t really want to get her attention. Thoughts?

— 1 year ago with 6 notes
#pagan  #witchy  #nyx  #sacred feminine  #lilith  #goddess  #wicca 
I think I’ve been hexed.

It seems like everything in my life is falling apart at once and I can’t beat this feeling that there is a presence around me ALL THE TIME. My friends have even seen someone with short hair in my passenger seat….when there was no one there.

Here’s the run down:
I went to New Orleans (got sick to the point of fever hallucinating)
Lost my keys in the french quarter
Lost my glasses
Got blood blisters from shoes I have walked MILES upon MILES in
Had my hard drive on my laptop crash
I got fired from my job
My new (hopeful) work place lost my application
My transcripts for college aren’t being sent
Almost all of my classes for Culinary are full
And I’ve been dropping things (like slices of cake and shit) icing first more often than usual

It just feels like all of this is coming down at once. like…does this sound even moderately hex/cursey? I haven’t done anything, though… Like, I haven’t messed with any heavy mojo or wronged anybody. Could a deity be trying to get my attention?

— 1 year ago with 8 notes
#witchcraft  #craft  #pagan  #wicca  #HELP  #curse  #hex  #luck  #witchy  #witch 
Witch Bottles

I broke the only mirror I own (because mirrors are naturally creepy to me, I wasn’t too disappointed) so I am making my first ‘witch’ bottle with the shards.

So far I am going to put broken mirror shards, snake skin, a few pieces of my hair, whole cloves, sea salt, wormwood, and vervain with a bit of cedar and sage.

I feel like seeing mine will bring me peace of mind as far as protection. Most lore seems to say that it needs to be burried buuut…I really want mine in my sight. So, is it necessary to hide witch bottled for them to work?

— 1 year ago with 11 notes
#witch+bottles  #pagan  #protection  #witch  #witchcraft  #wicca  #help  #spells  #herbalism 
It’s going to be a good night with my own herbal sleep mix— chamomile, lavender, and a splash of kavakava.

It’s going to be a good night with my own herbal sleep mix— chamomile, lavender, and a splash of kavakava.

— 1 year ago with 1 note
#wicca  #herbalism  #sleep  #paganism  #kitchen witch 
My altar to Hel and to the dark moon phase of the coming season.

My altar to Hel and to the dark moon phase of the coming season.

— 1 year ago with 2 notes
#wicca  #paganism  #witchy  #altar  #samhain  #winter  #hel  #goddess 
getting some herbals done at the hauuuss
  • harvesting motherwort leaves for tea
  • charging water and crystals
  • harvesting feverfew
  • making lavender bundles

madness.

— 1 year ago with 2 notes
#herbalism  #pagan  #wicca  #personal  #the real lyf y'all 
I can imagine

myself as a midwife or a medicine woman—
waking early
               wandering
the wooddesertmountain
with bad-ass boots & a patchy coat, pockets filled with rosemary and crystals
driving an old truck that smells of rolled cigarettes and gasoline
drinking hot tea out of a mason jar.

i see all of this & I wonder where this image will land me.
   Portland in the fall?
Nevada in the Winter?
                              Colorado? Montana?
But I need the trees.
My power is in the mountains.
Or maybe it is in the moon—and her face isn’t bound to the side of the mountain

i need the howl of coyotes, the smell of pine, the sound of running water over rocks, cold air, wind.
i crave this to the center of my
bones.

i want to dance with fire women, sing air songs, pray to the earth, bathe in the water, and
speak with the
spirit mother & the red father that binds all of these together in a chaotic harmony i will never understand.

i need to paint my body with the stain of poke berry and

run, foot against stone, against decaying leaves.

there is a savage within me
that needs to run free

that needs to bark at the moon and breathe clean air.

— 1 year ago with 6 notes
#personal  #pagan  #wicca  #animal nature  #primal  #winter  #autumn 
WindMan of the Mountain

he snaps his barbed jaws made of thin sticks— you know
the kind that
SNAP and CRACK ominously underfoot when the woods have grown too
quiet, too calm, for all to be well
teeth gnashing— this the sound of dead leaves skittering against pavement and river rocks at dusk (that time when you need to settle down and get a fire started, but you’re not quite sure of where you are)
              homeless
wandering the woods in search for something he will never find
hysterical, eternally lost his

eyes

are the dim, barely there glow of camp fires that go out too early
fingers the cold that creeps around the base of your sleeping bag and along your neck
cheek bones the sun-bleached sides of mountains that you don’t notice until you step over them, flailing to hold onto roots.
his voice is the unrecognizable call from some animal you cannot identify in the depths of the woods, but not so deep that you cannot imagine it coming towards you. not so deep that the sound doesn’t make your hair stand on end.

his feet are bound with the ghost skins of snakes that lurk under rocks, darting out only when you have one foot precariously balanced on its side.
he travels — howling and yowling like some hell cat out of deep
mountain lore— starved, half crazed, ravenous
fever hot and parched
his mouth a voracious, vacuous, vorpal cave
that leads down into his river stomach— that part of the river you thought was deep, but revealed its true nature with the electric sting of broken legs after jumping.
his howl is the wiping of the wind at your tent
angry hands running broken glass claws against your skin as you walk against it.

he is jealous of those who wonder the wood for he has no true home.
his ribs the skeletons of eerie, too thick mountain laurel trees and the hollow shells of long fallen oaks.
the light of the moon burns his moth-wing skin on nights when the forest is full of her radiance. so he yowls, furious and powerless
rattling and shaking his bones — the dead arms of trees that stretch out over too steep mountains, acid burnt and raw

his name could have been pestilence to the christians
but only the Natives know his name and only whisper it lowly
and on nights when the wind is calm and he cannot hear their summons—
Windigo.

his only purpose is that he has none.
his motivation is endless hunger
that is older than the mountain itself-
or maybe it was born with the mountain…
he in his rabid madness has long forgotten the origin of his emptiness.
he is hungry, and you are in his wood.

— 2 years ago
#poetry  #nature  #blue ridge parkway  #paganism  #wicca  #witchy things  #spooky shtuff  #autumn  #fall 
parkway moon

i am selfish in my adoration
                 - in my observation
as if this light, this moon is
mine&
mine alone.
as if no other being is looking upon same
face as i am, as if this face is put on for me.
as if she is my mother and she has no daughter quite as grand as i.

i bottle her clear, unlying light with my
eyes &
hide those bottles away deep my
                                                      chest
somewhere close to my heart so few may see it.

her beams are a lullaby sweeping over mountain ridges
that i like to pretend only i can hear as she sings over the
loud whispering of the trees.
i like to think that i am sole and secular in being bathed in her
spectacular, white-gold luminescence.
her engulfing gaze is the emanating heat of my blankets, encompassing me like a child.
i do not share this warmth- no,
no instead i wrap it tightly around me, i burrow down within it
and let it dissolve the cold of the world untouched by her light.
her light keeps the true night away—
even the creatures who ride the wind, howling and furious still.
they skitter around her;
quiet and heavy with awe as if they know they are in her territory and their kind are not welcome there.

her grandeur is not to be shared nor looked upon by unworthy eyes.
it would be vain to think that no other shall gaze up at her as i do
                                   but i shall be vain.
i shall be vain and i shall try to trap her essence within my veins to keep
the undeserving away.
i am gluttonous with her abundant shine &
in quiet, lonely moments like this i {selfishly}
like to think
that she is smiling just for me.

— 2 years ago with 5 notes
#poetry  #blue ridge parkway  #paganism  #wicca  #goddess  #moon  #nature 
Am I the moon?

sometimes i feel like i’m two creatures caught
b
e
n
e
a
t
h
skin, sharing one body.
my tongue rough- sandpaper, broken glass, too many curses
while the lips around it burn with apologies, a broom sweeping up the mess
of another woman.

i feel like there are two animals
each fighting for their right to shine through
they’re voracious in this battle— it surprises me that their clawstalonssteeth don’t break through the thin expanse of flesh to the outside.

i have two women living within my skull
one wildroughfighting— slinging glasses and insults.
face paint, bones and bottle trees, fire and ash
wet pine needels under bleeding feet.
the warrior, Artemis. laughdancing through flames.
a bear, a wolf, a cat, a bird. animal in nature.

the other fights with words.
elegant, gentle, soft, break able, everything the other
cannot afford to be.
goddess of the hearth, she feeds her comrades like children
keeps fires stocked with woods
and binds bleeding arms.
this woman carries pitchers of water
writes sweet letters to missing friends and lovers.

am I some crude splice of these creatures?
am I a bastard of these mothers— each passionate
one biting, brackish tides, slow moving rivers, still ponds
the other a warm, clean bath?
am I both simultaneously, or am I wearing one face while the other
watches behind mine eyes?

I am the moon—
full and loving, dark and hiding
and something in between.

yeah, that sounds about right.
something in between.

— 2 years ago with 4 notes
#paganism  #wicca  #moon  #thoughts  #personal  #brain rambles 
& in these moments

after sitting in a dripping wet and muggy forest
the world seems okay.
my decisions seem right
and all my hopes are in bloom.

— 2 years ago with 5 notes
#UNCA  #herbalism  #paganism  #wicca  #nature 
This summer has been pure insanity

& I have loved every moment of it.

This summer has drawn me in with heat and rain, and spit me out as a whole new animal.

I have danced drunk around bonfires, done rituals in the damp woods, cried on swing-sets, screamed about the stupidity of boys, and smoked too many American Spirits.

My heart has been opened to others as well as myself. I have met the most wonderful of people and some of the not so wonderful. With Nicole I have found a family that has no blood ties to me. I’ve found a HOME, not just on room where I’ve created a home for myself.

My feet have found pleasure in the heat of the earth after a hard storm and my lungs the heaviness of summer air. Love has become a thing I demand rather than crave. I’ve found my strength in bottles of red (&chocolate) wine and in the embers of a fire.

I have found myself knowing that I am enough.

I may be confused in the ways of my future, but I have a place to figure it all out. I have a family dwelling in my bear-heart. I carry them in my chest and in my soul.

And I have found passion in my craft again and my new patron Goddess, Arta (Artio, Mother Honey Paw, She Bear).

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#personal  #life  #paganism  #wicca  #herbalism  #summer  #lyf  #love  #family 
Summah Thyme {birth}

With the summer solstice burning, my primal side is craving a fire and summer ale.

Henna dye has been mixed to culture all night for fire-red hair tomorrow after a burning tonight.

My men are building a fire for this evening and I plan to dance around it with the Fire God and the fertility Goddess in mind.

— 2 years ago
#wicca  #paganism  #natural  #herbal  #herbalism  #dye  #summer  #hair 
Taken with instagram
My cat mask for my patron Goddess, Bast.

Taken with instagram

My cat mask for my patron Goddess, Bast.

— 2 years ago with 13 notes
#Bast  #Wicca  #Paganism  #Goddess