Christian Cochlin, 1977-2017

Prayers for my Beloved Dead and those left behind.
Hail the traveler, Christian.
May his sudden passing not hinder his movement through the Veil.
May his Ancestors greet him happily in their Halls.
That which is remembered, never dies.

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Visitation

About a week ago I was standing, bouncing my baby who was unhappy and in need of sleep. We were both exhausted and grumpy, she was teething badly. I was silently praying for help, for strength, for patience. Sometimes it’s Gods that come when I call. Sometimes it’s Family. This time it was my Paternal Grandfather who came. I had my head resting on hers gently and as I took calming breaths and she finally settled, I could smell him. I could feel his warm loving presence.

Hail to my Grandfather.

The Final Harvest

The Final Harvest

Hail to the Dead
Who we honour at The Final Harvest
That which is remembered never truly dies.

Hail to the Beloved Dead
Those we kept close during life
Those who filled our hearts with love.

Hail to the Lost Dead
Those we never knew
Those we will never know due to the distance of Time and Place.

Hail to the Forgotten Dead
Those who have been lost and forgotten
Those whose names we do not know due to treachery and loss.

Hail to the Glorious Dead
Those who fell in combat
Those who survived and lived with the scars to pass later.

Hail to the Innocent Dead
Lost children and babes
Those who did not take a breath, or very few.

Hail to all those who have gone before us
The Veil is all but gone this night
We hear you and remember you.

-Angela Kurkiewicz, Samhain 2016

Pathways

I asked for clarification on my path/studies the day before yesterday. I have since dreamed of literally going down into darkness for the third time. Last night I dreamt of being a “death talker” and the dream involved “taking in” the Spirits of the Dead so they could speak. There were also dogs again in the dream about going down into the Earth, into Darkness. Last night while poking around Pinterest when I couldn’t sleep I had suggestions for Nantosuelta and Sucelles. On Facebook this morning I came across a photograph of mushrooms growing from a deer skeleton. Will need to ponder a bit before I take any actions in regards to the Dead. Will be poking into Gaulish things and say hello again to The Mother of Rot.

Comments from the page Magic Mushrooms that posted it:

Interesting… It looks like whatever this deer was eating, most likely plant matter of sorts, had mushroom spores on it, ended up germenating inside the deers stomach, then fruited after the deer had died and decayed.
Photo courtesy of Lain Haigh.

This might also be of note, a couole weeks ago I first noticed that White Wings was back in the area. She(could be a he for all I know) was born or appeared about three years ago. I’m not sure if I don’t see her during the warmer months because she actually goes somewhere or if I’m just too busy to actually see her. She is a crow with white flight feathers and a mostly white tail. I managed to get some pictures, not the best quality but not too bad in regards to cell phone pictures. 

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life…

Lo do I see my Beloved on this anniversary of her passing.
I feel her peace and contentment and know that she is at rest.
My heart still aches but it isn’t quite as sharp.
May we meet in the Hereafter and say and do all those things we meant to.

DSCF4276

“If I Die Young”

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in a river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh, uh oh

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh,
And life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger,
I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holdin’ my hand,
There’s a boy here in town, says he’ll love me forever,
Who would have thought forever could be severed by…

…the sharp knife of a short life, oh well?
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I’ll sell ’em for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh (uh, oh)
The ballad of a dove (uh, oh)
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket
Save ’em for a time when you’re really gonna need ’em, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls.

Crom Cruach: The Dark God of the Burial Mound. — Unchaining The Titan. *Reblog*

Yeah…just gonna leave this here…

 

A better man than I has said elsewhere: “Crom is my god…Crom is the god I need because he is the opposite of the interventionist gods who care about the petty details of men’s lives. You don’t pray to him, because he probably won’t listen, and if he hears you, he probably won’t even pretend […]

via Crom Cruach: The Dark God of the Burial Mound. — Unchaining The Titan.