The Coming Of The Dark

Made by my dearest friend Jess, over at https://jessicaannebreisnes.wordpress.com/

There are many kinds of darkness.
Some must be respected, avoided, acknowledged. Others are meant to heal us. Help us rest. Hibernate. Grow on the inside.

All seeds start in Darkness. Even ours.
We strive to be the creatures of light while being born of Darkness and Blood. We need not be ashamed of it. It is simply where we came from. Not who we are.

As the skies darken we must let go. Let go of all the things you don’t need anymore. Just like the leafy trees. Let go that which cannot be renewed. Pull your resources inward to survive The Long Dark. The Death of who we were. The germination of who we are. Dreams of who we will be.

It is also a time of Ghosts. Old and new ones. Ghosts you didn’t realize were following you. That you didn’t realize you cared so much about. Some you are desperate to be rid of, others you cling to.

My photo, my art.

This is the time of year I feel most myself. Most in tune with who and what I am. I wonder if Persephone has similar feelings? Does she relish the dark? The return of her Lovers caress? His all encompassing Darkness, and the comfort she finds there?

Hades is not my Lover but my God is similar. He is comfortable in Darkness. Was born into it. Comitted his first Tricks and Crimes in it. He travels through it. Becomes it. Bends it to his will with his masterful hands. I can feel him there the most.

Chthonic Hermes is who comes to me, his touch in the cooling winds, following in the footsteps of Death. The Aftermath of The Wild Hunt. The Wreckage. He walks among it, gathering souls to take Over.

Hail Hermes, my Beloved. Welcome Home.

Orphic Hymn 57 to Chthonian Hermes :
“To Hermes Khthonios (Chthonian, of the Underworld), Fumigation from Storax. Hermes, I call, whom fate decrees to dwell near to Kokytos, the famed stream of Haides, and in necessity’s (Ananke’s) dread path, whose bourn to none that reach it ever permits return. O Bakkheios (Bacchian) Hermes, progeny divine of Dionysos, parent of the vine, and of celestial Aphrodite, Paphian queen, dark-eyelashed Goddess, of a lovely mien: who constant wanderest through the sacred seats where Haides’ dread empress, Persephone, retreats; to wretched souls the leader of the way, when fate decrees, to regions void of day. Thine is the wand which causes sleep to fly, or lulls to slumberous rest the weary eye; for Persephone, through Tartaros dark and wide, gave thee for ever flowing souls to guide. Come, blessed power, the sacrifice attend, and grant thy mystics’ works a happy end.”

http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/Hermes.html

My photo and art.

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.

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

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.

“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.

https://youtu.be/7NJqUN9TClM

Another Fraser Cemetery Trip, June/July 2016

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.

The Weight of The Dead.

 

I adore this necklace. I’ve had it the equal armed cross for a good twenty years. I just had the skulls and such added about a year ago. I’ve been wearing it almost non stop when I leave the house. About half way through the day I find myself thinking, “FUCK this is heavy!”. To which I ALWAYS get His reply, “The Dead are Heavy.”. This last week He has added, “The Dead are Heavy, I need your help.”.

So I do my best to help my Love carry the weight of the world and The Dead.

Matthew Ryan Berube 1975-2015

Today I honoured my Beloved Dead. Hail Matthew Ryan Berube, the world is a colder and darker place without you. That which is remembered never dies.