THE WITCH'S CORNER

Upon this page you will find:

1.  "Welcome to my World"...a slideshow containing personal photos

2.  The Witch's Journal

3.  Dreamscapes

4.  Pagan Rights

5.  Videos

6.  Words of Wisdom 

7.  Photo Gallery

The Witch's Journal 

The following are personal essays, commentary, ruminations, and journal entries.

It is not fancy. It is not pretty. It is not a hundred years old. It is ratty and worn and too thick for it's binding. The oil stained pages are filled with pins and bits of ribbon and a strand of rope, and flower petals, and four leaf clovers I found in '69, and flys and locusts and other insects caught in this witch's web, kept for the time that they will be used to craft a spell. Herbs sift from the dry and brittle pages and the whole book wreaks of old rose petals and sage and rosemary and cinnamon and cloves. The blessed herbs lay tucked within the pages, beside recipes for spells that come from all places and some that were crafted by me with ancient charts of moon phases and planets and numbers and esoteric symbology.

I cast my first spell in the basement of my grandmother's house when I was 17...a small darkened room, a colored photograph of the target, red ink, red candles, and an abundance of volatile emotion. Two days later the spell manifested into results—results more potent than I had planned or anticipated.

It scared the living daylights out of me, and it would be a very, very long time before I ever attempted spell crafting again.

Somehow—through sheer instinct I have always thought—I basically used most of the correct correspondences for the situation I was addressing. But I also had no concept of how to protect myself while working with these energies and entities.

It was an awe inspiring lesson on the forces of Witchcraft.

This began a spiritual quest that would take years and eventually come full circle, back to where it all began...

to The Craft.

My most unusual and unique Familiar...the tomcat, Pyewacket, with his adopted "litter".  (Everything in our house tends to be a bit off the beaten path.  It makes life ever so much more interesting)...

Do you remember, in the 1970s, the controversy with Oberon and Morning Glory Zell and their "unicorns" that they were selling to circuses, petting zoos, etc.?  It seems that they were breeding these beautiful little angora goats and when the little nubbins started coming in on their heads they would have a veterinarian remove one and move the other to the middle of it's forehead, where it would grow into a lovely little horn...so, voila'...a unicorn!!

I never really got into the debate on this issue and-- in my early teens-- I wouldn't have really cared anyway.  (And, besides, that's not what this essay is about.)  Reading about Morning Glory Zell yesterday and her fight with cancer made me remember something that I hadn't thought of in years.

I got to see one of these delightful little creatures!!

One summer, in the early 70s, my great-grandmother took me and my middle sister to the Barnum and Baily circus-- actually, my great-grandmother was in her mid-eighties and it's kind of a toss up as to who took who, and it was something that we all laughed about together, my great-grandmother most of all.

Anyway, at the beginning of the show, during the circus parade, they announce the entrance of a real, live unicorn!  And here they come with this beautiful, glossy, white little creature standing regally on his own platform, and right in the middle of his lovely head there was a unicorn's horn!!  He was fat and sassy and shampooed to a sheen and he was the most delightful creature I've ever seen.

My great-grandmother and us girls hadn't heard of the Zells and the controversy surrounding these creatures.  So when this little guy first came into view, I about choked on my popcorn!--It was amazing and fantastic and it made you believe in the possibility of magic and faeries and witches and leprechauns and all kinds of unimaginable wondrous things.

It is one of my most delightful childhood memories.

...Thanks, Morning Glory!!

Isn't it funny that at different times of the year I feel a stronger connection to my deceased grandmother than at other times.  I feel closer to one particular friend in the morning hours rather than in the evening.  I feel closer to my husband on those occasions when a subtle connection is made-- a familiar tune is heard, a scent is recognized.

Why can't these connections-- the intensity of them-- be sustained all the time?  Why is it that a certain atmosphere, time of day, time of year, type of sunshine or subdued cloudy day all makes a difference?

All those outside stimuli summon some "cue", trigger some "inner light", click with a some deeply buried "memory".

All those "connections", even though the intensity varies--  vaguely there one moment and overwhelming the next, are never completely wiped away.  They lay beneath the surface, waiting for the trigger to bring them to light.  They form a subtle web within our subconsicous and weave our lives with the lives of those around us.

The following ruminations are my own personal thoughts and original words.

Remember when your relationship was young and you would creep out of bed to "fix yourself up a bit" before he woke up?

The nest of robins is still in the maple tree over my garden-- even after the storm that passed through last night.  I'm crossing my fingers that it stays intact so that the mother robin can finish raising this brood...because if something disastrous should happen, I know that it would fall on me to finish her job.

Why is that first cup of coffee in the morning the best cup of coffee?

Stages of time pass for women with the stages of their children.

I cross my fingers and savor the time when not one of my brood has a minor or major catastrophe in the works...no fevers, no toothaches/earaches, no squabbles with life and it's goings on, no appointments, or deadlines, or places they must be--this moment of peaceful nonhappening is rare.

My cat understands me, demands nothing more of me than an occasional saucer of cream, a warm lap to sleep in, a word of praise now and then.

Math is an acquired taste.

The Goddess created chocolate to appease that hunger that nothing else can satisfy.

There's nothing better than a cold beer on a hot day.

A woman's life goes through a major change about every 20 years...really.  Think about the cycles:  marriage, children, children grown, widowhood, etc.  You can expect a new phase in your journey about every 20 years, yep.

Women without boobs want boobs; women with big boobs don't want boobs.  "The grass is always greener", "Murphy's Law", etc.

Watch out for your 40s-- you will be more sexual, sensuous, and easily aroused in your forties than you were in your 20s-- no kidding!  I've been there, trust me.

When 50 hits, your body will settle down and behave itself so that you can think of other things.

Nothing makes me happier in the early morning hours than to watch a flock of beautiful blackbirds vying for the food at our feeding stations.  I think they are my favorite bird-- smart, cunning, black & shimmery & beautiful.  And when they look at you with that cold gold glass eye, it's as if they know what you're thinking.

The older you get, the more difficult it becomes to concentrate on small details-- and if you were never very good at small details to begin with, well...

It's always the man you really want that you can't have-- until you get really mad about the incongruity of it, you dig in your heels and make the decision that nothing-- and I mean nothing-- will stand in your way. Then the prize is yours.

Witchcraft might be a means to an end for some...for the natural witch it is part of her being, spiritually and physically.  It is second nature, an instinct that she's carried since birth.  It is something so natural to her that she doesn't give it a second thought.

Don't you hate when people delete you without an explanation?  It's like being dismissed from the principle's office with a swat to the head, but the principle never told you what you did wrong.  So you're left to wonder.

The flip side of that is people who delete you and you don't realize it till days or weeks later...and you think, "Oh, ya, that's who it was.", and then go on about your business.

It's so wonderful when you finally reach a stage in your development and you realize-- 1)  I don't have to be liked by everyone.  As a matter of fact, some people are not worthy of the effort it would take to make them like me.  2)  You don't have to follow unwritten fashion rules, you don't have to follow fashion rules at all...your clothing is an extension of yourself, a way to express your creativity and personality, it is as individual an imprint as your finger prints.  3)  I am the boss of me-- no one else can hold that title, if they do, it's my own fault.

Dogs are needy-- sometimes I think I want one and then I hesitate.  A dog would make a better companion for me if I were living all alone...I will bide my time with my cats.

I'm waiting for the cold to be gone, for the warmth of this season to be upon us.  But that means July-- I hate the weather in July-- the sun is too bright and intense, it's a bully...it burns me and my children, it leaves my flowers wilting and scorches everything.  It's in your face and won't leave you alone, suffocating you with it's heat. 

I think I am a child of the dark.

I love autumn-- after the autumnal equinox-- when the days have grown so short that I can go cheerfully around the house lighting candles at 5pm and they really show up.

Don't you hate being jarred from sleep whey you are in the midst of a dream?  The images are suddenly snatched away from you and the harder you try to bring them back, the more elusive and papery thin they become, until they are gone.

And that's 'bout all I have to say for today.

We have a new addition to our family-- a surprise, it was.

My 12 year old daughter, whom I call "Guinevere" on the 'net, wanted to buy something she had seen at a local farm supply store.  I asked her what it was, but she didn't want to tell me.  She only said that they had two left. (Of whatever it was.)

My son took Guinevere to run her errand.

She came home with a chicken.

I discovered my daughter in the old barn, overwhelmed with her covert activities, and trying futiley to create an incubator for her illicit chicken with a cardboard box and my husband's heating pad.

We brought the chicken into the house and promptly named him "Cletus"...He is so tame and so sociable that he follows the kids around like a dog, chirps madly when left alone, sleeps with the girls, joins us on the couch when we're watching tv (he can't handle the popcorn though), plays with my jewelry, and sleeps in my cleavage.

Cletus is an official member of our family now.

On some mornings, I love to take my tarot cards out to the round, glass-topped table on our deck and do general readings.  Many times, I won't be asking any particular question, nor even reading for any particular person.  Sometimes it's just fun and fascinating to see what the universe has to say all on it's own, without any prompting.  when I do this, I generally lay the cards as 'triplets'-- that is, laying a set of three cards, continuing with three and another three, etc.  One set of triplets doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the next...

The deck I used for these readings was Crowley's "Thoth".

 
Wheel of fortune (R), 9/cups (R), Princess/Swords

A turn of luck, a turn of the wheel.  Watch out for what could slip away.  You may not get what you desire-- or you may already have too much of it-- time to clear some things away.  The message comes...or the self-revelation.  neither will be what you want to hear.

 The Universe, Prince/swords, 7/cups

This box will contain enteries from my personal dream journal.  It will be, as everyone's dreams are, a look inside my subconscious-- that inner part of yourself that makes its presence known in the dark recesses of your mind.

 

June 2007

I've been dreaming about three classmates from high school. And after having dreams about them for several nights, I became aware of them in my waking moments. They seemed to be stuck in my mind and wouldn't leave. The essences of their personalities was unbelievably strong; it was as if I could actually "feel" them around me. This had been going on for a few weeks.

It didn't stop until I consciously banished them.

Come to find out, something has happened to two of them. I have no contact with anyone who is even in contact with the third one. But I would love to find out some way...

1) Sean F.-- a mean, nasty, horrid school bully. He made life miserable and unbearable for the bulk of the student body. He invaded my dreams and my waking conscious mind for so many days that I deliberately called D.M. in South Dakota and asked her about him...He was killed in a motorcycle accident on a curve at Lake Mitchell, by the Indian excavation site.

2) Debbie S.-- Debbie was married to my first husband's friend; but I had met her in high school and we had become best friends before I ever met her husband or my future husband. I learned a bitter lesson in "friendship" from Debbie when she showed up in court with my first husband to show him "support" during the divorce.

Again, it began with the dreams and the feeling of her "presence", her personality, around me during waking hours. I called B.K. in South Dakota and asked her how Debbie was doing...She died from a bowel obstruction. "She still had all that long blond hair." B. said.

3) Randy K.-- was the first boy I ever had a crush on in Junior High School. He had a horrible personality, was mean, abusive, and devastatingly handsome. Fortunately for me, he couldn't stand me and was rude, insulting, obnoxious and never asked me out. He was known in later years for using and abusing girlfriends. He had quite a reputation, and it wasn't good.

Again, as with the other two, it began with dreams and then the essence of his personality around me so thick and threatening you could cut it with a knife. Did something happen to him too?

 

I was in a restaurant full of white-haired women and I was one of them!  I had on a pink sweater and white slacks, my makeup and jewelry and my hair (white) was well done.  I got up from my table, my coffee cup in hand and headed over to a table where two ladies were seated, deep in conversation.

 

They stopped talking and looked up at me expectantly.

 

I said, “Come here, dear.”

 

And a little girl about three years old came out from beneath the table where she had been playing with the mini-blind cords.

 

The woman said, “Oh, how cute!  Your granddaughter?”

 

I replied, “No, that’s my daughter.  I’m her mother.”

 
They looked quite shocked and one of them said, “Oh my, women our age don’t have babies, dear!”

 

I only remember snatches of this dream:

It’s a rodeo.  I seem to be observing it while hovering above it.  This is an unusual view for me.

A young woman is “demonstrating” the abilities of a “rescue horse”.  She’s lying on the ground and the horse rolls over her, stopping just before it reaches her face.

It then gets up, walks around to the front of the woman.  The woman reaches up, grabbing the horse’s tail in her hand.  It walks out of the arena, dragging her gently along behind it.

In this dream, I actually don’t see any of the characters.  There is an unusual light, dark, hazy, with a “glow” at the same time.

The land looks barren—all dirt, almost like desert or wasteland, not even a blade of grass.  There is a high, flat ridge with a gorge behind it.  Then there is another gorge and then another high flat ridge beyond it, where it dips down again.  The landscape is surreal, almost computer generated.

I don’t know how I know, but there are two opposing armies camped here.  One at the base of one ridge and another at the base of the other ridge. 

There is a prisoner in the first camp.  I don’t “see” this character either.  Sometimes I sense him; sometimes I hear what he is thinking, and sometimes I think it might be myself!

This prisoner is going to escape from the camp he’s in, quietly, while everyone is sleeping, and work his way to the top of the first ridge—down into the gorge—to the top of the second ridge, and down again where his own people are camped.

All I ever see in this dream is the barren landscape.

We had ordered food from a fast food place and are walking through the kitchen to leave.  It’s filthy, more like the kitchen in some medieval castle, except there are stainless steel counters throughout. 

There are cats everywhere—up on the counter tops, eating food lying about—yuk!

I say, “I can’t believe we got food here!”

There is one person back there...a tiny, very old woman with wild unkempt black and gray hair.  She’s wearing a long lavender dress and house slippers on her feet.  She’s slightly bent over and she’s talking intently to a large orange and white cat who is eating the remains of a hamburger on top of a table.

Some kind of animal ate a snake—a reptilian animal of some kind, I think.  My grandmother (who is deceased in real life) was trying to “squeeze” the snake out of the other animal.

At one point the back end of the snake shot out of the animal’s mouth, surprising both of us!  My grandmother said, “Oh, that’s too much snake for me!”  But she continues to work to get the rest of the snake out.

Once it’s out, the little snake seems very tired and spent and limp.  We put it in a small cage with a towel to lie on.  I have to go somewhere and I’m very worried about leaving it alone.  We decide to set the cage in a darkened hallway where it will be cool.

I’m working in the basement of my grandmother’s house, dusting, I think.  I am somehow aware that there is something evil down there with me.  This evil thing is going to do harm to a woman in the house unless I can figure out how to get rid of it before midnight.

As I’m looking through a Craft book, trying to find a way to banish this evil thing, the lights go out and the room is black.

I hear a rustling on the bed in the room.  Something is there and I feel it’s the evil thing.  Although I am afraid; I don’t run away.  I make my way over to the bed, book still in hand, and jiggle the light until it comes on.

I find myself sitting on the bed with a huge gray and tan cat.

I am afraid that this cat is really a demon, not a cat at all. It works its way around to the foot of the bed and starts to sharpen its claws.

As I’m looking at the cat, I see movement out of the corner of my eye--  a leopard stealthily starting up the basement steps.

I think to myself—“Oh, it’s the leopard that is the demon and not the cat!”

My father-in-law passed away in mid-June.  He was a very controlling manipulative man.  When he died, my husband and I were estranged from him.  In my lifetime I have experienced contact with people who have passed over.  I knew that this man would come.  I just didn’t know how long it would take him to get his bearing in his new plane of existence.  I was expecting him...

July 1, 2008

In this dream—

I and my husband’s family were in some kind of ‘house’—I don’t know if it was a country club (that’s kind of what it felt like), a funeral home, or what.  There were large, spacious rooms, people milling about, mostly family.  A kitchen area was along side these rooms—a galley kitchen.  You could walk in one end and walk out the other.

My husband and I were in the kitchen together for a few minutes.  I think we were slightly peeved with each other for some reason.  On leaving the kitchen, my husband went into one of the spacious living rooms to watch TV, and I turned to the right and went into another.

One of my brother-in-laws, P_____, was in this room with several other people.  He was sitting on a tan couch.  There was no where to sit, everything was occupied.  He tapped the couch between his knees and said, “Sit on the floor, over here, by me.”

So I went and sat on the floor, leaning up against the couch between P_____’s legs.  There was something that felt uncomfortably intimate about this situation, but I wasn’t sure why.  There was no reason, at that moment in my dream, to feel that way.

Not too much later, I was hungry and thirsty, so I got up and walked through the kitchen, coming out at the other end, where there was a small table of food and drinks sat up.

This table was in a smaller nook at the end of the kitchen where a dining table sat, and several men were seated around it playing cards.  My father-in-law was one of these men.

When he saw me at the small table of food, he gathered the cards up and rose from his chair, coming over to me, extending his hand.  I thought he wanted to shake hands, so I extended my hand and he took it in his.

In a flash of a split second, I knew I had made a mistake.  He didn’t want to shake my hand—he began squeezing it, gradually, fiercely, the look in his eyes evilly gleeful.  He was enjoying what he was doing with unabashed devilish delight.

The strangest thing about this dream is that I knew within that split second that I was dreaming and I knew, within that dream that I was going to have to snatch my hand away before he could really hurt me.  I looked into his eyes and I said, “You bastard!”, letting him know that I knew what he was up to.  And I snatched my hand away at the last second, just before his grip would’ve tightened and I wouldn’t have been able to get loose.

The irony of this dream doesn’t end here.  When I told my husband about this dream—and the fact that I was expecting his father’s spirit to manifest here in some way—he told me that he had dreamed of his father on the same night.  In his dream, his father is sitting on a bench talking quietly and calmly to him.  My husband told me that my father-in-law left a message for me—he said to tell me that he apologized.

Most North Americans believe that witchcraft trials were last held in Salem about 3 centuries ago. This is false.  Witches continue to be attacked in modern-day child custody cases. 

Witch hunts still exist.

 Witchcraft is not evil. At least not any more than lighting a votive candle, praying for a sick friend, or carrying a lucky charm is. However, there are some who do view witchcraft as evil. This is only because organized religion (primarily the Christian church) has conditioned them to fear anything which strays from their narrow condemning view. After all, if you have the ability to fend for yourself, solve your own problems, and choose your own method of spiritual expression, why would you need the confined structure of a church?



LADY SABRINA, Secrets of Modern Witchcraft Revealed

Witchcraft is a way of life for individuals, not the masses, and there's no point in you coming toward the Craft if you are a wimp, a follower, a coward, or a fool, as sorcery is both a practice and a priesthood, and it is not a garment that can be discarded when the going gets tough.



LY DE ANGELES, Witchcraft: Theory and Practice







Witchcraft ... is a spiritual path. You walk it for nourishment of the soul, to commune with the life force of the universe, and to thereby better know your own life.



CHRISTOPHER PENCZAK, The Inner Temple of Witchcraft







The familiars can be divided into two types: (1) those by which the witch divined, (2) those who attended on the witch to obey her.



Margaret Murray







Fear of serious injury alone cannot justify oppression of free speech and assembly. Men feared witches and burnt women. It is the function of speech to free men from the bondage of irrational fears.



Louis D. Brandeis







The Christian fear of the Pagan outlook has damaged the whole consciousness of man.




David Herbert Lawrence

Insofar as the Craft of the Wise is the most ancient and most honorable creed of humankind, it behooves all who are Witches to act in ways that give respect to the Old Gods, to their sisters and brothers of the Craft, and to themselves. Therefore, be it noted that:

"Chivalry is a high code of honor which is of most ancient Pagan origin, and must be lived by all who follow the Old Ways."

It must be penned that thoughts and intent put forth on this middle-Earth will wax strong in otherworlds beyond, and return...bringing into creation, on this world, that which had been sent forth. Thus one should exercise discipline, for "as ye do plant, so shall ye harvest."

It is only by preparing our minds to be as Gods that we can ultimately attain godhead.

"This above all...to thine own self be true..."

A Witch's word must have the validity of a signed and witness oath. Thus, give thy word sparingly, but adhere to it like iron.

Refrain from speaking ill of others, for not all truths of the matter may be known.

Pass not unverified words about another, for heresay is, in a large part, a thing of falsehoods.

Be thou honest with others, and have them known that honesty is likewise expected of them.

The fury of the moment plays folly with the truth; to keep one's head is a virtue.

Contemplate always the consequences of thine acts upon others. Strive not to harm.

Diverse covens may well have diverse news on love between members and with others. When a coven, clan or grove is visited or joined, one should discern quietly their practices, and abide thereby.

Dignity, a gracious manner, and a good humor are much to be admired.

As a Witch, thou hast power, and thy powers wax strongly as wisdom increases. Therefore exercise discretion in the use thereof.

Courage and honor endure forever. Their echoes remain when the mountains have crumbled to dust.

Pledge friendship and fealty to those who so warrant. Strengthen others of the Brethren and they shall strengthen thee.

Thou shall not reveal secrets of another Witch or another coven. Others have labored long and hard for them and cherish them as treasures.

Though there may be differences between those of the Old Ways, those who are once-born must see nothing,and must hear nothing.

Those who follow the mysteries should be above reproach in the eyes of the world.

The laws of the land should be obeyed whenever possible and within reason, for in the main they have been chosen with wisdom.

Have pride in thyself, and seek perfection in body and in mind. For the Lady has said, "How can thou honor another unless thou give honor to thyself first?"

Those who seek the mysteries should consider themselves as select of the Gods, for it is they who lead the race of humans to the highest of thrones and beyond the very stars.

Videos 

If you discover a problem with any of the videos, let me know so that I can correct it.

thank you

.

 Words of Wisdom

 The following are quotations/articles/essays etc., and the source/author will be noted whenever possible.

 Watch your thoughts;

They become words.

Watch your words;

They become actions.

Watch your actions;

They become habits.

Watch your habits;

They become character.

Watch your character;

It becomes your destiny.

(author unknown) 

"I hope you have lost your good looks, for while they last any fool can adore you, and the adoration of fools is bad for the soul. No, give me a ruined complexion and a lost figure and sixteen chins on a farmyard of Crow's feet...Then you shall see me coming out strong."

~George Bernard Shaw, to Mrs. Patrick Campbell

"The old Irish, when immersing a babe at baptism, left out the right arm so that it would remain pagan for good fighting."

There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, "Yes, I've got dreams, of course I've got dreams." Then they put the box away and bring it out once in awhile to look in it, and yep, they're still there.

~ Erma Bombeck

"It is impossible to fall out of love. Love is such a powerful emotion, that once it envelops you it does not depart. True love is eternal. If you think that you were once in love, but fell out of it, then it wasn't love you were in."

My mother always made it very clear to me that, whatever you look like now, you're going to look worse later.  Don't get too attached to your beauty because it's not yours to keep.  Don't go around thinking that it's some big bonus and that you can count on it.

~Uma Thurman

You'll find a link to this site at the bottom of this article-- enjoy!

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The Witch's Familiar, Past and Present

by M. Williams

(original author unknown)

Imagine you and the Lady are walking down the road together. For much of the
way, the Lady's footprints go along steadily, consistently, rarely varying
the pace. But your footprints are a disorganized stream of zigzags, starts,
stops, turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.

For much of the way, it seems to go like this, but gradually your footprints
come more in line with the Lady's, soon paralleling Hers consistently. You
and Goddess are walking as true friends! This seems perfect, but then an
interesting thing happens: Your footprints that once etched the sand next to
hers are now walking precisely in Her steps.

Inside Her footprints are your smaller ones, you and the Goddess are
becoming one. This goes on for many miles, but gradually you notice another
change.. The footprints inside the other footprints seem to grow larger.
Eventually they disappear altogether. There is only one set of footprints,
they have become one. This goes on for a long time, but suddenly the second
set of footprints is back. This time it seems even worse! Zigzags all over
the place.

Stops.
Starts.
Gashes in the sand.
A variable mess of prints.
You are amazed and shocked. Your dream ends.

Now in meditation you speak with her:

"Dear Lady, I understand the first scene with zigzags and fits. I was a new
Pagan; I was just learning. But you walked on through the storm and helped
me learn to walk with you."

"That is correct."

"…And when the smaller footprints were inside of Yours, I was actually
learning to walk in Your steps; following you very closely."

"Very good. You have understood everything thus far."

"…When the smaller footprints grew and filled in Yours, I suppose that I
was becoming you in every way."

"Precisely."

"So, Dear Lady, was there a regression or something? The footprints
separated, and this time it was worse than at first."

There is a pause as my Dear Lady answers me with a smile in her voice.

"You didn't know? That was when we danced and sang!!!"

Our lives can be considered a sacred quest.  It is a quest which may have begun in this lifetime or many lifetimes before.  It is a quest to find ourselves:  who and what we really are.  To do this we must first cease to pretend to be what we are not.  We must cast away our Persona or mask.  We must be prepared to confront the Shadow, that which we are and rather were not.  Only then can we unify our conscious and unconscious minds and so give birth to the hidden Sun - the Self.

~Vivianne Crowley

 This is a set of shelves that I have, embossed with elephants and framed with bamboo.  Besides my Buddahs, it contains my cyrstal ball-- held aloft in the trunks of three elephants, and a statuette that I bought in Old Market, Omaha, of a couple perched in a Kama Sutra position.

The back deck of our house is full of morning glories.  This is one of the hand rails on the stairs, buried in the brilliant blooms.  We love to sit at the round glass top table out here and have coffee, do schoolwork, write, bring out the ouija board, or whatever else we have a hankering to do.

 My messy 'working' corner, now open for the world to see.  Actually, it's much neater in this picture than it usually is.  I had just finished up working on some candles and thought-- here's a moment of pure realism, let's go with it.

This is a photo of the moon that I took last night (Monday, August 11, 08), while standing on the back stairs to our deck.  I zoomed in as close as I could and then I juggled around, shooting the moon between a small opening where our apple and maple trees meet, framing the moon in leaves.

Yesterday evening, between 6:30- 6:40, I was alone in the kitchen.  I suddenly had an overwhelming sensation and thought:

"Isabella!"

The day the beautiful tree was cut down...

This essay has been moved to "Divination" in the box titled, "Personal Psychic Experiences".

The music on this page:  "Minstrel Hall"

by  Blackmore's Night

CD:  Past Times With Good Company (disc 1)